Chapter 11
Bex didn’t know where the time was going. Every day seemed to be going faster than the others, and her to-do list was only ever getting longer.
The move to the office had its advantages – mostly Lorna dropping by with various offerings that she intended to make for the gala, including lemon tarts with saffron and ginger, raspberry and thyme profiteroles, and Bex’s current favourite, orange and cardamom éclairs – but it hadn’t been without its trials either.
There was moving all the boxes, of course.
It should have been a quick job and it would have been, had the bottom not fallen out of two of them; one in the doorway, the second only a step away from the car.
An entire hour and a half that she had booked in to help Fi was then spent sorting the papers, meaning they didn’t have their meeting until they had finished seeing clients for the day and the half an hour she’d scheduled to sit down and eat with Duncan before he went and saw local farmers was used up.
Then there was reminding clients of the new address, which had been done by both email and telephone call, and yet several still turned up at the castle.
That resulted in them starting their meetings at least fifteen minutes late, and putting their entire schedule out of whack, normally meaning that both she and Fi had to go without a break of any sort, which was hardly ideal.
Yet despite the chaos, the trainee accountant remained unwaveringly optimistic.
‘It’s so good for the village,’ Fi said Thursday afternoon as they were going through the schedule for the next day.
They still had one more meeting that afternoon – with a small gym that had recently set up a couple of miles away – but it was online, and as such, Bex wasn’t too fussed that they both had half-eaten sandwiches and multiple coffee cups on their desks, as long as they stayed out of view.
‘Having a business like this,’ Fi continued.
‘And a young laird. It makes people look to the future, you know. I think people thought all the old ways had died with Fergus. But now you and Duncan are here, and then you’ll have your own bairns. It keeps people looking forward.’
‘Oh, we’re still a way off thinking about kids,’ Bex replied hastily. ‘We have to get married first.’
‘Really?’ Fi seemed surprised by this remark.
‘Roddy and I have got it all planned. I need to get my level four with you first, which should be about three years, right? Make sure I’m fully qualified, then we’ll start trying.
I want to be able to enjoy my little ones while I’ve got the energy, you know. ’
Bex did, although if having energy was a prerequisite to having children, she and Duncan were in serious trouble.
He’d come in later than ever the night before and, like always, had planned on cuddling up downstairs with the dogs and Kenna for a little bit before he came upstairs.
Only that was as far as he got. When Bex came down that morning, he was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, lying on the dog bed, with Kenna on his chest and the dogs curled up around them.
How on earth they would fit in late-night feeds and nappy changes with all that, she had no idea.
‘I bet once you’re married you’ll feel different,’ Fi continued. ‘You’ve got lots of bedrooms to fill.’
‘That’s true. There are still some I haven’t been in.’
‘You’re not serious?’ Fi looked up from her computer, yet another expression of pure shock on her face. ‘How?’
‘Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration,’ Bex backtracked. ‘I’ve been in them. Like, stepped inside them, but I’ve no idea what’s in them all. Clothes mostly, I think. I just haven’t had the strength to start sorting them.’
‘You have wardrobes of clothes you haven’t looked at?’ Fi let out a dreamy sigh. ‘You really do live a different life.’
Bex wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to reply to that comment. Perhaps she could share the anecdote about Duncan from the night before so Fi could see it wasn’t all perfect, but before she could reply, the small click of the front door opening stole her attention.
‘We don’t have anyone now, do we?’ she said quietly.
Fi scrolled onto her calendar and shook her head. ‘You know you can check the schedule too,’ she replied. ‘Just ignore the emails you don’t want to look at.’
Bex grimaced. She knew exactly what Fi was talking about and which particular emails she was referring to.
In true, organised Bex fashion, she had set up her email so that any dates had instantly populated her calendar. It was a technique that had worked well while she’d lived in London, and she’d never had a problem with it before. But that was because she’d never been dealing with Amanda before.
Despite her promising to read the emails regularly, three days after their meeting, it had all got too much again.
Rather than collating her points and questions and sending a single email every few days, Amanda appeared intent on sending them the instant the thought arrived, and if that meant sending five emails in one hour, then so be it.
Not only that, but she had started adding proposed dates to them too.
Some for their meetings, some for the wedding, others, well, others that Bex had no idea what they were for because she couldn’t bear opening the emails.
And so it had become Fi’s job to manage the calendar too, just to stop her melting down altogether.
No doubt it was because of the type of people Amanda normally worked with, Bex had decided.
People who wanted to think they were being thought about every minute of every day, and that their wedding was the number one priority in Amanda’s life.
But Bex wasn’t like that. She didn’t need constant reassurance that Amanda was sorting things.
She just needed her to give her a little space.
For one painstaking moment Bex feared it was Amanda walking through the door, for a meeting that Bex had unknowingly missed, but as the knuckle rapped on the inner office door, and Fi called for them to come in, they discovered it was a far more local figure paying them a visit.
‘Julie?’ Bex stood up, surprised to see the barmaid from the Hart standing there. ‘Everything all right? Are you here for accounting advice? I know I said I’d do the evening sessions, but I didn’t know your name was even down for them.’
‘Oh no, no, not me.’ Julie waved her hand dismissively. ‘My grandma taught me well. Look after your pennies and they’ll look after themselves.’
‘Good advice,’ Bex said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. ‘So, how can I help you?’
‘Well.’ Julie took a seat, shuffling around to get comfy before taking one of the boiled sweets that Bex kept in a bowl and unwrapping it noisily. ‘I won’t beat about the bush. I heard you’d become a member of the commercial fiction book group.’
‘Commercial fiction?’
‘Aye, the group that reads all the best sellers.’
‘Oh.’ Bex wasn’t sure how to respond. To start with, she thought it was just a book club, and she didn’t realise that it had been quite so specifically titled. Also, saying that she was a patron felt a little too far, given that she had only been to one meeting.
‘I just went along once,’ she started, unsure why her hands were feeling quite so slick, nor why this felt so much like an interrogation. ‘They were doing a book I loved, actually. Eilidh invited me along.’
‘But you went along to one of their meetings, didn’t you?’ Julie pressed. ‘Had your photo taken there? It’s up on the Facebook group. You’re right in the centre.’
‘Oh, is it?’ The interrogation vibe kicked up higher as Julie sat forward in her seat.
Bex couldn’t remember any photos being taken, other than when they were all holding up copies of the book.
Maybe that was the one Julie was referring to.
‘Well, like I said, it was a book I loved, and I was asked if I’d like to pop along. ’
‘Is that right? Well, the thing is, as I’m sure you understand in your new role, patronage like yours is very sought after. Helps our numbers quite a lot, you see.’
‘It does?’ Bex said. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise.’
Julie sat back in her seat. ‘Yes, and as chair of two of the village clubs, I was hoping you would also offer us the same support?’
Bex’s gaze shifted to where Fi was sitting behind her desk. Though she was currently holding a cup up to her face, Bex could have sworn there was a smirk on there. For a split second their eyes met, only for Fi to duck behind her computer screen altogether. Coward, Bex thought.
‘Well, what are your groups?’ Bex asked, hoping that this might not be as bad as the squirming in her stomach was leading her to believe. Julie smiled broadly at the question.
‘We’ve got our dachshund walking group on Sunday mornings, 9 a.m. sharp. Thought you might like to come along to that one. Show your face. We meet on your land, after all.’
‘Oh, right… I don’t actually have a dachshund,’ Bex said, nodding to Ruby, who was currently curled up in the corner. ‘We’ve spaniels back at the house too. And a couple of terriers. But…’
‘No, I’m aware. I’m aware. But it’d just be nice to show your face, you know. Support us and everything. Right? Obviously not with your dogs though. Dachshunds only.’
Was she getting this right? Julie wanted her to come on a dog walk, just not to bring any of her dogs with her?
‘Well, I’m not actually sure if I can do this Sunday,’ Bex said, also not actually sure if she wanted to. ‘What’s your other club? You said you were the chair of two, right?’
She crossed her toes, praying Julie wouldn’t say something like chinchilla appreciation group. Sure, they were cute, but there was no way she wanted to be drawn into that. She’d probably end up having to adopt one of them.
As she prepared to tell Bex about the second club, Julie folded her arms across her chest, emanating a sense of pride.
‘It’s the women’s wrestling club.’
‘Women’s wrestling?’ Bex tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
‘Aye, you could come along. Have a tumble. Saturday morning, 7 a.m.’
Bex felt her jaw hang open. Seven in the morning, on the weekend, when she barely got a lie-in as it was? And that was ignoring the fact that it was wrestling. What did she know about wrestling, other than her life would be even more complicated if she ended up with a broken arm?
‘I’m afraid I’m pretty booked up at the minute,’ she said, trying to sound sorry. ‘Weekends particularly. With repairs on the hall and things.’
Julie’s arms remained folded but with a deep sniff, she unfolded her arms and stiffened her back.
‘It’s very difficult, you know, in small villages like ours to keep things going. But you do what you can for the community. I thought you would’ve realised that.’
‘I did, I do.’ Bex felt herself stumbling. ‘Of course, I want to, it’s only—’
‘No, not to worry.’ Julie was on her feet. ‘At least I know where the new laird stands. And I guess my little Lulu won’t be expecting any rosettes at the gala either. Not with judges who are so clearly anti-small dogs.’
‘What? No, I—’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.’
With that, she turned and walked out the door.
‘I’m sorry, was that me or was that a really odd conversation?’ Bex said, turning to Fi when she finally found her voice. ‘What am I missing?’
‘You’re a big woman round here now,’ Fi said. ‘For starters, people’ll be hoping you’ll fundraise for them. By which I mean giving them money. But even if you don’t, clubs will still want to have you in them. My aunt already asked Niall to persuade you to join her crochet group.’
‘He never said anything to me.’
She shrugged. ‘Well, he wouldn’t. He’s a good friend, isn’t he?
But I’m sure she’s not the only one. Pick and choose wisely.
Make it your choice. Don’t join a committee just because they badger you into it.
You’ll never get out of it. They’ll think the badgering works and you’ll end up heading up my neighbours’ Rocking Rodent group. ’
‘I’m sorry, what?’ Bex blinked, sure she must have misheard. ‘Did you say rocking rodent?’
‘Aye, he’s got all these rats and mice. Loves them like his bairns.
Takes them to kids’ parties too. Roddy hates them.
Can’t say I want some myself, but I don’t mind, as long as they stay in his house, but that’s beside the point.
What I’m saying is that if I were you I’d avoid committees altogether.
You’ve got an excuse until the wedding, as you’re not technically the laird yet.
’ She paused, a smile quirking on her lips.
‘And if you do want to join a group, then I suggest my dad’s vintage car thing.
From what I’ve heard, Fergus kept quite a collection over at the garage on the south side of the loch.
I guess they’re all yours and Duncan’s now too. ’
‘There’s a garage on the south-side loch?’ Bex asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Aye. Probably need looking at too. Old cars need more than a wee bit of love to keep them going.’
‘Of course they do.’ Bex let out a groan.
Just another thing to add to the ever-growing list of jobs that came with being the future wife of the laird.
Or future laird herself, as Marjorie had informed her.
One day she was going to get on top of everything, she promised herself that. One day. But not today.