Chapter Five
Ten minutes after Ezz returned to the hall and was working peaceably in her office, Mats, Astrid and Alvin half-fell into the lobby, unwinding scarves and dragging off hats. The children gambolled up to her office door and chorused, ‘Hello!’ as if they hadn’t seen her with Thea only minutes ago.
She smiled at their cute rosy faces. ‘Did you have fun?’
Two heads nodded emphatically. Alvin bounced in his red boots. ‘ Ja. Now we have hot choklad .’
‘Want some?’ Astrid asked hospitably, licking her lips, as if anticipating a hot-chocolate moustache to savour.
Ezz assumed an expression of mock sorrow. ‘I’m afraid I’m working.’
‘C’mon, children.’ Mats’ voice floated from just out of sight.
The two little poppets spun around and scurried off and Ezz returned to the staff rosters, wanting them laid out until mid-January so she could pass further updating over to Orla, who’d be back at work tomorrow after her days off.
She went on clicking on headshots of the staff to allocate them to shifts. The wind rattled the window. The sound of a door opening reached her and this time when she glanced up, she found Josefin advancing into the room, a steaming red mug in her hand.
‘Astrid worries that you are missing out on hot chocolate,’ she said, smiling, and placed the mug on the coaster on Ezz’s desk.
‘Oh!’ Ezz was charmed. ‘How lovely of her. And how kind of you. Thanks to you both.’ Appreciatively, she sniffed the sugary-scented steam.
‘You’re welcome.’ Josefin smoothed her caramel-coloured top. It almost matched the pale brown of her eyes. ‘I come also for information. The children wish to visit the beach in the village tomorrow. As Alvin is so small, I think I should drive them. Do you think yes?’
Ezz considered Alvin’s short legs. ‘I do. The roads are narrow, but it won’t take you long in the Volvo. Let me show you.’
She opened an online map on her computer and chose satellite view, and then swivelled the monitor so Josefin could see. ‘Here’s Rothach Hall, look. This line—’ she traced it with her finger ‘—is the main drive. You can take that or the service drive at the back. They both lead to Manor Road. The first turning right is into Low Road, which becomes Chapel Road, where the Jolly Abbot is. Then take Creag an Lolaire into Harbour View, where you’ll be able to park at the side of the road.’
Josefin straightened up from viewing the screen. ‘Perfect. Thank you.’ She sent Ezz an appraising look. ‘I enjoyed visiting your pub. I have the evening off. Would you join me there again?’
Ezz’s first reaction was to gracefully decline, just because it was the pub. But then she remembered her last visit to the Jolly Abbot with Josefin, when she’d fleetingly reflected that avoiding the pub meant missing opportunities to socialise. And there was only another solitary long winter evening on her horizon as Thea would be with Dev. No amount of being glad for Thea’s happiness made Ezz feel any less alone. Josefin was a kind, ordinary, friendly woman. When Mats had instructed Ezz to escort her to the Jolly Abbot it had felt like an imposition, but to be invited by Josefin herself felt like a hand of friendship. To accept would be a choice , not an obligation forced on her. It was always easier to deal with a choice and pubs sold drinks completely free of alcohol, didn’t they? ‘Thanks. I think I’d like that,’ she said.
That evening, Ezz didn’t take a great deal of trouble over her appearance, just to cross the road to the village pub: jeans, a sweatshirt and her blue hiking boots, which she liked particularly with tartan laces.
Josefin arrived at eight. ‘ Hej, hej ,’ she cried, huddled in a green Puffa coat that, in the light from the outside lamp, made her look like a cheerful chrysalis.
Ezz pulled her ski jacket around her and they hurried across the road to the Jolly Abbot. Its Christmas finery of white, red and green twinkle lights were a beacon of bling, a reminder that Christmas was just over six weeks away. ‘Whoo,’ Ezz cried, as the wind stood her hair on end.
Josefin laughed as her own mousy crop tossed wildly. ‘At the hall, it is worse. The wind whines around the building like a ghost.’
‘It’s usually more sheltered in the bay.’ Ezz glanced around, trying to spot the Rothach Hall Volvo or even the pick-up. ‘You didn’t walk?’
‘I did,’ Josefin maintained. ‘I have a torch on my phone.’
‘Blimey. It must have been dark and steep beneath the trees.’ Ezz opened the heavy wooden door. They were hit with a wave of beery warmth and the lights from the indoor Christmas tree in its dress of shiny baubles and glittering tinsel. Four thirty-something men at a table looked up and smiled. In her mind, Ezz called them the Regular Drinkers as on the rare occasions when she visited the pub – such as Maisie or Fraser’s birthdays – she always saw them at the same table and Rosamund and Brodie behind the bar seemed to know them.
Josefin reached the bar first. ‘What would you like? We could share a bottle of wine.’
‘I’ll have Irn-Bru, please,’ Ezz answered easily. After a decade without alcohol, it was easier than it used to be to turn down wine. ‘Hi, Brodie,’ she added to the dark young man. She might not be a pub regular but, in the years they’d all lived in Chapel Road, she’d watched him growing from a gangly teen to a bearded, confident man in his mid-twenties.
‘Iron brew?’ Josefin queried, brow creasing, while Brodie clinked ice into a tall glass and reached for an orange can.
‘I suppose it’s just a weird spelling of that – it’s I-r-n B-r-u,’ Ezz agreed. ‘A popular drink in Scotland.’
‘I would like to try, I think.’ Josefin picked up Ezz’s fizzing glass and sniffed it. ‘Is it alcohol?’
‘No.’ Ezz breathed in its barley-sugar sweetness.
From behind the bar, Brodie said helpfully, ‘You can have a whisky in it. We call that a Girder.’
Josefin looked baffled. Ezz supposed in Brodie’s brogue it had sounded to foreign ears like ‘yukun hay a wusky on it’, and repeated his words in her English accent.
Josefin nodded enthusiastically, beaming at Brodie. ‘I like whisky.’ They began an earnest discussion about the relative merits of Talisker or the whisky liqueur Drambuie. Josefin chose Drambuie, and Brodie got busy with ice, Irn-Bru and a double Drambuie, while Ezz made a mental note to offer to drive Josefin home, imagining her falling in the copse, and having to sleep rolled up in her Puffa coat.
Soon the two women were seated near the cheerfully dancing flames of the log fire. The pub was quiet, probably because it was a weekday. The Regular Drinkers switched bewilderingly between English and Gaelic as they drank pints and exchanged banter with Brodie, deadpan until they all roared with laughter. Two middle-aged couples sat at another table, occasionally joining in.
Ezz sipped the ice-cold Irn-Bru that was almost as brightly orange as its can and brought out one of the titbits that working in the local leisure industry had lodged in her memory. ‘Drambuie’s meant to have originated in the Broadford Hotel in Broadford Bay.’
‘Oh?’ Josefin took a healthy draught of her spirit-laced version. ‘I like it. What did he say my drink is called?’
‘A Girder,’ Ezz supplied. Then, when Josefin looked uncertain, took out her phone and found an image of an iron girder.
Josefin spluttered into instant laughter, making her face rounder and redder and her eyes merry. The description ‘natural’ was perfect for her – no make-up, no highlights, a basic haircut and an out-in-all-weather complexion. ‘Very good. You don’t drink alcohol?’
Ezz shook her head. Although she liked Josefin, their relationship wasn’t close enough for her to bare that tender part of her soul. She turned the conversation. ‘How are you liking Rothach in winter?’
‘It’s not quite as cold as Sweden, but so beautiful. Tomorrow, I bring the children to the beach here in the village. If we have fine weather the next day, we are all to drive around the island, I think.’ Josefin tilted her head consideringly. ‘Perhaps not Grete. I don’t know.’
Ezzie felt curiosity stir. So far, Grete hadn’t pursued the chat about Christmas visitor attractions, despite her apparent enthusiasm during their video call of only a few days ago. ‘I haven’t seen much of her.’
Josefin crossed her legs, which were clothed in comfy brown corduroy. She frowned. ‘No, I have not either. But I have been with Mats and the children.’ Her expression softened.
Ezzie tilted her head enquiringly. ‘I’m sure you love Astrid and Alvin. They’re so cute.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Josefin beamed. ‘They are lovely children, and so lively. I have a very good job.’ She took another sip of her drink and lowered her voice confidingly. ‘I should not say it, but I like it better now I live in Mats’ apartment while Inger is away.’ Josefin peered out from a fringe that lay like a slew of quills across her forehead. ‘Since the divorce, the children spend half the week with Inger and half with Mats, so I must do the same. But now Inger is with her new partner, Andreas, on a big motor yacht, so we all stay together – Mats, the children and me. Mats, without her, is relaxed.’
Ezz stared. Mats and Inger were divorced? She’d had no idea. And a new partner for Inger? Ezz remembered her as beautiful in a way that invoked thoughts of salons, gyms and expensive boutiques, but had a trick of looking through employees as if they were part of the furniture.
While she waited to see if Josefin would expand on the subject, Ezz remembered Mats playing soldiers in the playground fort, wind-blown and laughing, silvery eyes alight. When he’d blushed beet red at being caught, she’d even felt a stirring of liking that she definitely hadn’t felt when he’d sent her to the pub with Josefin. But maybe that wasn’t too much to carp about … considering she was now in the pub with Josefin again.
Anyway, it seemed that Josefin liked Mats enough for both of them, as she continued extolling his virtues. He was kind and courteous. He never shouted at Astrid and Alvin. He’d taken a break from his job to be with his kids while their mother was away. Ezz listened, knowing that Josefin was being indiscreet about their employers, but too curious about Mats to find a way to shut her up.
Cheeks growing ruddier, Josefin drank two more Girders, which meant she’d downed three double Drambuies, and went on to talk about herself. ‘I spent my childhood north-east of Gothenburg. There were farm fields but also forests and rocks. When I was married, we lived in Gothenburg for my husband’s job, but then we separated. Our son, Lars, lives in America.’ Josefin smiled fondly when she mentioned her son, and then turned the conversation to Ezzie. ‘Where in England was your home?’
‘I came from Suffolk, a county in the east of England, where it’s quite flat and agricultural. We lived in a village in the countryside, a gorgeous place to grow up, about an hour and a half from the sea.’ Ezz was beginning to enjoy Josefin’s company. She seemed open and friendly and, like Ezz, didn’t have the people around her she’d usually hang out with. ‘It’s very different to rocky, craggy Skye. And here the sea’s only a couple of streets away from my cottage.’ Ezz smiled just to think about Rothach. ‘My sister Thea and I came here when Rothach Hall had just been restored. Thea applied for a job first, and when I saw the photos, I fell in love with the place. They needed an assistant manager, so I applied. I left an ex behind, but we weren’t married.’ The explanation tripped from Ezz’s tongue. None of it was untrue, but it left out the part about her and Thea having other things to leave behind in Suffolk apart from boyfriends.
By ten o’clock, Ezz, Josefin and the Regular Drinkers were the only ones left in the pub, the couples having pulled on their parkas and left. One of the Regular Drinkers, who habitually ran a hand over his suede-like head of buzzed hair, smiled at Ezz across the room, making Josefin send Ezz a meaningful waggle of her eyebrows. ‘You have an admirer.’
‘I think he’s called Gus – short for Angus,’ Ezz murmured. ‘And he’s a married dad. Not on my radar.’
Josefin pulled a face. ‘Oh, no. No married men.’
Then the door opened and Mats Larsson strolled in, pink-cheeked from the cold but wearing a thick blue-grey fleece in place of a coat. Something flared in Ezz’s chest at seeing him so unexpectedly, and it took her a second to assume her professional smile.
‘ Hej, hej, ’ he said to Josefin, grinning, then to Ezz, more formally, ‘Good evening. I’ve come to give Josefin a lift home.’ He glanced at their glasses, which were both half-full of orange liquid. ‘Do you mind if I grab a quick coffee while you finish your drinks? Mum said she’ll listen out for the children.’
Ezz felt she had no choice but to mask her surprise and say, ‘Please do.’
‘This is called “a Girder”.’ Josefin picked up her drink to show Mats. ‘It’s whisky liqueur with Irn-Bru. It’s growing on me.’
He answered good-naturedly. ‘Don’t tempt me when I’m the one who has to drive back.’ He ordered black coffee from Rosamund, who’d taken over the bar from Brodie, and then pulled up a stool at their table. He glanced around at the proliferation of twinkle lights and polished brass. ‘Nice place,’ he said to Rosamund, when she brought his mug of coffee.
Rosamund beamed. ‘Thanks. It is.’
As Josefin had trained all her attention on Mats and was chatting about whisky, Ezz pushed away the last of her sugary drink. ‘If you have a lift home, Josefin, I’ll go.’
Josefin rose to give her a warm hug, but didn’t attempt to change her mind. ‘Thanks for coming out with me, Ezzie. I enjoyed it.’
‘Me, too.’ Ezz said general goodnights, pulling on her coat as she shuffled from behind the table.
Mats rose politely. ‘I hope I haven’t chased you away.’
‘Not at all,’ she replied equally politely.
Ears burning with the cold as she hurried across the road to the welcoming warmth of home, she wondered about Mats and Josefin. The easy way he’d sat down for coffee and a chat didn’t indicate much distance between employee and employer. If they were both divorced, there was nothing to prevent a relationship, though the nanny was a decade older than Mats with his shampoo-commercial-glossy hair and designer jeans and boots. People fell for who they fell for.
She let herself indoors, switching on the light that bathed her hallway in a golden glow. In one way, she considered Mats a better human being for valuing Josefin as a friendly, competent woman.
But also, judgy though it was … what a waste.
The phone in reception was ringing. It was Tuesday morning. Orla had returned to work after her time off but didn’t answer. Ezz turned away from her computer and reached for her landline phone, intending to take the call from there.
The ringing stopped.
She began to swivel back to her keyboard when she heard a male voice in the lobby say, ‘Rothach Hall.’
She froze, grimacing. It sounded like Mats had answered the phone. Why? The landline was for business.
‘Oh, really?’ she heard him say. ‘No, I wasn’t aware. I’m Mats Larsson. My parents own Rothach Hall so you can speak to me. Mm-hm. Mm-hm. Oh?’ Then after a lot of other listening noises he said, ‘Certainly we’d be interested. I’ll give you my email address so you can send over your proposal. I’ll speak to a couple of people at this end … yes, do.’ A clatter suggested the handset had been replaced.
Ezz scarcely had time to wonder what query he’d felt it necessary to deal with himself when Mats strolled into her office, looking pleased with himself.
Her first reaction was to explain. ‘Orla must have left her desk for a moment. I was about to answer the call in here.’
He waved away her words. ‘It was very interesting.’ He wore running gear, the muscles of his long legs visible beneath tight joggers, and he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. His hair was messy. ‘I had no idea your sister had been in a gardening TV show. Garden Gladiators , was it?’
Horror sizzled through Ezzie like a static shock. She licked suddenly dry lips.
He waited, as if expecting her to launch into an account of the show and Thea’s involvement. When she only gazed at him, he continued. ‘That was the production company. Apparently, they’re resurrecting the show, and they want to talk to us about filming here at Rothach Hall – with your sister front and centre. It sounds like a great opportunity. People love to visit a place that they see on TV, so visitor numbers should shoot up. We might even become a destination on organised tours. Filming will begin in the coming summer, so they want to scout the location and chat to Thea.’
Words seemed to fire themselves from Ezz’s lips. ‘She won’t do it. You shouldn’t ask her.’ A buzzing began in her ears, and she grasped the reassuringly solid edge of her desk in case she fainted at this awful news arriving out of the blue. Or out of the self-satisfied mouth of Mats Larsson.
His smile vanished. ‘Excuse me?’ He seemed to draw up his long frame to appear even taller than usual. When Ezz gazed at him mutely he gave her a cold look. ‘I think we can safely let her speak for herself, don’t you?’ Then he spun on his heel and marched from the room. A moment later, the front door opened and then snapped closed.
Ezz unfroze. She grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called Thea. As she waited out the ringing tone, she seethed. Bloody Mats Larsson. His quelling look had said: Who do you think you are? Well, she was Thea’s sister; that’s who she was. ‘Come on, Thea, answer,’ she whispered. But it was voicemail that picked up. Ezz gabbled a message. ‘Ring me the second you get this.’ Fingers trembling, she texted the same few words.
Thea didn’t reply.
Ezzie jumped to her feet and paced, craning vainly through the window in the hopes of seeing Thea busy in the grounds. What could she do? Grete would never expect Thea to work with a TV crew again, but Ezz had seen her go out with Josefin and the children earlier, the children coming to the office door to chorus their hellos and Grete saying, ‘Ezzie, we must talk soon,’ before waving and following the others out into a freezing winter day. Erik Larsson would understand too, but Ezz could hardly send him an email: I don’t like your son’s way of doing things and your wife’s gone out so I’m going to interrupt your busy day with my worry.
Should she run after Mats and find a way to halt him? But he’d seemed so welcoming of the contact from Garden Gladiators , and, frankly, snotty with her, probably because she’d forgotten everything her online course had taught her and challenged him in the panic of the moment. She tried Thea’s phone again. Still no reply, though Ezzie knew she was somewhere in these vast gardens, parkland, and woods. After another fruitless glance through her window, she hurried from her office, across reception and up the dogleg stairs, half-running into the public rooms on the top floor. They were, as she’d expected, deserted, though looking festive after she’d repeated the stars and garland treatment up here.
She tried the back window first. From there she could see over to where Manor Road joined the main coast road and beyond to the foothills of the Cuillin Mountains. The bracken and heather in their winter colours of gold, russet and brown made the hills look like enormous tabby cats’ backs below a cold blue sky. The only greenery came from swathes of pine and spruce. For once she spared the view only a glance before peering down into the courtyard, then trying to see through the greenhouse glass. No Thea.
Moving swiftly into a front room, ignoring a Christmas swag of pine and berries on the windowsill near a gallery of framed delicate and aged fabrics, her gaze combed the formal gardens and lawns, across the park to the paddock where Mary and Clive grazed, and Scotch and Haggis rested their heads on each other’s necks.
And finally, in the entrance to the herb garden, she spotted Thea, foreshortened because Ezz was two storeys above.
A figure faced Thea. It looked like Mats Larsson.
‘Shit,’ Ezz hissed. And her heart plummeted like rocks tumbling down the Cuillin Mountains.