Chapter 25
It was clearly one of those days. No sooner had she left Miranda than she’d bumped into Greta, who was standing outside the farm shop chatting to another tall, slender blonde woman.
‘Ah, I was just talking about you, Meg.’ Greta waved her over from the car park.
Meg dropped her keys into her bag and made her way over, trying to remember what it was she’d wanted to pick up in the shop. She had a memory like a sieve these days, it seemed. She’d spent half an hour the other morning searching for the coffee, only to discover she’d put it in the cupboard where Eliza’s dog biscuits lived and left the dog biscuits in the fridge.
‘Have you met Polly?’
The blonde woman was unmistakably Beth’s sister. She was younger, with a smiling, freckled face, but her posture and build were identical.
‘Hi,’ said Polly, raising a hand. ‘Nice to meet you properly.’
‘I was just telling Polly that you used to do all that internet stuff.’
‘That’s the technical term for it, yes?’ Polly looked at Meg with a mischievous smile.
‘Ach, shush,’ said Greta, batting Polly away with a good-natured laugh. ‘I’m far too old to be getting on board with all these new-fangled terms. Internet stuff will do for me.’
‘Internet stuff covers it pretty well,’ agreed Meg.
‘We need a website for the new visitor centre and I’ve been detailed with looking into it. I wouldn’t have the first clue where to go to find someone who can make it, but I thought you might have some suggestions? We’ve got a bit of money to pay someone, but I’ve no idea what these things cost.’
‘Oh, I can do it,’ said Meg, without thinking. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she even realised.
‘You can?’ Greta beamed.
Polly crossed her arms and looked delighted. ‘Well, that’s a turn up for the books.’
‘What sort of thing are you looking for?’
‘Oh goodness knows,’ said Greta, shaking her head. ‘Matt who owns the bakery here said he’d take some photographs for it. Sandy, one of the village improvement society members, has done a little bit of writing about the history of the place. We’re hoping we can just tag it on to the village website.’
Meg tried to keep her expression neutral. She’d seen the village website, which looked as if it was last updated in 2002, and which was in need of a serious overhaul. Her design sensibilities had been horrified when she’d clicked on the link.
‘Perhaps it could have a little update as well,’ Greta said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose…’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Meg, in an instant.
She got back to the house a couple of hours later, having sat down over a coffee and delicious toasted sandwiches, which Greta insisted on paying for. Her brain was fizzing in a way she had almost forgotten, the little cogs inside whirring into action as she thought about how best to convey the information in a way that would be easy for users to navigate but also look simple and stylish.
Eliza was waiting at the door looking unimpressed. Meg let her out, grabbing her lead and following at a brisk walk as the little corgi scampered towards the gate and out onto the grass.
‘Sorry, darling,’ she said, as Eliza peed on a tussock of grass with a disapproving expression. ‘I didn’t mean to leave you with your paws crossed for so long.’
It was strange how things happened. Miranda – out of the goodness of her heart – had offered her the chance to come and do some voluntary work up at the flower farm. The gardener in her should have leapt at the chance, but something inside her brain had jammed on the brakes. She might not have to worry about money, but the idea of a life of voluntary work and good deeds suddenly made her feel like she was about ninety. It was no wonder that the idea of getting her teeth into the work she’d spent her entire career doing had sparked something in the creative side of her brain.
She was just about to head back to the cottage when Eliza gave a startled bark and she turned to see the girl with the baby on her back heading towards the library. This time, though, Meg decided to wander over.
‘Hi,’ she said, smiling.
The girl had huge dark eyes and her hair was tangled and windblown from her walk along the beach path. The baby strapped on her back was wrapped up in a cosy blue and yellow coat, his pudgy hand clutching onto a loose strap. He beamed at Meg, showing two new teeth.
The girl, who had her hand on the door of the white-painted library cupboard, let go as if it was suddenly scalding hot.
‘Sorry,’ she said, stepping backwards. A blush rose in her cheeks and she ducked her head so her long hair half-covered her face.
‘Not at all,’ said Meg, kindly. ‘I was just coming to check if we needed to stock up.’
She opened the door and saw that Kathleen had been down again, and there were two brown bags with some baked goods inside, and two boxes of eggs on the shelf below, next to a neat pile of village newsletters. She reached inside, taking the cakes and one of the boxes of eggs from Kathleen’s hens.
‘Would you like these? I would hate for them to go to waste.’ Meg handed her the brown paper bags.
‘Are you sure?’ She looked dubious, but her eyes lit up.
‘They won’t last until tomorrow,’ Meg lied, knowing perfectly well that they were freshly baked that morning. ‘Kathleen likes to feel she’s doing her bit but sometimes we end up overstocked with cake, so you’ll be doing me a favour.’
Sorry Kathleen,she said to herself. Somehow she suspected Kathleen wouldn’t mind being patronised for a worthwhile reason.
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’ Meg smiled at her, and her heart warmed as she received a shy smile in return.
‘I’m Meg, by the way.’ She glanced up at the cottage for a moment, watching as Eliza bumbled about, sniffing tussocks of grass. ‘I don’t live here in Applemore.’
That seemed to instantly put the girl slightly more at ease.
‘I’m just staying for a while, looking after my friend’s cottage up there.’
‘In the lighthouse?’
‘Yeah. Amazing, isn’t it? I can’t quite believe it. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning I can see seals snoozing on the rocks, and at night time I hear the owls swooping around. I think they must live in the trees over there by the path that leads up towards Applemore House.’
‘That’s amazing. I love seals.’ She smiled more confidently now. ‘It’s one of the reasons I walk down here most days. That and it keeps Kai happy. He loves being outside in the fresh air.’
‘It looks like it,’ said Meg, looking up at the baby’s happy face. He was holding a fistful of his mother’s hair and babbling cheerfully. ‘And it must be nice for you, too. I always think it must be hard being at home with a baby all day.’
She shot Meg a relieved look and her whole body seemed to relax slightly. She was really very young – no more than twenty-one or two, perhaps.
‘Oh it’s nice most of the time, but Kai’s been teething and he’s been waking up a lot at night, so I’ve been exhausted for the last few days.’
The baby, seemingly aware he was the centre of attention, gave a delighted squeal and waved his hands in the air.
‘Ouch! That’s Mummy’s hair!’
‘And do you have anyone to help?’ Meg said carefully, not wanting to pry.
‘No, there’s just me. I - well, we – moved here when I was pregnant. My boyfriend Calum got a job working over in Inverness, so he was supposed to be working away from Monday to Friday and coming home at the weekends, only he…’
She trailed off and her little face worked as she tried to compose herself.
‘Sorry,’ said Meg, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Oh you didn’t upset me,’ the girl said, straightening her shoulders and lifting her pointed chin as if to gather herself for battle. ‘He did. But I’m over that now. There’s just me and Kai and that’s fine.’
Fine,thought Meg, except you’re struggling to get by and too proud to admit it.
The girl reached up, untangling her hair from the baby’s hand with practised ease, letting his little fingers wrap around one of hers instead. He gurgled happily and pulled her hand up to his mouth, gnawing at her knuckle.
‘I’m Laurel,’ she said, after a moment. ‘I forgot to tell you my name.’
‘Looks like he’s still teething,’ laughed Meg. ‘There are lots of new baby books down there on the shelf – I don’t know if you saw them? We swapped over all the books the other day and someone donated a box.’
‘Oh I didn’t see.’
Meg stepped out of the way as Laurel looked inside, taking a couple of colourful board books and then looking at her with a questioning expression.
‘Take them,’ said Meg. ‘It’s all here so people can help themselves. The books, the eggs… all of it. We’ve got a little offshoot now in the shop in town. Have you seen it?’
‘I did,’ Laurel said, shifting the shoulder strap of the carrier and adjusting the sleeve of her hoody. ‘I wasn’t sure if we were allowed to take the books in there though, because it was in the shop.’
‘Ah, that’s a good point. I’ll mention it to Greta. She’s sort of in charge of – well, she seems to be one of those people who is in charge of everything.’
‘My granny was like that.’ Laurel smiled.
‘I take it she’s not here in Applemore?’
‘No, I don’t have any family here. Don’t have anyone, actually. After Calum left…’
Meg remembered the village newsletter. She reached for the stack on the shelves and passed one over. ‘Here you are. This might help a little bit.’
‘What is it?’ Laurel turned it over and read the front cover. ‘Oh, right.’
‘It’s got a list of things like mother and toddler groups and stuff like that in the back. I thought it might be helpful. You might be going already of course.’
Laurel shook her head. ‘No, the health visitor came once when we’d not long got home from the hospital but then Calum left and I was busy sort of getting to grips with everything, and –’
Meg’s heart squeezed with empathy. ‘Well, have a look and maybe go along to the village hall next time it’s on?’
Laurel screwed her mouth sideways and raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘Maybe.’
They were interrupted by Eliza shooting past, barking sharply. Meg turned to see what had caught her attention and saw a group of people standing by the lighthouse, one of whom pointed at her and then waved.
‘Sorry, I’m keeping you from your visitors,’ said Laurel. ‘Thanks so much for the books and –’ she gestured to the bag of cake.
‘Oh don’t thank me,’ said Meg, ‘but please drop by any time. And come and say hello,’ she added as Laurel started walking away.
‘I will.’ Laurel turned, and a genuine smile spread across her face. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Me too.’
Meg walked briskly back up the hill. Goodness knows who these people were, but she was beginning to realise why Helen said she was never lonely living in the lighthouse cottage. It was like living in the middle of Piccadilly Circus out here.
‘Hello,’ said a short man in a green anorak and walking shorts. ‘We’ve come to see the lighthouse, but we can’t get in?’
‘Oh, it’s not actually open to the public,’ Meg said, not for the first time. ‘Well, not yet. It will be, later in the summer.’
He sighed and turned to beckon the rest of his group, who were milling about, peering over the wall into the cottage garden and trying to see inside the empty building which joined the cottage and the lighthouse.
‘It’s not open,’ he called. ‘I can’t believe we’ve come all this way and we can’t get in. I’m sure someone said on the forum that they’d gone inside.’
‘Forum?’ Meg said, faintly.
‘Online.’ He crossed his arms. ‘It’s a forum for people like us.’
Meg lifted her eyebrows in query.
‘Pharologists,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Lighthouse baggers. You must’ve come across our kind before, out here?’
‘Oh this isn’t my house,’ she said, gesturing to the cottage. ‘It’s my friend’s place.’
‘Lucky friend. Lucky you, more to the point.’ He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘You don’t happen to have a key, do you?’
Meg shook her head, crossing her fingers behind her back and hoping that she wouldn’t be struck down for telling a white lie. ‘I’m afraid not, no.’
‘I suspected not. They’re all operated remotely nowadays, and the only people who can access it are the NLB.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ She nodded in what she hoped was a suitably knowledgeable manner. ‘Sorry you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘Oh gosh no, we haven’t. We’ve got some wonderful photographs. And now we’ve troubled you enough, so we’ll be on our merry way.’
He was very sweet, thought Meg, watching as the group marched off towards the sea path, heading off on a mission to find – or should she say bag – their next lighthouse.
‘Come on, Eliza,’ she called, opening the gate to the cottage. ‘I think we’ve had more than enough excitement for one day.’