Chapter 38
It was Tuesday morning, and Meg – fully prepared for the third-degree about her non-existent Saturday date – was driving up the road to the flower farm. The little trees which had been newly planted along the edge of the drive were swaying gently in the wind.
As Meg passed the café car park, she noticed that despite the early hour, it was packed with visitors who had arrived for a new showing at the gallery opening that day. It was funny how she’d come to know the patterns of life in the village so quickly, when she’d never felt at home in Heatherby in all the time she’d lived there.
The road tracked left, and she headed on, past the woods and into the big gravel driveway that opened up to reveal Applemore House.
Rilla was standing outside the door with a sea of dogs at her feet and her arms full of what looked like the long, silver branches from a rosemary bush. She beckoned Meg with a wave of her hand and Meg pulled the car up beside her, Eliza yapping with excitement at the sight of all the dogs outside.
‘Shush,’ Meg said, laughing. She got out of the car and was hit with a wave of a familiar, resinous scent.
‘I hoped I’d see you,’ Rilla said, putting the branches down on the front step and opening the huge, studded door. She shooed the dogs inside and turned back, smiling warmly. ‘I was going to pop up and join you all for a coffee at the flower farm, but I’ve just had a message from Lachlan – he’s in Inverness for a meeting – and they want me to join them on a Zoom call at half ten. I’d far rather be getting on with making this rosemary into gin than dealing with the business side, but needs must.’
Meg made a sympathetic face.
‘Anyway.’ Rilla brightened. ‘I was dying to hear how the van trip went. Did you love it?’
‘How did you kn–’ Meg began, then laughed. ‘Don’t tell me, the Applemore News Network strikes again.’
‘Got it in one.’ Rilla grinned, her freckled nose wrinkling slightly. ‘So…?’
Meg shook her head. ‘It was nice, but –’
‘But van life isn’t for you?’ Rilla raised her brows slightly.
Meg pressed a hand to her mouth for a moment in thought.
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘I just had a feeling.’ Rilla bent and broke off a sprig of rosemary, stripping off the needle-like leaves and filling the air with perfume. ‘If I had a gorgeous new van like that I would be off adventuring every moment I could, but you seem really happy right here.’
‘I am,’ agreed Meg. ‘I didn’t expect to be.’
‘Ah, Applemore has that effect on people, I think. I’ve seen people head straight back to civilisation as soon as they realise they can’t order takeout food or go clothes shopping, unless you happen to like outdoor clothing,’ she said, waggling her walking boots with a laugh.
‘I didn’t even think about that side of it. It just feels like…’ Meg paused for thought. Home, she wanted to say. But that was crazy, wasn’t it?
Rilla gave her a knowing look. ‘Like you were meant to be here?’
‘Is that weird?’
‘I don’t think so. I think sometimes we spend ages in the wrong place – I travelled for years, because I never found somewhere I wanted to stop. Then I came back here, and found Lachlan again, and…’
She gestured to the imposing castle behind her.
‘And now you live in a castle.’ Meg laughed, looking up at the tall spires of the turrets which glinted in the sunlight.
‘Oh, don’t get the Fraser family started on that. It’s a house, apparently, not a castle. There’s a difference.’ She giggled. ‘But I have to admit that to a girl who grew up in a perfectly normal house, it looks very much like a castle to me.’
‘And me.’ Meg glanced over at the car to check on Eliza, who’d clearly had enough of barking at nothing and had curled up out of sight.
‘So what are you going to do with the van?’ Rilla looked at her with a thoughtful expression.
An odd noise startled Meg, and she turned to see a peacock appear from behind a tree, wandering towards them with his tail leaving a trail in the newly raked gravel.
‘Oh, that’s Humphrey. He always turns up at this time of the morning for a treat – he likes to eat Kitty’s leftover toast.’ Rilla fished in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out some crusts, tossing them towards the huge bird.
‘I’m going to sell it,’ Meg said, admitting to herself what she’d been thinking all the way home on Sunday.
Rilla’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Ooh.’
It was Meg’s turn to raise her brows in query.
‘Don’t do anything until I’ve spoken to Lachlan.’ Rilla said, pressing her palms together in a hopeful gesture. ‘I think we might just be able to kill two birds with one stone.’
‘I won’t,’ laughed Meg.
‘I better get on this Zoom call,’ Rilla said, checking her watch. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’
* * *
‘It was lovely, thank you,’ said Meg, laughing, ten minutes later, when Miranda passed her a cup of coffee with an expectant look on her face.
‘Your date?’ Miranda was wide-eyed. She glanced across at Beth, who was potting on tiny strawberry plants by the window of the orangery that ran along one side of the walled garden.
‘My van trip.’ Meg waited a moment.
‘I thought you were going on a date?’ Miranda sipped her coffee. ‘I was looking forward to living vicariously through you.’
‘So the Applemore rumour mill doesn’t always work at full power,’ Beth remarked, tapping the little terracotta pot on the wooden table before slotting it onto a crowded tray full of identical baby plants.
‘Not always.’ Meg thought of Laurel, who’d sent a message to say she’d pop by later in the week to tell her how her new work-from-home job was going. ‘We rescheduled,’ she added a few moments later.
‘Ah, I’m glad to hear it. So my vicarious love life is just on hold, not cancelled.’
‘Your love life is quite exciting enough,’ said Beth.
‘Don’t listen to her,’ Miranda said, chuckling. ‘Anyway, if you haven’t been on a date, what have you been up to?’
Heading back to the cottage an hour later, Meg stopped in a layby to let the farmer pass by with his tractor and trailer. He gave her a cheerful wave as he drove by, the trailer rattling loudly as it bumped over the edge of the narrow road and crunched in a gravel-filled pothole.
Like the little geranium cutting, she was growing tiny roots. All the time she’d been married to Michael she’d kept herself out of reach of friendship and a feeling of community and now, quite by accident, she’d found it in Applemore. As she drove down through the open gate towards the lighthouse, she saw that there were two white vans parked outside.
Kenny the builder spotted her and gave a wave of greeting.
‘How’s it going?’ he said, as she let Eliza out of the car and wandered over to the cottage.
‘Good thanks. How’s the visitor centre progressing?’ She peered in through the door, where she could hear a lot of banging and some off-key singing along to Rick Astley on the radio that was blaring out at full volume. Meg smiled. Maybe – despite the van trip being a bit of a washout in some ways – it hadn’t been a bad idea to get away.
‘Aye, we’re coming on great guns. Do you want a sneak peek?’ Kenny beckoned her over, and she followed him inside.
‘This is amazing.’ Meg stood in the doorway, astonished at what she was seeing. The once-grimy walls were now bright white, and the place smelled of a mixture of wood shavings and fresh paint.
‘This wall over here is where they’re putting all the old equipment so people can have a look at it,’ Kenny explained, pointing towards the window, which was now framed by chunky wooden shelving. ‘And here’s where the information boards will be,’ he said, waving an arm at a framework which lined one wall. ‘We’re putting a rail up here so people can see some of the old workings, but not actually touch them – we don’t want health and safety getting their knickers in a twist – and there’s a ramp going in here at the doorway as well to make sure we’re accessible.’
‘And you’ve done all this already?’
Kenny beamed with pride. ‘Pulled a late one last night, but aye, we’re almost done. I don’t normally work weekends, but it’s a bit different when it’s for something like this. It’s always good to give a wee bit back to the village, and the lighthouse means a lot to me.’
‘It does?’ Meg looked at him curiously.
‘Oh aye, my grandpa was one of the lighthouse keepers. He lived in Helen’s cottage.’
Meg put a hand to her heart without thinking, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. ‘That’s so amazing.’
‘Aye.’ Kenny’s voice thickened. ‘So it’s nice to have this place as a testament to his hard work. It’s the least I can do. This place is special to me.’
‘I had no idea.’ Meg ran a hand along the rail he’d installed, noticing how smooth it felt. The workmanship was impeccable – her years of watching Michael creating beautiful designs had given her an eye for the tiny finishing details that showed a real commitment to doing the best job possible. He’d have appreciated the precision with which Kenny had done those joints.
She said her goodbyes and headed back to the cottage, pausing for a moment to look at the lighthouse, gazing upwards as it stood tall and bright against the blue of the sky. It was strange – Michael had popped up in her head a few times over the last week or so – as if time, that age-old healer, had given her the perspective she needed. All those months she’d spent working through the paperwork and never-ending administration that came hand-in-hand with death, all while trying to make the pieces of the stories fit.
She turned to watch as Kenny and his workmate carried in a long piece of timber, carefully manoeuvring it through the doorway. Overhead, a gull seemed to hang in the cloudless sky. In the distance she could hear the waves crashing against the rocks. After all those years where she’d been isolated and trapped with only her garden for consolation, here she was, with the freedom of the huge sky above her head and the roar of the sea in her ears.
She realised with a start that the feeling she’d been trying to pin down when she thought about Michael now wasn’t grief – which had been complicated by the tangled threads of everything else that their marriage hadn’t been. No, it was pity. In trying to live a double life, he’d somehow ended up with half of one. Not just in terms of time, but in what he’d lost.
That was his tragedy – but it didn’t have to be hers. She had the second half of her life ahead, and whatever it might bring, she was going to grab it with both hands.