Chapter 24
I toss and turn all night.
The flowers. The offer of a home-cooked meal. The invitation to his house.
Most girls would have jumped at the chance.
And what had I done? Blown it. Instead of explaining my hesitation, instead of opening up and being honest like I tell everyone else to be, I’d started to babble about funding applications.
And now the possibility of this new, sweet relationship that I can’t get enough of feels like it could come crashing down at any moment.
I’d made him feel like having a successful family business was his fault, even though I knew he was fulfilling his family duty.
Worst of all, he thought I’d gone back on my word.
I’d said I was staying here and now it looked to him like I might not. God, I’d messed up.
The next morning, I wait outside his shop, the flowers he’d given me in hand. He arrives, at 8.56 a.m. on the dot. I hover, waiting for him.
‘An apology,’ I say, holding the flowers out to him, as he climbs out of the car. ‘Can we talk?’
He looks at me thoughtfully and nods. ‘Sure. Come in.’
As he opens The Toolbox, I follow him inside.
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ I say. ‘The reason I didn’t come to dinner… I should have told you. It’s just… your house is near my granny’s house. I haven’t been there since I moved to Ullapool. I haven’t had the courage. I’d be an emotional wreck. I should have told you that.’
He looks me in the eye and nods. ‘Are you sure that’s why you didn’t want to come? It sounds like you’re freaking out a bit.’
‘About what?’
‘Us,’ he says. ‘This. I know you were hurt by the verging on grey guy. You moved hundreds of miles to get away from him. That’s why you started the breakup bookshop thing in the first place. You needed to talk about him so you started the group. You’re not over him, are you?’
My mouth falls open. ‘It’s not… I’m not…’
‘Ava, it’s fine, you don’t need to explain.’ He shakes his head, unwilling to look me in the eye.
His shoulders slump. He looks even more crushed than I feel. His eyes are heavy and bloodshot too. Looks like I’m not the only one who struggled to sleep last night.
‘But I want to!’ I protest. ‘I really want to. It’s not Seb, I promise you.
It’s the thought of seeing… Oh, God, it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.
I want to see her house, but she won’t be in it, and that will kill me, Rory.
I still picture her there, even though I know she’s not.
And the support group… that’s not just about breakups.
It’s about opening up about loss in general.
And it’s not just for me, it’s for everyone. ’
He’s quiet. I search his eyes for a hint of understanding, but I’m not sure he gets it.
‘Look, in my mind, my granny is still there making scones and jam, fixing up the book nook outside with cushions and waiting for me to come home for the summer. I know it sounds stupid, but that’s just the way I feel.’
Tears spring into my eyes and he sighs, taking my hands in his.
‘I really want to go there, Rory. I’d love to see it now. But what if they’ve changed everything? What if the cottage is completely different or the book nook is gone? I love the idea of it just down the road, exactly as she left it.’
Rory pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms around me, and kisses the top of my head. My heart thumps in my chest, relieved to feel his warmth and comfort. ‘You don’t have to come to mine just yet. We can work up to it, okay?’
I nod. ‘I’m sorry. It sounds so stupid and childish.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ he murmurs. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed it.’
‘You weren’t to know.’
‘Our first official couple fight,’ he says with a smile, pulling back to look me in the eye.
I grin. ‘Is that what we are now?’
‘I think so,’ he nods. ‘Now let’s get that funding application finished, so you have no excuse to leave.’
I nod as he leans down to kiss me.
*
The next afternoon, Rory’s phone pings from its position on my shop counter. He immediately grabs it and stuffs it into his back pocket before kissing me lightly on the cheek and heading back to his shop.
I can’t help the prickly sensation that creeps up my spine.
The last time someone hid their phone from me it was Seb. I hadn’t even given it a second thought. Now I know I really should have. I wonder how many secret messages and clues I’d missed between Seb and Macy.
How long had it gone on for?
Had Macy been texting Seb behind my back when we’d been on nights out together, singing ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ on karaoke or watching Netflix crime documentaries together.
It still stings. As much as I can’t admit it to Rory, it hurts.
He’s right; my guard is up. I push it to the back of my mind, serving a handful of customers for the rest of the day.
But by the time Rory returns at five o’clock, I’ve been spiralling for hours.
I don’t want to be that girl who feels jealous and suspicious every time a text pops up on his phone.
I’m not that girl. But I can’t help myself.
In the aftermath of being let down so brutally, this appears to be what I’ve been left with.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe my reluctance to go to his house runs deeper than I’d thought.
He grins at me, unaware of my thoughts. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
‘A surprise?’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to wear a blindfold.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I found out who lives in your granny’s house.’
My stomach tightens. I can’t. I don’t want to think about someone living there.
‘They’re out tonight. They’ve said I can take you round there to see it, if you’d like to go and have a look around. I just thought, well, maybe it would be easier to see it without anyone actually being there and breathing down your neck. But there’s no pressure, Ava.’
I exhale slowly. ‘Who? Who lives there?’
‘You want to know? You’re sure?’
I nod. ‘Yes, I do. Who is it?’
‘It’s Fiona.’
‘Oh!’ A smile spreads across my face. ‘Fiona? From the cafe?’
‘That’s good?’
‘Fiona lives in Granny’s house. Wow, that’s amazing. I can’t believe it!’
‘Would you like to go and see it?’ he asks, tentatively.
I nod. ‘I… I think I would.’
As we leave the bookshop and reach the path I’ve avoided for months now, the stones crack beneath our shoes. Rory reaches for my hand as we make our way along. We approach the fork in the road which leads to Granny’s cottage, and he stops dead in the middle of the track.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Rory says. ‘There’s no pressure. We could just turn back and forget about it.’
I nod again. ‘We’ll go. To Fiona’s house.’
It’s unexpectedly comforting, thinking of the lovely Fiona living in my granny’s house. Fiona, who loves to bake as much as Granny did, and who’s been so supportive of me and my life in Ullapool. I couldn’t have asked for a better new owner of my granny’s cottage.
I’d always known I’d have to make this trip at some point. I want to. And it feels a million times better doing it with Rory by my side.
‘You can go alone? I can wait here?’ Rory offers.
I glance up into his kind eyes.
I shake my head and pull on his hand. ‘Come with me.’
He nods and grips my hand as we walk together along the pathway towards Granny’s cottage.
My heart pounds in my chest. I feel the buzz of arriving here at the start of each summer, the relief of leaving the city behind to breathe in the fresh sea air, followed by the thrill of riding down the lane on my bike at a million miles an hour.
As we turn a corner and I catch a glimpse of the stone cottage, I feel my heart swell in my chest. It’s as quaint as I remember it.
Whitewashed, with a slate roof, smoke puffing out of the chimney even in the summer, just like Granny used to have it.
I am home. I picture my granny waving at me from the window as she cleans the dishes – one of her favourite chores.
She’d been appalled when I suggested she invest in a dishwasher.
Wash your mouth out and grab a drying cloth, Ava Campbell.
The window ledges have been painted a deep black and the curtains are much brighter and bolder than my Granny would have chosen.
I smile at the red polka-dot curtains, thinking they are just Fiona’s style.
Granny would have hated them. But it doesn’t matter.
I can still feel her presence here. I inhale deeply and exhale again, proud of myself for keeping it together.
‘Are you okay?’ Rory asks in a low voice. ‘Has it changed a lot?’
I nod. Yes, it has changed. But also, yes, it’s okay.
I can handle this.
I point at the front door, which Fiona has painted a bottle-green colour.
‘She would have appreciated the green, but she’d never have been brave enough to paint it that colour herself.
She would bring in colour through furniture and soft furnishings, but the rooms were always painted white or cream. ’
‘So, you didn’t get your love of colour from her then.’
I smile, for a second. My love of bright colours was shared by another person. Macy. And now she’s verging on grey. I wonder if she’s coming up against the same challenges with the decor that I did. Oh well, that’s her problem now.
I place my hand on the door handle, the same one that I clutched with excitement every summer, and I turn it. The door swings open. I blink, taking in the surroundings.
As I gaze around the porch area, I can feel Granny urging me to come in and make myself at home, but for goodness’ sake, would you take those muddy boots off.
I can hear her voice beckoning me inside.
I can smell the waft of freshly baked scones from the kitchen. I stop on the spot and close my eyes.
‘We don’t need to go any further,’ Rory says.
‘I want to,’ I assure him.
Despite the change in furniture, colour and photographs, I can still picture the way it used to be. I can still see her in each room. My fear that by seeing this place I’d know she was really gone turns out to have been false. She is still with me, even now. I take her wherever I go.