Chapter 5 #2
‘Oh my giddy aunt,’ one woman’s voice says. ‘I’m already tipsy!’ Huh. An English accent, so definitely not one of Moira’s usual coven. The voice is pleasant, warm, full of merriment. For some reason it makes me smile.
More laughter follows, the sound of clinking glasses. They’re having a good time, and they don’t need me intruding and dragging them down. Moira has seemed a bit off her game recently, and it’s nice to hear her so carefree. I’ll just sneak away.
I make it back through the bookshop and out onto the street before she collars me.
‘And where would you be going, Rory Callaghan?’ Moira says, emerging from the shop, her tone mock-stern. What kind of a fool am I to imagine I could steal my way both in and out of the bookshop? Have I learned nothing during my time here?
‘I’d be going home, now,’ I reply honestly. ‘I have a busy night.’ Not so honest.
‘Oh aye? Then why were you skulking around my shop?’
‘I was looking for a book,’ I tell her. ‘I finished that John Connolly one you recommended, and I was looking for the next in the series.’
She rakes me over with her eyes, searching for a lie.
‘Well come back in then, and I’ll find it for you.
Rosie and myself were just taking a wee tipple in the sunshine, and we have a guest here too.
In fact, Rory, I was meaning to talk to you about that anyway – I’m glad you’re here, saves me coming to your man cave later. ’
I shake my head. My home is not a man cave, although admittedly there are a lot of engines, tools, and piles of discarded junk lying around. The house itself is perfectly acceptable for… okay, I suppose she has a point. It’s a bit of a man cave.
‘So, she turned up out of the blue,’ Moira continues, the sparkle in her eye and the excitement in her voice making me smile.
She’s thrilled about this, I can tell, and it’s so good to see.
‘And she’d found one of our cards, Rory – the ones Angus suggested, the ones Robbie and I sent out into the world all those years ago! ’
Ah. I can see why she’s so pleased now. Kate and Brody finding those cards was the best thing that had happened to her since Angus died, and led to the rebirth of both the bookshop and Moira herself. I pat her on the shoulder, genuinely happy for her.
‘That’s grand, Moira, it is. I hope it all goes well.’
‘Aye, well, I was thinking maybe you could help with that, Rory. She needs somewhere to stay. When we first planned those cards, Angus and me, we’d anticipated being the grand hosts, you know?
But then he went and died, and I had my fall, and nobody turned up anyway…
by the time they did, the cottage was empty, all ready for Kate and Brody.
Now, though, I need to come up with an alternative.
Not tonight, she’s tired and needs a bit of peace, so I’m going to take her around to the cottage.
Kate and Brody don’t mind, but they’re back tomorrow night so then she’ll be homeless, poor wee lamb. ’
The cottage Kate and Brody live in is technically owned by Moira, but she’s in the process of selling it to them.
She says she’s happy enough up on the hill, and besides, I think she secretly enjoys living with Robbie and her sister Joanne.
They’re very different people, but both widows, and their banter and teasing gets them through the day.
She’s staring at me expectantly, and I’m a bit slow on the uptake.
‘What? You want her to stay with me?’ I ask, bewildered. I know I was thinking about getting a sheep earlier, but this wasn’t the kind of poor wee lamb I had in mind.
‘Sure I do. I mean, you have plenty of space. The rooms over the gallery aren’t ready, and the holiday lets are all booked up.’
‘Can’t she stay in Macduff, or even Aberdeen? There have got to be places she can go to!’
‘I’m sure there are, Rory,’ she replies, eyes narrowed, voice in a huff as she folds her arms over her chest and glares. ‘But she won’t be doing that! She found the card, man – don’t you get it? That means that she has to stay here in Bonnie Bay! It’s fate!’
I rub my face, and run my hands through my hair.
For feck’s sake, she means it, doesn’t she?
And when she says ‘it’s fate’, I know it’s more than that – it’s a complicated mix of hope and belief.
The legacy of the dead husband I know she still misses.
I’ve rarely seen her so determined, so completely focused.
How can logic compete with all of that? I take a deep breath, and when I look back at her I see tears in her eyes despite the ferocity of her tone.
This means something to her, way beyond finding board and lodging for another waif and stray. What is going on here?
‘Are you all right, Moira?’ I ask. ‘I’m a bit worried about you.’
‘I’m fine! I’m just… give her a chance, will ye?’
Is it that simple? Is that what’s upsetting her – me not going along with her plans? Does she think this woman is the answer to her prayers on my behalf?
I smile gently, hating seeing her so upset, whatever the reason. ‘I’m guessing this woman isn’t in her nineties and the spitting image of Nanny McPhee, is she? Are you… are you making me part of your scheming, Moira?’