She wasn’t sure how seriously she’d been entertaining the idea of him having a lover, but their awkward train journey and Hogmanay had heightened her fears about it, or maybe it was all down to her crashing hormones and missing Stuart. She didn’t fully trust her own judgement anymore. Maybe Mark was just a bit… hopeless, and their relationship had gone from a teensy bit stale to well and truly past its sell by date? Maybe those were the cold, hard facts she would have to wrap her head around on this trip if things didn’t drastically improve between them.
‘It’s good to have an occupation you love, isn’t it?’ Beatrice put in, scrabbling for something else to say that might draw Ruth out of her introspection a little more. The Hogmanay bubbly had loosened her tongue last night. Conversation was harder going today.
‘He certainly seems to love it still.’ Ruth wouldn’t sigh in front of Beatrice, but she felt her body wanting to gasp for air and slump further into the rock.
Mark had made his way up onto the meadow path now and was pacing there, the phone clamped to his ear, his voice lost in the winds.
Ruth’s eyes followed him. He had never promised her Paris, or pop star good looks and impeccable grooming, she had to remind herself. There’d never been much talk of romance and adventure, not after the twins came along anyway.
‘You said you were a midwife?’ Beatrice prompted, refusing to let Ruth sink into herself.
‘Yes, I was once, and I’d meant to carry on when my maternity leave ended, but once I’d been at home with the babies I didn’t want to go back. Then, by the time I was ready, my qualifications needed renewing and then we’d realised Stuart needed a bit of extra care, more than little Adam did, and I was the one that was going to give it. Not that Mark wasn’t good on that front. He adored the boys.’
Beatrice listened in silence while Ruth absentmindedly twirled her ring on her finger thinking how she hadn’t grudged either of the boys the years she had devoted to them; on the contrary, she’d felt fortunate to be there with them. Still, she hadn’t forgotten the mornings when she was tired and lonely as she’d stood at the window watching some of the other mums walking to the bus stop in their suits and heels with their travel coffee cups ready for a day at work and she’d found she was holding back tears while something that felt a lot like envy had constricted her chest, and she missed the fun she and Mark had had right at the start of things when they were mad about each other and didn’t care who saw them acting daft and starry eyed.
Ruth realised Beatrice was waiting to hear more. ‘And I had friends around me too, some of the other mums and the neighbours. We’re still friends now, some of us.’ The last thing Ruth wanted was Beatrice feeling sorry for her. ‘We still go out for coffee every Friday.’
Fridays were when the respite support worker would come in to practise some life skills or do whatever Stuart fancied doing that week; playing video games, making pizzas, doing a bit of laundry, that kind of thing. Meanwhile Ruth would be drinking frothy cappuccinos and eating red velvet cake while the gang caught up on the news about their adult kids’ jobs and relationship disasters and all the attendant worries and unhurried duties of being an empty nester without the demands of the workplace to rigidly structure their lives.
Even now Stuart had moved out, Ruth never let herself stop. She was always busy, what with those new curtains that needed hemming, and that eye test to get to, and all those conifers that always wanted pruning, and scrolling her friends’ Facebook posts from their holidays and family barbeques signed off with hashtag blessed.
She knew she’d been lucky in so many ways, with two grown-up boys living independently like she’d always hoped they would, and a nice home, and a straightforward, universally respected husband with a Jag in the drive and carefully planned life insurance policies maturing all the time.
Yet, none of that could stop her wondering what on earth happened to the woman in the PVC skirt and electric-blue mascara who’d danced the night away at Alley Catz and had so many huge, unbearably exciting dreams and a great big life ahead of her.
Ruth’s gaze wandered from her husband to the little cottage on the hill above the beach, not wanting to cry but thinking she might well do. Instead she took a breath and quizzed Beatrice about the baby and whether she’d met her midwife yet.
Mark was busy so she’d happily pass the time waiting for him to come back, something she’d been doing for years.
A little while later and Nina was struggling to see the funny side of things. Her foot had sunk right into the icy-cold rockpool and her Jimmy Choo suede hiker boots with the shearling trim were now, most likely, ruined. They’d suited her just fine on frosty New York mornings on her short walk to work, but, here, they just weren’t right. She’d turned down Beatrice’s offer of a pair of the inn’s welly boots this morning and was coming to regret it now.
‘Here, take this,’ the voice called as it approached. She knew instantly who it was without turning to see Mutt striding across the little bay holding out his jacket. ‘You can sit down and get yourself sorted out.’ He was beside her in a second.
She reached for the coat and spread it across a large dryish rock. ‘Thank you. Aren’t you cold?’ She pointed at his open denim shirt over a t-shirt, with a thick black wool padded cardigan half-zipped up over the top. He’d worn his work boots again. Very sensible.
‘I’m good. I don’t mind the cold all that much anyway,’ he replied, watching her hobble up onto the rock.
‘Hmm.’ Pulling at the laces, she freed her foot from the boot, pouring a chilly stream of water from it with an unconcealed wail. ‘Aww, no! That’s just great!’
‘Here, Beatrice told me to give you this.’ He handed her the towel branded with the inn’s new logo of the fairy-tale bed in green machine embroidery.
Nina instantly wrapped the towel around her cold foot and cowered further down inside her Burberry cape from three seasons ago that had seen her through the harsh New York winters. Somehow it wasn’t keeping her warm enough today. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘No bother.’
‘I mean, thank you for the note. It was you, wasn’t it?’
Mutt only nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.
‘Why did you help me?’ she asked, genuinely perplexed.
‘Because of what you said. Because we’renotall the same. I know I can be… hard work; Atholl’s told me as much lately. But you said we were all alike. Men, I mean. I don’t agree. I wanted to help you, even though you’re…um…’
‘Also hard work?’ Nina conceded.
Mutt smiled out at the horizon. ‘You said it, not me.’
Nina smiled too, but it was curtailed by a sudden shiver and a great gust of ice-cold wind off the water.
