Chapter Three
Flora had spent the weekend intensively spring-cleaning her flat, decluttering as much as possible, hoovering and then scrubbing the bathroom and kitchen until they were sparkling.
She had crammed as many of her personal belongings as she could into her huge lockable hall cupboard.
Then she had packed up the rest of her clothes and loaded them into her car, along with her sewing machine and all its accessories and her sketch pads.
Flora hoped that the new tenant would be as happy in this space as she was.
Thanks to her cleaning efforts, the flat was immaculate and with the early morning sunshine pouring through the windows it indeed looked like the tranquil space that Nita had promised the tenant.
She just hoped it was bijou enough. Part of her wanted to flop into her very comfortable couch and just relax and enjoy the space herself.
She was now feeling quite weary and the fancy reed diffusers she’d bought had a lovely fragrance of calming lavender and sweet vanilla.
Instead, she gave a small smile and locked the door, leaving the keys in the new key box she had installed yesterday, as agreed.
Then she lightly jogged back down the stairs and into her car.
The journey to Rowan Bay usually took about an hour and a half and Flora was glad that she’d missed the rush hour traffic leaving Edinburgh.
It gave her a chance to untangle the midden of thoughts that crowded her mind.
She always looked forward to visiting Rowan Bay where her paternal gran, Iris, lived.
It was a pretty village on the eastern shore of Loch Lomond and she always felt calmer as soon as she arrived and saw the water.
When she had called her gran to ask if it would be okay for her to come and stay for the summer she had been delighted.
Her parents were also thrilled to know that Flora would be with Iris in Rowan Bay for a while.
They had moved to her mum’s native South Africa five years ago, as she wanted to be closer to her ageing parents.
But even with the many miles between them they never felt far away.
They spoke often and exchanged messages and photos which kept them all updated on each other’s lives.
They also visited Scotland every year and Iris and Flora had made trips out to see them.
But she knew her dad, James, especially worried about Iris living on her own.
Flora knew then that she was doing the right thing by leaving Edinburgh.
Having the whole summer with her dear gran would be something she may not get many more opportunities to do.
Especially if she managed to land another lecturing job, in which case she wouldn’t have this same flexibility over the summer again.
She was grateful that staying with Iris was even an option.
For some people the thought of visiting, never mind staying for a length of time, with a grandparent was arduous and a duty, a box that had to be ticked.
That was never the case with Flora and her gran, who she adored.
They had always been close, ever since she was a little girl.
Flora had spent hours with her gran watching her knit, weave and crochet.
She could still hear the clickety-clack of her knitting needles and she had been transfixed by how quickly she created garments from brightly coloured wools and threads.
It was no wonder that Flora had picked it up so quickly.
Iris was a patient and enthusiastic teacher and a firm favourite with the kids she once taught at the local high school.
Iris’s own grandmother had been a kiltmaker in Glasgow, making kilts for the soldiers during the First World War.
Flora had heard the stories of how long it would take to make each one.
It was hours and hours of carefully hand-stitched work.
‘You would never cut the tartan cloth,’ said her gran.
‘But tear it. My grandmother would make a wee nick in it and then very gently pull it apart.’ Flora loved hearing her gran’s tales from the past and was so grateful she had inherited the artistic talent that passed down through the generations.
By the time she arrived in the village, Flora felt more relaxed than she had for weeks.
She parked the car close to the high street, keen to pick up some flowers for her gran.
A gentle breeze on the loch created tiny ripples which shimmered in the late morning sunshine.
Flora smiled, thinking how idyllic it looked.
She had a good feeling about this. What a lovely way to start the summer. It felt so good to be back.