As she watched the carousel go round and round, something strange happened; her eyes began to well with tears; not tears ofsadness, but tears of relief. Now she was free; free to travel, or fulfil her dream of opening her own wee cake shop or tea room – maybe even live abroad. Now there was nothing stopping her, was there? An unexpected tremor of excitement flashed through her.
Emerging bleary-eyed through the sliding doors of the arrivals hall, Lucy was surprised and delighted to find a driver holding up a placard with her name on it.
As the taxi sped along the motorway, the buzzing of her phone jarred her awake. Voicemail. ‘Welcome home, sis’.’ The familiar tones of her brother’s mellifluous voice immediately soothed her overactive mind. ‘Sorry I couldn’t meet you myself, but I’ll swing by this evening. I’m taking you to the pub and we’ll raise a dram to new beginnings. No excuses. Okay?’
With Stewart away and only a few days left until the start of the summer term, Jamie insisted on driving Lucy to Glasgow to pick up her belongings. As they sped along the motorway, singing at the top of their voices to power ballads, she was reminded of how lucky she was to have him as her brother. They had always been close, but having almost lost him during an ambush while on tour in Afghanistan, she appreciated him even more now.
‘Ready?’ Jamie asked, as they drew up outside the tenement block in Glasgow’s West End.
‘Ready,’ she replied with a wobbly smile.
Their footsteps echoed as they made their way up the long, winding stairwell to Stewart’s top-floor flat.
Unlocking the front door, Lucy took a deep breath and stepped inside, to find a pile of post on the mat, addressed to Mr and Mrs Macintosh.
Jamie silently gathered up the fancy envelopes and put them on the hall table.
Entering the living room, Lucy hadn’t been prepared for the sight of a mountain of beautifully wrapped wedding presents. She knelt down, unable to resist the temptation of reading a few of the gift tags.
‘Jamie,’ she sniffed, quickly wiping away a tear with the back of her hand, ‘what shall I do with all these?’
Jamie leaned over, squeezing her shoulder. ‘We’ll make a list and you can email everyone, thanking them and telling them what happened. Then they can either collect their gift from this address, or if they live further afield, tell them Stewart will arrange for a courier to return—’
‘But he—’
‘No buts, Lucy. It’s the least he can do.’
‘You never thought he was right for me, did you? You tried not to show it, but I knew.’
‘I could see how controlling he was, but I told myself as long as you were happy… but next time make sure you choose a good man to share your life with, someone who puts you first.’
‘Next time? Hah! You must be joking. But what about you, Jamie?’ she ventured. ‘You deserve someone special.’
‘Thanks, but who’s gonna want…? Enough! We’ve got work to do,’ he said, straightening up and taking out his phone. ‘Now, do you want some Taylor Swift or the Stones?’
With the van loaded up and Jamie waiting outside, Lucy’s eyes roamed around the bedroom for the last time. Fighting back tears, she was just about to close the door, when she noticed something glinting on the bedside table.
Narrowing her eyes, she moved in for a closer look. Her tummy did a backward flip. It was a random pair of tiny diamond dropearrings. Stewart didn’t have pierced ears, and they definitely weren’t hers, so that could only mean one thing – couldn’t it?
She caught her breath and dried her eyes. Whether this meant a one-night stand or that he’d been cheating all along, she didn’t wish to know now. She’d been sitting at a crossroads for long enough, waiting for the amber light to turn green. Now nothing and no one was going to stand in her way.
Lucy’s stomach churned at the thought of having to face her colleagues and pupils in less than twenty-four hours, so she turned to her favourite therapist: Doctor Baker.
She had inherited her love of baking from her Granny Oona. It had been her date and honey cake that ignited her passion at just nine years old.
When her granny had offered her a date to try, little Lucy had screwed up her nose. ‘They’re all wrinkly and brown.’
‘Aah, but their skin is brown and wrinkly because they have travelled from a land, far, far away, called the Middle East.’
‘Where is the Middle East, Granny?’
‘It’s thousands of miles from here and it’s very dry and hot. But with my magic powers and help from the bees, I’m going to turn these ugly dates into a beautiful cake.’
As she placed the tin in the oven, she cast a spell on the mixture, and sixty minutes later… ta-da!
Under Granny Oona’s careful guidance, Lucy discovered that she too had been given the same powers, which could transform a few simple ingredients into something delicious.
In adulthood she’d found the measuring, mixing, kneading and decorating lifted her mood, but the sharing was the best part andhad doubtless contributed to her reputation as being one of the most popular teachers at the school.
