‘No,’ she said, ‘I couldn’t get it booked on, so I’ll just park at Ardrossan and come across by foot. I’m not planning on bringing that much stuff anyway.’
Fergus laughed. ‘Famous last words. Look, if I can meet you off it, I will. Just text me when you’re on the way.’
‘Please don’t worry. I’ll be fine. It looks like it’s not so far from the ferry terminal. It’s just a short walk, it will do me good to stretch my legs.’
Fergus’s words had indeed been famous. Kitty had ended up packing much more stuff than she’d planned. It was both a stroke of luck and a blessing that, when she got to the terminal, there was space for her car on the ferry after all. She messaged Fergus from the boat, letting him know she could make her own way to Lilybank Cottage.
Fergus ran the outdoor centre at Lamlash, and they had never been particularly close growing up as he’d been abroad for many years. It was only when he came back to Scotland for the funerals of his parents that they’d reconnected. Then, when they’d both been visiting John in Glasgow, they’d become closer still. They’d bonded over their shared histories of personal loss and broken hearts. They had a lot in common, and she never had to explain herself to him and vice versa. They both understood each other and in a way were like kindred spirits. She was so looking forward to seeing him again.
Kitty got herself a coffee and took it upstairs to sit on the outside deck. There was a warm breeze, and the sun was tryingits best to peek out from beneath the grey cover of clouds. She had checked the forecast for the week ahead and it looked a bit mixed. But that didn’t bother her in the slightest. She had packed for the weather and had spares — a couple of pairs of walking shoes in case one got muddy, and two rain jackets to allow for one to dry out. There would be no excuse not to be active. Then again, she reasoned, if it did rain all the time and everything got wet, which meant the walking got a bit miserable, then she would have the perfect excuse to stay in and sleep and read the pile of books she had downloaded onto her Kindle in anticipation of having all this free time. It did feel very indulgent, but she felt a glimmer of excitement, countered by a tinge of sadness that Cameron wasn’t there too, as she thought about the long summer that stretched ahead.
It had been years since she’d been to Arran, and she wondered how much she would remember and how much had changed. She had vague memories of a visit during a family holiday when she was around five years old. Her parents had decided to take John and her on a tour of the Scottish islands. As she looked ahead to the mainland, she could see Brodick Castle nestled in the trees. She had definitely been there. She could remember it was a wet day. She and John had had their welly boots on and had loved jumping in all the puddles, and sliding across the grass in the grounds, which were brilliant to play in as a child. She remembered feeling hot and damp and hungry as they trailed after their parents inside the castle, listening to a guide tell them about its history and the stories that lay within its walls. There were huge oil paintings on the walls and the rooms were filled with ornate furniture. She had fidgeted, desperate to go for some juice and cake in the café afterwards.
As the ferry neared the island, the wind started to pick up a bit and the clouds started to clear. Kitty caught a glimpse ofGoatfell, the island’s highest peak. Maybe she would climb that on one of her days.
Yawning, she realised how tired she was. Yesterday’s drive down to Glasgow had been long, thanks to heavy traffic on the A9. Then she and John had sat up late chatting. Maybe once she got to the cottage and unpacked, she could have a little nap. Why not? She could please herself, which made her feel quite liberated. Then she would head out and get some provisions and make a list of all the things that she wanted to do.
When the announcement was made asking passengers to return to their cars ahead of their arrival at Brodick Ferry Terminal, she practically skipped down the stairs in excitement. She couldn’t wait to start this next chapter and new adventure.
Chapter Seven
Olivia had woken early, far too early, to the sound of heavy rain. She stretched out, noticing how comfortable the bed was, before she drifted back off into a peaceful slumber. When she woke again, still feeling tired, she opened the curtains to allow daylight in. Then she hopped back into bed, propped herself up on the fluffy pillows and reached for her phone — the holiday rather than real-life one — popping her earbuds in. Usually listening to a meditation on YouTube did the trick, and she would often fall asleep within a few minutes with no idea of what the meditation had been about. This morning, the coach was telling her to breathe in deeply, exhale slowly and focus on that very moment in time. Olivia was trying her best not to fidget as the soothing voice kept talking. She couldn’t keep her eyes closed as she had been invited to. They kept flicking open and noticing things that needed to be done. Important things like her nails — the varnish was chipped — and there was a trail of fluff on the floor, which maybe she should hoover up. She shifted a bit, which then made her focus on the achy pain at the base of her back. She squirmed and tried to find a comfortable position, idly thinking about what to have for breakfast.
It was no use, she was now wide awake. She yanked the earphones off and glanced at the clock. It was almost 2 p.m. No wonder she was wide awake and hungry. On cue her stomach started to rumble. She had been sleeping for hours and hours! This was so unlike her. When did she last sleep in until after lunch?Never.She needed to get up and get on with the day. Then a little voice reminded her that she didn’t have anywhere to go and that nobody was expecting her. If she wanted to, she could stay in bed for the whole day — there was nobody to tell her off or remind her about training and schedules and practicing.
Stretching her long limbs out to straighten her back, she kicked off the bedcovers and stood up, gently padding her way through to the kitchen. She gave a loud sigh. Coffee. That was what she needed. A good, strong coffee. Then some food. Filling the kettle at the sink, she paused to watch the birds hopping about on the lawn. The sky was a pale blue and dotted with a few wisps of cloud. She should really go out and get some fresh air and exercise. Then she reminded herself there was time. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she reached for the cafetière and tipped in some of the ground coffee that Amy had thoughtfully left.
She had just poured the water in and was stirring the coffee when she heard the slam of a car door. It reminded her that she wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, despite how quiet it was, and that other civilisation did exist. How different it was to the usual sounds she would hear from her apartment, like the constant blast of car horns, the wailing of sirens and the pinging of the elevator.
But then she heard the sound of a key scratching in the lock — her heart skipped a beat. For a moment she was frozen to the spot and all she could do was blink rapidly. Who on earth was that? Hadhefound her? What should she do? Then she reminded herself to breathe. Come on, Olivia,she said to herself. There was no reason why he would know she was there. The only person who knew was Trudy, and Olivia knew that she would never betray her confidence like that. Not in a million years.
As she heard the door swing open, her mind did an irrational U-turn. She should have known better than to think Patrick wouldn’t track her down. Her breathing quickened and she felt physically sick. Her hands turned clammy, and she rubbed them together, urging herself to think fast. She frantically scanned the kitchen for something,anything, and grabbed a rolling pin. Shevery gingerly peered into the hallway. Olivia’s heart threatened to explode in her chest. Her eyes widened when she saw someone, with a mass of red curly hair, turning back to drag in a case. As the sounds of the wheels scratched on the floor, she dropped the rolling pin, which fell to the ground with a clatter. Then Olivia screamed.
Chapter Eight
Kitty frowned as she was faced with a white-faced woman with blonde curls who dropped a rolling pin at her feet with a clatter and then screamed.
‘Oh,’ said Kitty, shocked. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ Kitty wondered if she was perhaps the cleaner who was just finishing off her shift. Though why was she wearing shorts and a vest? Sure, it was summer and quite warm, but not all that balmy. Unless that was what island cleaners wore and, anyway, who was Kitty to judge? She often did her housework in her pyjamas on a Saturday morning. That way she could have a shower afterwards and throw her pyjamas in the wash. But that was all in the privacy of her own home. She chastised herself for being judgemental again.
‘Can I help you?’ said the woman briskly. She was now standing with her hands on her hips, the rolling pin at her feet.
Her bare feet, thought Kitty. What kind of cleaner went about their hoovering and mopping with no shoes on? And what was with the rolling pin? Had she missed some cleaning hack somewhere about how useful rolling pins were for cleaning hard-to-reach places?
‘Hello? Did you hear what I said?’ said the woman.
Kitty frowned, not liking the demanding tone the woman was taking. She felt her hackles rise. She could also play the confrontational game if that was how it was going to be.Erm, I think I should be asking you the same question. CanIhelpyou?But the truth was Kitty hated confrontation. She could feel heat rising across her chest and up to her cheeks. She crossed her arms in front of her and tried to look confident, when all she wanted was to take her bags to her room and get settled in.
‘You can’t just walk in here,’ said the woman, who Kitty realised had an American accent. ‘What do you think you’re doing? This is private property.’
Kitty felt her resolve falter. ‘I . . . I could say the same thing to you.’
Both women were rooted to their own spots — a real stand-off.
Despite her counselling training, Kitty hated awkwardness of any kind and would always go out of her way to appease a situation. ‘I’ve just arrived to stay here,’ she said, flustered, ‘and . . . I’m taking a bit of a break. And the cottage belongs to a friend of my cousin’s . . .’
The woman looked blankly at her. ‘ButI’mstaying here,’ she said, gesturing around the hall. ‘I arrived yesterday.’
Her voice had at least softened slightly.
