Page 78 of A Scottish Country Escape

I dropped my voice lower, watching the customer agonise over a card depicting a waltzing couple and another featuring two champagne glasses. ‘I’ve got an idea about how we can fight back.’

Grandma listened for a moment. ‘All right. I’ll pop by the shop at lunchtime today and we can talk more then.’

* * *

Lunchtime came around with a phone call from Cate, volunteering her services in the shop, but I told her things were manageable and I would give her a shout if I needed her help.

To be honest, I was relishing the time to think, with only the quiet, candy-coloured interior of the shop, soft music, and the golden tinged lights for company.

Grandma materialised just before one o’clock with a Tupperware box of turkey and salad sandwiches, a couple of shiny red apples even Snow White would have envied, and two pots of strawberry yoghurt. She also insisted I put up my Closed for Lunch sign, which I rarely liked to use. Her pointed frown brooked no argument.

We vanished into the kitchen and settled ourselves with our lunch at the table. I didn’t feel hungry, but forced myself to eat. I knew if I hadn’t, my grandmother would have force-fed me.

Once the sandwiches had been eaten and we finished the crunchy apples, Gran asked me about my plans for more protesting against the development. ‘So, Elle, what is your cunning plan?’

I reached for my yoghurt and peeled back the lid. ‘I’m going to organise an autumn fair here in the main street.’

Grandma’s neat eyebrows sprang upwards. ‘Go on.’

I gave my yoghurt a thoughtful stir and explained my idea of having marquees lining the length of the cobbles. ‘There will be baking stalls and local artists can sell their crafts. We could have a representative from the birds and animal protection charities and also from the Woodland Trust.’

I took an excited mouthful of yoghurt while my ideas gathered momentum. ‘We could have speakers from the environmental lobbies and any local councillors or officials who are opposed to what’s going on.’

I reached across the table and clasped her hand in mine. ‘I know there are no guarantees, but we can’t give in, Gran. Not yet. If we could just get enough money together to put in a counter offer on behalf of the community… or if they won’t accept that, we threaten court action. If we have enough money at our back, that won’t be an issue.’

Her light-grey eyes sparkled out of her cat-like face. ‘We won’t go down without a fight.’

‘Exactly! And who knows? If some big company or organisation got to hear about what we’re doing, they might pitch in financially as well.’

She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with one of two mustard-coloured napkins she’d brought with her. ‘What timescale were you thinking of for getting this all organised?’

A blush crept up my face. ‘I know it will be tight, but three weeks at the most.’

‘Three weeks?!’

I tried to soothe her concerns, although underneath my positive exterior, my heart was charging around my rib cage. ‘It’s doable,’ I assured her. ‘It really is.’

I clasped my hands together. ‘I’ve already started emailing marquee hire companies and nature organisations, asking about volunteers to come and do talks. Because the bulk of the wedding season is almost over now, the marquee company said availability is good.’ I beamed at her. ‘And I’ve spoken to Cate and she jumped at the chance to support it and have her own stall there, to sell her jewellery.’

Grandma started to speak but I was on a roll. ‘And, bless her, she hasn’t wasted any time alerting several of her arty friends too.’

I enthused about the interest she had garnered that morning from a potter, a handbag designer, and an old friend of hers from college, who makes her own soaps. ‘And that’s just for starters!’

My voice trickled away when I noticed Gran’s odd expression. ‘What is it? Are you OK?’

Her eyes softened further. ‘I know what you do, Elle, when you’re hurting. You do this.’

‘I do what?’

She frowned at me. ‘Precisely what you’re doing right now. Throwing yourself into your work. Keeping busy. Occupying your mind so you have little time to think about other things.’

I knew she was referring to Dexter, but didn’t say.

‘I’m fine!’ I blustered. ‘I like keeping busy.’

‘Yes, but there’s busy and then there’s going manic.’

I scraped back my chair. It was almost two o’clock and time to reopen. ‘I promise you I won’t go crazy, OK?’ I moved towards the shop door to open up again. ‘I’ll give the local action group a ring and let them know what I’m planning too. I’m sure they’ll want to get involved with this.’