Page 9 of A Christmas Escape to Arran

Amelia looked out of the window at the multicoloured leaves on the hedge, which lined the front of the garden. ‘And it is so peaceful.’

‘Imagine what it will look like in spring and summer!’ Edie quickly rattled off a list of summer activities that she was sure Amelia would enjoy.

Amelia watched Edie’s face. She was clearly thrilled with the arrangement and Amelia didn’t want to remind her that the job had been advertised as temporary. She had no idea if she would still be here by Christmas, never mind spring or summer, though she couldn’t stop herself from imagining the pale pink blossom on the trees and the snowdrops and daffodils, which would surely be resplendent in Edie’s garden.

‘I know you will be very happy here, my dear.’

Amelia nodded. ‘I think you’re right.’ She looked at the stools and imagined herself sitting there warm and relaxed, with the heat from the stove and a glass of red wine. That would be the perfect place to write in her journal or read a good book. She smiled.

‘Oh, and I decided to go for solar power, so there is electricity.’ Edie pointed at the USB ports. ‘And those. I know they’re a necessity for you young ones. Have a look around, take your time, and come over and get your stuff when you’re ready,’ she called over her shoulder as she opened the door.

‘Thanks, Edie. I will.’ Amelia gently shut the door and turned round, leaning against it. This all seemed too good to be true. She walked back over towards the bed, tentatively sitting down. She stared out of the window at the blue sky and the dark sea ahead. What a different world this was to the grey life in London she had just left. Leaning back against the soft pillows, all she saw was sky. It would be magical to wake up to this. For a brief moment a buzz of excitement fluttered in her stomach as she focused on the view in front of her. Then she leaped off the bed and went to look at the en-suite facilities at the other end of the cabin.

She unlatched the door and peeked inside — a small but perfect shower room with a gas-shower, sink and toilet. It had all that she needed. It was the perfect romantic hideaway, she thought. It really was idyllic, but her smile disappeared when she thought of Declan and her impending isolation here. How she wished they were enjoying this together.If he hadn’t left you, you wouldn’t even be here, a voice reminded her.

A memory of putting on her wedding dress popped back into her head. She had tried the gown on so many times in the run-up to the big day, but there was something extra special about slipping into it on the morning of the wedding. Fitted at the waist and made from satin and lace, it fell straight to the floor below her hips. Amelia had wanted something simple, which moved easily yet was also flattering. When she’d worn it, she’d felt amazing, and as she’d walked down the aisle towards Declan, gripping Jack’s arm, she’d known from the way Declan had looked at her that he’d been bowled over too.

Or had he been? Maybe he hadn’t and she’d just imagined it. Perhaps she should have paid more attention and been less self-absorbed.

She slipped her hand into her pocket and found her phone, suddenly desperate to talk to him. She hadn’t seen him in person since he’d walked out, and although she had tried calling him a couple of times and left voicemails, he had only responded with the briefest of texts.

Before she changed her mind, she pressed call and waited. It didn’t go straight to voicemail, but this time rang out several times. Her heart skipped a beat as she realised that he might actually pick up the phone. But then he must have ended the call because, again, she was directed to voicemail. This time, she didn’t leave a message. Instead, she tapped out a quick text.

I miss you. Please call me. x

She pressed send before she changed her mind.

Chapter Eight

Edie walked towards the main street to post a letter and let Molly stretch her legs. Amelia hadn’t wanted to come with her and had made an excuse about needing to unpack and settle into the hut. Edie had a sense that it was best not to push her at the moment. She would give her a day to acclimatise and then try again tomorrow. There was no point in prying into the young woman’s business. That wasn’t at all Edie’s style anyway. She knew people here would be curious about Amelia’s background and story, and hoped they wouldn’t be too nosy. Everyone had baggage but that didn’t necessarily mean they wanted to unpack it. She sighed and brushed away a stray coil of hair from her face.

As she wandered along the road, she looked appreciatively at the seascape, which never failed to calm or inspire her. The palette of colours was so varied. Some days the water was a vivid, fresh blue which merged with the bright sky, other days an olive green topped with grey-and-white clouds. Every day was different, which she absolutely loved. How she adored this place that was now her home. She waved at Davey, the lollipop man, who stood waiting at his usual spot, and smiled at Cano in the window of Cèic, the bakery and café where she was a regular visitor. His face brightened when he saw her and he grinned.

Most of the shops on the island, aside from the large Co-op, were independent retailers, and social enterprises which reinvested back into the local community. It had a vibrant tourism industry, and during the summer months the ferries were usually packed with holidaymakers who always spent their holidays on the island and the day-trippers who fancied a quick escape. Although in recent times the unreliable ferry service had put a lot of the day-trippers off visiting.

Edie and Christine used to spend summer holidays here as children and she loved it. Her parents had always taken a cottage round at Kildonan, a small village on the south coast of the island. They’d spent many a happy day exploring the rock pools, fishing, crabbing, learning to swim and enjoying picnics at the beach. They’d been outside all day, come rain or shine. She often smiled when she thought back to those special days. Little did she know she would end up moving here permanently.

She kept walking past the small pier and Molly wagged her tail, sniffing the ground closely as though it was covered in gourmet treats. Someone had crammed their fish-and-chip containers in the bin and a seagull determinedly tapped at it with its beak, almost disappearing inside the rubbish to try and prise it open. Molly lifted her head and barked and it eyed her lazily, before eventually flapping away.

Edie had lived in Edinburgh for years, where she’d been rather anonymous, and had always longed to be part of a community where she would say hello to familiar faces and people stopped to have a chat. There were of course lots of positives about living in the capital though. She loved how dynamic and vibrant it was, and the way that the ancient and modern blended so seamlessly. She could walk from the New Town, where they’d lived in a huge apartment, and be at Princes Street Gardens in a brisk ten-minute walk. She never tired of the walk past the castle or visiting the Scottish National Gallery, where she would often stop for a coffee and stare out at the view of the gardens. It was a wonderful city to explore on foot, and throughout the year there were festivals and cultural productions that ensured she and Jim had been frequent visitors to the theatres.

Jim had been a finance broker for one of the banks and had spent much of his time travelling between Edinburgh and London. Although Edie had worked at Edinburgh University as an English Literature lecturer, and had plenty of friends, she’d been particularly lonely when Jim had been away and she’d always looked forward to his return. They’d been happily married and had decided not to have children as they were so focused on their careers. Edie had often been asked why she never had children and her answer created mixed reactions. But even now she stuck by her decision and her choice not to become a mother.

Being in Arran had given her a sense of belonging and purpose. Not only that but the chaos and sadness of her life had begun to dissipate and she’d been able to slowly rebuild a life for herself. It was there that she’d rediscovered her creative side and her love of pottery. She’d decided to try out the class at the local hall, and there’d been something healing about having the time and space to use her hands to create and make while allowing her head to process all the thoughts that had been stuck.

She’d spent several years enjoying it as a hobby, then, realising she was actually quite good, had started selling pieces in the local craft shop. She made bowls and mugs capturing the rich textures and colours from the island that inspired her. Each creation was unique and sold quickly, and her career continued to flourish. She’d even won an award from a creative organisation that supported older people in pursuing their art, which had raised her profile and made her work even more in demand.

She was often asked to give demonstrations and classes on the island, and on the mainland too. Her warm and engaging personality meant she was popular with everyone and she had a real knack for helping people to regain their confidence. These days she preferred to stay local and had started to scale back her commitments on the mainland, preferring to go into her workshop at home and focus on her own things.

She paused to look in the window of The Wee Trove and smiled when she noticed two of her mugs set against a backdrop of aqua-coloured silk scarves and on a base of crushed shells. Somehow the owner, Thea, managed to dress the window in an enticing way that attracted customers who then bought lots. It was a shop Edie was drawn to frequently. It was indeed a treasure trove. Edie posted the letter in the post box outside the shop then turned and retraced her steps back along the road and past Cèic. Cano stood at the door.

‘Hey, Edie.’

‘Hello, you,’ she said.

‘Did your visitor arrive?’

She nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, she’s here.’

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