Chapter 7 #2
But as I approach the front door, I hear a quiet whimpering noise.
A woman, who looks to be in her late thirties, sits on the bench outside the door with her head in her hands.
She’s clearly having a moment, interrupted by my stomping up the grassy path.
I think about turning around, but she clocks me before I can back away.
‘Can I help you?’ she calls, wiping her eyes.
‘I’m, erm, sorry to intrude. I’m looking for Eilidh Stewart? I’ve been trying to call, but…’
‘Ah,’ she says, raising an eyebrow above her bright, blue eyes that are red from the tears. ‘You’re 658.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Your phone number ends in 658. I’ve been wondering who it is that keeps pestering me,’ she said. ‘I thought it was a scam caller.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s me. I’m not a scammer, though. I’ve just moved here to open a new business – a bookshop in the village. Donna recommended you as the one-stop shop for all my accountancy needs. But I can see you’re in the middle of something, so shall I come back?’
She thinks for a second, before shaking her head. ‘No, come on in for a cup of tea and you can tell me what I can help with, 658.’
As she pulls open the heavy wooden front door, I’m eager to get a glimpse of this beautiful house’s interior.
I follow her straight up the stairs, past the array of family pictures featuring Eilidh, her partner and two young sons, to the expansive open-plan living area, which includes a kitchen with a huge marble island and a dining space that overlooks the balcony, with an uninterrupted panorama of the loch and the sea beyond.
‘Wow, your house is amazing,’ I breathe. ‘Look at that view!’
‘Yep, it is beautiful.’
She doesn’t seem too happy about it. In fact, as she pulls her cardigan around her sunken shoulders and lifts a coffee cup to put it in the sink, all she radiates is sadness.
‘Well, it was beautiful,’ she continues, as she starts scrubbing at the coffee cup. ‘It was pretty perfect, in fact, until Mark decided it wasn’t.’
She lets out a long sigh, places the cup on the worktop, and promptly bursts into tears.
Oh shit. I’ve obviously picked the worst possible time to drop in unannounced on Eilidh.
Advancing towards her, I think of Donna and her love of big hugs, but somehow Eilidh doesn’t seem like the type. I place a hand on her shoulder instead.
‘Sit down,’ I say. ‘I’ll make the tea.’
She lets me. I busy around her kitchen, opening random drawers to look for spoons and mugs. Eilidh doesn’t move. She sits at the breakfast bar, staring out at the view with a melancholy expression.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘I’m sorry you’ve found me this way. It’s the first time I’ve had to send the boys away with my husband. My exhusband,’ she sighs. ‘My sons, Harry and Caden. They’re only five and seven. They didn’t want to leave. They kept asking why I wasn’t coming too.’
Her eyes fill with tears again as I place the cup of tea in front of her. She grips the cup with her hands but doesn’t bring it to her lips.
‘You’ve separated?’ I ask.
She nods her head. ‘He had an affair. He’s been coming here to see the kids, but now he’s “settled” in Inverness. Settled with her. He was meant to be settled with his own family, but instead he buggered off to start a new one.’
My eyes widen. ‘A new family?’
‘Baby on the way,’ she says, her voice flat. ‘Due in December. A girl, obviously. I wanted our third to be a girl. Shit, sorry, I’m oversharing. I just… I haven’t really told many people about it.’
I suck in my breath. Poor Eilidh. I think my predicament with Seb is bad, but what she is going through is proper grown-up shit. Kids. Divorce. Heartbreak on another level. Looking around the perfect family home, you’d think she had it all.
It doesn’t seem right that Eilidh should be dealing with this all on her own.
The death cafe at uni pops back into my mind – what she’s experiencing is another kind of grief.
There should be somewhere she could go to share her story with people who are on hand to listen and help, rather than opening up to someone who just popped by for advice on their tax return.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. You can talk to me about it. I’d like to help if I can.’
‘Thanks,’ she sniffs. ‘It just doesn’t seem fair, what he did. It should be illegal. You sign a legal document when you get married, don’t you? Shouldn’t you be locked up if you break it?’
I nod. ‘I can see your logic.’
‘Anyway, you’re not here for my sob story. Sorry, what did you say your name was?’
‘It’s Ava. Ava Campbell. But we can stick with 658 if it’s easier,’ I say, with a small smile. ‘I wanted to talk about business plans and finances, but we can do that another time. What are your plans for when the boys are away?’
‘To wallow in self-pity,’ she admits with a self-deprecating look.
‘You’re not planning on moping around in this big house by yourself all day, are you? When are the kids back?’
‘Tomorrow evening,’ she says. ‘But I wasn’t planning to—’
‘Grab your coat. Let’s go out.’
*
Eilidh puts up less of a fight than I expect.
She grabs her trainers and jacket from a large walk-in closet filled with children’s wellies, shoes and backpacks.
As she ties her laces, I study the family pictures on display all over the house.
Mark is attractive, but Eilidh is much more striking, with her long deep-red hair flowing loosely around her shoulders in each picture, and her piercing blue eyes that her sons have inherited.
The boys beam widely at the camera in various baby and toddler poses, their chubby cheeks replaced with boyish grins as they grow up.
‘Happy families,’ she groans, as she catches me staring at them. ‘I paid a fortune for those professional photos. It’s taken all my strength not to take a permanent marker to erase Mark’s stupid face.’
‘You look so happy,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe that he could turn his back on all this. What more did he want?’
Eilidh shrugs as she holds the front door open and gestures for me to walk in front. ‘Everything’s always been handed to him on a silver platter, so he thought he’d go for gold. Her family is eye-wateringly rich.’
‘And you’re not?’ I snort, before I can stop myself, gesturing to our beautiful surroundings.
Eilidh allows herself a small smile. ‘Some people are never content. Anyway, what brings you to Ullapool? Have you come here with a partner or on your own?’
‘I’m very much flying solo.’
I share my Seb story with Eilidh during our walk to the village. It’s only fair, a heartbreak for a heartbreak. I don’t mention the best friend element, though. I can’t seem to put Macy’s name in my mouth. Somehow, it’s the worst part of it all.
‘What an idiot,’ Eilidh says, shaking her head.
‘At least we’re in it together,’ I say in a cheery voice. ‘Both screwed over. Now, I’m not looking for your professional advice or anything. But I thought you might like to see my bookshop on the way and then we can head to the pub?’
Eilidh nods. ‘Sure. It’s better than anything I’d planned for the evening.’
We walk along side by side on the pavement until we reach the front of the bookshop. I gaze up at the building in front of me, filled with a sense of pride at my next chapter.
‘So, wait, you just bid in an auction for a shop and turned up here to get started?’
‘It was a little more complicated than that,’ I say, not wanting her to think I’m a complete flight risk. ‘I had to speak to some lawyers and my granny used to live here, so I know the village. But yeah, I suppose that’s it. In a nutshell.’
‘That’s… I could never do something like that.’
In a way, I’m lucky that I can just up sticks and move here. I’ve got no ties to Seb; I can move on with nothing holding me back. With their sons, Mark will always have to be in Eilidh’s life.