Chapter 8
As we pass the Tool’s Toolbox and find the bar down the road, I feel quite smug.
First, I have a new friend to come to the pub with.
Second, Eilidh looks much brighter than she did earlier.
Win-win. I text Donna to see if she’d like to join us.
Donna invited me to form a trio with Elle every summer, and now it’s up to me to return the favour.
She replies to say she’ll be here as soon as she finishes at the salon.
‘Not seen you in here in years, Eilidh Stewart,’ the barman says, as he fills our glasses with ice.
‘Haven’t been thirsty, Tom,’ she jokes, but I hear the air of sadness in her tone.
We take our drinks over to a table in the corner.
‘I take it you haven’t been out much recently? Since everything happened with your husband?’ I whisper, aware that Eilidh probably doesn’t want her business becoming everyone else’s business. I know word travels fast around here.
‘Way before all that,’ Eilidh explains. ‘Mark wasn’t a big fan of the local pubs. He wasn’t a big fan of Ullapool in general, if I’m honest. He’s a property developer, all about business, making money, doing deals. There wasn’t enough of a buzz around here for that kind of thing.’
She sighs.
‘I chased the big deals, the promotions and the money in London for a while,’ I confess. ‘It didn’t bring me any more happiness. As soon as it was all gone, it was like the fog lifted and I could actually see that. I bet he’ll regret it one day.’
‘I don’t think his enlightenment is coming any time soon.
He regrets the time he did spend here,’ she says, shaking her head.
‘He kept pushing me to move to a city, but I wanted the boys to grow up surrounded by nature and greenery, like I did, rather than smack bang in the middle of a concrete city, you know?’
‘More fool him. He’s missing out on more than just a lovely place to live, that’s for sure,’ I say, as I tap my glass against hers. ‘Anyway, cheers. To new beginnings.’
‘To new beginnings,’ she repeats, with a half-hearted attempt at a smile. ‘Oh my God, is that Rory MacGregor I see over there?’
Ah, shit. It’s bad enough that Rory and I have to share a wall every day, never mind sharing the pub in our free time.
At least I can say that Rory’s true to his word: earlier today he did come round to fix the hole, though he barely uttered a word while he did.
I consider hiding under the table, but Eilidh looks so excited to see him.
Of course she does. He is Mr Bloody Popularity, isn’t he?
Now I’ve got to explain to her why he hates my guts.
Not that I’m 100 per cent clear on that.
I glance over and, sure enough, Rory is sitting there beside the roaring fire, sipping a pint across from Finlay the dog walker. One of the pups has taken up residency on the carpet under the table at their feet. I hope Eilidh isn’t about to—
‘Rory!’ She stands up and starts waving her hand in the air as I slide down in my seat.
Double shit.
Rory turns around to face us, smiling as he sees Eilidh. His expression quickly clouds in confusion when he spots me sitting across from her.
‘Eilidh,’ he calls, moving towards us. ‘Where have you been hiding?’
Rory envelops Eilidh in a friendly hug. I frown. Who is this cheery village creature that everyone seems to love and why does he disappear around me?
‘Ah, you know, the kids, the husband, all that stuff,’ Eilidh says, her eyes still sparkling at him. ‘Why don’t you come and join us?’
Rory glances down at me, as I sip my gin and tonic. It tastes exceptionally bitter. Fitting. ‘Ava,’ he nods towards me, acknowledging my presence like a state official.
‘Rory,’ I nod, tight-lipped, in return.
Curt. Polite. We can be civil towards each other, just for one evening. Can’t we? Maybe it is time to have a day off hating each other.
‘Ah, you two know each other already!’ Eilidh beams. ‘I was just about to say that you must be work neighbours. Rory’s my cousin, Ava. Well, not really. Our mums were best friends growing up, so we called each other cousins. You know how it is.’
I nod although I don’t know how it is. I had no cousins growing up, never mind pretend ones.
Eilidh beams at us both like we are one big happy family.
Does everyone love Rory MacGregor, apart from me?
And does he love everyone except me? Every time I make a friend, he seems to be waiting in the wings to swoop in and claim them.
He is always there first. It is getting beyond annoying.
Now, Eilidh’s inviting him to sit with us, and he looks to be considering it. Bloody hell.
‘Where’s Mark?’ Rory asks, looking around the pub.
‘He’s… we’ve… He won’t be coming tonight,’ Eilidh stutters, before finding her words. ‘Anyway, sit down! Join us. Ava doesn’t mind, do you, Ava?’
I bloody well do mind.
‘Of course not.’ I smile sweetly, aware that I want to keep the new friend I have made. And what is it they say? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. ‘You’ll need to invite Finlay over too, though. We can’t leave him all on his ownsome.’
As a dog lover, I already rate Finlay. I decide then and there to make it my mission to get him on my side.
That way, I can get in first before Rory infects him with his tales about me, the big-city girl who’ll be gone before everyone knows it.
Despite Eilidh’s lifelong friendship with Rory, to the point that they consider themselves practically related, Eilidh and I also definitely have strong friendship potential.
I still have time to salvage this situation and show everyone that I am a nice, civil person.
Finlay, with his pale skin, cheeky expression and short red hair, has a look of Prince Harry on country vacation. He’s almost as tall as Rory and about the same age. As we wave him over, he brings a German Shepherd to sit beneath our table.
‘Nice to meet you, Finlay,’ I say. ‘Donna, my friend from the hairdresser’s, mentioned you.’
He splutters his pint. ‘God, sorry,’ he says, wiping his mouth. ‘That went down the wrong way. You know Donna? She was in the same year at school as me and Rory.’
‘Ah, Donna and I go way back,’ I say with a smile. ‘We’ve been friends since I was a kid and, before you say anything about my accent, I’m at least half Scottish. I used to come here every summer to visit my granny.’
‘Well, isn’t that something?’ Finlay smiles widely at Rory, who shoots Finlay a withering look.
I catch a glimpse of Donna over Finlay’s shoulder.
‘Ah, here she is.’ I grin, standing up to hug her. ‘Speak of the devil.’
‘Donna… hi.’ Finlay stands up behind us, as though waiting in line for a hug, and then realizes it’s not a queuing situation. He clasps his hands together like a jilted groom before taking a seat again. ‘Didn’t know you were coming.’
‘Neither did I. Ava invited me. Hi everyone.’
As Donna attempts to drag a heavy chair over to join the group, Finlay leaps up to help her. Their hands meet on the back of the chair and Donna jumps back like she’s been electrocuted. Finlay clears his throat and stands tall, squaring his shoulders.
‘The usual?’ he asks, gesturing to the bar.
‘Yes, please,’ she nods, not meeting his eye.
‘What a gentleman.’ I smile widely at Finlay before directing my gaze over to Rory, who hasn’t moved a muscle to help. So much for being a helping hand to everyone. He sips his pint.
Finlay’s dog edges his way towards me and places his paw on my shoe. I let out a loud ‘aww’ and lavish all my love on the dog, exclaiming how utterly gorgeous he is while stroking his fur. The dog yawns in return, bored with being adored.
‘What’s your name?’ I say in a sing-song voice.
‘Piper,’ Rory responds, looking me dead in the eye. ‘She’s mine.’
‘She’s your dog?’ I ask. ‘I thought she belonged to Finlay.’
‘Nope, she’s mine.’
‘I didn’t have you down as a dog owner,’ I say, pursing my lips.
‘Why’s that?’ He cocks his head to the side.
‘I thought you’d be more the goldfish type,’ I shrug. ‘Maybe a cat, at a push.’
He frowns. ‘A goldfish? What does a goldfish owner look like?’
His face flushes with annoyance. Why is he so touchy about everything with me?
‘Just, you know, they’re very low maintenance. Don’t require too much affection,’ I say as Finlay returns with Donna’s ‘usual’ drink. ‘Anyway, I see Finlay out walking with the pups all the time, so I assumed he’d have a dog of his own.’
‘I walk Piper,’ Rory interjects, before Finlay can respond. ‘We’re out all the time.’
Now Rory is getting defensive because he thinks I am insinuating he never walks his own dog.
‘Erm… congratulations?’
Eilidh and Donna look at Rory, then back at me, with puzzled expressions. Donna quietly thanks Finlay for the drink, and he nods as he rests his welly boot over his knee.
Rory takes a long sip of his pint and plonks it back down on the table, the last of the frothy foam dancing at the bottom of his glass. ‘I’m going for another round. What’s everyone else having? I take it you’re okay, Donna. Eilidh? Finlay? Ava?’
There is an edge to the way he says my name. A stumble. A hesitancy. The last thing he wants is to buy me a drink, but it would look strange if he didn’t offer. Around his friends, he is being forced to conform to social norms, and I like it.
‘Yes, please, that would be lovely,’ I say.
As Rory makes his way to the bar, Finlay makes conversation with me.
He’s energetic, easy to talk to. I can see why Donna likes him so much – not that she would admit it.
But I notice her looking at him proudly as he leads the chat.
When he hears about my daily walks, he takes his phone out to show me the best local walking routes.
As Rory returns to the table with the promised drinks, we are in full discussion about local landmarks, gorges and waterfalls.