Chapter 13
The next morning, after a deliciously long sleep, Meg was making breakfast and thinking about her plans for the day ahead. Even after a year, it still felt quite alien to have her time completely to herself. Michael had always been keen to know what she was up to, eager to make sure she was working hard and keeping herself busy. She’d realised after his death, of course, that his desire to know her movements at all times was primarily because he had so many extracurricular activities – as Helen had once referred to as all the women he’d had on the side – to keep tabs on that it made life easier to know that his wife wouldn’t cause problems.
So it was still strange to think that now she was free to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She filled Eliza’s water bowl and put it down on the floor by the back door, gazing out of the window. After yesterday’s mixed weather, the sky was almost clear, with only a few puffy white clouds over the islands in the distance. The sun had felt almost warm on her back when she’d let Eliza out for her morning potter around the garden, and she’d resolved to get out for a wander along the beach and stretch her legs with a decent walk. She had the whole of the Highlands on her doorstep, after all, and there was so much to explore - but that could wait until after breakfast.
She’d poured her coffee and was putting the milk back in the fridge when a movement in the distance caught her eye. Looking out, she saw a young woman with a baby carrier on her back walking down the path towards the little library. She walked slowly until she reached the wooden cabinet, then paused for a moment. Then she opened the door, looking left and right as if she was worried she might be seen. She closed the door then, turning away and walking a few strides as if she’d changed her mind, before turning back and opening the cupboard again. From a distance it was hard to make out, but Meg was almost certain that it wasn’t a book but one of the boxes of eggs that she took out and tucked it inside her coat, holding it there with her arm crossed protectively over her chest as she walked quickly away, glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody was looking at her. Meg ducked back out of view and watched as she disappeared, a tiny shape between the rocks, heading back – presumably – towards the beach path which led towards Applemore itself.
Meg sipped her coffee and headed back to the kitchen table, lost in thought. She’d received a cheerful message overnight from Helen who by now would be checked in or even in the air, well on the way to the other side of the world. Meanwhile, the cottage was looking slightly less chaotic. It hadn’t been as bad as it first looked, and another day of sorting would mean she could settle in happily for the duration of her stay.
Later that afternoon, having promised herself a walk on the beach as a reward for a few hours of tidying, she picked up Eliza’s lead and the two of them set out to explore in the sunshine of a spring afternoon.
The cottages stood on the edge of a rocky outcrop which marked the entrance to the Applemore harbour. A stone wall had been built around the perimeter of the lighthouse and the cottages, and Meg let herself out of the gate, noticing for the first time the little KEEP OUT sign which stood to one side, half-obscured by a tangle of brambles.
The path was well worn, trodden by visitors and locals over many years. A hundred yards further along stood the white-painted wooden cabinet with Helen’s neatly painted sign. Opening the doors, it was evident that the little library could do with a bit of a tidy-up as well. The books were jumbled, some turned the wrong way round, others stacked untidily. The eggs were – as Meg had suspected – gone. Her heart contracted in a squeeze of empathy at the thought of the girl, who’d looked so anxious and uncomfortable. Maybe she’d write a little sign and hang it inside, telling people they could help themselves.
She closed the door and headed down to the beach, following Eliza who was scampering along ahead of her, her fluffy white bottom bobbing up and down as she leapt over the tussocks of sea-grass.
The beach was beautiful, with pale white sand surrounded by the low, craggy dark rocks that gathered at the mouth of the Applemore harbour. By day, they looked scenic, but by night, without the aid of the lighthouse, it was clear how dangerous they could have been to fishing boats coming in with their catch. Meg wandered along the shore, watching as Eliza dodged the waves and listening to the gulls wheeling and calling overhead. It wasn’t hard to see why Helen stayed here after her relationship had broken down. It was a beautiful place for her daughter Phoebe to grow up.
‘Come on, Liza-Lou,’ she called, her voice carried away by the wind. She clapped her hands together to get the corgi’s attention and a moment later turned, making her way back up towards the sea path. A dark-haired man in outdoor gear was standing by one of the rock pools with a couple of young children, looking intently into the water. He glanced up, giving her a brief smile of greeting.
‘We’ve seen two crabs and a baby starfish,’ said the little girl, taking her father’s hand.
‘Jack,’ said the boy, ‘can we go and get cake from the café on the way back?’
‘Conned again,’ he said, grinning at Meg in complicity. Maybe an uncle or a stepfather, she realised. He held out his hand so the boy could pull himself up on the slippery rocks. ‘Your mother will have words with me for giving you snacks before lunch.’
‘That’s okay,’ said the boy cheerfully. ‘We don’t have to tell her.’
‘You can’t argue with that logic,’ the man said, laughing. He had a strong Glasgow accent. ‘Alright you two, you’ve got a deal. Edward, you’ve left your water bottle over there on the rocks. Lucy, you ready? Where’s Archie?’
He whistled and an ancient, grizzly-looking brindle terrier appeared from the sea-grass, making his way over to say a brief hello to Eliza. The two dogs circled each other in greeting.
‘You must be Helen’s pal, Meg. I’m Jack McDonald.’
He extended a hand, and she shook it, slightly puzzled. ‘Hello.’
‘Ah, everyone knows everyone here. You’ll find out soon enough. I’ve been living here for a few years now and I’ve learned to accept that you can’t sneeze without rumours going round you’re in bed with pneumonia. Right, come on you two, we’ve got a date with some chocolate brownies. If I bring some back to your mother, she’ll forgive me for feeding you rubbish before lunch.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Meg, pushing her hair back from her face as a gust of wind blew in from the sea.
‘I’ll see you again, I’m sure,’ said Jack, raising a finger in a half-salute as he set off for the village.
Meg was still mulling over what he’d said later that evening when she’d almost finished the big clear up. She polished the mirror that hung over the fireplace, sweating slightly as she stood too close to the wood-burner.
Did everyone really know everyone, or was that a figure of speech? Surely if that was the case, someone must know what was going on with the girl who’d looked so uncertain this morning. It didn’t quite add up.
With the kitchen back under some semblance of control she could get to grips with cooking something from scratch rather than heating frozen pizza from the little supermarket – which would mean taking a trip to the bigger town to get some shopping, or investigating the farm shop up at Applemore House. Maybe she’d do that in the morning.