‘You know I don’t do it to mock anyone, or take advantage,’ Kit sighed into her meal. ‘I give them the experience they want. They don’t want the grouchy grey-haired woman talking about sustainable farming. They want wee Neville to nibble carrots and for me to talk about the clans and haggis and whether any of us met that handsome red-haired fella from Outlander.’
I snorted, ‘And have you?’
Kit tapped her nose, ‘Well, the best stories have a hint of truth, do they not?’
‘Meaning you’ve watched a few episodes?’
‘Or I may have driven past when they were filming at the castle.’ Kit grinned at me, wrinkling her nose at her own hilarity. ‘So you think you’re up to helping me tomorrow? It’s an early start.’
I shrugged, ‘I like to be busy. To be useful. I have no experience at all, but I’ll try hard.’
‘Aye, I can tell that just from looking at you,’ her eyes rested on me, searching for something. ‘You’re not like her at all.’
I shook my head, ‘I am, more than I’d like to admit sometimes. She didn’t mind telling people stories they liked to hear, either.’
We didn’t say anything for a moment, and I tried to find the words.
‘My husband says I could talk someone into giving me the coat off their back if I needed it enough.’ I smiled, spearing a sausage with my fork. ‘It was what made me good at fundraising. If there was an angle to work, I’d find it.’
‘And do you think he’s right?’
‘I think if I had enough of a reason, I could make anyone do just about anything,’ I said, trying not to think about how scary that was, and how many times I had walked that line before. How many times I’d crossed it.
Even in the ways Dan didn’t know. Manipulation was sometimes like a muscle, you had to resist using it. But when you’re a scared kid, afraid of losing the only good thing in your life… I didn’t like being my mother’s daughter. And I didn’t like keeping secrets from my husband.
I shook the thought away and stood to clear the table, focusing on being a good house guest. I washed up the plates, and Kit dried them and put them away. It was comfortable, companionable, and I was relieved not to talk. After months of being on my own all day, all this talking felt almost overwhelming. When I bid Kit goodnight she handed me a book from her bureau, the local history of the area.
‘See what stories you can spin tomorrow with a little truth,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll wake you around 4:30.’
She was waiting for a horrified response and I just shrugged, ‘Sounds good to me.’ She couldn’t have known how many times I woke at three in the morning and went for a run just to exhaust myself, to escape my thoughts. How often I’d wake and slip down to the shed in the garden to use Dan’s punch bag. I was not delicate, I would not break. People thought I was made of glass when I was made of leather.
I waded through a few chapters of the book, curled up in that small bed, hearing the sounds of the television from downstairs. When I closed the book and turned out the light, I padded over to the window to look out at that view across the land, that pitch black sky offering stars like I’d never seen.
I was meant to be here. It felt like the best choice I’d made in years. Like an escape from Taz from the estate, or Taz the banker’s wife, or Taz the disappointing daughter-in-law, or the not-quite mother. I was here and I was welcome.
I exhaled, a smile on my face as I crept back into bed. Family. I had family.
I was not feeling quite so warmly towards Kit in the morning. I had been so prepared to impress, when I jumped out of bed at the sound her sharp rap at the door, but I was blurry and sleep-drunk. It wasn’t like at home, where I was wired and alert all the time, waiting for something to go wrong.
I thundered down the stairs, still bleary-eyed in my jeans and hoodie, feeling vaguely nostalgic for those early morning flights Dan and I used to take when we were saving. When we’d have done anything for a holiday, even if it meant getting to the airport for 3 a.m. and only spending twelve hours in the actual location.
Kit handed me a coffee, and I stifled a yawn. ‘I’m sorry, normally I’m better than this! I’m a morning person!’
‘Well, you’ve had lots of news to take in. It’s natural,’ Kit shrugged, ‘just try not to pour your coffee in the horse’s food, or wash the alpacas with washing-up liquid, and you’ll be fine.’
‘It’s that bed, it was too comfortable.’
Kit looked pleased, then paused, ‘Oh, actually, I store those sheets with lavender when they’re not on the bed, that might not be helping you.’
‘So you want me too dopey to help.’
‘I like my guests sleepy enough that they shut up. It’s usually wee Sarah staying and she can talk like no one else.’ Kit stood up, ‘Speaking of, enough jibber jabber, let’s get going.’
I honestly didn’t know what to do, so I followed Kit closely, did what she asked and tried not to ask too many questions. We fed the animals, watching as they flocked (or waited irritably in the case of Terry the Tiny Pony) for their feed. We mucked stables and brushed horses, moved hay and bedding and refreshed water. By the time we’d done the rounds, more than two hours had passed and as we made it back to the cottage, the smell of bacon made my mouth water.
There was Effie, standing at the stove wearing that same smile and same ‘kiss the chef’ tartan apron I’d not even noticed yesterday. ‘Ah she’s roped you into helping her! Look at you, all ruddy from the fresh air, looking healthy, girl!’
I gave a little curtsey and sat down at the table, asking Effie how she was. She waved a hand and pursed her lips, as if she couldn’t think of anything more boring than talking about herself. Which was lucky, because she had more than enough to say about everyone else in town.
‘The latest theory, Kitty, is that Taz here is some wee love child from your past, back to claim her rightful inheritance.’
Kit snorted, sticking a cinnamon stick in the teapot, ‘Inheritance? And what would she inherit, pray tell? A few pretty cows and an ageing pony with terrible flatulence?’
‘Don’t be mean to Terry, I’m sure he warms up when you get to know him.’
‘Aye, warms up right in his belly and then lets you know how he feels to your face.’ Kit snorted and Effie nodded.
‘He is a wee smelly pony,’ Effie laughed, then put her hand on Kit’s shoulder, ‘but I have a soft spot for old grouchy things.’
She served up the same huge breakfast as yesterday, but today I was ravenous, not even blinking as Effie piled my plate high. In fact, when both chewing and conversation slowed, I even snuck another pancake onto my plate.
Effie nodded at me with a sort of pride, and then suddenly stopped. ‘Oh! So you will have met Scottie McTavish yesterday, the inn-keeper’s wife?’
‘What?’ I blinked, looking to Kit, who rolled her eyes.
‘It’s what she calls my work persona, comedian that she is.’
‘Well, can you blame me? She goes from being a regular sour puss who hates people and just wants to be alone with her animals, to Helloo there dearies, welcome to my truly authentic Scooottish experience!’ Effie wiped her eyes as she laughed, ‘So happy, so amenable! Anything you want, Scottie McTavish will get it for you with a smile on her face.’
‘Ah yes, but she’ll charge you for the privilege!’ I laughed, and Kit pointed.
‘See, the girl gets it.’
Effie shook her head, ‘You can pretend it’s business all you like, I don’t believe it.’ She turned to me, ‘She loves it really, putting on her airs, I’ll bet she’s got a backstory and everything.’
Kit neither confirmed nor denied it, but picked up our dishes to take them to the sink without another word. Effie nodded at me as if to say, Well, there you go.
I loved having breakfast with them, hearing about people in town that I’d yet to meet. It felt like the kind of thing families would do. We used to do it, Dan and I, when we first got together. When we worked strange shifts and
our mornings could start at any time of the day. We’d eat breakfast at four in the afternoon before I went off to my bar job and he went to load and unload lorries at one of the depots.
Since he’d started at his dad’s firm, we didn’t see each other in the mornings. He left me little notes by the coffee pot, or made me a cup of tea. Some days we nodded sleepily to each other, when I used to wake up early to go running. That was the first few months after the miscarriage, when I was so desperate just to run. To escape my own body. But Dan said it worried him, how far I ran, how much weight I lost, the damage I was doing to my joints. The pulled muscles and inflammation and shin splints.
He bought me a treadmill, and an exercise bike. They had both sat in the nursery, unopened.
Life was simple on the farm – an early start, a big breakfast and then there was time. The kids had their riding classes, Effie went to the café, and Kit baked her cakes, the smell of lavender and lemon permeating the cottage. And there I was, I curled up on the sofa with my book, breathing in the scent and warmth. Being looked after. It was what I imagined school trips were like, activities and learning and then free time to just be. An adventure holiday from my life.
I helped a little with the first tour group, but I was strangely exhausted, unable to keep up the enthusiasm that ‘Scottie’ seemed to emanate. She was always busy, always saying something, laughing with someone, offering food or jokes or titbits. I sort of hovered there, and I knew Kit was looking to me to impress her, show her some of that ‘selling magic’ I said I’d had, but I could barely remember anything in the book she’d given me.
‘Give yourself a break, girl.’ Her lips were a thin line and told me she would not take any arguments. So I trudged back to the cottage, almost ready to collapse onto those sheets, pausing to take photos of the view and send them to Dan. I didn’t know what to say to him, but I still wanted him to know I was there, to miss me.
When I let myself in, I was faced with a red-haired woman sat at the kitchen table. When she looked up I realised it was Sarah, her tear-streaked face so incredibly young compared to when I saw her yesterday. Then she’d looked confident and determined. Now she had the look of someone thrown headlong from childhood a little too quickly.
‘Hello?’ I let my voice float out before I appeared around the doorframe, so as not to spook her.
She wiped her eyes rapidly, and put a winning smile on her face.
‘I didn’t realise anyone was here, sorry Taz. How’s it going?’
That smile killed me. I’d seen it in the mirror a hundred times.
She was holding a baby, a round-faced cheery little thing who didn’t seem to notice her tears at all. He gripped her beautiful red hair in a chubby fist as she bounced him on her knee, an automatic motion.
‘Fine, all fine… are you here to see Kit?’ I asked gently, trying not to stare at her. Her eyes were an alarmingly bright blue, and she looked so very sad. I wanted to gather her up and hold her tight, she looked so drained of energy, like she was unspooling.
‘She’s usually the person to hear my troubles, and talk some sense into me,’ Sarah laughed, sniffling a little and adjusting the baby. ‘I know she’s got the kids in for the horses about now, so I thought I’d wait inside.’
I wasn’t sure whether to leave, or go get Kit, or whether I should leave her to herself, give her space to fall apart. And then I took a breath and remembered it wasn’t about me.
‘Would you like some tea?’ I said, and immediately hated myself for my Englishness. Sarah didn’t even pause, just looked grateful.
‘Aye, that would be lovely,’ she didn’t make fun of me, ‘this is Lachlan, by the way.’
‘He’s adorable,’ I said. Not a lie, but an expected phrase. I tried not to look at babies too much these days. Dan once said there was a hungry look on my face, and I was horrified for others to see that weakness.
‘Well, they make ’em that way so you can’t throttle them when they won’t stop screaming, don’t they?’ She smiled again, more natural but still tired and world-weary. There was something more than motherhood there. I put the water on to boil, got the teapot out the same way Kit had.
I smiled back at Sarah, but said nothing. I thought she might prefer the silence, her eyes closed in prayer or thought, I didn’t know.
‘Go on, say it,’ she said suddenly.
‘What?’
‘I’m too young to have a bairn, and isn’t this my younger brother, or nephew? How did I get myself in such a fine state, me so young with the world at my feet?’
I snorted, relaxing as I opened the pot of cinnamon sticks and inhaled that complicated scent of home.
‘It’s funny how people seem to think they have a right to comment on your life choices. But stranger still that they think you should care.’ I smiled at her. ‘He’s beautiful. And you look like you know what you’re doing, no problem.’
Sarah sighed a little at that, snorting, ‘I’m pretty good at pretending most of the time. People keep saying it’ll get easier. I’m waiting for that to be true. That’s what Kit’s for, I come to her when I need some sense talked into me. She’ll be harsh, but it’s for the best.’
‘You’ve come for… a telling off?’ I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice, but failed miserably.
‘Aye, I’ve come for my penance. Better than church. Kit’s always looked out for me, ever since I was one of those kids out there, desperately wanting to ride on the horses but no money to pay and no family to help me. She didn’t have much family either, so we sort of… had each other.’
‘I’m just visiting,’ I said, inexplicably, as if I needed to convince her I wasn’t there to steal her beloved mother figure.
‘Well, good, I’ll not be sharing her,’ Sarah said, and when I looked up from filling the mugs, she grinned at me. It was impossible not to smile back. ‘You’ll be having your own dramas that need a little Kit magic, I’ll imagine?’
‘Something like that.’
I brought the tea over, and Sarah was delighted that I made it the same way as Kit, cinnamon in the pot. It seemed to mean something. It was a relief to talk to someone who didn’t expect anything of me, didn’t ask for reasons for my trip or want clear answers. Instead, we talked about what was on television, and how long Effie had run the café, and what people in town thought of the alpacas.
Lachlan fell asleep, and Sarah asked me to hold him while she ran to the toilet. Before I could make up an excuse, he was in my arms and I dared not move.
After a few seconds of fear, I looked at him, tracing his velvet soft skin with my fingertip. He was beautiful, so beautiful. I closed my eyes and put my nose to his head, taking a deep inhale of that baby smell.
Which of course, was when Kit walked in. I looked at her, like an addict caught in the act, heart thumping in my chest with guilt, but Kit saw nothing amiss. Just a woman holding a cute baby and having a cuddle. Which was exactly what it was.
‘Ah, I see you’ve met the wee rascal,’ she nodded at the baby as if he was another of her animals. A little affection, alongside a subtle belief that he’d probably shit on the carpet if given half a chance. ‘How long has Sarah been gone?’
‘A few seconds, she’s just popped up to the loo.’
‘Oh the loo, is it?’ Kit snorted, then went to her purse, took out a twenty and slipped it into the front pocket of Sarah’s handbag. She turned to me, raised an eyebrow and put her finger to her lips.
I made a sign as if I were locking my lips up, and she nodded, satisfied as she helped herself to a cup of tea from the pot. When Sarah returned, she gave Kit a hug. Kit, exactly as I expected, stood there and withstood it, patting her briefly on the back until she let go.
‘What did the moron do this time?’ Kit asked, not one for preliminaries.
‘Lost his job,’ Sarah pressed her lips together, reaching to stroke Lachlan’s head but making no move to take him from me. ‘But it wasn’t his fault…’
‘Oh aye? The boy se
ems to have terrible bad luck when it comes to staying employed, doesn’t he?’
Sarah blushed a little, ‘That fight the other night… it was with the boss’s son.’
‘Ah, an abundance of brains, that boy. And how does he plan to support you and his son now?’ Kit’s tone was harsh and I felt embarrassed for Sarah, but clearly this was what she’d come for. It had the feel of a conversation that had happened many times before.
‘He’ll find something. I just need to give him time to cool down. Do you think Fraser would—’
Kit shook her head, but did reach out a hand to pat Sarah’s arm to soften the rejection, ‘You know having Murray in a pub would not be good for anyone. I will do anything I can for you, hen, you know that. But I will not help that lad until he helps himself.’
‘It’s my fault, I got him all wound up and then he went to work and started trouble,’ Sarah sighed, stirring her tea. Kit’s mouth became a thin line, and I jumped in before she could say anything. I couldn’t help myself.
‘Um, I mean, it’s none of my business, but… if he went and punched someone, it’s his fault. His temper, his responsibility. Not yours.’
‘Thank you!’ Kit yelped. ‘Someone who speaks sense. For the love of God, the women I’ve known who’ve thrown themselves away on worthless men. You see this girl, how smart and kind and funny she is? How she’s a fine mother, even being so young? And still, she’ll stay with a moron because no one told her she deserved better.’
Sarah frowned, ‘I am here, you know.’
‘Are you? Are you really, hen? Because we’ve been having this conversation from before the wee’un was even born, and we’re still having it.’ Kit bristled and I wasn’t sure who I wanted to comfort. I just knew that I wanted to be out of that kitchen and away from whatever this was.
‘Then I’ll go, if it’s such an inconvenience to you,’ Sarah started noisily, ineffectively getting her things together, but still made no move to retrieve her baby. I could tell these were the moves of a well-trod dance, one they both knew the steps to well enough. It was better to wait until the music stopped, I suppose.
The Things That Matter Page 11
