Chapter Eleven
As was usual in the winter, Ezz arrived home in the dark, to an unlit, empty cottage. Her garden light picked out pebbles of ice on the path left by the hailstorm. An iron frost had clamped down on the island and, despite her scarf, coat and boots, she shivered.
Diagonally across the road stood the Jolly Abbot, windows cosily ablaze. Brodie was out the front, rolling a metal beer barrel, hair and beard dark against the light streaming through the door. He waved, then hugged himself to mime how cold it was. She waved back imagining strolling across and into the bar, ordering a large glass of chardonnay and perching on a bar stool to peruse the food menu. The dance of cold wine in her mouth, the smoothness on her throat. The softening of her muscles as the weight of the bad day rolled from her shoulders. Another glass while she ate. And then the slow burn of whisky to round off the meal. Maybe the Regular Drinkers would be in, and they’d chat. She’d have company without the effort of unpausing her dating apps and going through the palaver of arranging a date.
With an effort, she turned away from what would surely be a horrible back-sliding into destructive behaviour, drunken mistakes and hangovers. Her door opened with a small sucking sound, as if to warn her that it had been thinking of freezing shut.
Exhausted by this afternoon’s emotional hurricane, she stepped indoors. The door closed behind her with a click and she paused in the dark, listening to the quiet whirr of the boiler that was all that welcomed her home. Abruptly, she missed the company of Thea’s fluffy little dog Daisy, who she’d often looked after on her days off. Now Thea’s lovely boyfriend Dev worked from home, Daisy stayed with him.
When Ezz had finally stopped crying earlier, it had been all she could do to persuade Thea that she’d survive being home alone tonight, knowing Thea and Dev had already booked dinner at a favourite restaurant. ‘You can come with us,’ Thea had gabbled anxiously. ‘Or we’ll eat at home. Or at the Jolly Abbot. Or we can get Rosamund to make it up as a takeaway and eat at yours …’ Thea had so obviously wanted to ease Ezz’s pain, and Ezz had rarely loved her sister more, even while firmly vetoing each and every suggestion. She’d blown her nose and asked, ‘How did you know I was upset?’
Thea rubbed her arm. ‘Mats Larsson heard you crying and Grete called me.’
‘Oh, crap.’ Ezz sniffed. So, Mats had heard her bawling like a baby.
Later in the afternoon, he’d stuck his head into her office. ‘All right?’
She’d pressed her lips together to hold back fresh sobs and tried simultaneously to turn her mouth up at the corners in a smile and nod. She’d probably looked like a deranged puppet.
An hour later, it had been Grete’s turn to pop in. ‘Here are some pepparkakor for you to try. Gingerbread,’ she added, though Ezz would recognise most Christmas-related sweet treats at fifty paces.
Then Josefin brought in hot chocolate. ‘I made one too many by mistake.’ Her gaze had radiated sympathy. ‘And this was on the reception desk.’ She put down a white, square envelope. On the front was written neatly Esmerelda Wynter .
Ezz had smiled and taken the letter without comment and without opening it. She appreciated every little gesture meant to make her feel better but had longed to be alone in her own place. And now she was.
And it didn’t feel that great. Her head ached like hell.
Wearily, she fumbled for the light switch and then the yellow walls and red carpet became real. Slowly, she hung up her coat, changed her shoes for the purple slipper boots that had been a birthday gift from Thea, and headed for the kitchen. While she made coffee, she filled the silence by playing music from her phone through the small speaker on the windowsill, then seated herself at the table. That her birth parents and a hand-delivered letter in unfamiliar handwriting had turned up on the same day seemed too much of a coincidence not to be connected, so it was no shock when she finally slit the envelope and found the letter inside had been signed ‘Kay’.
The note was on the headed paper of the Scalpay View Hotel, the kind hotels put in rooms and visitors took away as souvenirs.
Dear Esmerelda,
I’m so sorry we made you angry. I don’t deal well with rage and find it hard to keep my end up in arguments, but there are a few things I wish I’d felt able to say to you. Here they are:
A birth mother is a mother for life, regardless of whether she was able to parent her child.
I envy your adoptive parents because I had the grief and anguish of giving you up and they had the joy of loving you. Still, I’m grateful to them for giving you everything I couldn’t – a good life, a nice home, a family, and others to love you.
I’ve loved you since your conception, and so has Rick. Your not loving us won’t stop us loving you.
Love,
Kay
Ezzie sipped her coffee and read the letter again. Rage. Had she been guilty of rage? If so, it shamed her. Now, she wished she’d been able to keep the meeting polite and light, asked enough questions to assuage her curiosity, exchanged handshakes or awkward hugs, and said goodbye. Instead, she’d lost control so badly that she couldn’t remember her own words.
Her doorbell rang, a fruity ding-dong like a distant relative of a church bell. Her heart tumbled. Was it Kay and Rick? Not knowing her address, had they followed her home from work?
Apprehensively, she padded to the door. The Isle of Skye wasn’t the kind of locale where doors had spyholes, and the view from the windows was blocked by the porch, so she opened the door a crack and peeped around it.
Then she opened it wider. ‘Mats.’ She heard relief with top notes of welcome in her voice.
He looked pleased at this reception. His beanie hat was blue today and it brought out the streaks of blue in his eyes, even in the scant light spilling from the hall. Behind him, the frost was beginning to look like a silver-white wolf pelt thickening for winter. He held an insulated bag horizontally between his hands. ‘Mum’s certain that you won’t cook tonight, so has despatched me with a meal and hopes you won’t feel awkward about accepting it.’
His eyes crinkled, and her heart gave a giant thump. She stepped back to allow him in, as if there was nothing strange in the son of the bosses driving into the village to deliver her supper. ‘That’s so kind.’
He brought a rush of the outdoors with him, fresh and chilly. ‘Kitchen?’ he suggested, though already halfway down the short hall.
‘Lovely.’ She closed the door and followed him.
He turned, and his smile became winsome. ‘I’ve brought my meal, too, in case you don’t want to eat alone. But I can take mine away again. I just hope you like meatballs with mashed potato and lingonberry sauce. I made it.’ He unzipped the bag to let her peek in. Each plate had another inverted over it to protect the meal. Heated pads sat above and below. It smelt delicious, and she realised she’d had no food since breakfasting on a cereal bar.
Touched by this unexpected kindness, she summoned a smile. ‘It’ll be nice to have company. I’ll set the table.’
It was a novelty to take plates from a bag and, hey presto! dinner was served, the heated pads becoming heated placemats. The meatballs sat in a brown sauce next to glossy green broccoli and clouds of white mashed potato. The lingonberry sauce, ruby red, occupied a small bowl of its own.
Ezz’s appetite stirred at the meaty, roasty aroma of goodness, and she helped herself to the lingonberry sauce, which wasn’t quite cranberry, but wasn’t miles away from it. Her first bite of meatball, sauce and mash widened her eyes. ‘Mm. This is special. And you cooked it? Did you bring the sauces with you from Sweden?’
Mats made a faux-hurt face. ‘I did not. The meat sauce is made like a roux and the lingonberry is created like a fruit jus, boiled with a little water and sugar until the berries burst. I had to buy frozen lingonberries online, but this meal is my party piece.’
She began to eat with real enjoyment. ‘Then I must invite you if I have a party. You can help with catering.’
It was said lightly, but he nodded as if she were perfectly serious. ‘I’d accept that invitation. I enjoy cooking. It’s relaxing and I like fresh, quality meals.’ He twirled half a meatball in the meat sauce, then added a dab of lingonberry. ‘In Skye, I have time to cook. Poor Josefin told me today that I’m doing her out of a job, because when she bakes with the children, I join in.’
Ezz didn’t think Josefin would mind at all, but just smiled. She wondered whether Mats felt anything in response to Josefin’s crush and found herself hoping hard that he didn’t. Did that mean she was developing a crush on him herself … ? ‘I’m glad you’re finding Skye so relaxing,’ she said, to divert her mind from that surprising path.
As Mats ate, he chatted easily about Christmas presents, conversation between them coming more naturally since he’d asked her to be herself and not worry how Tavish would have phrased everything. ‘Astrid wants a Lego princess palace, and a hard hat and toolbelt to wear while building it. Alvin’s asked for an aeroplane, and I suspect he means a real one.’ His eyes smiled. ‘I’d like to buy a few things to remind them of Skye, too.’
‘Maybe you’d like a day in Portree?’ she suggested, noting this reference to the family’s visit having a time limit. Once she would have been delighted to see Mats go. But now … she realised she really was in no rush. Her feelings for him had been subtly altered by trusting him with hers and Thea’s secret. ‘You could buy traditional tweeds, kilts or hand-made soap. The town’s pretty. Some of the buildings around the harbour are even more colourful than Rothach village and it’s a lovely journey from here, though I’m always shocked how fast the locals drive on the winding roads. I guess they know every curve.’ She watched him devour the final meatball with a smack of his lips.
After they’d enjoyed the meal, it seemed only polite to offer coffee in the lounge. Sharing a sofa with him didn’t seem a concern after so much had happened, and she placed the two steaming mugs on the small table, then lit a match to the woodstove. She took her seat on the squashy, turquoise sofa and looked at him.
Disarmingly, he smiled, his fair hair gleaming in the overhead light. ‘I expect you’re wondering if making sure you ate is the only reason I’m here.’
Her own smile became fixed as her heart sank. ‘To have a quiet word about professional conduct?’ She picked up her coffee and blow across the surface to cool it.
His fair brows swooped together. ‘Whose?’ He sounded perplexed.
She raised a brow. Her brows were naturally arched, ideal for a ‘do you take me for a fool?’ expression. ‘I was unprofessional getting upset today and I—’
‘I’m here because I’m concerned,’ he butted in, with a hint of exasperation. More gently, he continued. ‘That’s what friends do. They assume that someone crying herself sick has a genuine issue, and they get your sister. And they keep everyone else away. If they bring you dinner, it’s meant to be a nice gesture, not an excuse to tell you off.’ He picked up his coffee and it slopped over his hand. He had to lick it off rather than let it drip. ‘I don’t know why I have to keep reminding you that I’m not your employer.’
Half her mind was on watching his tongue, but her cheeks still burned. ‘Thank you for being so thoughtful. I didn’t mean to be ungracious. It’s been emotional.’ A sip of her coffee, then she replaced the mug on the table with a sigh.
A gleam of a smile softened his eyes. ‘Are you OK, Ezzie? I’m not sure what happened except you had visitors and they upset you. Is it anything Mum should know about? You know Dad threw out the guy who bothered Thea. My parents would take a dim view if something like that happened to you, too.’
A tiny warm feeling sparked in her heart. Mats might be impetuous, but that didn’t stop him being empathetic. ‘It wasn’t anything like that. I’ve never known who my birth parents are but they turned up out of the blue, today. It went badly.’ She paused, realising that she was once again sharing something deeply personal with this man. When he just waited, she went on. ‘I never realised before what people meant when they said they were in an emotional washing machine, but I certainly felt tossed around and in danger of drowning. I got close to crossing to the pub to drown my sorrows.’
As soon as the words were out, she felt embarrassed and ashamed. ‘I didn’t do that,’ she added hastily, and perhaps unnecessarily, as here she was, sober.
‘Well done.’ He sounded as if he might even understand how hard it could be to leave alcohol to those who could handle it. His gaze rested on her, a crease between his eyes. ‘Your birth parents arriving like that … it must have been a massive shock.’
‘They’ve always known my adoptive name, apparently, and googled me. It came up on the Rothach Hall website.’ A band of tension formed around her head, and she massaged her temples. ‘I guess scenes like today’s are part of the reason not every adoptee has the urge to find their birth family. I might have been happier to see them if I had even half a memory of being someone else, somewhere else. But I was adopted as a tiny baby and had a wonderful life with Maxie and Vince. We sisters all adopted each other, too.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I yearned for Mum and Dad today. Dad would have hugged me and insisted everything would be OK. Mum would have been wise, making me see all sides of the story. Whereas Kay – I can’t even feel gratitude that she didn’t abort me, because it’s obvious she just left it too late. Kay’s mother certainly would have wanted that, otherwise. She sounds a horrible bitch.’
Exhausted, she let her head tip back on the sofa. ‘My birth parents have been together all this time, having other children who they didn’t give away. Julia and Iona.’ Just saying their names felt like a betrayal to Thea and Valentina. ‘Two more sisters … except they’re not. They’re strangers. And I’m the eldest, not the middle child, which I’ve been since Thea joined our family. It all feels … wrong . I don’t want it. I don’t want them. I don’t want it to have happened.’
He rose to tend the woodstove, opening the squeaking door and adding sticks and a small log as Ezzie hadn’t made the effort to build the flames after lighting the kindling.
‘My name was Lindy Loveless,’ she said, watching him tend the flames. ‘Ironic surname, in the circumstances. I have no connection to it. I’m Ezzie Wynter.’ She watched the flames leap and catch.
He returned to sit beside her, his eyes on her, as if waiting for her to go on. She murmured, ‘I get my hair and eyes from my birth father. I don’t look like my birth mother, so if I have anything of her, it’s not immediately visible. But I have my values from Maxie and Vince. They would never have tidied a baby away as a dirty secret. Their love seemed to grow with every child they adopted, and they were kind and wonderful. My birth parents were just … careless. Young. They let themselves be shoved around.’ Unwillingly, she remembered the scribbled words on Rick’s business card. We were kids. ‘I know I’m being unfair,’ she admitted. ‘My maternal grandmother was obviously bossy and hard, and it sounds as if my grandfather just went along with her. I understand it must have been difficult for Kay. But they’ve been together all these years, my first family. Kay and Rick, Julia and Iona.’ Her throat burned and she had to pause to swallow. ‘Without me.’
Then a warm arm came around her; a friendly, comforting arm that allowed a small distance to remain between their bodies. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was deep and sweet, as soothing as warm water and honey on a sore throat.
She didn’t push him off. It felt too friendly and comforting for her to pause to examine what else it might mean. ‘How do you think you’d feel, if strangers came along saying they were your parents and they loved you?’
He paused. ‘They said they loved you? That’s a big thing.’
‘Kay couldn’t say it to my face. I was too angry,’ she admitted. She rose and went to the kitchen to fetch Kay’s note, collecting Rick’s business card from her coat pocket on the way back. She gave him both and waited while he read.
When he looked up, his eyes were moist. This time he took her hand while he said quietly, ‘It’s not too late for counselling.’
She rested her cheek on his arm and closed her eyes. ‘I think it probably is. My heart’s too disconnected from them.’ It would have been easy to nestle closer and take comfort from this unusual new friend, who was also part of the family she worked for, a wealthy person, a parent, different from her in almost every regard. But so kind.
With a giant blink, she made herself sit up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m blethering. Are you familiar with “blethering”? You hear it quite a bit in Scotland. It means talking too much and with too little thought and, in this case, talking too much about myself. How’s everything with you?’
A flicker of his eyelids, but he seemed to understand that she wanted a change of subject. ‘Everything with me is much as it was. My children are angelic devils. We’re all enjoying the fresh air and wide-open space of Skye. Astrid and Alvin love Broadford and the tiny market full of hand carvings and woven or knitted things. They don’t seem to notice that every view includes a snowy mountain or the sea, but I suppose they see both in Sweden. The air’s so sweet here, without the traffic of a city, and we have the enormous grounds of Rothach Hall rather than the communal garden attached to my apartment. And I love having so much time to spend with my kids.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Mum’s preparing for the arrival of the rest of the family, especially her other grandchildren. My sister Maja’s been on FaceTime. Ronja has two new teeth, Walter has proposed to one of his little female friends, Liam has swum fifty metres.’
Though she would have been hard put to remember which was Walter and which was Liam, she smiled. ‘Children change so fast. My nephew Barnaby will be in bed, but I must talk to Valentina, because she doesn’t know what happened today.’
Immediately, he glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better go.’ But he paused, concern lurking in his eyes. ‘You’ll be OK?’
‘Of course. Thanks for coming and for the lovely Swedish meatballs.’ Sometime this evening, perhaps through having someone to spill her heart to, the worst of the anger had seeped away.
Neither of them had finished their coffee but still he rose and stretched. ‘The children were excited about the Christmas decorations being delivered soon. Alvin thought Jultomten was going to bring them on his sleigh.’
She laughed. ‘More likely a delivery person in a white van.’
At the front door, he paused to pull on his coat and hat before opening the door. A gentle touch to her arm, then he was gone, striding down the frosty path under a dark sky pricked with a million points of starry light. She remembered standing further up Chapel Road only a couple of weeks ago and gazing up at the stars, imagining the constellation Birth Family of which she was part. Her heart hurt with the knowledge that though major stars had become visible today, they had so disappointed her with her birth story of mistakes and fear.
She wondered whether her maternal grandmother had ever acknowledged that she’d failed fifteen-year-old Kay. Ezzie might have squirmed at Maxie sitting her down for mother-daughter talks about human appetites and condoms, but they’d been vital, as was the larger conversation about wise choices. Maxie’s counsel had armed Ezzie to deal with life. Her school had provided knowledge of where to go for protection from pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases.
Fifteen-year-old Kay had sounded clueless and, objectively, it was hard to blame her for that.
The sound of Mats scraping the ice from his car came sharp upon the freezing air, and she gave him one last wave before closing the door and preparing to FaceTime Valentina, who she knew would be just as comforting and empathetic as Thea had been.
She did love those sisters of hers.