Page 89 of The Bookshop By the Loch

“No. Should she have?” Maeve hesitated. “Who’s Flora Simmonds?”

“Never mind,” I breezed. I didn’t want to cause Celeste any trouble, so I backtracked. “It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.” I apologised again for troubling her. “Actually, I was thinking of heading up to the residential home at lunchtime to say hello to Celeste.”

“Oh, Mum would love that,” she enthused. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

I rounded off the call.

Whatever was going on and whatever this silver songbird thing was, it seemed Celeste didn’t even want to share it with Maeve, let alone anyone else.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Joy took me through to where Celeste and a handful of other residents were sitting in the summer room, gazing out at the immaculate lawns.

“Were you able to ask her about what happened, Joy? With Flora Simmonds?”

Joy arched her plucked brows. “I’ve tried to talk to her about it a few times, but Madam just clams up. All she would say was that Flora woman had been rude to her, but then she changes the subject.”

The afternoon sun was sliding behind the trees at the end of the garden and birds hopped from branch to branch.

“Celeste? Lexie’s here to see you.”

I followed Joy further into the conservatory, which was decked out with assorted potted plants and a couple of bright paintings of Loch Bracken.

Celeste was seated in her wheelchair, with her back to us.

Joy assisted her to manoeuvre her chair around. “Can I get you anything, before I leave you two ladies to it?”

Celeste twinkled up at the young woman. “Tom Hardy and a bottle of pink champagne please.”

Joy rolled her eyes and laughed. “I think we’re currently out of Tom Hardy, more’s the pity.” She gave me an encouraging smile and disappeared.

I took up residence on a squashy amber and yellow wicker chair opposite Celeste. “So, how are you?”

Her pale, pink-lined mouth flickered. “Did Maeve ask you to come?”

“No. Not at all. I wanted to.” I hesitated. “Look Celeste, you can tell me to mind my own business.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

I pulled a jokey face at her. “But I’ve been thinking about what happened between you and Flora Simmonds.”

Celeste sniffed and rearranged the pastel knitted blanket draped over her knees. “What about it?”

I cocked my head to one side. “Anyone could see she upset you. She would have upset me, interrogating me like that.” I leant in a little closer to her. “Tobias said you brushed him off when he mentioned it to you and Joy said the same. So?”

“So?”

Celeste fingered the delicate knitted pattern on her blanket, which reminded me of snowflakes. “Good grief. This town never changes, does it? Everybody’s always too keen to get involved in other people’s business.”

“It’s not that. I’m very fond of you and I don’t like to see you upset.”

Celeste’s mouth softened. “There are no secrets around here.”

I let out a small laugh. “Are you only just realising that?” I paused, as a couple more of the elderly residents made their way out of the summer room, aided by carers. They delivered wishes of “Good afternoon” as they departed.

We were now alone in there, with just the June afternoon sun for company, lighting up the frames of the windows like they were panelled with gold.

Celeste examined me out of her bright, sharp eyes. At moments like this, it was difficult to comprehend that time was not on her side.