Chapter 17 #2
So while I sipped my mug of tea, I made a start on peeling the potatoes while Grandpa sat at the kitchen table nursing his.
‘So come on then, lass. I bet you’re taking that London acting world by storm.’
Oh, here it goes.
My hand stilled with the peeler in it. I couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d worry for Scotland otherwise, and that was the last thing I wanted. ‘It’s going ok,’ I said with a flash of a smile.
‘Just ok?’ he repeated, incredulous. ‘You were amazing in that TV drama. Everybody around here watched it, you know. And I told all and sundry the lass with the blonde do was my granddaughter.’
I let out a playful groan. ‘I bet you did. They will have tried to avoid you when they saw you coming.’
I resumed peeling another potato.
‘So, come on then. What part have you got lined up next?’
‘Oh, this and that,’ I replied vaguely, busying myself with chopping the end off of a carrot.
I could feel Grandpa’s eyes on me. ‘Is everything alright, sweetheart?’
I whirled round, pinning a smile on my face. ‘Yes, of course it is. Why?’
‘You just seem a little distracted.’
I flapped my hand holding the carrot. ‘No. I’m fine. I mean, I’m good. All good.’
Grandpa didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it. He took a considered sip of his tea and eyed me over the rim of his mug. ‘This young man. Tell me about him then.’
‘What young man?’
‘This fella. The Lord. Ethan, is it?’
‘You mean Evan?’
‘Aye, that’s the chappie.’
I picked up a second carrot and sliced the bottom of it with a sharp knife. ‘What about him?’
‘Jings,’ sighed my grandpa. ‘This is like pulling teeth. What’s he like? Would I like him?’
I set down the knife on the chopping board. ‘He’s not a lord, Grandpa. Well, not in the way you mean.’ I frowned at him. ‘I think you would like him. But to be honest, I’m not sure where these questions are going.’
Grandpa winked at me.
I pulled an exasperated face and moved my attention out of the kitchen window to the grass, which was stirring in the early evening breeze. The sun was dancing behind the trees.
There was silence.
‘What’s the story with him, then?’
‘There is no story.’
‘Oh believe me, lass, there’s always a story.’ I heard him set his mug down on the table. ‘What’s he like? Good-looking, is he?’
I fiddled with the chopping board. Snapshots of Evan, like a film running in front of my eyes, played in slow motion. I steadied my voice. ‘Yes, he’s attractive.’
‘Single?’
I turned round at the sink. ‘I think his love life’s complicated.’
‘In what way?’
Letting out a playful sigh, I said, ‘I see you’re fishing again. You cast that rod any further, and you’ll be catching a dolphin in the Moray Firth.’
Grandpa chuckled as he picked up his mug. ‘Very funny.’ Then his expression grew more serious. ‘After that chancer Leon, I just want to see you happy and settled with someone. A decent young man.’ He took a mouthful of his tea. ‘You like this Evan, don’t you?’
My mouth dropped open, and I clamped it shut again. ‘What? No. No!’
I grabbed two parsnips from the draining board as though my life depended on it.
What was the matter with me? I couldn’t shake Evan off. My mind kept playing pictures of him on a continual loop, and it was driving me crazy.
‘Well, you could’ve fooled me,’ carried on Grandpa. ‘The way your cheeks have lit up, they could power the National Grid.’
‘It’s warm in here,’ I blustered. ‘Have you got the heating on?’ I didn’t let him reply. ‘Now, pass me those sprouts, will you please?’
* * *
Dinner was a success.
Grandpa exclaimed with delight at my fluffy roast potatoes, succulent, golden roast chicken and the buttered parsnips.
We also managed to force down a couple of scoops of clotted cream ice cream that Grandpa had stashed in his freezer.
We’d finished rinsing the cutlery, and I was stacking the dishwasher, when my mobile ring tone purred in the hall.
I hurried to my bag, which was hanging up on one of the coat pegs, and fetched it out.
‘Hi? Daisy?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sorry to interrupt you. It’s Alison. Alison Lord.’
‘Oh. Hi!’ I hooked some hair back behind one ear. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. Did you have a good journey to your grandfather’s?’
‘Yes, I did, thanks. Nice, quiet journey, apart from getting past Loch Crawe. They’re still clearing up around there.’
‘I’m sure they are.’
I could see my grandfather hovering at the end of the hallway, pretending to tidy up his already neat mug cupboard in the kitchen.
‘Good. Good,’ she murmured down the line. ‘I’m calling you because we’ve been mulling over your tour suggestion, and we’ve decided it’s a wonderful idea!’
It took me a moment to realise what she’d said. ‘Oh. Right. Well, that’s great.’
‘It is,’ she enthused. ‘It’s just, we really want to get up and running with this as soon as we possibly can’ She let out a nervous laugh. ‘So, what I’m trying to say is, is there any chance you can speak to Layla? The talented young actor?’
‘It’s Cayla. And yes, of course.’
‘Good.’ Another pause. ‘Look, Daisy, I know you’ve only just got back to your grandfather’s, but is there any chance at all you could come back to The Ramblings and help us get this off the ground?’
I clutched my phone a little tighter to my ear. ‘What? You mean, like, now?’
Embarrassment shot through Alison’s voice. ‘I’m sorry, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but Evan said that if we could ask you to return immediately, it would be the best thing.’
I swallowed. ‘Evan did?’
‘Yes. He said we can’t do it without you.’
What was he doing? Did he mean it? Was this some sort of game Evan was playing? Or had he come to his senses about the tour and simply wanted to get things up and running as soon as possible? I gathered myself. ‘But like I just said, I’ve only just arrived at my grandpa’s.’
‘Och no! No!’
I turned around, to see my grandfather clutching a letter, which had just been slipped through the letterbox.
‘Hold on a second please, Alison.’ I lowered my mobile. ‘What is it, Gramps?’
He waggled the letter this way and that.
‘Bloody risk survey has been done after those two bombs, and the authorities have said this place is in the risk zone. They want me to temporarily relocate.’ He looked like he wanted to stomp over the letter.
‘They don’t think there are any devices here, but they aren’t prepared to take any chances. ’
‘Oh no.’ This was just what we needed, poor Grandpa worrying about this cottage.
I returned my attention to Alison on the phone. Grandpa and his well-being came first. ‘Look, Alison, I don’t know if you heard any of that.’
‘Indeed I did, Daisy. What a worry for him. But there’s no problem. Bring your grandpa back with you. If he’s ok with that, of course.’
‘Sorry? You want me to bring my grandpa to The Ramblings?’
At this, my grandpa spun round, still gripping the council letter. ‘Aye. I mean, yes. Absolutely.’ He was nodding his white head so fast, he was giving me a migraine.
I lowered my phone and clamped my hand over it. ‘Do you mind?! You don’t even know what I’m talking about.’
Grandpa waggled his bristly brows. ‘I may be old, but I’m not senile. They want you back to that big house where the dishy Lord fella is, and by the sounds of it, they’ve said this old git can go for the ride.’ Grandpa tossed the letter down on the hall cabinet. ‘Just let me go and pack.’
I shot him a look and raised the phone back to my ear. ‘Er. Hello, Alison. Sorry about that.’
‘No problem. I’m sorry to drop this on you, Daisy, but your idea is fantastic, and you would be doing us such an enormous favour. Would that be alright to bring your grandfather?’
This was sending me into a mental whirlwind. ‘I mean, are you sure?’
Just as he was passing by me, Grandpa chirruped. ‘Just off to get my things together for tomorrow.’
Alison laughed. ‘He sounds adorable.’
‘That’s one word for him.’
‘So, is that a yes?’ Her voice rose with hopeful optimism.
A strange mix of emotions rattled through me at breakneck speed. This had all been my idea. I had to help, even if it meant it was happening rather faster than I’d anticipated. I just hoped I could talk Cayla round to playing Florence.
A loud clattering noise from behind me made me flinch. I turned round to see the hall cupboard door open and my grandpa bent forward, staring in at its contents.
I lowered the phone to speak to him. ‘Grandpa, what are you doing?’ I hissed.
He pointed one finger at something in triumph. ‘Ah. There it is.’ He jerked his head up.
‘What is it?’
He produced a battered, bottle-green suitcase that had seen better days. ‘If I’m coming with you, then I’ll need to start packing.’
I let out a groan. This was my fault. I was the one who’d come up with the Florence tour idea in the first place.
I shoved my mobile back up to my ear. ‘Sorry about that Alison. My grandpa has already located his suitcase and is beginning to pack as we speak, so I think the answer to your question is yes.’ I sighed. ‘Are you sure about this? I hope we aren’t inconveniencing you.’
‘Of course you’re not! Quite the opposite.’ She hesitated down the line. ‘I don’t suppose you could return to The Ramblings tomorrow morning?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes. The sooner we hit the ground running with arrangements, the better.’
‘Tomorrow morning?’ I mouthed to my grandpa, who was back in the hall cupboard, rustling about for his best shoes.
He tugged his raincoat from one of the pegs and gave it a theatrical flourish over one arm. ‘Sounds good to me.’
Ok, this was crazy, but there was no way I was prepared to let them down. ‘Alright. We’ll set off tomorrow morning after breakfast.’
‘Excellent. See you then. Thank you so much again, Daisy, and we really hope we haven’t inconvenienced you.’
‘Not at all,’ I insisted. ‘Thank you for saying my grandpa can come and stay. It’ll help take his mind off this bomb risk survey and what’s happening around the cottage.’
Alison was frothing with excitement. ‘It’s the least we can do. Goodnight.’
I hung up. Crikey. What had I let myself in for? Had I promised too much? Was my suggestion of the tour going to under-deliver? I still had to speak to Cayla.
‘I bet that Evan will be pleased to see you again,’ chimed Grandpa, giving his raincoat a playful swish.
‘I’m not doing any of this for Evan,’ I reddened, pretending to tap the screen of my mobile for something to do. ‘I’m doing this for his parents.’
‘Sure you are,’ he replied, not convinced. ‘Now stop dawdling, lass, and let’s get sorted. You can help me choose a few of my best ties. I’m not letting the side down!’