Chapter 50
Chapter 50
A fter the Easter holidays, with the formidable Mrs. Thompson safely installed as the new headmistress, Struan walked into school, two toes lighter, in fact, but otherwise more or less unscathed, to find a surprise. His Primary 6s were quiet as he walked in, barely saying a hello, waiting with only the occasional giggle from Bronte or Oksana, silenced with a telling-off look from Anna-Lise. And there, on his desk, was a brand-new Gibson acoustic guitar to replace the one the storm had cracked to pieces on the Mermaid’s Spyglass. He looked at it, astounded, as the class erupted in happy cheers.
The Mod—the Gaelic music festival—held its heats in various islands around Scotland, and their nearest this year was in Cairn. It was on the same day as the audition for the London tour.
Saskia had been waiting at the hospital.
“Seriously,” she had whispered. “You had a near-death experience to get out of going to that audition?”
He had half-smiled at her. “I’m so sorry, Saskia,” he said.
“I am too,” she said. “I’d say pack up your stuff... but I’m not sure you ever unpacked.”
“I did warn you that musicians were terrible bets.”
“I wanted a musician!” she said, scandalized. “YOU want to be a primary school teacher.”
And they parted, not exactly as friends... but not as enemies.
R ANALD HAD LOOKED so exhausted coming off the plane that Jean—she explained ferociously to the others later—couldn’t help it. She had run up and given him a cuddle, which everyone had seen. Jean vehemently hated being a figure of gossip that she hadn’t personally instigated.
On the other hand, Ranald had not refused it. Quite on the contrary. It looked like the post box toppers the KCs had planned for the harvest festival might be rather late, without Jean there to up the pace. On the other other hand they had new reinforcements: the door had rung at the Shore End cottages one night, Jean being out yet again with Ranald, and Marian had answered it to a rather sad and penitent-looking Peigi. She had asked, if she didn’t bring her dog, would they mind terribly if she came in and did some knitting, seeing as she’d moved in to one of the other cottages just down the close?
And after a moment everyone got a hold of themselves and agreed that they would be delighted.
J EAN LOOKED AROUND the clean but spartan drawing room in Ranald’s big drafty house.
“Huh,” she said.
“Don’t say it needs a woman’s touch,” said Ranald. “I had one here for ages.”
Jean looked at the family photos that lined the walls.
“Do you still miss your wife?”
“All the time,” said Ranald honestly.
Jean nodded.
“What about you?”
Jean laughed. “God, no. But I’ve got Gertie.”
It was Ranald’s turn to nod. “Girls, eh?”
“Oh yes.” Jean smiled. Ranald put out his big, safe, calm hand. “Want to stay for lunch? I’m not much of a cook, I should warn you.”
“We could have chips,” said Jean, smiling at him and stepping closer. “Later.”
And she squeezed his hand and wondered, briefly, if it was the first hand she’d held since slowly, reluctantly Gertie had released her own, and flown free.
She beamed at Ranald and tilted her face up to his.
“Let’s not tell the girls just yet,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Ranald. “News never gets out in Carso anyway.”
T HE DAY AFTER Struan headed back to school, Morag looked at Gertie over their porridge.
“What?” said Gertie, nervously. “Is it the newspaper?”
Sure enough, the children in her beautiful scarves and hats were plastered all over the lifestyle section, and her blog was somehow getting visitors from everywhere, lovely comments, and emails too.
Morag shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “I saw Struan in the hospital. He told me... that Valentine’s card... that was you!”
Gertie colored. “It was ages ago. But you all laughed!!”
“I KNEW what you did to Calum reminded me of something!” said Morag. “And we weren’t laughing at you! We didn’t know who you were! We were just amazed by how good the gloves were! That was all we were saying. We never connected it with you at all. The running joke was one of the teachers must have done it. Which actually seems a bit ironic nowadays considering his job.”
“Huh,” said Gertie.
“Do you still...? I mean. He was asking about you.”
Gertie looked confused. “Only because I put him in a sleeping bag.”
Morag gave her a long look.
“What?”
“I could imagine the two of you together. You have a certain... quirkiness.”
“I do not!” said Gertie, which would have been more believable if she didn’t have a crochet hook in her hair at the time.
“Huh,” said Morag.
“Anyway,” said Gertie. “He’s got a girlfriend. And I... I don’t want to be like that anymore. Dreaming about people. It’s a waste of time. Look at what happened with Calum. And Struan, at school. Nothing but embarrassment. I need to live in the real world, like the KCs keep telling me. Find someone of my own.”
“I think you did pretty well in the real world up that mountain,” said Morag soberly. “There are people who have trained for years who couldn’t have handled it as well as you.”
“Thank you,” said Gertie, pink.
“Thing is...” said Morag, lingering.
“What?”
“Well, Struan needs his flat back. He’s broken up with Saskia.”
Gertie sat bolt upright. “Oh.”
Then she considered it. “I’d better move home.”
Morag shook her head. “You don’t have to. This is your real life, remember?”
She half-smiled.
“I’m hardly here anyway. And after the rescue, well.” Morag flushed and her voice trailed off. “I think it focused Gregor’s mind on a few things. He wants to talk about us getting a place together. Just him and me and well, everyone else is up for discussion.”
“Right,” Gertie mumbled, then realized something. “I’ll miss you.”
“We’ll be working together for a bit though,” said Morag. “And anyway. I think... I think your mum and my grandfather...”
“Oh my God!” said Gertie. “All the times she was out!”
“Looks like it.”
Gertie beamed. “Bloody hell,” she said.
“I know,” said Morag. “I think... I mean, if they get married, what would that make us?”
Gertie laughed.
“Oh, and also I have this; the cleaners found it. Could you give it back to Struan to take to school?”
And she tossed Gertie a little moth-eaten bear.