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‘Sounds good to me.’ Mina reached for a chocolate brownie and broke off half of it, eating a corner delicately. ‘We can advertise the event around the village. Put up some posters. We could even get an advert into the free paper.’
‘When shall we do it, then?’ Bess was standing behind Sheila’s chair, and now got out her phone. She tapped at the screen. ‘What about in two weeks’ time? Otherwise it starts to get a bit close to Easter.’
‘What about making it a fun Easter event?’ Liz countered. ‘I can just imagine the inn with bunnies everywhere, an Easter egg hunt for the kids.’
‘Oooh. That sounds really nice.’ Kathy’s eyes lit up. ‘Let’s do that!’
‘And a quiz?’ Sally added. ‘People do love a quiz. Not just me.’
‘We could get some of the school kids involved, to sing. If it could start around tea time and not too late,’ June suggested. Today, she wore a floral scarf knotted around her grey hair, a pair of mustard yellow slacks and a nicely fitting navy blue jumper. Liz found herself thinking that June might have been the oldest of them all, but she still had style. ‘My granddaughter’s at the school, so I’m there a lot to pick her up. I can ask the teachers. I’m sure they’d be up for it.’
‘That’s a lovely idea.’ Liz imagined a choir of apple-cheeked local children singing angelically. The thought of a wholesome night at the Loch Cameron Inn, raising money to buy the little ones of the community some much needed new toys was quite heartwarming.
Liz was starting to feel as though Loch Cameron was her home. And that, too, made her feel warm inside.
‘All right. I’m going to call Dotty, then, and see what she thinks. They might already have some kind of Easter do planned.’ Bess held the phone to her ear and turned away, starting to pace around the community hall.
‘Well, you know what this means,’ Mina purred as she resumed her crochet.
‘What?’ Liz asked.
‘Sally better get ready for me to take home the trophy two years running.’ Mina flashed them all a devilish look. ‘Because I will win. Mark my words.’
‘There’s even a trophy?’ Liz laughed.
‘Oh, my dear. Yes. There is a trophy.’
TWENTY-THREE
‘Hi, Liz.’
Paul stood up as she walked into the bar at the Loch Cameron Inn, the only pub in the village. Instantly, Liz felt a lump in her throat as she took in Paul’s familiar features: his hazel green eyes, his short, dark brown beard, streaked with grey at the front. He had started shaving his head a couple of years ago when he started losing his hair, but she’d always liked that. In the winter, he wore a black knitted hat which she’d always teased him about, which, perhaps instinctively, he took off as she walked in.
Liz wasn’t sure how to feel. He had annoyed her when they’d spoken on the phone, and she’d realised some things about him that she hadn’t seen before: his little digs about her work, about her beingtoo much. But, on the other hand, there were a lot of old feelings there between them that weren’t about to go away in a hurry.
‘Hi.’ She walked up to the bar, where Paul stood next to a row of wooden bar stools. Awkwardly, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek.
‘You look great,’ he said, gazing into her eyes briefly before looking away shyly. ‘What d’you want to drink?’
‘A glass of merlot. Thanks.’ Liz unzipped her thick parka and looked around for somewhere to hang her coat. She had, in fact, made an effort with her hair and makeup, and agonised for ages over what to wear to meet Paul. What did you wear to meet the ex that broke your heart? She needed to look good, but also appear like she wasn’t making an effort.
After pulling almost all of her clothes out of the white-painted wooden wardrobe in the cottage bedroom and strewing them all over the bed, Liz had ended up with her dark dye skinny jeans – since she’d been at Loch Cameron she’d lost a stone almost overnight, just from the stress of moving and starting a new job, and was therefore amazed when she fit into them again – and a light pink silky blouse that was pretty but not too flashy. She hadn’t wanted to wear heels: that seemed too dressy, and anyway, she didn’t fancy her chances on Loch Cameron’s cobbled streets, especially as it was raining. She’d put on some black leather boots instead with a reasonable heel that still looked smart, but not like she was trying to impress too much. The parka was purely practical.
Liz hadn’t been inside the inn yet, and she looked around her for a coat hook in an effort to focus on her surroundings, rather than be overwhelmed by emotion at seeing Paul again.
It was strange, though, seeing him again. So much had changed, including her. She had started to rebuild her life here; she’d started to feel hopeful. But seeing Paul brought back a lot of things she’d tried to forget.
A hand-painted sign just outside the Inn’s archaic, huge wooden front door boasted:
BEST WELCOME IN SCOTLAND
COME AND ENJOY OUR HOSPITALITY AND LOG FIRE
WHISKIES – DRAUGHT ALES – FOOD SERVED
Inside, it was just as welcoming as the sign outside promised. As Liz had entered through the imposing vaulted wooden door – which looked like something straight out of medieval times – she had come into a carpeted hallway with a reception desk at one end. To the right, the bar opened up into a cosy snug, featuring a mix of upholstered and leather armchairs arranged around low tables. A dartboard hung on the wall next to the bar itself, which was made entirely of wood and stretched along the back wall. Six wooden bar stools, topped with red tartan cushioned seats, were arranged neatly alongside. Liz could see that the bar led to another room in which a log fire burned merrily and a TV hung on the wall, showing sports to a couple of older men who leaned against the end of the bar and regarded it over their pints of ale.
She hung her coat on a coat stand near the reception area, noting a huge ceramic vase which held a collection of umbrellas, and a rack of wellington boots with a notice that said:
