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Not exactly Michelin-starred, but it had charm. And potential.

Jenn would be joining the full-time team of locals: Ealasaid, Mairead, Eileen, and Abigail. Eileen had a reputation for being a bit of a busybody, while Abigail—a first cousin of Calum’s wife, Kirsty, because of course she was—kept everyone in line. Then there were the part-timers: local high schoolers, students home for the holidays, visiting surfers looking to fund their beach lifestyle, and islanders picking up a second income.

When Ealasaid wasn’t around, the atmosphere was surprisingly lively. The café became a mini ecosystem—different generations and backgrounds all mucking in, sharing gossip, shouting orders, and somehow keeping the whole thing running like a well-oiled machine. There were other regulars too: the airport admin staff, the fire crew (who doubled as signallers and luggage handlers), and of course, the pilots. Some were now honorary islanders. Others only turned up once or twice, looking broody and windswept—as if that was a personality. And then there was the local guy called Ruairidh—the one Auntie Peigi had mentioned. Apparently, he was doing the Hellisay route more often lately.

Jenn returned to the cottage feeling surprisingly positive. Her initial dread—that she’d made a mistake, uprooted her life for nothing—was starting to fade.

“In here, m’ eudail,” Granny Annag shouted from the kitchen. The smell of garlic and cheese hung in the air. Granny Annag and Auntie Peigi were sitting at the table with mugs of tea, while her mum was preparing homemade lasagne.

“All go okay with Ealasaid?” Auntie Peigi asked.

“Yeah, really good. It’s a great wee place. I also met Mairead.”

“Ah, she’s lovely, that one. Quiet, but sweet.” Auntie Peigi nodded. “Married to Scallops,” she added for Granny Annag’s benefit—which launched an immediate dive into family tree discussions. By the time they were done, they’d established a connection between a great grandfather on Mairead’s side and a grandmother on their side. Obviously.

Jenn wandered over to help her mum with the salad.

“Happy?” her mum asked, giving her a quick cuddle.

“I am, yeah. Thanks again for everything.”

“I know it’ll be strange once you and Granny head home and I start work properly,” Jenn continued. “But I’m sure I’ll get into a routine. Might even check out what’s happening up at the hall or the school.”

She was referring to the clubs, events, and general goings-on in Saints Bay—the kind of thing she’d rolled her eyes at before.

Now? Now, it didn’t seem so ridiculous.

Chapter 6

The next couple of weeks flew by in a whirlwind of visitors—family, friends, neighbours—all popping in to see Jenn, her mum, and Granny Annag. There were beach walks, late-night cuppas, and endless baking. Jenn loved spending so much time with her mum, Granny Annag, and Auntie Peigi. She felt like a teenager again—cared for, unburdened, and just a little smug every time someone praised her banana loaf. The knots of tension in her back and shoulders? Slowly unknotting, one scone at a time.

After waving goodbye to her mum and Granny Annag on the ferry, Jenn decided to go for a proper wander around Saints Bay. She also needed to stock up her baking cupboard after her flour-, sugar-, egg- and butter-filled fortnight. The Queen of the Hebrides was pulling away from the pier, beloved old icon that she was. Every so often HebX sent one of the ‘lesser’ boats instead, always with much muttering and disapproval from the locals.

The HebX pier hadn’t changed much since the 80s, apart from regular licks of paint. From Jenn’s vantage point on the pier, the lighthouse stood out on the rocky outcrop of Rubha an t-Solais, with the barren little islands of Scarba and Killegray beyond. Jenn had never bothered visiting either. Too craggy, not nearly enough beach. On a day this clear, she could even see the silhouettes of the larger islands—and a sliver of mainland—in the distance.

Though the familiar landmarks hadn’t changed—the school, the pubs, the little hospital—there were plenty of new additions. The old café next to the pier—where Jenn had spent many hours with her family lingering over chips and a can of Irn-Bru—had been completely revamped. It was now a stylish Scottish restaurant and wine bar, with large, open windows looking out to the bay. The kind of spot that served wine in thin-stemmed glasses and made the locals slightly nervous. It even had a name to match: Seilie—delicate, refined, and no trace of a deep-fryer to be found. Next to it, a little hut opened for takeaway fish and chips—Little Seilie, naturally. And not a demented seagull in sight! The new owner? None other than Scallops’ sister, Eilidh. Of course. And with a family connection like that, you’d expect nothing less than top-tier shellfish on the menu. Jenn couldn’t wait to take Vivi.

She continued down Harbour Road then onto Island Street. Original, right? The names might not have been inventive, but the streets were essential. Here you had everything you needed—the Co-op, bank, police station, doctor’s surgery, and so on—but most importantly, The Ghillie Dhu pub. She’d had some nights in there—not all of them entirely wise! Not like in Edinburgh, where doing her errands took her several hours and 10,000 steps. She carried on towards Shell Street, where the library, hall, and community café and shop had all been nicely refurbished. Could the street names not get updated too? They were giving her second-hand embarrassment.

Jenn smiled as she reached one of her favourite stops: The Baker’s, on—sigh—Baker Street. Back in the day, before the big Co-op landed, The Baker’s was the place to get fancy coffee and a decent treat. Baker Street now boasted three new additions Jenn hadn’t seen before: The Gallery, Beira’s Bazaar, and MacWongs. Jenn admired the gorgeous and bold oil paintings in The Gallery, before salivating over the MacWongs menu. She could get takeaway on Friday and Saturday nights now. That kind of thing was unheard of on Hellisay back in the day. Then there was Beira’s Bazaar. Lush, velvety fabrics hung in the window, framing a glittering collection of jewellery, candles, and trinkets in every colour imaginable. Jenn couldn’t resist stepping inside…

As she opened the door, various windchimes jangled, and the breeze set dreamcatchers and lanterns swaying. Incense hung heavy in the air, and the lighting was all moody and mystical. Glass cabinets and bookcases overflowed with gifts, candles, books, tarot cards, and gemstones, while bright, multicoloured clothes and scarves crowded the rails. The opulent fabrics from the window spilled through the shop, giving the whole place a dramatic, almost theatrical feel. Jenn tried to take it all in—the sights, the smells, the sheer drama of it—when she heard a throaty, sultry voice shout, “Be with you in a second!”

The red velvet curtains at the back of the shop parted to reveal a fabulously curvy woman in her fifties—all colours, charisma, and confidence. Her bright red hair didn’t exist in nature, and she wore rich red lipstick and heavy kohl eyeliner—boldly defying the eyes-or-lips rule. Her brightly coloured kaftan billowed over loose, flowing trousers, and she sparkled with glittering bangles, beads, and rings. She was… fabulous.

Jenn felt positively frumpy beside her in her usual harem pants, vest top, and cardigan—though she did have on her favourite scarf and moccasins, thank you very much.

“Hello, darling. How are you today?” Fabulous Lady breezed through in a swirl of incense and fabric.

“I’m good, thank you,” Jenn managed, still trying to take it all in. “Your shop is wonderful.”

“Taing, lovely. Just visiting?” Fabulous Lady said.

“Yes and no…” Jenn said, hesitating. Fabulous Lady arched one perfectly pencilled eyebrow.

“I’ve agreed to stay and work here for a year. My granny’s from the island originally, and, well… life’s been a bit of a pickle lately. My family thought a change of scene might help me get some perspective. Sort myself out, you know…” Jenn’s hands fluttered wildly, a one-woman orchestra of nerves and nonsense. She trailed off, realising she was starting to overshare. Something about this woman just drew it out of her.

“Why don’t you come over and sit down?” Fabulous Lady said, gesturing to a chintzy table and chairs. “I’ll get us tea.”