Standing in the centre of the museum, Juliette inhaled a deep calming breath and a wide smile played on her lips. She had the urge to bounce around on the spot and fist-bump the air as she could already tell this was going to be the most incredible experience, and she couldn’t wait to get to work when the place opened the following week.
12
Juliette had become a regular at the village shop, which was a similar building to the cottage that accompanied the lifeboat station, only set out the opposite way round.
Kenneth was always very pleasant, and they chatted easily as she paid for her shopping that she had collected in a little wicker basket. There was a selection of wines by the cash register and she decided to treat herself with a nice bottle of Shiraz.
Reid walked in wearing scruffy, paint-spattered clothes again and his hair was back to the appearance of having been dragged backwards through a hedge. Juliette doubted any other man could carry off such a wild look, but on Reid it somehow worked. And even in this unshaven, unkempt state there was no hiding his attractiveness.
Juliette stifled a gasp at her inner thoughts, feeling her cheeks warming and that twinge of guilt niggled at her mind. ‘Hi, Reid. I just wanted to let you know I’m unpacked, and I’ve been having another look around the museum. Getting to grips with everything.’ She beamed.
He stopped just a little further down the first aisle and turned to face her. ‘Hmm. Well, I trust everything is in order.’ He was back to the stern-faced persona she had first encountered. No warning. Just a terse manner and an unsmiling face. ‘Obviously, you have our contact details should any issues arise, but if you want my advice, make Mrs McDougal your first port of call. She’s easier to get hold of. Anyway, must go. Dinner to make.’ He gave a swift nod and marched off to the back of the shop.
Juliette cringed, why was he so mercurial? So sweet and pleasant when they were alone but almost standoffish when anyone else was around. Was he trying to keep up the reputation he had acquired and if so, why? After all, people had commented on his grumpiness, but she only ever saw it when they were around others. He really was baffling.
Her disquiet must have been evident in her features as Kenneth leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘Pay no mind to him, the wee dafty. He’s auld before his time, that one,’ he whispered and glanced over to where Reid was collecting groceries and then continued in his quiet voice, ‘Far too serious, if you ask me. Heart o’ gold beneath the dour exterior though, right enough.’ He chuckled and shook his head.
Juliette relaxed a little and lowered her own voice conspiratorially. ‘That’s good to know. I thought we’d turned a corner, but maybe I was wrong, I feel like I’m back to annoying him.’
Kenneth waved a dismissive hand and leaned closer once more. ‘Och, no. I think the very presence ofeveryoneannoys him at some point.’ With another quick glance to make sure the coast was clear, he said, ‘It’s all since his English wife left him. But that’s not my story to tell. Anyway, pay no heed. You’ve a big day coming up. I should imagine you’re champing at the bit to get started.’
Glad of the focus being back on her new role, Juliette smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I can’t wait.’
Reid appeared beside her again and she gave him a nervous smile thatwasn’treturned.
Kenneth said, ‘Well, Jules, go and enjoy your wee tipple. And I can sincerely say on behalf of thewholeco-op that I hope you enjoy your time at the museum.’ There was a sideways, disapproving glance towards Reid and then a sly wink at Juliette.
Juliette hesitated, unwilling to cause trouble but also unwilling to be seen as a pushover. ‘Thank you, Kenneth. I appreciate that very much. It’s nice to be made so welcome.’ And without a backwards glance, she left the shop, letting the door jangle closed behind her.
* * *
Juliette rose early on opening day and padded downstairs to the kitchen to make her first cup of tea of the morning. She eyed the bread she had purchased the night before but wasn’t sure she had room in her stomach for food; apparently a kaleidoscope of butterflies had taken up residence in there. She glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall as she waited for the kettle to boil and drummed her fingertips on the work surface. It was only six thirty and the museum opening hours were ten until four, Tuesday to Saturday. But sleep had evaded her, thanks to excitement, and so here she was, hours from opening and no appetite.
She flicked on the radio, tuned it to Radio Skye, tucked it under her arm and opened the back door. She carried her tea out on to the little stone patio that formed part of a small, enclosed cottage garden. There was a chill to the air, and she pulled her dressing gown closer around her shoulders and checked the metal chair to make sure it was dry before sitting down. Fleetwood Mac sang about a ‘Gypsy’; the unmistakable voice of Stevie Nicks brought back memories of slow-dancing with Laurie in their lounge as they celebrated one of their anniversaries. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell his aftershave as he’d held her close and she’d nuzzled his chest…
Eventually, Juliette decided to go through to the museum to do some final checks, but before unlocking the door, she stood in the empty building. There was something quite magical about being surrounded by nothing but history and silence. She left the shutters closed for a while and let the Tiffany lampshades cast their warm glowing rainbows over the tiny slivers of the past in the cases before her.
There was a knock on the museum door and, when she peered through the stained glass, she recognised Morag’s outline standing there.
She opened the front door and was greeted with a very smiley face and a cloth-covered plate being held towards her. ‘Good morning, Jules, and sorry for the intrusion. I thought you might like a wee sweet treat before your big day begins,’ she said.
‘Oh, Morag, that’s so kind of you. Thank you. Come on in.’ She stepped aside to let Morag through the door. ‘So, what’s under the cloth?’ she asked eagerly as her mouth watered.
‘I know how much you like my Scotch pancakes and I’m missing seeing you at breakfast, so I brought you some.’ She lifted the cloth and an aroma of delicate sweetness wafted through the air from the plate.
Juliette’s stomach rumbled loudly in anticipation and the two new acquaintances laughed. She covered her tummy and felt the heat of embarrassment flush her cheeks. ‘Well, if I wasn’t hungry before, I certainly am now. Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?’
Morag glanced at her watch. ‘Oh, I don’t want to keep you, hen. I know you must have plenty to do.’
Juliette cringed. ‘Don’t think me sad, but I’ve been up and at ’em since six thirty and now, with an hour to go before I open the doors, I’m all prepared. To be honest, a bit of company might help calm my opening-day nerves.’
Morag smiled. ‘Well, in that case, coffee with milk please, lead the way.’
They went back through to the cottage kitchen and Juliette flicked on the kettle as Morag sat at the table. ‘I never asked before as I was afraid to pry, but… forgive a nosey old woman, what brought you all the way up here? I know you said your mum grew up here, but are there other reasons?’ she asked as Juliette made the drinks.
She wondered how much to say but went with something that wasn’t exactly a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth. ‘I just wanted to get away for a break. Work has been quite hectic and, of course, I know about the village, thanks to my mum. It seemed the perfect escape.’
‘Well, I hope you get to do some sightseeing. We don’t want to work you too hard. Now, you get stuck into those pancakes. My Kenneth was none too pleased that I hadn’t made them for him.’ She laughed, the skin around her bright eyes crinkling at the corners.
