Chapter 28
‘What d’you think?’
Meg turned the laptop around to show Kathleen, who’d popped by a couple of days later on her way back from her regular delivery of eggs to the library. Kathleen put down the novel she’d chosen and leaned across, looking closely at the screen.
‘I’ve come out without my reading glasses,’ she said, ‘but it looks very nice. Very clear.’
Meg rubbed her forehead. She’d done her usual and worked herself into a headache, staring at the screen without a break and forgetting to get outside. Poor Eliza, who’d been given cursory leg-stretches on the beach path, was in dire need of a decent walk.
‘Hopefully it’ll meet with the village community society whatsit’s approval.’
Kathleen chuckled. ‘The Applemore Village Improvement Society,’ she said in mock serious tones.
‘That’s what I meant.’ Meg grinned. ‘I’ll send the link to Greta, grab a shower, and get this poor neglected corgi out for a nice walk.’
‘I’m very impressed,’ said Kathleen, looking at the screen again.
‘Thank you. It’s nothing, really.’ Meg felt her cheeks going pink and cleared her throat, bending to stroke Eliza’s rough fur.
‘Don’t belittle your achievements.’
Meg straightened up and Kathleen was looking at her steadily, head cocked slightly to one side.
‘I bet you studied for a long time to learn how to do that sort of thing. Helen said you studied together?’
‘We did. She realised she wanted to focus on painting, and I liked the design side of things. I taught myself the web stuff for the – for our – business.’
‘Hmm,’ Kathleen’s elegant brows lifted slightly.
Meg shifted from one foot to the other in the silence.
‘I think,’ said Kathleen, after a long moment, ‘that it’s probably time you acknowledged your achievements.’
‘You sound like Helen.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’ve got her in your corner. And you’ve got me, now, as well.’
Kathleen reached over, putting a hand on Meg’s arm and squeezing it gently.
‘Have a think while you’re out for a walk with Eliza. Mull it over. Look where you are.’
And with that, she patted Eliza on the head, picked up the novel from the table, and headed off with a cheerful wave.
The sunshine had brought out lots of walkers, and Meg passed several as she wandered along the path towards the village. The locals – whose faces she was beginning to recognise – smiled and nodded a hello. You could tell the tourists by their walking gear – or lack of it. They were almost always dressed from head to toe in sensible clothes to suit all weathers, but the day-trippers taking advantage of a sunny day were in t-shirts and jeans, clambering the rocks and startling the seals who were basking in the heat.
‘How’s it going?’ Anna in the bakery café looked up and smiled a greeting when Meg arrived. ‘Hello, little one.’ She leaned over the counter, beaming at Eliza. ‘I love corgis.’
‘Good, thanks.’ Meg lifted her hair off the back of her neck. It was warm outside, but the café was deliciously cool. She took a cold can of lemonade from the fridge. ‘Tell your husband thank you so much for the photographs. Greta sent them through, and they look great.’
Anna beamed. ‘Oh, he’ll be chuffed to hear that. He’s been getting to grips with a new lens – he took those just before you arrived in Applemore.’
‘They’re amazing. They could be done by a pro photographer – it’s made a real difference to the look of the website.’
‘I can’t wait to see it.’ Anna rang up the drink on the cash register. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, that’s great, thanks.’ Meg had suddenly remembered something she’d read last night. She waved goodbye and headed for the little supermarket, leaving Eliza outside clipped to the dog ring on the wall and picking up a basket.
The bookshelf had been a hit by the looks of things. Greta had hung a sign saying “FREE – HELP YOURSELF” on the wall above it and judging by the gaps on the shelves people had taken her at her word. That felt like a sign, somehow.
She zoomed up the aisle, not wanting to leave Eliza alone for long, and threw in a selection of bits and pieces – some pasta, a couple of packs of noodles, cookies, tins of baked beans – the sort of thing that didn’t need to be kept in the fridge. That would do, as a start.
When she got back to the cottage, she took the little wooden chest with a lid she’d discovered when she’d been rummaging around in the lighthouse building and brought it inside. It didn’t take long to find some offcuts of sturdy fabric and a staple gun upstairs in Helen’s studio.
She’d thought a lot about Kathleen’s words as she’d walked into the village. For years – no, for the whole of her life, in fact – she’d always looked to someone else to give her permission to do things. When she’d had ideas for the business, she’d offered them hesitantly, then sat back while Michael took all the credit as the company grew.
She worked quickly – muscle memory was an amazing thing, really. She hadn’t made anything like this for so long, and yet it was as if she was back at design school, knocking something together for her final assessment, fuelled by coffee and a sense of purpose.
Once she’d finished, she sat back and looked at it and – smiling to herself, thinking of Kathleen’s words – felt a sense of pride in her work. It wasn’t bad at all.
Outside the Applemore weather – unpredictable as ever – clearly hadn’t read the forecast. The promised week of glorious sunshine seemed to have come to a very sudden end, but Meg was undeterred. Ignoring the threatening grey clouds that were gathering over the sea, she lifted the box into her arms and set off for the little library cupboard.
It was heavy, and she had to stop several times and put it down to catch her breath. But she made it, puffing and panting, and set it down on the circle of gravel at the foot of the library. Then she turned, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, and started walking briskly back up the hill to the lighthouse cottage.
Then she collected the bag of shopping and a few other bits and pieces from the kitchen cupboard and was about to set out again when she realised she really ought to make a sign.
She dashed back upstairs, finding some tape, a piece of white card and some of Helen’s brush pens. Then – shoving the sign in the shopping bag – she marched back down the beach path again.
She’d taped the sign to the inside of the library cupboard window and was just arranging the things inside the box when a familiar voice made her jump.
‘Hello again.’
Startled, she leapt to her feet, bashing her head on the edge of the cupboard door.
‘Ow!’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Gabe, looking concerned. ‘I came to say hi and now you’ve got a head injury.’
She rubbed the back of her head, frowning slightly. ‘I think I’ll live.’
‘Now I’ve given you a head injury, it seems like a really bad time to ask you if you wanted to go for a –’ He pushed a hand through his hair and matched her frown, but his expression was half-amused, half-concerned.
Something in Meg’s chest leapt and her heart started hammering rapidly.
‘I saw you when I got out of the truck and thought I’d grab the chance to ask if you’d like to go for a coffee sometime, but now you’ve had a bump to the head I’ll be wondering if you’re only saying yes because you’ve got concussion.’
‘I don’t have concussion,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously from side to side. ‘Look.’
Gabe’s eyebrows quirked upwards. ‘I’m not sure that’s a diagnostic criteria.’
‘I’d love to,’ said Meg, wondering if he could see her heart thumping through her T-shirt. She raked a hand through her hair, suddenly conscious that she was sweaty and windswept from her walk.
Gabe grinned. ‘Excellent. I’d like that a lot.’ He looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Now, are you certain that you’re okay? That was a bit of a bump.’
She put her palm flat on her head and checked. ‘I think I’m fine. It probably sounded worse than it was.’
A movement caught her eye, and she turned to see another man clad in work clothes standing at the top of the hill.
‘Someone’s waving to you. I mean I assume he’s waving at you?’
‘It’s George,’ said Gabe, lifting a hand in acknowledgement. ‘I better get to work.’
She walked alongside him, aware that she was taking one and a half steps to each of his long ones as he strode along in his heavy work boots.
‘So what’s the box? Have you run out of shelf space for your books?’
Meg shook her head. ‘It’s a – I don’t know what you’d call it.’
Apparently the bang on the head – or more likely the fact that she was feeling ridiculously giddy, like a teenage girl – had rendered her incapable of forming proper sentences.
‘I tell you what, you can tell me over a coffee. If you give me your number, I’ll send you a message and we can work out a time and a day.’
He passed over his phone, and she looked at it for a moment as if she couldn’t quite work out what she was supposed to do with it.
‘It would help if I unlocked the screen,’ he said, laughing. ‘Here, put your number in and I’ll ring you.’
A moment later, her phone vibrated in her back pocket and out of habit Meg pulled it out, looking at the screen.
‘That should be me,’ said Gabe, wryly. ‘Unless I’m just one of any number of men asking you for coffee right now.’
Meg scrunched her face up, laughing and cringing at herself in equal measure.
‘Well, I’ve managed to make myself look spectacularly uncool.’
‘All the best people are, I think.’ Gabe tipped a head in George’s direction. ‘Now I really better get to work.’
She watched him striding off to meet his co-worker and suppressed a smile at the sight of the two of them. George was as small and wiry as Gabe was tall and broad. Together they unloaded a truck full of wooden stakes and got to work.
She didn’t want to get under their feet, and realising that the campervan had been sitting outside the cottage for the last few weeks without being turned over, she decided to grab the keys and take it for a quick drive around the quiet roads. The last thing she needed was a flat battery.
She headed along the coast, surprised at how many other vans there were on the little roads. Applemore was off the main North Coast 500 route, but a steady stream of visitors seemed to take a detour and come to visit. She drove up into the hills, slowing to look at a group of people dotted on the moorland. A truck with the same livery as Gabe’s was parked on a wide strip of grass verge, a heap of white sacks piled in the back. These must be the tree planting gang. Some of them were moving quickly, bobbing up and down as they made their way through the moorland. It looked like back-breaking work.
She pulled over onto the side of the road, realising that she had no idea how on earth to turn the van around. It was so huge, and the road was so narrow. She checked her phone and worked out that there was a junction a mile or so ahead where she could double back and follow the road that passed behind Applemore and up towards the farm shop. Maybe she’d pop in and have a coffee at the café and stay out of the way while Gabe and George were working. The alternative – which was trying very hard not to look out of the window and appreciate him in his work gear – was tempting, but probably not a great idea.
Of course she hadn’t factored in parking at the farm shop, either. As she approached, she realised with a sinking feeling that cars were lined on either side of the drive – there must be something on in the studio, or else everyone in the Highlands had come out for a day trip.
She spotted Rilla, her dark curls pulled back off her face with a clip, as she was moving slowly towards the entrance with an increasingly anxious sensation in the pit of her stomach.
Rilla waved and jogged over to her, a wide smile on her freckled face. ‘Wow, this is pretty snazzy.’
Meg made a face. ‘Snazzy, and impossible to park.’
‘Ah, come round the back. There’s loads of room behind the building where the buses park when we have tours come in.’
She guided her past the side of the café, past packed tables of visitors enjoying what looked like being the last of the spring heatwave. There was a huge parking spot next to a stack of wooden crates.
‘Stick her in there,’ shouted Rilla, beckoning her forward and then making a stop motion.
‘Thanks so much.’ Meg climbed out, relieved.
‘Bit of a contrast to our old van,’ said Rilla, putting a hand on the bonnet. ‘I don’t suppose I could have a peek inside?’
‘Of course you can.’ Meg slid open the side door.
‘Oh this is heaven. Look at the little kitchen – and you’ve got an oven, and everything. I miss escaping in ours so much.’ Rilla climbed inside and ran an appreciative hand along the worktop. ‘And look, you’ve got a spare bed up there. That’s so cute!’
‘I’m not sure what I was thinking there,’ admitted Meg.
‘Kitty would love it. I keep promising her we’ll go away, but…’
‘I imagine you’re really busy with –’ Meg waved her hand in the general direction of Applemore House and left the sentence unfinished.
Rilla scratched her head. ‘Oh, the wild camping and stuff? Yeah. Not as much as you’d think.’
‘I forgot you had the camping places here.’
Meg had seen the hand-drawn map of the Applemore Estate that hung in the entrance to the shop. Hidden in the trees were little clearings with compost loos and little gas-powered showers where van owners or campers could come and stay, with the luxury of the shop and café just a wander through the woods away.
‘Yeah, we started it when we first got together. But now our poor old van – it was my dad’s project before he died – has given up the ghost, and I keep meaning to do something about it. Kitty is desperate to get away on an adventure in the summer holidays and I’m determined to take some time off, but I keep getting caught up in stuff.’
‘I’ve noticed that seems to be part and parcel of living here.’
Rilla unclipped her hair and shook it out before tying it back again. ‘Yeah, you’ve noticed? I only came here a few years ago to clear out my dad’s old cottage – it’s there, in fact.’ She pointed to one of the whitewashed stone buildings. ‘And the next thing you know, here I am.’
‘I can see why Helen is so busy. There’s always something to do.’
‘Yeah, I’ve just gone back to my first love as well, although it means late evenings two nights a week.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I teach adults who don’t speak English as a first language. Before I met – well, re-met – Lachlan, I used to travel the world teaching. Now I’m here, but I meet people from all over the world. The language school is a charity, so we don’t turn anyone away.’
Rilla’s eyes lit up with passion as she spoke. ‘It’s really important to me that we can do something for people who need help, especially when we’re living in a place like this.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it? Scratch the surface of Applemore and there’s more going on than you realise.’
‘And not all good.’
Meg shook her head. ‘Funnily enough, I’ve just done something… maybe I should have checked with someone.’
Rilla looked at her curiously. ‘Now I’m intrigued.’
‘I don’t know if you know but Miranda’s aunt Kathleen has been leaving eggs and – well, bits and bobs like cake and things – down at the library.’
Rilla nodded, catching her bottom lip in her teeth as she listened.
‘Well, there’s a –’ Meg stopped herself, not wanting to give anything away ‘I think that there are people who need a bit of help. So I saw a thing online about a community cupboard, where people put things –’
‘Oh this is amazing.’ Rilla’s eyes welled up with tears and she wiped them away with an impatient finger. ‘Sorry, I am hopeless. I cry at nice things all the time.’
‘Don’t apologise. I think it’s lovely. Anyway, I’ve been watching people come and go while I’ve been staying at the cottage, and I’ve popped a little chest down there beside the library and left some bits and pieces in it.’
Rilla put a hand to her heart. ‘That’s such a gorgeous idea.’
‘I probably should have checked with someone.’
Rilla shrugged. ‘And waited for three weeks until the village improvement society had a meeting, and everyone agreed it was a good idea and then debated what kind of box it should be, or what colour you should paint it?’
Meg giggled. ‘I’ve gathered from the process of renovating the old building into a visitor centre that there’s quite a lot of that going on.’
‘It drives me bonkers.’ Rilla jumped down from inside the van. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea, and I have definitely got your back. We’ll just tell Kathleen and she’ll deal with the committee lot. She doesn’t take any nonsense.’
‘I’ve gathered that,’ said Meg, thinking of her little pep-talk.
‘Are you going to the shop? Sorry, I’ve been standing here holding you back.’
‘I’m staying out of the way while they do some fencing for the lighthouse visitor centre.’ Meg’s stomach did a little flip of anticipation, remembering her encounter with Gabe earlier.
‘I was supposed to be putting up a notice on the board. We’re looking for someone to do some admin stuff for the Applemore Brewery.’ She waited while Meg closed the door and locked the van, making a rueful face as she did so.
‘It’s a habit,’ Meg explained.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I still do it without thinking. I think it’s probably the signifier that divides the Applemore born and bred from us incomers.’
As they reached the courtyard, the first spots of rain started to fall.
‘I knew it,’ said Rilla, laughing. ‘I hung washing out this morning, and I knew that would bring the rain.’
Meg followed her into the farm shop, still surprised – despite having chatted to her at Pilates, and met her in town on a couple of other occasions – how down to earth Rilla was.
‘You don’t really think of someone living in a castle hanging out washing.’
Rilla raised her eyebrows. ‘I didn’t really think of myself as someone who’d be living in a castle. Weird how life turns out, isn’t it? It’s something in the air up here. You turn up in Applemore and the next thing you know it’s caught you in its clutches.’
‘I think you might be right.’ Meg watched as Rilla pinned a notice on the board and stood back to survey her handiwork.
‘Now all I have to do is wait for the perfect person to appear.’
She raised her crossed fingers. ‘I better get back to the house and rescue my laundry.’