Chapter 24
‘Well, here we are,’ Gayle said as she turned the nose of the car sharp left off the main road on to a deep-rutted dirt track that had been worn away by very thick tyre treads. In the corner of her vision, Robyn caught sight of an old tractor that looked as though it had been abandoned in the middle of a field.
‘Is this a farm?’ Robyn asked, expecting the farm buildings to come into sight any moment.
‘Might have been once, I guess.’
‘Once?’
‘Look.’ Gayle pointed straight ahead.
Robyn could see two large banners on massive poles standing on either side of the unmade track. They flapped in the wind, but Robyn could still make out the wording. ‘ Pine Ridge ,’ she read aloud.
‘Yes, that’s what it’s called. A development of new and exclusive residences. Aren’t we just the lucky ones.’ Gayle screwed up her nose in disgust as Robyn shuddered.
‘It’s going to be a sprawling estate when it’s finished. God knows how many houses are planned.’
‘How awful,’ Robyn said as the first architectural monstrosity came into view. She wondered at how the developers had got planning permission.
‘Aren’t they just?’ Gayle agreed. ‘Just don’t let on to the Gordons. They’re nice folks and you can’t blame them.’
Blame them for what , Robyn was about to ask, but Gayle was already waving as she pulled the car to a halt. Robyn guessed Gayle was referring to the fact that the Gordons had bought one of these new-build properties that were blighting the beautiful landscape.
Gayle opened the car door. ‘I’m just going to get my bag of hairdressing equipment out of the boot.’
Robyn asked, ‘Do you need a hand?’
Gayle glanced back at Robyn and shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. I still think you need to take it easy.’
Robyn saw Gayle’s eyes drift upwards to the bandage on her forehead. She had become so used to it herself that she’d almost forgotten about it.
Gayle asked, ‘Do you want me to take a look at that for you when we get back?’
Robyn touched the bandage. ‘Would you? The doctor gave me some bandages, and explained how to self-care at home, as she called it, showing me how to change the bandage. She said they wouldn’t send a community nurse. I get the gist that you have to be housebound for care in the community, and I’m clearly not housebound.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll have a look at it for you.’
Robyn breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good, because I don’t fancy another trip to the hospital if it’s not healing.’
‘Is it uncomfortable? Does it feel sore, or painful?’
‘A little sore still. But not too painful.’
‘Sounds as though you’re on the mend. Have you got stitches that will need taking out?’
‘No, the doctor said that as the cut was shallow, they used steri-strips.’ Robyn hadn’t removed the bandage yet, so she wasn’t sure what that meant.
‘Ah, they can be used for shallow wounds with straight edges, instead of regular stitches, pulling each edge of the skin together and sealing the wound. But the best part is they are just thin adhesive strips and are easily removed.’
‘Does that mean you can remove them?’
‘Of course. But first we’ll see how it’s healing. I’ll take a look this evening.’
Robyn smiled at Gayle. She thought again about how she wanted to repay her friend’s kindness by putting her plan for Gayle’s parents’ house in motion.
Gayle got out of the car and was about to shut the car door when she paused. ‘We should get you signed on with a GP practice here,’ she said.
‘That’s what Dr Jamieson at the hospital said. They looked up my records, and I’m signed on with one at the university I attended. Do you think it’s really necessary?’
Gayle pointed at her bandage. ‘In case you need to have it checked out by a GP, it is necessary. And even if you don’t, if you are unwell, and not registered, then it might mean another trip to A the adjoining semi was the show home, and had an identical manicured front lawn and flower borders. The only difference was that it had a Show Home sign outside, a small additional parking area, and an office in the attached garage, which Robyn imagined would be converted back into a proper garage once the development was completed.
Robyn saw a lady, dressed in a suit, sitting behind a large desk with a pile of site brochures. She imagined they detailed the other properties that could be bought off-plan and that would soon spring up.
It was probably the strangest thing Robyn had ever seen – as far as her memory would allow, anyway. All around the oasis of newness and perfection of the two semis she could see mud and clay and diggers and workmen. It was like someone had taken the two semis and plonked them slap bang in the centre of a massive muddy field. And to cap it all, the resident of the house looked like a very sweet elderly lady who ought surely to be in quieter, more sedate surroundings. Poor woman.
‘Robyn!’
Robyn was jolted out of her reverie by Gayle tapping on the car window. She heard her muffled name called again. She opened the door to the deafening roar of mechanical machinery.
‘Now close your mouth – it really isn’t all that bad,’ Gayle insisted as they walked up the pathway together.
‘And for goodness’ sake, smile!’
Robyn felt like putting her hands to her ears instead. But she stood beside Gayle at the front door and did her best to ignore the noise and to smile for the sake of Gayle’s client.
They both stood at the front door. Gayle rang the doorbell.
Robyn was about to tell Gayle that ringing it wasn’t necessary because Mrs Gordon had seen them in the window, but she thought better of it in case Gayle then thought that Mrs Gordon had seen Robyn’s miserable face.
‘Just keep smiling,’ Gayle added, ‘at least for an hour.’
Robyn had a question. ‘What did you mean when you said, you can’t blame them ?’
‘Shhh! Not now.’
The door opened.
‘Gayle, dear! How good of you to come.’ She spoke as if Gayle was a dear old friend who had taken time out of her busy schedule to pop in and see her for a social visit, rather than for a pre-booked hair appointment.
‘Not at all, Rose. It’s good to see you.’ Gayle stepped in.
Rose touched her arm. ‘We are so sorry for your loss, Gayle,’ she said solemnly. ‘We heard your father passed away. He was such a wonderful man, and such a devoted GP to our small community in Aviemore.’
‘Thank you, Rose. That’s very kind.’
Rose turned her attention to Robyn. ‘And who’s this?’
Robyn opened her mouth, but Gayle got there first.
‘This is Robyn Parker.’
‘Robyn,’ Rose said slowly, ‘Parker.’ Something in the way she said the name made Robyn feel that Rose didn’t believe her. She seemed to be looking her over, deciding whether to invite her in.
Robyn really didn’t feel in the mood to explain the circumstances surrounding how she came to be with Gayle.
Gayle added, ‘She’s a friend who’s staying with me for the time being. I hope you don’t mind her tagging along.’
‘No, no. The more the merrier, as they say.’ She waved her hand at Robyn to come in. They gathered in Rose’s lounge. ‘Now, you two take a seat while I put the kettle on and go to find that husband of mine. I did tell him what time you’d arrive. Men,’ she sighed. ‘Never around when you need them, and always around when you don’t.’
She left the room.
‘What did that mean?’ Robyn said.
‘That they’re always under your feet, dear.’ Rose’s voice carried from the hallway as she went in search of her husband.
Robyn put her hand over her mouth, and looked at Gayle with an apologetic look.
‘She may be old, Robyn but she’s got hearing like a hawk, I’ll tell you. Either that, or she’s got this place wired.’
‘You mean like those cop shows?’ Rose asked, her voice sounding further away this time.
Robyn sniggered into her hand.
Gayle shook her head, and put her finger to her lips.
Robyn got the message; she stared at Gayle, and held her lips together tightly, resolving not to say another word until Rose was in the room.
Rose came back carrying a tea tray neatly arranged with delicate teacups and a large teapot hidden under a woollen tea cosy which looked hand-knitted. There was also a plate of assorted biscuits.
Gayle and Robyn bounced up together, intending to help Rose with the tea tray. ‘Oh, do sit down you two. Honestly, I may be old, but I’m not an invalid.’
‘Sorry,’ they said in unison. They looked at each other, then sat down.
Rose passed a plate to each of them and offered the biscuits. ‘Now I know how Gayle likes her tea, but how does …’ she stuck her chin out at Robyn.
‘Robyn,’ Robyn said, although she was sure Rose hadn’t forgotten her name. She took a biscuit from the plate.
‘That’s right, silly me. How does Robyn like her tea?’
‘Black with one sugar, please.’
‘No milk? Why, a growing girl like you needs to keep up with the calcium, surely.’
She poured the tea and leaned forward with Robyn’s cup. ‘Say, how old are you?’
Caught off-guard Robyn hesitated. ‘Um … twenty-one.’
‘Really?’
Robyn took her teacup and looked at Gayle, who sat expressionless, drinking her tea. Robyn wondered what she was getting at. It sounded as though Rose didn’t believe her.
‘Still, I guess it’s your height. You are a small little thing, aren’t you?’
Robyn was starting to feel embarrassed under Rose’s penetrating gaze. If she’d known she was going to face the Spanish Inquisition from Gayle’s client, who had appeared to be a sweet old lady, then she would never have come.
‘The hair doesn’t help.’
Robyn involuntarily flicked her ponytail.
‘Makes you look like a schoolgirl.’
Robyn turned to Gayle, wide-eyed, guessing that it wasn’t a compliment.
Gayle just smiled as if to say, that’s Rose for you – says it like it is . ‘Well, I can do something about that. I can cut your hair, give you a new style, if you’d like, Robyn.’
‘Can you make me blonde too?’ Robyn blurted.
‘You want to change your hair colour?’ Gayle said in surprise.
Robyn felt just as surprised at her own words as Gayle looked. She chose not to share why she had suddenly felt the urge to change her appearance. Somehow, it was to protect herself. It was a bizarre thought. And that thought led to another thought that was just as disturbing – if she wanted to change her appearance, and it wasn’t just to look older, but to protect herself, the question was – from whom?
The one thing Robyn hadn’t considered when she had tried to remember the reason she’d been on the road on Christmas Day, as opposed to being at home with her family and friends – whoever, and wherever they were – was that rather than being on her way somewhere, on her way home, maybe she wasn’t going anywhere; at least not anywhere in particular. Had she in fact been running away from something – or someone?