Chapter Fourteen
Sunday morning saw Ezzie sitting in her office, working. The agency hadn’t yet offered any suitable candidates to replace Orla. They’d advertise again along with the seasonal positions in the New Year, she decided, and made a list of three grounds staff, two part-timers to share the ticket office, and another on housekeeping because the public rooms needed more attention with increased visitor traffic. Intending to pass a copy to Gwen in case she knew any locals who might be interested, instead of stretching to catch the paper as it churned from the printer, she rose to her feet. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the view. Morning mist lay over the park like gauze scarves and she could only see halfway down the drive. But her gaze snapped to a familiar figure at the top of the drive, a man wrapped in a dark overcoat, gazing at the hall. A shred of mist wafted over him, making him look faded, like an old photograph.
Her stomach somersaulted. Rick Colville. Her birth father.
Ezz watched for a long minute. He didn’t move. Why was he here? Something to do with her, obviously. Where was Kay?
After another moment, Ezz realised she needed answers to those questions. She turned away and took down her long black coat and went out, tapping slowly down the stone steps in her heels.
He smiled a greeting. ‘Lovely place,’ he observed, returning his gaze to the hall’s facade. ‘Most of Skye’s stately homes and castles seem to be ruins.’
‘They are,’ she answered cautiously, feeling the mist’s chill slide across her skin. ‘Armadale. Knock. Dunvegan. Mr and Mrs Larsson restored Rothach.’
‘Done a good job.’ He cast her a fleeting glance, then returned his gaze to the hall with its tall windows set in grey stone. ‘Love that turret. I’ve been lucky enough to work on a couple of restoration projects in Warwickshire. I think I’d have liked to be a draughtsman or an architect, if I’d stayed on at school. Missed out on university, as I told you.’
After their last, emotional meeting, it seemed surreal to be standing here with him in gentle conversation. ‘I went to uni, but I partied more than studied.’ Deliberately she added, ‘My parents died when I was twenty. It was my second year at uni, as I’d taken a gap.’
That got his attention. He swung his eyes to hers, sucking in his breath. ‘I had no idea your parents died so young. I’m so sorry, pet. Were they good people? Tell me about them.’ Tears gathered in his eyes.
As she’d thought he might be stiff or offended, his sympathy wrong-footed her. She mumbled a few sentences about how wonderful Maxie and Vince had been, about Maxie’s long auburn hair and Vince’s wild curls, and Maxie having a good business head and Vince being the emotional one. ‘I always went to him when I was sad, and he’d play his guitar and sing,’ she said, not sure whether she was letting Rick know that she hadn’t needed him and Kay … or that she’d been loved.
Gently, he smiled. ‘They sound great. I’m glad.’
Confused at the mixture of feelings this generated, she turned away to gaze down the drive to where the stone bridge was just about in sight. She knew birth parents often wondered what had become of the child they’d given up and remembered Kay’s letter saying she was relieved to know Ezzie had grown up in a warm, loving family, even if she and Rick hadn’t been able to provide that. For her . They’d provided it not long afterwards for Juliet and Iona. ‘I thought you’d left the island,’ she said abruptly.
‘We stayed for a bit, in case you reached out.’ His tone was conversational, and not accusing. ‘We wanted to feel near you for a while. We’re leaving today. We’ll drive for five or six hours then get a motel and do the rest on Monday. Kay doesn’t know I’m here, because I said I was going out to get fuel while she packed. I wasn’t sure about bothering you at work – or whether you’d even be here on a Sunday – but I wanted to explain something.’ Finally, he removed his gaze from the marching windows of the hall and faced her, his gaze as blue-eyed and direct as her own. ‘Kay’s mum. She was more than a difficult woman. Her rages … well she was an alcoholic, and Kay was frightened of her. Kay’s so sweet and shy—’ His voice wavered, and he paused to swallow.
A feeling crept over Ezz, as cold as the mist. She had to swallow hard. ‘I used to be a heavy drinker, after I lost Mum and Dad. But I was over-affectionate when I drank.’
A wistful smile touched his mouth, his blue eyes watery. ‘I wish Kay’s mother had been. Still. Try not to judge Kay too harshly.’
Was that a note of reproof? Fresh anger bubbled up inside her. Tightly, she said, ‘Tell me about your daughters.’
If he caught her intention to nettle him by not acknowledging that she was one of his daughters herself, he didn’t show it, but continued in the same even, gentle way. ‘Iona’s an art teacher. Julia’s a beauty therapist. Iona’s got a little girl. Edina. She’s four.’
He spoke so fondly that Ezzie felt unexpected tears crowding behind her eyes. Rather than try and make sense of her tangled emotions, she went on, ‘And your parents?’
A grin lifted his pink cheeks. ‘A bit creaky now, but alive. And my two brothers—’
Brothers? She had uncles too, and probably aunts and cousins. ‘Do they know you’re here, all this family?’ she broke in, watching his face carefully. ‘Julia? Iona? Your parents?’
His face fell. After a pause, he gave a tiny shake of his head.
‘So, you’re still ashamed of the teen pregnancy you caused.’ She took a step away, reluctant to let him see her pain. ‘Thanks for coming. Safe journey.’
‘Esmerelda. Ezz!’ he called after her.
‘Got to get back to work,’ she flung back, and took the curving stone steps so fast that she almost pitched onto her face and had to fling out a hand for balance.
By the time she’d regained her desk and checked out of the window, he was trudging back down the drive, head down. Then he merged with the mist and disappeared. Stupefied, she attempted to gather her scattered thoughts. Her grandmother had had alcohol problems? Ezz had known there could be a hereditary factor with alcohol abuse, but it was hard to feel sympathy for anyone but Esmerelda Wynter right now. She dropped her head to her hand and covered her eyes, trying to think.
If there had been the first stirring, the tiniest thread of connection to Rick, it had faded when he admitted he and Kay hadn’t told her sisters or grandparents that they’d tracked her down. They must be ashamed of her. Then she thought of Rick’s obvious relief to know she’d been loved. Or they were just clearing their consciences.
Even whirled around by emotions, she knew she might be being unfair, but all she could do was feel.
Sucking in a huge breath, she removed her hands and wiped mascara from beneath her lashes with her fingers. The Ghost Kingdom TV show constantly advocated counselling, so feelings at a range of outcomes could be talked through and examined before meetings like the one she’d just been through. What it didn’t advocate was birth parents throwing themselves into your life like flames into a box of emotional fireworks.
She longed to talk it over with Thea and Valentina, but they were both so wrapped up in their own happiness – Thea with her baby and Valentina with her second home in Fishermen’s Cottages. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt their joyful chatter with, ‘And, about me …’ That wasn’t Ezzie. Ezz was strong and organised and self-sufficient. Ezzie had known all her life that she was adopted, so she could deal with Rick and Kay’s appearance. Even with the knowledge of having been poor unwanted Lindy Loveless.
Any moment now, she’d gather her cartwheeling emotions and work out how.
* * *
Astrid and Alvin’s upset of the previous day had been put to the backs of their minds in the excitement of baking saffron buns and, under Gwen’s expert tuition, Scottish tablet – a traditional sweet that was made in trays and cut into cubes, a bit like fudge though less yielding. Astrid yodelled, ‘Next week Gwen’s going to show me how to make Scottish macaroons. And guess what they’re made of, Dad?’
Mats glanced at Gwen’s secretive smile and realised he wasn’t meant to guess correctly. ‘Dinosaurs?’ he asked solemnly.
Astrid planted her sugary little fists on her hips. ‘Silly, Daddy. Potato.’
‘Potato?’ He was genuinely surprised.
Gwen twinkled. ‘Aye. The centre’s made of potato and icing sugar, rolled in chocolate and coconut. Macaroons are grand.’
‘Can’t wait,’ he said, thinking that actually, he probably could.
Alvin, who’d been kneeling on a stool, scrambled down and ran to Mats. ‘We going in the lounge with the Christmas tree for advent, amember, Daddy?’
‘ Re member,’ he corrected gently, swinging his little boy in the air. ‘But first I have to ask Gwen to throw you in the washing machine with the tablecloths, because you’re covered in sugar.’
Astrid pointed to the utility room where the washing machine stood. ‘Yes, do it.’
‘ Nej , nooooo!’ Alvin squealed before dissolving into a gale of giggles.
Mats turned for the stairs, Alvin on his shoulder like a sack of coal. ‘OK, I’ll take you for a quick wash and change instead.’
Josefin fell in behind with Astrid, who was still jokily advocating for her brother to be put in the washing machine.
By the time the children were clean, Grete was waiting in the lounge where the twinkling Christmas tree dripped with baubles and tinsel and smelt of the woods. She’d taken trouble with her hair and applied make-up, which Mats took as signs she was feeling more herself. As nobody had thought to make the gl?gg ahead of time, Gwen had bought mulled wine from the supermarket, and it waited in a warming bowl over a tealight beside the fire.
At precisely three o’clock, a light knock sounded on the apartment door, and then Ezz appeared, stepping self-consciously down the hall. With her willowy frame, she reminded Mats of a beautiful stork, lifting her slender legs and carefully placing each foot.
‘Ezzie!’ Astrid shrieked like a whistle. ‘Do you want saffron buns or Scottish tablet? We helped Josefin and Gwen make them. And look how beautiful the Christmas tree is. We’ve lit the advent candle over here.’ She appropriated Ezz’s hand and towed her towards the window ledge beside the French doors that led into the private garden, where every twig dripped with moisture from the day’s mist and the swing and treehouse looked damp and unloved.
Ezz smiled and wished Mats and Grete, ‘Good afternoon,’ as she let Astrid drag her along, with Alvin bouncing like a ball beside them. The light from the Christmas tree haloed her head as she passed by. On the sill, four white candles stood on a wooden box decorated with artificial pine fronds, which Grete had found at Skye Market because no one had thought to bring one from Sweden. ‘It’s up high so Alvin can’t get it,’ the girl explained solemnly.
Mats and Grete joined them and, ushering the children back a step, Mats struck a match to light the first candle. ‘We’ll only let it burn for a little while. Next week we’ll light two, then three, and four on the final Sunday.’
‘Then the candles go up like this.’ Astrid drew a zigzag in the air.
Ezzie duly admired the candles and their stand. ‘What a lovely tradition.’
Hospitably, Grete said, ‘What would you like to drink, Ezzie? Mulled wine, soft drinks or coffee?’
‘Coffee, please,’ Ezzie said, but she looked unusually unsure of herself.
Mats put down his mulled wine and took a lemonade instead. Why did Ezzie look so weird? She was pale and distracted, her smiles for the kids wide but unconvincing. Surely she wasn’t thrown off-balance by her employer making her coffee? At this moment, Ezzie was a guest.
Grete passed Ezz a cup, asking conversationally, ‘Do we often get a white Christmas on Skye?’
Ezz gave that wide but unconvincing smile again. ‘I’m afraid the weather at Christmas is no more predictable than any other time of the year. I like it when it’s frosty or misty, but it looks even more amazing when we get snow – a real winter wonderland. When the mountains are white all over rather than just at the tops, they seem to be made from icing.’
‘That sounds fantastic.’ He kept an eye on the plate Astrid was now carrying. It bore two S-shaped saffron buns, their whorls studded by raisins, and two cubes of caramel-coloured Scottish tablet. Proudly, she presented the plate to Ezz.
‘Ooh, is that for me?’ Ezz was still smiling. ‘Thank you, Astrid.’
Alvin had settled on the floor near the table, his legs bracketing an empty plate. Scottish tablet was clutched in each of his chubby hands, and he smiled beatifically as he munched. ‘ Tack s? mycket. ’
‘That’s “thanks so much”,’ Astrid told Ezzie. ‘Farmor, Farmor, you haven’t eaten any tablet.’ Astrid pulled her grandmother over to the table.
Momentarily, Mats was left with Ezz. He dropped his voice. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ She nodded enthusiastically, took a bite of the saffron bun and added, ‘Mmm,’ but even her murmur of pleasure didn’t totally distract him from studying the look in her eyes. It reminded him unpleasantly of how she’d looked when he’d sprung his news about the Garden Gladiators team wanting to film at Rothach.
They watched Astrid supervise Grete’s choice of Scottish tablet. ‘Astrid’s like Inger and loves a party,’ he said.
‘She’s lovely,’ Ezz murmured. ‘Both your children are.’
‘They’re very fond of you, especially Astrid.’ When she didn’t answer, he murmured, ‘Is something upsetting you?’
She could have shrugged it off, but instead she met his gaze, her blue eyes filled with shadows. ‘My birth father came again earlier. He and Kay have left the island today. I – I would have liked to talk things over with Thea or Valentina but they’re both busy.’
‘I can see why his visit would rock you,’ he murmured. Impulsively, he added, ‘How do you feel about meeting for dinner? I make a good listener. And I hadn’t realised I’d miss people my own age so much on Skye.’ When her blonde eyebrows lifted in surprise, he felt he should add, ‘Or is there a boyfriend to object?’
‘No,’ she said slowly. She studied him, then said suddenly, ‘How about the Jolly Abbot? It would save travelling miles as a lot of Skye restaurants are closed in winter.’ Then looked surprised, as if she hadn’t meant to say it.
Though he’d been envisaging one of the nice hotel restaurants on the island and would have been perfectly happy with a drive of five or ten miles, he accepted before she took it back. ‘Great. Eightish? I like to put the children to bed.’
‘I’ll meet you there.’ She still looked startled that the conversation was taking place.
‘Ezzie, Ezzie!’ Suddenly Astrid was there, tugging impatiently at Ezz’s black jacket and smearing it with crumbs. ‘Would you like another saffron bun?’
Ezz answered, ‘Thank you. I would ,’ as if she’d never heard a better suggestion and they went together to the food table, where Josefin was gently discouraging Alvin from eating more tablet.
Mats felt a hand on his arm and realised Grete was beside him, her glasses reflecting the lights of the tree. ‘You’re going out with Ezzie?’ she asked in Swedish.
Irritated to have been overheard, he bristled. ‘Any reason I shouldn’t?’ He raised his eyebrows, wondering if they arched as much as Ezz’s did.
‘Yes,’ she said calmly. ‘Soon you’ll be based in Sweden while her life’s here.’
He bit back a sharp retort about being too old to allow his mother to manage his life. ‘I do realise that, Mamma. We’re just going out for a meal in the village pub, as friends. Last night she did the same with Josefin.’
Grete furrowed her forehead in the ‘don’t take me for a fool’ expression that he remembered so well from his teenage years. But then, a little up the hall, the white door from reception opened noisily and they both turned.
A familiar burly figure stepped into view, with windblown brown hair and cheeks ruddy with the cold. Mats blinked at the unexpected vision. Pappa?
Astrid erupted with glad cries of ‘Farfar, Farfar! Why are you here?’
Erik stooped to let Astrid race into his arms and planted two loud kisses on her forehead. ‘Because this is my house,’ he rumbled reasonably, putting out another arm to receive Alvin.
‘But you’re coming later, with the others,’ Astrid cried.
Erik made huge, surprised eyes. ‘How can that be when I am here with you? Am I not a nice surprise?’
‘Yes, yes!’ Astrid gave him another hug. But over her head, Erik’s gaze sought out Grete.
Aware of his mother’s frozen silence, Mats stepped forward to hug his father, bulky in his coat. ‘You’re a very nice surprise. You’re just in time for fika .’ In his peripheral vision, he watched Ezzie and Gwen diplomatically melt away in the direction of the kitchen, carrying empty coffee mugs and plates.
Erik approached Grete and lifted his bushy eyebrows. ‘Are you well?’ he asked in Swedish.
She stepped forward and gave him both her hands, and a peck on the lips. ‘Of course.’
Apparently satisfied for now, Erik began chatting to Astrid and Alvin in a mixture of English and Swedish. Ezz and Gwen returned, greeting Erik as friendly employees would, offering drinks and saffron buns. Mats made sure Ezz had fresh coffee too, not seeing why she should slip from guest to employee just because his dad had turned up without warning.
When he had a moment to speak quietly to Grete, he murmured, ‘Would it be better if I stayed in tonight?’
‘No. Probably better if you went,’ she returned, then edged over to join Ezzie and Erik, as Erik – unfortunately – had turned to business.
‘Does all go well in my absence?’ he asked, before devouring a saffron bun in two bites, chewing while he awaited Ezzie’s answer.
Instantly, Ezz put down her coffee, assuming employee status. She turned awkwardly to include Grete, probably feeling that reporting to Erik while Grete stood there might look like going over her head. ‘This morning, I’ve worked on an email regarding the Christmas activities you talked about for next year, ready to reach out to six reputable hotels on the island in the hopes of partnering.’
‘What Christmas activities?’ Erik asked, regarding a chunk of tablet quizzically before popping it into his mouth.
Ezz hesitated, her gaze flicking towards Grete. Calmly, Grete stepped in. ‘I asked Ezzie to explore winter visitor attractions. We talked of partnering with hotels by offering events for their guests and a festive menu at the café.’
Erik looked blank. ‘Here? Why?’
Ezz’s eyes widened as her glance at Grete plainly said, Have I spoken out of turn?
Grete gave a wintry smile. ‘I looked for ways to make Rothach Hall more self-supporting … as you are talking of selling.’ She lifted her chin.
Ezz’s gaze swung to Erik, horrified. Mats shared her reaction. Selling?
Erik looked uncomfortable. He switched to Swedish to rap out a tense: ‘We should discuss this privately.’
Grete shrugged and nodded.
Ezz’s eyes shot to Mats, as if hoping he could transmit a translation. Then clearly feeling her role in the conversation to be over, she drew on her employee status to excuse herself. ‘I’ll help Gwen clear up.’
Soon she’d vanished into the kitchen. Ten seconds later, she glided past the lounge with a smile and bustled out through the connecting door. A guest no more.
The room fell quiet in her wake. Josefin distracted Astrid and Alvin by helping them switch baubles around on the glittering, multi-coloured Christmas tree with its swathes of silver bells. Mats watched his parents silently sipping coffee. In Swedish he said, ‘I had no idea you were thinking of selling, Dad.’
Erik made a scoffing noise. ‘Your mother and I had one conversation, that’s all.’
Grete rapped out a reply, low and angry. ‘When I asked if we could visit Rothach for longer each year, instead of working, working, working, you said you’d rather sell the damned place. That was your answer – not to ease up so we could spend some of the money we’ve earnt, but simply remove what you saw as the cause of the argument, regardless of how much I love Skye.’ Hurt and accusation rang in her voice.
Erik beetled his thick eyebrows but adopted a pacifying tone. ‘You’re half owner, Grete. You know I couldn’t sell without your agreement.’
Grete took a step closer to her husband, eyes glinting. ‘What I know is that you could make it very difficult to keep Rothach Hall, because you retain the major control of everything. When it comes to Larsson Fiskeri I have worked by your side for decades, but I don’t hold a title of CEO or chairman. I am executive officer, second-in-command, responsible for formulating policy for the board’s approval, but with no vote of my own. You decide what our joint income will be and how much we can afford to funnel towards Rothach Hall. So, I looked for ways to bring in more money.’
Mats rocked on his heels, unsure whether to say, You need to discuss this alone, or to stay and listen. He’d assumed that Rothach Hall would one day pass to himself, Jonas and Maja so they and their children would be able to enjoy the gracious old house for years to come. It hadn’t occurred to him that his dad would consider cutting the family connection with Skye. After overseeing the restoration of Rothach Hall, he’d thought Erik loved the place too. His parents had both wanted the hall, after all.
Grete bit out, ‘You didn’t want to take your hands off the reins of the company to take prolonged breaks with me, so you rattled your weapons to make me see things your way. But it didn’t work, because here I am at Rothach.’ Her voice tightened. ‘And here I may stay.’ With one last scorching glare, she turned and swept from the room. Diplomatically, Josefin kept the children occupied debating which baubles were the shiniest.
Erik, ruddier than ever, glanced at Mats, looking shaken. ‘Do we have any snaps?’
He shook his head. ‘We’re being Scottish. We have whisky. But if I were you, Dad, I’d keep a clear head. I don’t think your discussion with Mum’s over yet.’ Annoyance at his father for trying to bluster his way through every problem made him add, ‘Now I know why she’s been so unlike herself.’
About to turn away he was halted when Erik murmured, ‘I love her. I can’t lose her.’
All Mats’ anger seeped away. Had he ever felt one half of the love for Inger that he heard ringing in Erik’s voice? He softened his voice. ‘She’s tired. She doesn’t want to work so much. Would it be so bad to take time off with her sometimes? The business really isn’t everything, Dad. I’ve found that. This time enjoying life with the children … it’s made me realise that I used to work too much. Life’s for enjoying, too, and time away from loved ones is time we never get back.’
Erik passed his hand across his mouth – not quite hiding the trembling of his lips.
Mats was dismayed, but before he could find a way to help his growly but loveable bear of a father, Grete returned softly to the room. Her eyes, even behind her glasses, were pink-rimmed. When Erik turned towards her, she laid a tentative hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You came a long way to speak to me, so I shouldn’t have stormed out. Come upstairs and tell me what you came to say.’
Mats had to swallow at the way his parents gazed at each other, each reading the face of the other with the familiarity of decades of shared love. Newly aware of Grete’s silver hair and Erik’s round-shouldered stoop, Mats cleared his throat. ‘Sounds like a good offer, Pappa.’
Erik nodded, though his attention remained on his wife. ‘Yes. We need to talk,’ he told Grete. He took her hand, and together they left the room.
Mats didn’t mind that their attention had been too much on each other to say goodbye to him. Optimistic that his brief heart-to-heart with his dad might have made Erik think hard about exactly what he should say to Grete to return them to sharing life’s path, Mats crossed the room to enjoy the company of his children.
Ezz readied herself to meet Mats at the Jolly Abbot, half-expecting a text or call crying off after Erik’s surprise arrival.
Why had he suggested they go out this evening? Was that in the friend zone? Or edging into the dating zone? Which did she want it to be?
She regarded her reflection in her mirror, applying the Law of Opposites. If I bother with make-up he won’t turn up. If I go over there looking like Plain Jane, then he will.
Better look good, even if she ended up alone, she decided, and reached for her make-up bag.
The Law of Opposites could not have applied because when she reached the beery warmth of the Jolly Abbot, she found Mats waiting at a table laid for two. Rosamund grinned from behind the bar while she pulled a pint and cocked her head towards Mats. ‘Says he’s waiting for you, Ezzie. I have my beady eye on the two of yous.’ As the table where Mats waited was in the middle of the room, Ezz suspected that she and Mats had been set up as the entertainment.
He rose with a welcoming smile, and then dropped a tiny kiss on her cheek. The kissing was new. Evidently, he’d decided on evening manners. Or out-of-hours manners. Or dating manners … ? Or all three, because he took her black coat and hung it up for her, too.
She felt almost shy when she murmured, ‘Hi.’
Then Brodie emerged behind the bar with a towel over his arm and a wiggly walk, as if the Jolly Abbot had been transformed into an upscale restaurant. He spoilt the effect slightly with a strident: ‘Mum says, do you want a drink, hen? Yer man there has one of those alcohol-free numbers.’
A couple of titters sounded from the other patrons. Hoping it would calm her hot cheeks, Ezz said, ‘Tonic water, please.’ Brodie bowed and reversed obsequiously away, plainly enjoying his caricature of a posh waiter.
A grinning Mats hissed, ‘Don’t you ever bring men here?’
‘No. And you can see why. Also, they’re seeing a lot more of me in here than usual,’ she whispered back, picking up her menu but feeling more like fanning her face than reading it. Brodie reappeared, still with the towel draped over his arm, bearing a tray aloft, and slid Ezz’s drink before her with another bow, then tapped the menu. ‘Mum says we’ve no Cullen skink, but there’s crab soup instead.’
As Brodie waltzed off again, Mats’ eyes were dancing. ‘What the hell is a skink?’
She produced a deadpan expression. ‘I thought your family dealt in fish products. Can’t you catch skinks? I have heard that they’re fast and canny.’
Someone nearby laughed and turned it into a cough. Mats, glancing at her suspiciously, took out his phone and consulted it before reading out, ‘Cullen skink is a soup made of smoked haddock, potatoes and onion.’
‘Oh, yeah. Silly me,’ Ezz replied solemnly.
This time half the bar laughed and when Mats asked Brodie what the catch of the day was, they all roared, ‘Skink!’ and howled again.
Mats laughed back and ordered Atlantic salmon, while Ezz chose goat’s cheese and beetroot salad.
‘I’m glad you came,’ Mats said simply. ‘And I’m sorry if Mum and Dad worried you by talking about selling Rothach Hall.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t think Dad ever meant it. He didn’t want Mum to come to Skye without him, and he growled it in the heat of the moment.’
‘That’s a relief.’ But Ezz hadn’t been unduly worried once she’d witnessed Erik’s discomfiture at being called on it. If Grete had taken it to heart, it was no wonder she’d retired into her shell.
‘So, you’re keen on staying at Rothach Hall now? It’s not long since you were hurling your resignation around,’ he teased.
‘True. But I didn’t want to leave – I felt I had to.’ She could look him in the eye over that one, because he knew why she’d reacted as she had. ‘I love Skye, even when the mist’s in or the burns are freezing.’
The teasing note left his voice. ‘I’m glad you stayed too. Otherwise, it’s unlikely we’d be together this evening.’
A tickle ran up her spine. ‘Oh?’ she said neutrally.
He eyed her for several long seconds. Then he leant closer, excluding the rest of the bar. ‘That sounded … unenthusiastic. Are you worried because I’m divorced? I’m a year into my “life after wife”, you know. She was the one who found someone else, someone I don’t happen to admire, but she left because the marriage wasn’t great.’ His silver-grey eyes were serious. ‘I’ve got the two best children in the world out of it, though.’
At his last words, and the sincerity of his expression, Ezz had to ease her throat with a sip of her drink. ‘People our age have generally had past commitments. And your children are gorgeous.’
He smiled, grey eyes silvery in the soft lighting. ‘Have you been married?’
‘No, just a living-with. Ramsay – in Suffolk.’ He seemed a long way in the past.
‘He didn’t want to come up here with you?’ Mats tilted his head enquiringly.
She fiddled with her glass, wiping the condensation from its cool, slippery sides. ‘He didn’t,’ she said slowly. ‘But more honestly, we didn’t have much in common once I stopped drinking. He thought alcohol-free Ezz boring, and I found drunk Ramsay obnoxious. I’ve just dated casually since I was up here.’ And she told him about Henry the auctioneer and Major Magic, making the story as funny as she could.
Instead of laughing, he frowned. ‘Has it left you dubious about men?’
She shook her head. ‘Do I seem it?’
‘You seem uncertain tonight.’ A cleft still hovered between his eyes. ‘And I don’t think it’s because your fellow villagers are watching you. If I’ve done anything—’
‘No,’ she cut in. Realising she was fiddling with her napkin instead of her glass now, she put it down, sucked in her breath and let it out again. ‘I’m a bit nervous.’
A long, slow smile dawned on his handsome face. ‘Nervous in a good way? Because we’re having dinner together?’
She shrugged. ‘And because … I’m not sure if we’re having dinner together “in a good way” or in a friends way.’
Laughter jumped into his eyes. ‘I’m hoping for the good way.’
She relaxed into her chair. ‘Then so am I.’ After that, everything felt more comfortable. Ezz was conscious of a sweet, humming tension inside her, something she hadn’t felt recently – but all, as he termed it, in the good way. It didn’t matter that he was only on the Isle of Skye for a couple of months because that was how she usually played things. Nothing serious. Nothing heavy.
Brodie arrived with their meals, though without the pantomime waiter performance this time, just a friendly, ‘Enjoy your meals.’
But as she picked up her cutlery, she froze, a thought crashing into her mind. One reason she’d avoided anything serious or heavy was that she’d known she’d feel honour-bound to divulge her secret about the accident that had changed the lives of her and Thea. But, to save Thea from fleeing the village, she’d already confided in Mats. He hadn’t reported her or been disgusted by her fall from grace. She could get serious with him. Except she couldn’t because soon he’d leave. Sheesh, they’d had just one date! How long he’d be on Skye shouldn’t even be entering her head. A growing attraction to Mats Larsson was confusing her, that was all. Dates – and sometimes sex – without a future was exactly what she did.
A deep voice broke into her reverie. ‘Is there something wrong?’
Mats was staring at her, and she realised she’d been sitting motionless before her salad, cutlery poised. With a tiny headshake, she laughed. ‘I was miles away.’ When his frown didn’t shift and his mouth opened again as if he was about to probe more deeply, she decided on distraction. Leaning forward confidingly, she made her voice the merest whisper so no big-eared fellow patron would overhear. ‘I’m soon to inform your parents formally, so I can share it with you now. I’m going to be an auntie again. Thea’s expecting a baby.’
Instantly, his frown was vanquished by a great, beaming smile. Eyes alight, he copied her thready whisper. ‘That’s fantastic! How exciting for her and the rest of your family. Mum and Dad will be thrilled. I know she’s high in their estimation.’ Clearly confident that Thea’s news had been the reason for her reverie he began to tuck into his meal.
Shoving to the back of her mind the fact that Mats wouldn’t be in Skye very long, she showed interest in him, in time-honoured date etiquette. The evening began to whizz by. They covered favourite sports – he liked cross-country skiing, ice skating, running and padel, which explained why he was spare and rangy; she liked to walk in winter and swim in summer. On music: she liked singer-songwriters, often female; he liked retro rock like Meatloaf and Black Sabbath.
Eventually, she found herself talking about Rick Colville’s latest visit and the news of her maternal grandmother’s alcohol-fuelled rages.
His eyes widened. ‘No wonder your birth mother let your grandmother make decisions about you. She was too young to withstand anger.’
Something tingled through her. She wasn’t certain whether it was surprise at his instant insight, or remorse that she’d shown anger towards Kay herself. Again, she remembered Rick’s handwritten, We were kids. ‘Sounds that way,’ she murmured, wishing that she’d been even slightly more understanding of Kay’s situation. They were on coffee now and were the last customers in the bar, whilst Brodie and Rosamund crated empty bottles and collected glasses. Ezz gazed into her coffee cup, wishing its froth could foretell the future, as tea leaves were supposed to. She had to swallow. ‘Does it seem wrong to you that I’m so hurt they only felt they could look for me once the grandmonster had died? Meanwhile, they made a cosy nest with my birth sisters, and they didn’t tell anyone they were coming to look for me. It makes me feel that they needed to check I was acceptable before introducing me to everyone else.’
He laid a warm hand gently on her arm. ‘I’m not in your situation, but I suspect it’s more complicated than that. Have they told your birth sisters that you exist?’
She thought back. Slowly, she answered, ‘I don’t think I asked in so many words, but I doubt it, or they’d have told them they were coming here looking for me. Or for Lindy Loveless, anyway.’ With an effort, she lightened the conversation. ‘I’m glad Astrid invited me to join you for advent. It’s fun to see the kids get excited about Christmas, isn’t it?’
Immediately accepting the change of subject, he laughed. ‘Astrid’s really taken to you. She’s already asked if you can come next Sunday as well.’
‘At least somebody wants me,’ she quipped, though Astrid seeking her company again caused a blooming warmth around her heart.
‘She’s not the only one who wants you,’ he answered lightly.
‘Then all her cousins will turn up and she’ll forget I exist,’ she continued, wondering exactly how he meant that last remark, and trying to subdue a blush.
He grimaced. ‘I’d love to contradict you, but she adores Filip and Emil and gets up to all kinds of tricks with Walter – he’s what’s politely known as a livewire. Mum’s half-wishing she hadn’t brought Haggis and Scotch to live with Mary and Clive now. Walter will be clamouring to ride them.’
‘All sorted,’ Ezzie said smugly. ‘One of Sheena’s friends has her own ponies and, if requested, she’ll help the children ride Haggis and Scotch. They brought their tack with them when they came to live with us. Mary’s too elderly and dignified, of course, and Clive’s too unpredictable.’
Then Rosamund called from behind the bar. ‘Ezzie, I hate to break up your date, but you’ll cost me my licence if I don’t chuck you out now.’
‘Blimey.’ Ezz checked her watch and saw it was well past eleven. ‘Sorry, Rosamund.’ To make up, she carried their empty coffee cups to the bar.
Rosamund grabbed the opportunity to murmur, ‘He’s a hottie, eh?’ turning Ezz crimson once again.
Then Mats displayed his gentleman credentials by holding her coat so she could slip her arms into the sleeves. Or maybe it was an excuse to have his arms around her for a moment, his hands not quite brushing her body as he brought the two halves of the coat around in front of her.
‘Night,’ called Rosamund and Brodie, grinning.
‘Night.’ At least the freezing air cooled Ezzie’s cheeks as they stepped outside. ‘Brr. The mist’s lifted to leave a frosty night.’ She pulled her coat tightly around her. Then, perceiving that Mats meant to walk her home, laughed. ‘I can walk across the road on my own.’
His smile sounded in his voice. ‘But the rule is, if you walk a date home, you get a goodnight kiss.’
An answering smile took charge of her mouth. ‘Since when?’
‘Since I made the rule up,’ he said equably. In approximately forty strides, they reached her garden path. He surveyed her garden. ‘Have you lost your lawnmower?’
‘It’s a wildflower garden,’ she said with great dignity. ‘In summer, it’s a mass of colour and the bees love it. Being kind to the bees is very important … especially to people who, like me, don’t like gardening.’
He laughed, a rich sound. Then, gently, he turned to face her and dipped his head towards hers. And despite his joke ‘rule’ about earning a goodnight kiss, he waited.
Ezz liked men who didn’t pounce, assuming kisses and more would automatically be part of the date. She raised up on her toes and brushed her lips across his. Instantly, he closed the small space between them, and dotted kisses on the corners of her mouth and then down the side of her neck. A wave of desire made her grip his shoulders. His soft lips settled on hers, extra gentle, and though that felt like exactly what she needed, heat rushed through her, and her lips parted. In an instant he deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers, his arms encompassing her. Despite the thick coats between them, she felt aware of the shape of his body and heard the ‘Mm’ deep in his throat. It felt as if she didn’t hold his shoulders, she’d float up among the stars. Normally, she’d consider that a good place to be, but not while Mats was here on Earth kissing her.
When he drew back, his breathing was noticeably uneven. ‘Can we go out again? Maybe not to the village pub though.’ There was a laugh in his voice. ‘Maybe at the weekend?’
‘Valentina’s coming,’ she said regretfully. ‘Thea and Dev are going to Dumfries to spread the baby news and Valentina, Gary and Barnaby will borrow her cottage.’
He touched his lips to hers once more, as if he needed to check it had really felt so velvety and tingling between them. ‘Before the weekend, then. Come to Portree with us tomorrow. You can show us around. I’ve stayed too long in the Rothach environs and could do with getting out and about, entertaining the kids. And before you ask, it’s fine for it to be on work time, because Mum’s coming.’ He hesitated. ‘At least she was before Dad arrived.’
‘I’m off tomorrow anyway as your mum said to catch up what time I’m owed,’ she said.
And she melted against him for more kisses.