wave of panic. ‘I’d rather just get in and get myself settled. And you must be desperate to get off to Pamela and the children.’
‘Aye, well, her William has to get back to work, right enough. If you’re sure, hen?’
‘Absolutely certain.’
Isla sat down on the pink velour sofa and waited for her drink to arrive. The television was on in the corner, playing a radio station through huge speakers that were wired to each corner of the
room. Everything else, though, was just how she remembered it.
‘I’m sure you’re self-sufficient enough, being Ellen’s lassie, so I’ll let you find your way round the shop in the morning, seeing as you’re the expert in the
family.’ Jessie bustled in, handing Isla a mug with a cartoon Highland cow on the side, and offering her an opened packet of chocolate digestives.
Unthinking, she took two. The unexpected mention of her mum’s name had thrown her slightly. At home with her dad it seemed to have become an unspoken rule that she wasn’t mentioned.
She smiled down on them from the wall, but when Isla had been younger she hadn’t been able to find the words to ask her dad about her. Once she was old enough, the time seemed to have passed
and Isla had found herself skirting the subject awkwardly.
‘Aye, your mum was an independent woman.’ Jessie gave a knowledgeable nod, settling herself down into the cushions, holding her hand out for the mug of tea, which was passed to her,
wordlessly, by Calum, who appeared to be very well trained. ‘It’s a shame your dad was always so busy once she passed away. I’d have liked to have seen a bit more of the two of
you.’
Isla smiled politely and sipped her tea. Jessie, apparently oblivious to her silence, continued, filling in the gaps where Isla should have responded.
‘Aye, she was a nice enough lassie, your mum. It’s a shame our Pamela is no’ well, she’d have loved to have seen you.’
‘Mmm,’ smiled Isla. The summer holiday she’d spent over here on the island had been painfully dull – Pamela, who apparently was keen to catch up and reminisce about old
times, clearly didn’t remember the hideous night they’d all spent at the Winter Gardens disco, where Isla had had to keep watch whilst a game of Spin the Bottle took place, fuelled by
bottles of illicitly acquired cider. By some silent agreement, Pamela and her friends had judged that Isla wasn’t eligible to join in – not, Isla remembered, that she’d wanted to.
A gaggle of gawky-looking boys who’d clattered up and down the promenade on skateboards hadn’t held any interest for her at all. The feeling had been mutual. They’d jostled their
way past Isla, standing in her post by a rhododendron hedge, and knocked the book she was reading out of her hands.
‘Anyway, maybe now you’re spending some time here you’ll fall in love wi’ the place, see why we all enjoy it so much.’
I think that is extremely unlikely
, thought Isla, swallowing the last of her tea in a burning-hot gulp to get it over and done with. ‘Well, I’ve got eight weeks.’
And
counting
, she added silently.
‘Aye, I’m very grateful to you for it, as well.’ Jessie stood up.‘Right, if you’re absolutely sure you’ll no’ stay, let’s get you along the road.
Just remember Calum’s here if you need anything, and I’m on the end of the phone, and the girls will keep you right until you find your way about, and . . .’
The flat was directly above the salon, tucked down a little side street that led down to the seafront promenade (or, as Isla noted grimly, the pavement beside the harbour, as it could also be
known). Next door was a boarded-up shop with a worn-out sign that read ‘ JIM ’ S F SH ’ in plastic letters. The letter
I
had
been picked up and placed on the stone windowsill, where it sat accompanied by a left-over takeaway coffee cup and a fish-and-chip wrapper. Auchenmor had that much in common with Edinburgh, at
least.
‘Here we
‘Aye, well, her William has to get back to work, right enough. If you’re sure, hen?’
‘Absolutely certain.’
Isla sat down on the pink velour sofa and waited for her drink to arrive. The television was on in the corner, playing a radio station through huge speakers that were wired to each corner of the
room. Everything else, though, was just how she remembered it.
‘I’m sure you’re self-sufficient enough, being Ellen’s lassie, so I’ll let you find your way round the shop in the morning, seeing as you’re the expert in the
family.’ Jessie bustled in, handing Isla a mug with a cartoon Highland cow on the side, and offering her an opened packet of chocolate digestives.
Unthinking, she took two. The unexpected mention of her mum’s name had thrown her slightly. At home with her dad it seemed to have become an unspoken rule that she wasn’t mentioned.
She smiled down on them from the wall, but when Isla had been younger she hadn’t been able to find the words to ask her dad about her. Once she was old enough, the time seemed to have passed
and Isla had found herself skirting the subject awkwardly.
‘Aye, your mum was an independent woman.’ Jessie gave a knowledgeable nod, settling herself down into the cushions, holding her hand out for the mug of tea, which was passed to her,
wordlessly, by Calum, who appeared to be very well trained. ‘It’s a shame your dad was always so busy once she passed away. I’d have liked to have seen a bit more of the two of
you.’
Isla smiled politely and sipped her tea. Jessie, apparently oblivious to her silence, continued, filling in the gaps where Isla should have responded.
‘Aye, she was a nice enough lassie, your mum. It’s a shame our Pamela is no’ well, she’d have loved to have seen you.’
‘Mmm,’ smiled Isla. The summer holiday she’d spent over here on the island had been painfully dull – Pamela, who apparently was keen to catch up and reminisce about old
times, clearly didn’t remember the hideous night they’d all spent at the Winter Gardens disco, where Isla had had to keep watch whilst a game of Spin the Bottle took place, fuelled by
bottles of illicitly acquired cider. By some silent agreement, Pamela and her friends had judged that Isla wasn’t eligible to join in – not, Isla remembered, that she’d wanted to.
A gaggle of gawky-looking boys who’d clattered up and down the promenade on skateboards hadn’t held any interest for her at all. The feeling had been mutual. They’d jostled their
way past Isla, standing in her post by a rhododendron hedge, and knocked the book she was reading out of her hands.
‘Anyway, maybe now you’re spending some time here you’ll fall in love wi’ the place, see why we all enjoy it so much.’
I think that is extremely unlikely
, thought Isla, swallowing the last of her tea in a burning-hot gulp to get it over and done with. ‘Well, I’ve got eight weeks.’
And
counting
, she added silently.
‘Aye, I’m very grateful to you for it, as well.’ Jessie stood up.‘Right, if you’re absolutely sure you’ll no’ stay, let’s get you along the road.
Just remember Calum’s here if you need anything, and I’m on the end of the phone, and the girls will keep you right until you find your way about, and . . .’
The flat was directly above the salon, tucked down a little side street that led down to the seafront promenade (or, as Isla noted grimly, the pavement beside the harbour, as it could also be
known). Next door was a boarded-up shop with a worn-out sign that read ‘ JIM ’ S F SH ’ in plastic letters. The letter
I
had
been picked up and placed on the stone windowsill, where it sat accompanied by a left-over takeaway coffee cup and a fish-and-chip wrapper. Auchenmor had that much in common with Edinburgh, at
least.
‘Here we
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