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The man behind the bar gave her a kindly smile as he looked up from polishing a glass. He was perhaps in his late sixties and had a short white beard and a shaved head. He wore a thick, cream-coloured cable knit jumper and jeans, with a dark blue apron over the top, monogrammed with the name of the Loch Cameron Inn.
‘Oh. Coffee, if you do it? And I wondered about lunch?’ Carrie said shyly, as she unzipped her parka.
‘We do indeed, aye. Ye can hang yer coat up on the stand, if ye like.’ The barman nodded towards an old-fashioned wooden coat stand in the corner. ‘Lunch is soup or sandwiches, or both. Vegetarian or ham.’
‘What’s the soup?’ Carrie asked as she hung her coat on the hook and went back to her stool at the bar. The Loch Cameron Inn was quiet, with just one family in the next room where there was a TV mounted on the wall.
‘Vegetable. Made fresh today. I recommend it.’ He smiled at her. ‘Hearty.’
‘Well, in that case, I’ll have some of your hearty soup,’ Carrie agreed. ‘Can I have some bread with it?’
‘Of course. Comes as standard. Cappuccino, filter coffee, flat white?’ He raised a grey eyebrow.
‘Flat white, please.’ Carrie watched him as he retreated into a little kitchen behind the bar to operate a surprisingly shiny and modern-looking coffee machine. He returned with the coffee in a white cup and saucer on a tray, along with a wide ceramic bowl filled with a very hearty-looking, aromatic soup and placed them both on the bar in front of her.
‘Oh. Bread and butter.’ He clicked his tongue, went back to the kitchen and returned with a plate of two thick slices of soft white bread spread with yellow butter. ‘Here y’are, lassie.’
Carrie smiled at the term. She didn’t get calledlassieat home, but it reminded her of her childhood holidays here in Loch Cameron. She thought she might have come to the inn then, but some memories were hazy; what she remembered most was Great-Aunt Maud, the cottage, the garden and the way she and Claire were allowed to run free on the headland to play, just being called in for mealtimes. A freedom she didn’t think she’d felt since that time, in fact.
‘Thank you.’ Carrie sipped the hot coffee gratefully, sitting carefully so that she didn’t put pressure on her collarbone.
It had taken some courage to stay out of the cottage this long, and to decide to find somewhere to eat lunch out, and not retreat to the safety of the cottage’s thick stone walls. In fact, it had taken some courage to walk into the inn at all, on her own, but she had, and now she was glad.
‘Hello, hello! Welcome, dear. Is Eric makin’ ye welcome?’ A smart older lady with a sharp silver bob, blue tweed slacks and a white blouse with a thistle-shaped pin at her neck walked into the bar.
‘Yes, very.’ Carrie returned the woman’s smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘I dinnae think I’ve seen ye before? I’m Dotty. I run this place with ma husband, who I see ye’ve already met,’ the woman continued, breezily.
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Carrie wiped her hands on the napkin Eric had provided. ‘I’m just staying in the village for a while. Up in Gretchen Ross’s cottage,’ she added, since everyone seemed to know everyone else in Loch Cameron, and as soon as she mentioned the cottage, everyone always saidAhhhh, yes, like the name admitted Carrie into a secret village society of some kind.
‘Ah, Gretchen’s place, aye.’ Dotty nodded sagely, just as Carrie had expected. ‘Stayin’ long?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Carrie admitted. ‘Playing it by ear.’
‘I see, I see.’ Dotty gave her a long, though not unfriendly, look. ‘Ye know, lassie, ye do look a little familiar, if ye dinnae mind me sayin,’ she said, frowning a little. ‘What did ye say yer name was?’
‘I didn’t, but it’s Carrie Anderson,’ she replied.
‘Hmmm. Carrie?’ Dotty tilted her head, staring into Carrie’s eyes. ‘That rings a bell. Have ye been to Loch Cameron before?’
‘Yes. I used to come as a child, with my parents and my… sister.’ Carrie cleared her throat, not wanting to say the word.Not wanting to talk about Claire at all. ‘My great-aunt, Maud, lived up on Queen’s Point.’
‘Maud. MaudMcKinley? I knew ye looked familiar!’ Dotty stabbed the air in front of Carrie’s face with her outstretched finger, triumphantly. ‘I remember now. Ye and yer sister’d come every year. Then ye stopped comin’. Almost broke poor Maud’s heart, that did, now I recall. Aye. She missed ye. What was it – move away, did ye?’
‘No. My mother passed away. My dad didn’t want to bring us back up here, I guess.’ Carrie shrugged, not wanting to get into it.
‘Aww, no. I’m so sorry. Ye poor bairn.’ Dotty gripped Carrie’s hand, and Carrie was taken aback at the contact. She pulled her hand away, not used to touch, and certainly not from strangers.
Dotty pursed her lips, but Carrie could see that it wasn’t meanness; it was a kind of sympathetic expression. Part of her was grateful for it.
‘Well, I’m just taking some quiet time for myself,’ Carrie explained. ‘The thing is…’ She exhaled, realising she had to explain about Claire, but not wanting to. ‘My sister, Claire, also just died. It was a car accident. We were in the car together. I survived. She didn’t.’
Dotty took in a deep breath; Carrie saw that Eric, behind the bar, exchanged a look with his wife.
‘Oh, my goodness me,’ Dotty breathed. ‘Are ye tellin’ me that lovely wee lassie passed away too? She always had her hair in bunches, aye. An’ ye always had plaits. I remember that.’
Carrie nodded, unable to speak.
