Chapter 18
Skye’s body was so attuned to the working patterns of the Tilling and Browne machine, that she still found herself waking up at 6.30 a.m. every morning, despite having no work to rush to. Since she’d been at Glenalmond, she’d been joining Hamish for a walk on the estate before heading to the estate office. Hamish liked to go out for an hour first thing, conscientious ghillie as he was, to check the grounds. He tended to do the same in the evenings. Skye didn’t join him then; for the first week of her stay at Glenalmond, she had taken to luxuriating in the bath before going downstairs to help make supper.
At 7 a.m. that hazy Thursday morning, they went on the quad bike, zooming up to look at the burn. The small stream ran through the higher hills at the edge of the estate, before widening out into a larger river at the bottom of the garden. The burn wound its way snakelike through the rugged landscape, a sliver of bluish-grey cutting through the brown moorland with its swathes of purple heather. They had walked down one side, then hopped over boulders that acted as stepping stones across the stream, and left themselves another twenty minutes to loop around and hike back up.
‘You always were a proper little ghillie dhu,’ Hamish said, as Skye splashed her face with water from the burn.
‘I thought they were male sprites.’ Skye patted her cheeks dry.
‘Aye, but we’re very forward thinking here at Glenalmond.’
‘And thinking forward, I want you to know I’ve not forgotten you and Paolo.’
Hamish rolled his eyes. ‘I see what you did there. Very smooth.’
She chuckled and rubbed her hands together in pantomime fashion. Hamish shook his head, a rueful look on his face. ‘Thanks. But rest assured, I am concocting a plan. When I’m not doing the admin, that is.’
‘I wish I could say I was looking forward to it,’ said Hamish wryly.
‘I’ve been thinking about lines for you. We can get him over, and while I busy myself with something, you can say “The moon is beautiful tonight”, or something.’
‘Or something. Let me know when you’ve polished that up a bit,’ said Hamish, before leading them back up towards the quad.
Skye was still smiling about it as she shuffled unfiled papers on her desk. She was loving the outdoors. It was now nearly midday, and she planned to sort the estate paperwork properly after a quick sandwich. She made to leave when the phone rang. It was an old fashioned one with a rotary dial.
‘Glenalmond Estate, Skye speaking,’ she said.
‘I was hoping I’d get you,’ came a voice down the end of the line.
Bear. Skye felt the corners of her mouth hitch.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
She caught herself neatening her hair as if he was there in person. While he’d been in Edinburgh, Skye had found herself thinking about him in most of her spare moments. And the un-spare ones too.
They had messaged each other on and off during the week, and Skye had taken to pouncing on her phone the moment it vibrated, hoping that it was Bear. Aside from the deer, who had returned the next night, she had taken to texting him different parts of the castle, seeing if he could give her the correct architectural name for it. Bear, in turn, had been sending pictures of Edinburgh.
‘Do you want to do something tomorrow? I’m back in town and wondered if you’d like to meet up.’
Skye grinned and stifled a giggle. ‘What do you have in mind?’
‘The pub. I don’t really know what else there is.’
‘You know what,’ said Skye, looking out of her window on to the hills. ‘I might have an idea. Come over here tomorrow evening, at seven?’
‘Mysterious,’ said Bear. ‘I’ll be there.’
They said their goodbyes and rang off, Skye’s heartbeat tripping over itself.
Did it matter that she was moving on faster than she had expected? Will had no claim on her feelings, and what was wrong with a little fun? Nothing at all, Skye concluded, as she got up to make herself that sandwich.
* * *
After the surgery closed, Paolo went back to his flat. He was going to meet Graeme Innes from his book group for a pint or two later. Graeme had a toddler and a baby on the way, and was looking to get his nights out, before the upcoming arrival made its appearance.
Paolo wasn’t sure he was up for it. He had already had to rearrange swimming with Hamish.
It had been an especially hard afternoon. A family’s pet labrador had been hit by a car, after scooting out the front door and on to the main road. The emergency surgery needed to fix the poor creature had taken over an hour. Then there was a last-minute farm visit with Holly when a calf got stuck in a cattle grid. Overall, it had been a physical day. It almost made Paolo wish more of their animal clients were baby gerbils who needed nothing more than having their sex checked.
He got a beer from the fridge, an aperitif before he headed to the Anchor. It was still warm out and he took the bottle back downstairs to drink on the bench outside the ground-floor windows of the building.
The sash window behind him clanked open, and an older lady stuck her head out. ‘Long day, was it, darlin’?’
Paolo turned his head around. ‘Evening, Mrs Brown. How are you?’
‘Och, nothing to report. My Sandra’s wee bairn’s had a terrible cough, so I’ve been over on the Black Isle today looking after him while she works. And you?’
Paolo stood up to look at his neighbour. She was a smiley woman, with a silver bob and tended to wear sherpa fleeces regardless of the season. When Paolo went on holiday, she looked after Ginger, and when she was away, he tended her window boxes and large collection of exotic houseplants. She could talk the hind leg off a donkey given the chance, but Paolo loved chatting with her. ‘Busy day at the practice. Non-stop. Busy week, now I think about it.’
‘Aye, you’ve been looking a bit peelie-wally last few times I’ve seen ye.’
‘Have I?’ said Paolo.
‘Maybe you should all be lamenting Hughie’s holiday. I ken you couldnae wait to see him out, but seems to be busier than normal. Holly OK?’
‘Aye. She’ll live.’
Mrs Brown disappeared for a second, then the front door clicked, and she appeared on the steps next to him, a tin of gin and tonic in hand.
‘Mind if I join ye?’ she said. Paolo shook his head. ‘Now, and what with all this dashing about, have you had time to find yourself a nice young chap yet?’
Paolo shook his head. When he had first moved to Eastercraig, Hugh had warned Paolo that his downstairs neighbour considered herself the town matchmaker.
‘Go on, whip yer phone out. Let’s be having a look at what’s on offer.’
Paolo couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’ve never known such a nosy old woman in all my days.’
Mrs Brown chuckled, and Paolo reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile.
‘Here we go,’ he said.
Together they scrolled through the list of potential matches. Mrs Brown grumbled over most of them, and then made a hooting noise as someone called Patrick came into view.
‘Now that’s a nice-looking laddie. Why not ask him? Look, he’s not too far away, and really, Paolo, you don’t want to be driving too far. Petrol’s very dear, and you don’t want to be wasting your money.’
Paolo moved the screen closer to his face. Mrs Brown was right. Patrick was easy on the eye. Together they studied his profile, agreeing that nothing was a red flag.
‘Well, I’ll think about it, Mrs B,’ said Paolo.
He told Mrs Brown about Rhuari, unable to suppress his own smile when she shrieked with laughter.
‘And I thought I’d heard it all! The right person will come along, darlin’,’ she said. ‘Now, there’s something on the telly I want to watch, so I’ll be heading back in.’
‘See you,’ said Paolo.
After the Rhuari fiasco, the great unknown didn’t thrill him. Instead of a wide pool of eligible men, Paolo saw only stormy waters ahead. He skimmed the phone again. Patrick. He wasn’t sure about the wisdom of any of this.