Chapter Four
It was the day after the Halloween party and her final day with her dad. Her new beginning and her fresh start on Arran would officially begin tomorrow. Much as she appreciated the tiny spare bedroom at her dad’s, she was looking forward to having some space of her own. She was reaching her limit of living from bags and trying to find things in the depths of her holdalls. Luckily, there was a flat above the office in Brodick available to rent. It was so much cheaper than the tiny room she’d been renting in London.
‘Cup of tea, Dad?’ she asked. Barry was flicking through the channels of the huge television that dominated the wall. Her mother never liked big TVs, and so Barry decided, if he could no longer have his wife, he would instead have a big screen. Beth didn’t understand his reasoning but thought best to let him be in those early days of grieving.
‘Please dear, that would be nice. I’ll miss this when you go, you know,’ he said vaguely. ‘But at least you won’t be so far away now. I can come over and visit when the weather gets a bit better. That’s if you’re not too busy.’
As she walked into the kitchen, she found herself wiping away a tear. It had been strangely cathartic to spend this time with him. Her dad wasn’t a fan of cities, and had been so out of his comfort zone the one time he’d visited she hadn’t extended the invitation again. There seemed little point.
Their time together here had been lovely. He had asked after Beth’s former partner, Tim, a couple of times, and he must have noticed her flinch. Although she hadn’t gone into the details of what had happened with him, she suspected he must have known it wasn’t good, as he had patted her hand in sympathy on more than one occasion. Neither did he question the motivation behind her new job, which she had fully expected him to do. ‘As long as you are happy dear, then that is all that matters,’ he had said. She couldn’t quite believe how much he had mellowed, and wondered if that had something to do with Margaret. Or perhaps she was finally just getting to know her dad.
The doorbell chimed and Beth jumped as she heard the door swing open.
‘Coo-ee, it’s just me.’ Margaret let herself in.
‘Cuppa?’ called Beth. She was still trying to get her head around the fact they all just walked into each other’s apartments whenever they felt like it. Sometimes it reminded her of being in the halls of residence at university. Especially when the visitors, more often than not, arrived holding a bottle or two of wine.
‘Aw, go on then, twist my arm.’ Margaret bustled into the kitchen, in which she was clearly very familiar. ‘I’ve made some scones.’ She reached into the cupboard for some plates, then got the butter from the fridge.
Beth dropped a tea bag in another mug and poured on the boiling water. After a wait, she squeezed the bag down with a teaspoon until it had turned a deep brown. Margaret had previously joked with her that she made weak-looking tea that was a bit “peely-wally”. Beth had quickly learned to make it just the right strength for her.
‘Look love, I was thinking . . . and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything. Or think I’m being presumptuous. But I know you’re heading off tomorrow and, well, me and your dad have been talking . . .’
Beth watched Margaret slather the butter on the sliced scones with vigour. She had no idea what Margaret was about to say next.
‘The thing is, the weather has been utterly Baltic, and it’s not like it’s going to get warm anytime soon. I mean I know Arran has palm trees and everything, but I don’t think there will be much of a gulf stream at the moment. Spring is months away. Your dad mentioned that you’re going to need a car for this new job and so . . . well, I would love it if you would take mine.’
Beth shook her head. ‘I couldn’t possibly do that Margaret. It’s your car, and I will get one. Soon . . .’
Margaret gave her a knowing look, glancing over Beth’s shoulder to check that her dad was still engrossed with the TV. ‘You don’t need to tell me anything lovey, but I have been around long enough to know that there’s stuff you’re not telling your dad. He’s worried about you. And I know you’re proud. I’ve got a daughter and a granddaughter who are exactly the same. If I was a betting woman, I’d put money on there being some muppet of a man being involved.’ There was a question in her voice.
Beth felt her cheeks redden.
Margaret pursed her lips. ‘I thought so. Honestly, I would take a swing for him if I could.’
When Beth didn’t reply, Margaret turned back to the counter and started spreading the scones with jam.
Beth didn’t have the heart to tell her that the very thick layer of butter was more than enough.
‘Your dad has got one of those fancy cars with heated seats. I mean, when he first gave me a lift to Asda and he switched them on, I didn’t know what was happening. I thought I’d wet myself. It’s quite unnerving to feel your bum heat up when the rest of you is frozen. I wasn’t sure I liked it at all.’
Beth couldn’t help but laugh.
Margaret plonked the knife in the sink and, turning back to look at Beth, raised an eyebrow. ‘I will tell you this though. It is a very handy feature to have when we go out to collect a takeaway. Keeps it warm on the way back, you know. Anyway, that’s beside the point. My car is sitting there and you may as well use it. If I need to get anywhere, I can use my free bus pass. One of the advantages of being a pensioner. Besides, how else are you going to get about with this new job of yours?’
Beth hesitated, then clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She knew Margaret was right. During the interview, which took place on Zoom, she had told a white lie when she said she had a car. She had hoped Jim, the editor, wouldn’t notice her cheeks flush as she said it. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do when she actually arrived on the island without wheels. Like everything else she did lately, she was planning just to wing it and make an excuse.
‘But what about your family? They might want to use it?’
Margaret chuckled. ‘Isobel has her own car, and Bella, my granddaughter, drives her mum’s car. She’s also previously told me that she wouldn’t be seen dead in a red car.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Apparently, it’s not one of her colours and doesn’t suit her complexion. Honestly, the youth of today. They don’t know they’re born.’
Beth chewed her bottom lip for a moment as she thought about Margaret’s kind offer, which would help hugely. This past year she had been slowly getting used to accepting all the offers she could get. She took a deep breath. ‘Okay . . . thank you Margaret. I appreciate it. Though it will be just a temporary thing until I get myself sorted out with my own car.’
‘That’s a deal,’ said Margaret clapping her hands together. ‘Now let’s get this tea through to your dad before he expires on us. I don’t fancy having to do CPR.’