Page 36 of Happiness Under a Summer Skye

Once she was seated and Judy had lain down at her feet, the woman behind the counter glanced over at Angelia and her eyes widened as her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape. She whispered something to Ferris who also glanced over to where she sat. He said something in a hushed reply and the woman nodded and smiled before making a zipping gesture over her now-closed mouth, and throwing away an invisible key. Angelia gave her a nervous smile.

16

Moments later, Ferris arrived at the table and sat opposite her. ‘She’ll bring it over when it’s ready. I ordered you the carrot cake, I hope that’s okay.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ Angelia replied.

‘I think you’ve got a new friend,’ he said as he gestured down to where Judy lay beside her, her head resting on her foot.

‘That’s fine with me,’ she said. ‘I mostly prefer dogs to people.’

He sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Ooh dear. Things are that bad, are they?’ When she didn’t reply, he continued, ‘When I saw you last, you looked like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. Are things any better now?’

Ah, so this is more of a therapy session, is it? Angelia shrugged. ‘I’m fine, really.’

He leaned a little closer. ‘Look, I know you don’t know me from Adam, pardon the pun, but like I said at the church, I’m a good listener. It sort of comes with the job, I suppose. If you did need to talk to someone not connected to whatever you’re going through, I’d be happy to be a sounding board. And I can assure you I’m not the type to sell my story, so Kendric MacKinnon won’t be turning up to interview you based on anything I’ve said.’

Angelia gave a small laugh. ‘Kendric MacKinnon? Is he still doing his slot on daytime TV?’ she asked. ‘I remember him from ages ago when he used to present the weather.’

‘He is. He’s a sort of roving reporter these days. Still very popular with ladies of a certain age,’ he said with a wink and a brief tap of his nose. After a short pause, he tilted his head. ‘I’m going to miss this place, you know. When I get my own parish. I haven’t been here that long but long enough to know Glentorrin is such a great place to live. The people are so friendly, in spite of what you may have thought when you witnessed the choir debacle,’ he said with a smile. ‘Isla’s a real character, but she lives at Pabay View in Broadford so technically she’s not a villager.’

‘I actually thought she was brilliant. From the purple hair to the malapropisms and even right up to the feisty attitude.’

He smiled. ‘Aye, I agree with you there. I wish she was my granny.’

Angelia laughed. ‘Me too.’

‘So how is it going with the shop?’ he asked as he sipped his tea.

‘It’s slow going but I’ve spoken to Bella Donaldson now so hopefully things will start moving faster.’

He eyed her with intrigue for a moment. ‘So, why are you here really?’ he asked.

‘That’s a bit deep, isn’t it? Why are any of us here?’ she asked with a grin.

‘You know what I mean. People in your position don’t often come back to their hometown unless something big is happening. Or has already happened.’

She nodded towards her latest acquisition. ‘I bought the shop here, that’s all.’ He didn’t speak, instead he kept his gaze fixed on her and a small smile on his face. Her stomach knotted and she felt under the spotlight. ‘Why do you want to know anyway?’

He shrugged. ‘I can read people. Especially people going through stuff. Call it a sixth sense.’

She scoffed and wiggled her fingers at him. ‘Ooooh, do you see dead people too?’

He shook his head. ‘You use humour as a defence mechanism.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘What’s with the tuppenny psychology? You don’t know me well enough to make such comments. You may think you know me, like plenty of other people do, but you don’t have a clue,’ she informed him, immediately regretting the way it sounded. But before she could apologise the waitress, or café owner perhaps, placed a tray on their table. Angelia looked up at her and with a wavering voice said, ‘Thank you, it looks delicious.’

The woman, a tall, slim brunette, blushed profusely and said, ‘Wow, thank you. That means a lot. And thank you for coming.’ She hovered for a moment longer as if she wanted to ask for something, perhaps an autograph? But then she turned and hurried away.

Once the woman had left them, Ferris said, ‘I’m sorry, Angelia. I’ve been far too familiar with you, and I apologise for my barrage of personal questions. I can assure you I had the best of intentions but please forgive my intrusiveness.’ He gestured to the exit. ‘Would you rather I leave? I can ask Meghan to come in and⁠—’

Angelia shook her head. ‘No, no, it’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.’ Then she added, ‘Actually, it’s probably a lack of sleep. And maybe worry too. But that’s no excuse, just an explanation, I suppose. But whatever, I’m sorry and no, I don’t want you to go.’

He nodded. ‘Well, I promise to stop asking questions. You didn’t come home to be interrogated, that’s for certain. I’m sure you get enough of that wherever you go.’ His smile was gone now, and Angelia felt a twinge of guilt which manifested as a dull ache in her chest.

She lowered her gaze and stared at the creamy frosting on the huge chunk of carrot cake that had been placed before her. She could smell the vanilla and imagine the delectable crunch of the ground nuts on the outside, but her appetite just wasn’t there. She couldn’t even bring herself to lift the fork.

As if reading her mind, Ferris said, ‘You can always get a to-go box and have it later.’