mean it was going to be in a state of devastation on her return. She’d leave some Marigolds and cleaning stuff out on the kitchen worktop when she left. Maybe Hattie would take the
hint.
It was hard-going fitting everything into her little car, which wasn’t exactly designed with practicality in mind, but Isla wanted to be prepared for every eventuality. Who knew what
island life was going to be like? She was being installed in the little flat above her aunt’s salon, which had been used for years as a holiday let. It had lain empty for the last two
summers, used only as a storage space for the shop equipment. Jessie had assured her dad that it was ‘a bonny wee place, lovely views over the sea, and nice and close to town for Isla –
she’ll be able to do a bit of exploring when she’s not working.’
Isla, who had absolutely no intention of exploring whatsoever, shoved the box of books she’d brought along to keep her going onto the back seat. That was everything. She didn’t have
much faith in the library having anything from this century. She didn’t have much faith in
anything
on the island being from this century, to be truthful. She closed the back door of
the little car, and locked it with care. One last trip upstairs to gather everything she needed for now, and she’d be gone.
She took a last look around the flat, straightening the sofa cushions and neatening the edges of the rug by the fireplace. She didn’t have anyone to wave her off; after spending the last
couple of days with her dad she’d said a final goodbye to him the night before, and he was on a long day shift today, though he’d promised to give her a ring at Jessie’s house
that evening. It was hard to believe that only a week ago she’d gone to work as usual, on top of the world. Now a new week stretched in front of her – and an entirely different
life.
Isla set her chin determinedly, and closed the door on Edinburgh for the next eight weeks.
Chapter Four
‘That’s a braw motor you’ve got there, hen.’
Calum was Aunt Jessie’s second husband, and the human embodiment of an ageing Popeye. His thick, tattooed arms were squeezed into a white T-shirt. In the corner of his mouth was a
smouldering cigarette, rather than a pipe. He ran an appreciative hand along the bonnet of her car.
Picking up her suitcase without waiting to be asked, he hefted it into their whitewashed house, which sat over the hill, looking down into the little valley where the town of Kilmannan
stood.
‘What’ve you got in here – a dead body?’ Calum joked, swinging it down onto the spotless carpet in the hall.
Isla felt herself blushing. ‘Nothing much, running kit and things.’
‘I know what you young lassies are like. Jessie’s Pamela comes away from here with a ton weight of stuff from SemiChem every time she’s back home. It’ll be all thae
bargain shampoos and the like, am I right?’
Isla shook her head. After the early years, where she’d worked with hands red raw from the strong chemical products she’d used, she’d sworn never to go anywhere near anything
like that again. She wasn’t taking any chances on what Jessie would have in her salon, so she’d stocked up in advance – not just for her own personal use, but enough to keep the
salon going until she could order in supplies. And Calum was trying to heft the whole lot into the sitting room, only to have to bring it back out again. He puffed his way back to the car and
pushed the door closed.
‘I’ve made a brew for us, hen. Now are you absolutely sure you don’t want to stay here tonight? I’ve got a spare room made up.’ Aunt Jessie, who was almost as
square and solid as her brother, stood in the doorway to her kitchen, hands on hips. She had an apron tied around an ample waist and her dark hair set neatly in curls that framed her handsome face.
The house smelt of a combination of bacon sandwiches and air freshener.
‘No, honestly,’ Isla felt a
hint.
It was hard-going fitting everything into her little car, which wasn’t exactly designed with practicality in mind, but Isla wanted to be prepared for every eventuality. Who knew what
island life was going to be like? She was being installed in the little flat above her aunt’s salon, which had been used for years as a holiday let. It had lain empty for the last two
summers, used only as a storage space for the shop equipment. Jessie had assured her dad that it was ‘a bonny wee place, lovely views over the sea, and nice and close to town for Isla –
she’ll be able to do a bit of exploring when she’s not working.’
Isla, who had absolutely no intention of exploring whatsoever, shoved the box of books she’d brought along to keep her going onto the back seat. That was everything. She didn’t have
much faith in the library having anything from this century. She didn’t have much faith in
anything
on the island being from this century, to be truthful. She closed the back door of
the little car, and locked it with care. One last trip upstairs to gather everything she needed for now, and she’d be gone.
She took a last look around the flat, straightening the sofa cushions and neatening the edges of the rug by the fireplace. She didn’t have anyone to wave her off; after spending the last
couple of days with her dad she’d said a final goodbye to him the night before, and he was on a long day shift today, though he’d promised to give her a ring at Jessie’s house
that evening. It was hard to believe that only a week ago she’d gone to work as usual, on top of the world. Now a new week stretched in front of her – and an entirely different
life.
Isla set her chin determinedly, and closed the door on Edinburgh for the next eight weeks.
Chapter Four
‘That’s a braw motor you’ve got there, hen.’
Calum was Aunt Jessie’s second husband, and the human embodiment of an ageing Popeye. His thick, tattooed arms were squeezed into a white T-shirt. In the corner of his mouth was a
smouldering cigarette, rather than a pipe. He ran an appreciative hand along the bonnet of her car.
Picking up her suitcase without waiting to be asked, he hefted it into their whitewashed house, which sat over the hill, looking down into the little valley where the town of Kilmannan
stood.
‘What’ve you got in here – a dead body?’ Calum joked, swinging it down onto the spotless carpet in the hall.
Isla felt herself blushing. ‘Nothing much, running kit and things.’
‘I know what you young lassies are like. Jessie’s Pamela comes away from here with a ton weight of stuff from SemiChem every time she’s back home. It’ll be all thae
bargain shampoos and the like, am I right?’
Isla shook her head. After the early years, where she’d worked with hands red raw from the strong chemical products she’d used, she’d sworn never to go anywhere near anything
like that again. She wasn’t taking any chances on what Jessie would have in her salon, so she’d stocked up in advance – not just for her own personal use, but enough to keep the
salon going until she could order in supplies. And Calum was trying to heft the whole lot into the sitting room, only to have to bring it back out again. He puffed his way back to the car and
pushed the door closed.
‘I’ve made a brew for us, hen. Now are you absolutely sure you don’t want to stay here tonight? I’ve got a spare room made up.’ Aunt Jessie, who was almost as
square and solid as her brother, stood in the doorway to her kitchen, hands on hips. She had an apron tied around an ample waist and her dark hair set neatly in curls that framed her handsome face.
The house smelt of a combination of bacon sandwiches and air freshener.
‘No, honestly,’ Isla felt a
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