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‘Oh, that’s great. An’ I’m sure ye’ll be fantastic.’ Myrtle looked delighted. ‘Always nice tae see a young woman makin’ her mark.’
‘Thanks, Myrtle.’ Liz was touched by Myrtle’s kindness.
‘Not a bit of it! Us workin’ women got tae stick together, aye. Anyway. Listen to me, bletherin! What’ll ye have?’ Myrtle placed both hands on the top of the glass counter and looked at them both expectantly. ‘I’ve just made some nice, thick ham an’ salad sandwiches. Good thick granary bread, just come in from the bakery. Or there’s cheese, or smoked salmon…’ Myrtle reeled off a list of delicious-sounding sandwich fillings.
‘Ham salad sounds great for me, Myrtle. Thanks. And a cup of tea?’ Liz asked.
‘Same for me. And can we get some scones and jam, too?’ Ben pointed to a plate of huge, yellow scones in the glass display. ‘Honestly. They’re the best I’ve ever had,’ he added to Liz.
‘Great. Who doesn’t love a scone?’ Liz agreed.
‘Right ye are, both o’ ye. I’ll bring it over in a minute.’ Muriel busied herself pouring hot water into a pretty blue teapot and reaching for a couple of matching cups and saucers.
‘So, what d’you think of Loch Cameron so far?’ Ben asked as they settled themselves at the table with the white and red painted chairs, passing her a cushion from the empty chair on his side of the table.
‘I like it. I’m getting used to the slower pace. Slowly.’ Liz laughed at herself. ‘I’m not too good at it, though. Being slow, that is. I’m kind of used to a frantic environment. Frantic life,’ she sighed. ‘Still, it’s not good for you, after you’ve done it for a long time.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Ben agreed. ‘I know what you mean about the pace here. When I was younger, and I’d come back from university in the holidays, it all seemed so archaic and deadly boring. But, then, you get older, and somewhere that things don’t change becomes… reassuring.’ A cloud passed over his expression for a minute, then it was gone. ‘Anyway, I’m glad that you’ve brought your busy energy with you. We could do with an injection of energy at the distillery.’
‘Thanks. I’ll try not to be too full on.’ Liz smiled as Myrtle approached the table, carrying a tray with the tea and sandwiches. ‘Wow. This looks great! Thanks, Myrtle.’
‘You’re most welcome, dear. Be back wi’ the scones in a wee while.’
Liz watched Myrtle as she tucked the now-empty tray under her arm and wiped the other tables down with a cloth before sashaying back to the counter. Myrtle had a definite style about her: she was perhaps in her late forties or early fifties, and wore a long, bohemian pink skirt and aPhantom of the OperaT-shirt under a silver threaded cardigan. A number of crystal necklaces hung around her neck, and she wore large gold hooped earrings with a word that Liz couldn’t quite make out emblazoned within them. Her dyed auburn hair was pulled up in a loose bun. Liz liked her immediately, and decided that she would definitely come back to the café after today.
‘Full on is good.’ Ben poured milk into his cup. ‘Milk?’
‘Yes, thanks. Well, I guess so,’ Liz said, watching as Ben poured the milk into her cup too and nodding as he picked up the teapot. ‘I did come to Loch Cameron for a new start, and to slow down a little.’
‘You said that in your interview.’ Ben filled both cups with strong, amber liquid. ‘I was curious about why. You don’t have to tell me, by the way. If it’s personal.’
Liz sipped her tea, which was strong and hot.
‘It is personal. I’d rather not talk about it just now, if that’s okay,’ she said, quietly. She didn’t know Ben Douglas well enough to disclose something so close to her heart. ‘I’m just not ready.’
‘Oh, of course. But, if you do need someone to talk to, I like to think I’m not a traditional boss. My door is always open, and I mean that as a friend as well as a colleague. My dad was the one you could never talk to. I prefer to be a friend that happens to be in charge.’
‘There’s a fine balance with that kind of thing, in my experience,’ Liz replied, neutrally. What she actually meant was that she had come across the “I’m not your boss, I’m your friend” type before and it usually didn’t work very well, mostly because employees felt that they could take liberties.
However, she had to admit that it had been a while since she had felt this comfortable talking to anyone. There was just something about Ben that soothed her nerves.
‘Why don’t you tell me about you? Are you married? Do you have children?’
Ben looked very uncomfortable. ‘No,’ he said, shortly. There was an awkward silence.
‘I’m sorry, I… that was rude of me,’ Liz blurted out, wondering if she could get this conversation any more wrong.
‘No, it’s all right. It’s a normal question.’ Ben smiled at Myrtle as she set a plate of enormous scones down in front of them. ‘Thanks, Myrtle. They’re huge!’
Myrtle nodded, pleased, and looked up as the phone rang in the back of the café.
‘Enjoy! Sorry, I should get that.’ She excused herself and trotted back towards the kitchen.
‘I don’t have kids. And I’m not married. Not anymore,’ he said, awkwardly. ‘I was married, but it didn’t work out. I wanted kids. It wasn’t to be,’ he admitted with a sigh.
‘I’m sorry.’ Liz felt awful. ‘What happened? She didn’t want children?’
‘Kind of. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time.’ He gave her an evasive look.
