Epilogue
Alice Hargreave was daydreaming again.
Cary’s woodworking yard was leafy and bright under the late-March sunshine. She was in her favourite place, under a blanket with her coffee, watching Cary working on his latest cabinetry commission. He stopped for a moment to wipe a hand across his brow, smiling for her, and she smiled back.
Even though it was only early spring, she was dreaming already of the sunny season here and in the gardens at the repair shop, which were already sprouting with fresh green life, and the aspen trees had budded heavily, ready to put out their leaves.
She dreamed also of how lovely the blossom would be on the apple trees all around Cary’s lovely yard, and she dreamed of her mother coming to stay for Easter, alone, now that she’d followed her daughter’s lead, with a fair bit of talking over the phone, and she’d put some gentle boundaries in place for her erstwhile husband.
Alice was dreaming too of the town’s Beltane bonfire celebration that she’d heard all about from Gracie, knowing it involved wine and wild dancing until deep into May Day morning.
She sighed and sipped her coffee, drawing Cary’s attention, summoning him as if by witchcraft to wander over and take a sip from her cup, before he kissed the top of her head and went back to his work.
She dreamed of getting better, and the long lifetime of self-care she had ahead of her in that regard, but she was prepared for it, and prepared to continue reaping its benefits too.
A sound broke through her peaceful reverie, a voice, growing louder.
Cary lifted his head and mouthed in silent terror the name, ‘Carenza!’ before gritting his teeth in fear, making her laugh.
Sure enough, on the other side of the fence, passing down the wide path that separated Cary’s workshop cottage from the other houses, was Carenza McDowell in full property-mogul sail, and behind her trotted Murray, Finlay and Nell.
‘Now that Finlay’s coming down from the mountain,’ Carenza was saying, ‘this kind of pied-à-terre is just the sort of home two modern men about town need.’
Cary abandoned his work and crept over the yard to his girlfriend, taking her hand as she shucked off the blanket, tiptoeing and giggling as they made their way inside to avoid catching Carenza’s eye through the gaps in the fence.
Who knew what plans she had up her sleeve for the town’s newest doctor since she’d found her so accommodating with the Burns supper?
Alice didn’t want to be caught by her and find out.
Alice shut the pair of them safely inside the cottage and, finding herself face to face with Cary, who she hadn’t grown remotely tired of kissing, stretched her arms around his neck in a languorous way, and he whipped her up into his arms, carrying her out of sight of the glass door as she laughed and sighed in perfect contentment.
Outside, Finlay was pretending to listen to Carenza as she jangled a huge bunch of keys and led them up a garden path to a slim cottage with a garden bursting with spring bulbs. He didn’t really mind what kind of property his money went on, so long as Murray and Nell liked it.
It hadn’t taken him long to make his decision to leave his little cruive, not when it had begun to feel lonely up there, especially when Murray was working away and it was just him and the dog – who he was now utterly devoted to, even if he did complain about her behaviour and call her a ‘daft creature’ every day.
Nell loved him back ten thousandfold and really seemed to be trying not to bolt off any more, even though sometimes she’d get an idea, or a whiff of squirrel, and there could be found a Nell-shaped gap in the cruive hedges (why use an open gate when you can escape through the bushes?) She’d be discovered down at the mill house visiting Wayward, the remaining puppy (and named as Murray’s idea of a joke), or Poppet (who Kellie still brought back to visit Mr Forte and the others on garden project Sundays).
Murray’s absences while he was working away from Cairn Dhu on long days were something they’d both borne well, mainly because it meant romantic reunions come seven o’clock and having it re-confirmed every evening that the two of them were unshakeably drawn to one another like magnets.
Carenza was opening the door and stepping inside the really very lovely old building, the perfume of the little courtyard’s daffodils in the warming air.
Finlay’s mother hadn’t been right about many things, but she had known her son was waiting for his moment to bloom, and that moment was now, and every other moment he had Murray’s hand clasped in his, and Nell’s lead in the other.
‘Now, I think you’ll like this one, Mr Morlich,’ Carenza was announcing, so loud the whole street could hear. ‘This one used to be the town sweetshop!’
‘Oh, now,’ said Murray, about to follow her through the door, ‘that sounds right up Fin’s street.’
Finlay, however, pulled at Murray’s hand to delay him in following Carenza inside. He glanced up at the mellow old stone and the roses already in glossy green leaf all around the charming yellow sunburst door.
Murray followed his gaze up over the sash windows with their window boxes planted with colourful violas, and up to the swallows’ nests in the eaves and the black mountain slates on the roof.
‘What’s wrong?’ Murray asked.
‘You don’t think all this,’ Finlay looked longingly at the welcome mat and the pots of tulips on the worn stone step, ‘is too much? Too… nice?’
‘No,’ Murray told him, confidently, pulling him close for a kiss and not letting him go.
‘Just because you don’t require much doesn’t mean you only deserve the bare minimum, remember?
’ He kissed him again for good measure, knowing it would turn Finlay soft-hearted and starry-eyed all over again. It was his favourite thing to do.
‘I’m learning to remember,’ Finlay replied, and before Carenza could yell at them to come and admire the country cottage with its open fireplaces, spiral staircase and lion’s claw bath, Finlay led his boyfriend, and their spoiled, happy dog, inside their sweet little house and closed the door softly behind them.