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As they’d walked along the village high street, she’d explained the story of Maud’s diaries and Len to her sister’s boyfriend. Though Claire’s voice had quieted in her head now, she still felt that her sister would be pleased that she and Graham were becoming friends, and that Carrie was sharing this new part of the family puzzle with him.
‘Bess?’ Carrie held out her hand. ‘I’m Carrie Anderson. This is my… friend, Graham.’
How else was she supposed to describe Graham?My dead sister’s fiancé?It was a lot for an introduction.
‘Good to meet you.’ Bess shook hands with both of them, politely. She had short, curly black hair and dark brown eyes and wore slouchy jeans, work boots and a buttoned-up flannel shirt under her coat. ‘I have to say I was surprised to get your text.’
‘I can imagine.’ Carrie nodded. ‘We were heading up to the cottage I’m renting – on Queen’s Point? Why don’t you walk up with us?’
‘Oh, are you at Gretchen Ross’s place?’ Predictably by now, Bess, like everyone else in the village, seemed to know where Carrie was staying as soon as she mentioned she was renting a cottage. But that was likely because it was the only one that was rented to tourists, as far as Carrie knew.
‘Yes. I’ve been there a while now. I came when my sister passed away.’ Carrie took a deep breath and started to tell her story to Bess as they walked. As she did so, Graham reached for her hand and folded it in his. It was a protective gesture: nothing more, but when he took her hand, she broke off what she was saying and looked up at him gratefully. He nodded, as if to say,I got you.
By the time they’d got to the cottage and Carrie had let them in, stamping their wet and muddy boots on the welcome mat as they did so, she’d explained about Claire. While Graham was making them tea, finding his way around the cosy kitchen, Carrie went to her bedroom and brought back Maud’s diaries.
‘Your dad gave these to Myrtle for some reason, and when she passed recently, Dotty gave them to me. They belonged to my great-aunt who used to live a few cottages along. But if you read them, you’ll realise that she was your grandmother. Len was her son. Illegitimate, but hers.’ She handed the diary to Bess, who took it in surprise.
‘So, you’re saying…’ she opened the book and cast her gaze over the carefully handwritten pages, ‘… your great-aunt was my grandmother?’
‘It looks that way, yes.’ Carrie sat on the sofa opposite where Bess stood, holding the diary. ‘I’m sorry for this coming kind of out of the blue.’
‘That’s… okay, I guess.’ Bess looked around her a little blearily and perched on the edge of the pink chaise longue. ‘So…? What happened? Can you give me the main gist?’
‘Of course.’ Carrie launched into the story of Maud and William and Clara, and how Maud gave Len to William and Clara to raise.
‘My grandparents, yes,’ Bess said, then stopped herself. ‘Well. If what you’re saying is true, William was my grandfather. Clara wasn’t my grandmother. Biologically.’
‘Not biologically, no. But you knew her as your grandmother, and that hasn’t changed.’ Carrie watched Bess’s face, looking for a family resemblance. ‘You know, you do have the look of Maud, a little. Wait a minute, I’ll show you.’ She went to her room, where the pile of things she’d taken from Claire’s flat lay piled in boxes, and searched through for the photo album she remembered bringing back. Claire had been better than her at finding and keeping old photos, even though there never were many. What there were, she’d preserved.
Carrie returned to the sitting room where Graham was pouring tea from the ancient ceramic teapot into mismatched mugs.
‘Look.’ She flicked through the album until she found one of Maud, taken in the kitchen of her cottage one jam-making day. Next to Maud, Claire stood, flour in her hair and an adult-sized apron knotted around her tiny middle, holding aloft a jam-covered silver spoon. They were both laughing. Carrie stood on the other side of Maud, solemnly looking into the camera, obviously not a part of whatever joke was being enjoyed.
She touched the picture fondly, not remembering the moment it was taken, but remembering the photo, though she hadn’t seen it for a long time. She and Claire had always tried to remember who had taken it: Claire thought it must have been Mum, because Dad was never in the cottage if he could avoid it.
‘You look like her. Maud.’ Carrie tapped the photo and handed it to Bess, who peered at the photo curiously. ‘Same curly hair. Same smile.’
‘Huh.’ Bess shook her head in recognition. ‘Look at that. I can see it, you know. But it’s more that I can see my dad in her. You know, I remember Maud, kinda. She used to come in to the barber’s when I was there sometimes. Chat to Dad.’ Bess looked up at Carrie. ‘She used to bring in a couple of wee girls sometimes. We played out by the loch sometimes.’
‘That was me and Claire.’ Carrie nodded, smiling.
‘Goodness, this is so weird,’ Bess chuckled. ‘Look at us now, all grown up! I remember you then. You and your sister.’ She paused, looking over at Graham who had sat next to Carrie on the sofa, letting Carrie take the lead. ‘I’m sorry. So, you guys are together, or… you said friends?’
‘Oh, no. Not together.’ Carrie realised that she’d sounded horrified at the thought, and tried to explain. ‘Graham was Claire’s fiancé,’ she blundered on. ‘My dad’s alive, but he’s hardly been a parent for years. Forever, really. Graham and I… we didn’t always get on, when my sister was alive, but that was totally my fault. I guess now I’ve come to my senses. I want to be around the few people I have left that are family. Or, almost family.’
‘For me it’s a way to stay connected to Claire, being friends with Carrie. I’m just sorry we couldn’t get closer before…’ Graham trailed off. ‘You know.’
‘I see. I guess I can understand that,’ Bess sighed. ‘I’m an only child. My mum left us when I was five; she and Dad never really should have been together, but they had me and tried to make it work, I guess, like people do. It’s been hard since Dad passed away. I did feel alone, but I have my partner, Sally. She’s been a godsend. And… Loch Cameron, too, you know? The community here really rallied around when Dad died. It’s what they do.’
‘I’ve felt that too,’ Carrie said, thinking about June and that day at the hospital when she had enveloped Carrie in her arms and held her as she cried. ‘So… I dunno. When I realised you existed, I kind of wanted to connect. At least show you the diary.’
‘I appreciate it.’ Bess nodded. ‘And… thanks. It’s weird, and a lot to take in. But… I feel the same.’
There was an awkward moment where none of them seemed to know what to do. Carrie wondered whether she should hug Bess, or indeed Graham, but it felt a little too new.
She nodded, instead. ‘Well, that’s good.’
Graham was the one who solved the problem by raising his mug of tea. ‘To Claire, Maud and Len,’ he said, solemnly. ‘Loved and missed, always.’
