Page 70 of The Cottage in the Highlands

“Sometimes you just have to accept things the way they are,” bit back Flynn. “I know you think of yourself as some do-gooding girl-guide—”

I clutched the phone to my ear. “I beg your pardon?”

“You want to go wading in there, solving everyone else’s problems and making everything a happy ever after.” He made a disgruntled sound. “But life isn’t like that.”

Anger erupted in my chest. “You might have a very pessimistic view of life and be happy to be part of a buttoned-up family that doesn’t communicate, but not everyone else would be.”

I scraped my kitchen chair back. “If you haven’t forgotten already, this lady isn’t keeping well.”

Flynn tried to interject but I was so fired up, I carried on. “I can’t just turn my back on Lily and I won’t.”

I took a breath.

“Look, Mr Talbot, I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve grown rather fond of her even if she can be cranky and stubborn and I just want to do what’s right by her.”

“Flynn? Flynn? Where are you?” I was cut short in my explanation by a female voice drifting into my ear. “We’re going to be late!”

I blinked down the phone. He obviously had more pressing matters to attend to. What was it with all the deflections? The pushing away of people? Well, some people…

An odd bout of irritation took over after hearing the voice of a woman with him. “Don’t you worry. You sound busy,” I said crisply. “I won’t be requiring your help from now on, thank you. I can deal with this on my own.”

That Saturday night, I looked up the village of Cairntilloch on Google maps and on the Scotland’s Villages website. It consisted of a sprinkling of quaint little shops, a post office and a village green with an old-fashioned telephone box. I’d driven past it on a few previous occasions and considered it pretty, but had never had any call to pay it a visit. Until now.

Harley was snoozing by my feet while I balanced my laptop on the sofa arm. “Guess where I’m taking you for your Sunday morning walkies, Harls?”

I parked my car in an empty lay-by close to the village green. It was a tranquil sea of manicured emerald, laced with the remnants of frost.

A church spire zoomed upwards out of the trees. Rusty bells pealed, denoting it was Sunday morning.

Harley hopped down out of the back seat of the car. I clipped on her lead. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s find this grumpy old man.”

My other hand slid into my bag and brushed against Lily’s letter.

A woman with an immaculate ball of ash-blonde hair was busy sweeping the steps of the newsagents with a broom. The sound of Christmas carols was coming out of a crackly radio from inside.

Harley and I made our way across the green towards her. “Excuse me. I was wondering if you could help?”

She smiled and bent down to fuss over an appreciative Harley.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know where Mr Flynn Talbot lives?”

The woman looked at me as though I had just robbed her of her life savings. “Why on earth are you asking about that cranky old sod?”

I pushed out a polite smile and didn’t answer her question. “I understand he lives somewhere here in Cairntilloch?”

She folded her arms. “Aye. He does, more’s the pity.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You ask any of the folks from around here,” she replied with more than a hint of challenge in her voice. “He’s a rude and cantankerous bugger. He never mixes with the likes of us. The only time anyone sees him in the village is if he or that poor housekeeper of his need some groceries.”

She leant forward in a conspiratorial fashion. “That Mrs Oates deserves the Victoria Cross, for putting up with the likes of him.”

Good grief. Well, he didn’t sound like a cuddly Father Christmas type at all. I performed what I hoped was one of my best winning smiles. “His address? Do you know it?”

The woman waggled the broom handle in her hand and turned to point to the other side of the village green. “See those trees over there? Well, there’s a posh three-storey house not far from a couple of the holiday homes. That’s his. Ostentatious thing it is. You can’t miss it.”

She jerked her puffball hair. “His house is called Lily Grove. You cut through the trees and take a left. There’s a lane that will lead you all the way there. Just watch your footing, pet. It can get a bit icy at this time of year.”