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Amy looked completely bemused. ‘What are you two going on about? You’re being weird and talking in riddles. Just be normal, please!’
Emma loved how they quickly relaxed into their familiar roles, and she couldn’t wait to hug Amy in person. ‘I’m going to check ferries this minute and let you know my plans. Can’t wait to see you, girls!’
Kirsty waved. ‘Bye, darling.’
‘See you soon, Emma.’ Amy blew her a kiss.
Emma ended the call and flopped down on her bed. It had been another long day. Just one more to go and then she would put her out of office on, letting the world know she would be unavailable for a fortnight. She couldn’t believe that Amy was back in Arran and hadn’t told them about her plans. The thought of her sisters being there without her was strange and now she was absolutely desperate to get back.
But when she checked the ferry slots for the following night there was no availability. At least there were only two more sleeps to go, and she was definitely booked on for Saturday morning. She supposed that was better anyway just in case she was held up at work. And she told herself it was better that she didn’t rush as that would mean she would most likely forget something like the wedding dress or Max’s kilt. She leapt off the bed and, for the umpteenth time, went through to the spare bedroom and checked the hanging bags and her holdalls, packed with all that she would need. Yes, it was all there and ready to go.
Emma peeled off her work clothes, slid into her pyjamas and climbed under the covers, wishing Max was there. She had missed him this week. Whenever he did speak to her, which tended to be brief and snatched bits of conversation, he sounded tired and strained. He couldn’t say much about the case, but she knew it was taking its toll and weighing heavily on him.
Which only exacerbated how she felt. Useless and helpless and guilty. In a bid to slow her busy brain, she reached for her phone, found her breathing exercise and focused on breathing in and out as Wim Hof instructed.Round number one, breathe in and breathe out, breathe in and breathe out . . .she felt muscles loosen and she soon lost count of numbers and whether she was breathing in or out.
When she opened her eyes with a jolt, she was in darkness. Emma had no idea if she had actually done three rounds of the breathing exercise or had fallen asleep in the first round which she was prone to doing. Feeling parched, she padded through to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. The clock on the oven said it was 3.52 a.m. Normally she set her alarm for 6 a.m. and she wondered if she may as well just stay up now and make a start on work so she would definitely have everything cleared by that night.
Opening her laptop, she sat at the breakfast bar and quickly scanned her inbox to work out what could be passed to her colleague, what could wait until she got back and what needed her attention now. She scowled when she saw an email from a client who had become a regular fixture in her inbox. This person had been horrible to deal with and she had really struggled to work on his behalf as his moral compass was off the scale. She had just, and only by the skin of her teeth, managed to settle his custody battle with his ex-wife which had been a complete power game from his perspective. It didn’t matter she was divorcing him on the grounds of his adultery. This was a slur on his male pride, and he made it as difficult as possible for her, even challenging custody of their three children despite the fact he barely knew their names.
She scanned his email and shook her head. It appeared that he was looking to challenge the legitimacy of his deceased father’s will, especially now a half sibling had emerged from the past. Normally, with her compassionate head on, she would say that he was acting like such a jerk because he was trying to hold onto his father’s memory and that was why he didn’t want a random person who had appeared from nowhere to now disrupt those memories.
Emma knew that grief could deeply stir many emotions and open up things that people had buried in the past. Those feelings could run very deep and if a stranger turned up staking a claim on his inheritance, then Emma could only imagine how much that would have infuriated him. She forwarded the email onto her colleague, hoping that it was something she would take care of in Emma’s absence.
Honestly, families and the toxic situations they could create, were horrible. She was glad she had a relatively normal upbringing with Jean and Alex, and she absolutely adored her sisters. Nothing would ever change that.
When she noticed it was just after six, she took ten minutes to do some yoga — wait until she told Amy, who was forever telling her she should embrace it as she needed to calm her parasympathetic nervous system — and stretched out the kinks in her hunched-up shoulders. As she lay on the mat on the floor, she began to unwind and almost drifted off to sleep again. But she knew she needed to get into work for her final day. Pulling herself up, she stretched and headed to the shower.
Chapter Nineteen
Amy was true to her word and had risen early to go and spend some time with their dad. Steve was out doing tasks and the kids were working again although they were a bit annoyed about that given that Amy was now in town. Somehow with them being a bit older, they were now very excited by the appearance of their cool and internationally travelled aunt.
Kirsty sat by the window in the yellow guest room, which Emma would be staying in, taking a moment to admire the blooming flowers in the garden. She loved all the seasons and the different scents and colours they brought but if she had to pick one as a favourite then it would be early summer, just as the petal blossom started to fall from the trees and the flowers in the garden were starting to thrive.
Steve loved the garden and would spend hours pottering around, assisted by Dad, who had created such a magical spot with his careful pruning and nourishing over the years. When her parents moved into Meadowbank Cottage all those years ago, the house was a little tumbledown, but they had done what they could to restore it to its best.
Sitting in this spot reminded her of the constants in her life and Steve and the kids and how this place would always be home. She was glad Tom had inherited his dad and grandfather’s green fingers. He had always been fascinated by trees and plants and so the opportunity with the Forestry Commission was perfect for him. She also thought, rather selfishly, that it meant he might perhaps eventually come back one day and make the island his home again.
Not one guest had failed to remark on what a beautiful room this was and as she looked around now, she had to agree. All the rooms had been painted white to keep them fresh and clean and the white bedspreads were contrasted with bright and funky throws and cushions. The kids had christened this room the daffodil room, because of the bursts of cheery yellow including a bright yellow lamp. The space had a calming energy about it and, perhaps because it had been her mother and father’s room when they were growing up, it was where she felt most connected to her mum.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about her mum’s twinkling eyes and calming voice. She savoured quiet moments like this.
A notification pinged on her phone. It looked like a new review had been posted. She clicked on it and gulped as she read.
I had the most fabulous stay at Meadowbank Cottage B&B. Kirsty and Steve clearly put much time and effort into catering for your every wish and there are so many personal touches which make such a difference. My room was spacious, clean and extremely comfortable. Kirsty and Steve couldn’t have done enough to make me, and fellow guests, feel welcome. From meeting us at the ferry to the breakfast service. The pancakes and also the porridge are must-haves, and the homemade shortbread in the room was heavenly.
The island itself is a magical place and Steve was more than happy to advise me on walking routes and even accompanied me on some of them which went above and beyond his role as a host. The other guests were lovely too and I was so disappointed to leave. I could have stayed for another week! It was my first visit to Arran and definitely won’t be my last. It’s a place that I am already looking forward to returning to soon. This B&B is without doubt one of the nicest I have stayed in and one of the best kept secrets, in my opinion. Thank you so much for looking after me. My heart has been captured by the magic of your island! Neil, Hove, June.
Kirsty’s heart swelled with pride as she read Neil’s review and she smiled wryly at the last line. She was quite sure that his heart had also been captured by the other guest, Alice. Time would tell if something blossomed there, she thought to herself.
She knew Steve would be delighted. He kept telling her she worried too much about what guests thought but right now she was worrying about everything especially with her sisters being back for the wedding. Now wasn’t the time to offload her burden. It would have to wait until after Emma’s big day. The thing was that Kirsty wasn’t even supposed to know. The only reason she knew about it was when she was in the loft, just after her mother died, looking for some old photographs.
Her parents always maintained they had lost lots of their photographs over the years and Kirsty never even thought to ask them if they had properly cleared the attic. Until recently, she and Steve had never any reason to go up there as all the extra stuff they had, like Christmas decorations, were stored in one of the outhouses which was much easier to access.
Kirsty had thought she may as well have a final look up there just in case there were some photos stashed away in a box. She thought her dad may appreciate it after Jean’s passing, and she wanted to find something that might offer him a shred of comfort.
She climbed up into the eaves and crouched down to avoid hitting her head on the beams. There were a couple of old and battered suitcases and when she opened them, she saw they were full of old blankets, the old-fashioned crocheted ones that the older generation used to lovingly make whenever a new baby was on the way. By the time Becky and Tom were born, everyone used cotton and fleece blankets which could be washed and dried quickly.
She was about to give up when she spotted a couple of cardboard boxes tucked away in the corner. Coughing, as she unsettled the thick layers of dust by pulling them towards her, she sat down and opened up the first one. It looked to be stuffed with newspapers and some old receipts and she wondered if she should bring it down so it could be flung in the rubbish. Then she opened the other box. Inside were some sepia prints of her parents on their wedding day. The photographs had rounded edges and were faded but there was no doubt it was her mum and dad, smiling and very much in love. They were wonderful and she was so pleased to have found them.
