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Amelia filled the kettle at the tiny sink and lit a gas ring on the stove. While she was waiting for the water to boil, she reached for the cafetière and spooned in some coffee. Edie had kindly left the kitchen well stocked with granola, oatcakes and homemade marmalade and jam in the cupboard, and milk, yogurt and — in case she was vegan — coconut milk in the fridge, along with some fresh pasta and sauce. There was salad, berries and a packed fruit bowl, and a jar with herbal teabags. Beside the kettle was a square tin box, with a picture of a Highland cow on the front, and when she prised the lid off she discovered homemade shortbread dusted with sugar, which smelt heavenly. She was looking forward to tasting it later.
She poured the water into the cafetière, allowing the coffee to brew for a minute or two before pushing down the plunger. Pulling on her jeans and a sweater, she scraped her dark hair into a ponytail and applied some moisturiser to her face. She peeked inside the paper bag Edie had brought to find a croissant. Placing the pastry on a plate, she took it over to the breakfast bar by the window with her coffee and just sat for a minute, savouring the view.
She poured the coffee into a pottery mug in shades of green and blue and inhaled the bitter scent before taking a sip. Bliss. The croissant was huge and covered in flaked almonds, and Amelia picked one off and popped it in her mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a croissant. Declan said they were far too calorific and high in fat and so she never bought them. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes, enjoying the buttery sensation of the pastry and the rich, smooth almond filling.
She sat for a while, thinking, before clearing the dishes away. Then she grabbed her jacket from the peg by the door and ran down the steps onto the grass. Stepping stones had been laid, which wound over to the path from the house. She jumped from stone to stone, enjoying the sound of the birds chirping and the tang of the salty air. She took a deep breath and felt the air cleanse her body inside. When she got to the door of Coorie Cottage she hesitated, then knocked. Edie had told her to make herself at home but, still, she wanted to respect her privacy. Wandering straight in would be strange.
‘Come on in,’ said Edie, opening the door and ushering her through to the kitchen. She had a rag in her hands. ‘I’ve been doing a bit of cleaning. It is never-ending.’ She threw the cloth under the sink and turned to wash her hands. ‘Now, please, dear, do let yourself in the next time.’
‘You’re very trusting,’ Amelia said as she slipped her jacket off and hung it over the back of the chair. She sat down at the table across from Edie.
Edie shrugged. ‘There’s no other way to be.’
Amelia begged to differ but knew this wasn’t the time or place to say anything. ‘The croissant was delicious. Thank you. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever tasted such a perfect pastry.’
‘They’re amazing. We are so lucky to have such a brilliant bakery. I’ll take you up later and show you around. There is a wee café to sit in too if you fancy a change of scene. And sometimes, when the weather is warmer, they put chairs and tables outside and you can just watch the world go by. In fact, I’ve asked Cano to put some seats out for the dog walkers like me, all year round.’
Amelia learned that the café was more of a social drop-in zone and where Edie picked up most of her gossip. Cano and his wife, Naza had taught themselves how to do everything, and were also responsible for baking many of the island’s birthday cakes.
‘Then there’s the gift shop, The Wee Trove, run by Thea. Her partner, Grant, also works with Fergus at the outdoors centre. Did he tell you about that?’
‘No,’ said Amelia, though that made sense as he was obviously a fan of the outdoors.
‘Well, as you may have noticed from his athletic physique,’ Edie said, knowingly, ‘he’s keen on outdoor sports.’
Amelia stifled a laugh. She hadn’t failed to notice the number of compliments that Edie paid Fergus, and the way she said them with such a mischievous grin. She wondered what Edie was up to and tilted her head to the side to listen to what she would say next.
‘In fact, when he was younger he was quite the expert skier, apparently.’ She waved her hand. ‘Now he and Grant are busy organising kayak adventures and paddle-boarding and trekking and whatever else you fancy. What else can I tell you? Oh, the fishmonger and the butcher, and the beauty salon.’ She paused for a moment to think. ‘Oh, the newsagent, which also doubles as a bookshop, and they’ll order you in any books you want. Thefish-and-chip shop. . . the distillery, oh, and the deli. And the hotel — where the bar is. How could I have forgotten!’
Amelia’s head had started to spin. ‘Sounds like a busy place that has everything you need.’
Edie nodded. ‘Yes, well, we’re quite proud of what we’ve got, and things get even better with the Christmas fair — we have stalls which have loads of local produce for sale . . . that should definitely be an essential part of your visit. But you can explore everything for yourself soon.’
‘I’m looking forward to having a wander. Is the bus service good?’
‘Yes, not too bad at all and will take you all over the island. Though you’re also very welcome to use my car. There are some wee nooks and crannies which I’m sure you’ll want to go to, and having the car may make things a bit easier.’
‘Ah. Thanks, Edie, you’re very kind.’ Amelia frowned. ‘Well, I suppose that would take me on to why I’m here. You were going to tell me a bit more about the job?’ She glanced over at Molly who had slumped in a heap on the floor beside the stove. She lazily opened her eyes then thumped her tail a couple of times.
‘Right . . . well, as you know, the role is for a tourism officer . . . of sorts.’
‘Of sorts?’ Amelia tried to relax her clenched jaw. What was she going to say next?
‘Yes. I suppose that is a bit of a loose description.’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Amelia, unsure where this conversation was going. ‘What do you mean?’
Edie clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. ‘Well, yes, tourism will play a big part. But why don’t we make things less restrictive . . . and you design the role as you want to. I mean, your background is in marketing? So, you know, all about selling something.’
Amelia raised an eyebrow. ‘Vodka. I know how to sell vodka.’
Edie waved her hands dismissively and laughed loudly. ‘Pffft. Vodka, gin, perfume, chocolate, cruises. Doesn’t matter. The bottom line is you can sell something.’
Amelia nodded in agreement. ‘But you don’t need to try to sell this place,’ she said. ‘I thought tourism was thriving?’
‘Well, yes, generally things are busy. But . . . well, I need to sell something more specific.’
Amelia waited for her to continue. She was fairly confident she was able to turn her hand to most things, as long as the product could be photographed and packaged as something peopleneededin their life.
