Page 7 of A Scottish Country Escape

I was frantically making notes on what I wanted to do with Cassidy’s, arranging the delivery of stationery supplies and finalising paint colour schemes to revamp the look of the business and give it a makeover.

I knew Gran was appalled at the way I was suddenly throwing myself into everything, zooming from one thing to the next, but it was the only way I felt I could handle things.

She would pin me to the spot with those marble-esque eyes of hers and tell me to slow down, or materialise at the shop in her little avocado Volkswagen Polo, armed with a flask of tea and a Tupperware box steamed up with warm scones she had baked or sandwiches she had made, to keep me going.

In some ways, it didn’t seem like a year since Mum and Dad’s funeral and the weather was in stark contrast to what it had been then. Instead of golden sunshine dangling through the branches of the trees, the late May sky today was a washed-out grey, weighed down with solid patches of cloud.

There were moments when I wondered about my own sanity; taking over Cassidy’s and launching my own business, and then at other times I drew on the self-belief my parents had instilled in me, convincing myself that I was capable of making a go of it.

* * *

I left the shop door open, to allow the cool breeze to wash over the tired interior.

I had already cleared away most of the remnants of any stock that had been lurking there, piling it into large cardboard boxes and donating them to charity. These had consisted mainly of children’s toys, like mini tennis rackets and balls, dinky cars, and tubs of plasticine.

Now I was dealing with the last of it, which was just a few pocket diaries from Christmas that had been reduced and a couple of puzzle books.

I planted my hands on my hips. The bare white shelves looked so forlorn. I knew I should have done all this sooner, but my heart hadn’t been in it.

Still, once the whole place had been cleared out, I could concentrate on giving it a good dust throughout and then it would be ready for the decorators to work their magic.

‘Reporting for duty, madam.’

My best friend, Cate, was beaming at me through the shop doorway, her white even smile flashing out of her ebony skin. She had tamed her cloud of black spirally curls back from her face with a red dotted bandana.

I took in her denim Capri pants, navy boat shoes and loose white shirt. ‘I told you not to bother coming. I can manage.’

Cate rolled her wide dark eyes up to her hairline. ‘I know you can, you stubborn mare, but Lucy is taking a Skype work call in the flat, so I thought I’d make myself useful down here.’

Lucy Montgomery and Cate Dyer had been an item for three years, after Cate had moved here when her parents, both jewellers, had decided to leave Glasgow and retire to the countryside.

Cate was an accomplished jewellery designer in her own right and had meandered into Cassidy’s one winter morning in February three years ago, asking if she could place an advert for an accountant in our shop window.

Mum had said she would be glad to and while she was putting it in a prominent place, Cate and I got talking and soon became firm friends. Not only that, but Lucy, a gorgeous redhead with an impressive accountancy pedigree, responded to Cate’s advert.

I therefore liked to remind Cate at regular intervals that I was instrumental in getting her and Lucy together.

Cate dismissed my protests about her showing up to help out. ‘I can’t be all soldering and hammering in the spare room when Luce is discussing diversification and trial balance.’

‘Perish the thought.’

As she strode towards me and gave me a hug, I noticed drops of shimmering silver diamond earrings nestling against her hair. ‘Oh, they are gorgeous. New design?’

‘Yep. I was inspired by the triangular shapes in the local church stained-glass windows.’

I stood back and marvelled at the way the shop light sparked against them.

Cate grinned. ‘OK, OK! I get the hint. I’ll make you a pair of rose-gold ones.’

‘Was I that obvious?’

‘In a word, yes.’

We both leant against the shop counter to survey the empty surroundings of what had once been a treasured family business.

Cate asked how Gran and I were bearing up and listened, soft flecks of understanding in her dark eyes, while I explained how keeping occupied seemed to be the only way of keeping myself together. Then I went on to expand about my plans for the shop. ‘Gran is really supportive about the whole idea. I think she understands that we couldn’t go on as we were. Even I’ve realised that.’

I stared down at my sparkly trainers. ‘The business was starting to lose money and although there is so much nostalgia attached to this place…’