‘And miss your handiwork? Naw,’ he replied. ‘Besides, I’ve brought us these.’ He offered up two steaming bowls of Cullen Skink.
Beatrice had been lying, her chin resting on her hands, on the flat roof above the inn porch. She’d only meant to pop outside for a second, just to check on the surprised daters from a distance and unseen, but the night was so warm and the stars so bright she’d stayed to breathe in the clean, salty air mixed with delicious seafood scents. Atholl, now finished helping with the evening service, had sneaked out too, and was settling himself down beside her.
‘How ever did you get Patrick to agree to come in and cook tonight – especially after Gene sent him away so unceremoniously the other night?’ Beatrice wondered aloud, stirring the dish and inhaling the mouth-wateringly savoury steam, all hot garlic and salty stock, fresh parsley, lobster, smoked haddock and cream.
‘In return for a daily delivery of seafood fresh from his boats, of course. He’s a braw cook and understands what to do with the day’s catch, as all good fishmongers do. And he’s known us both since we were bairns so he didn’t mind giving us a lesson.’
‘Will the innreallybe serving seafood dinners again? What about Gene and all his objections?’
‘We’ll see. For now Mrs Mair has learned the Cullen Skink recipe by helping Patrick in the kitchen, and she insists she’s a decent cook, given the chance. And if her Scotch broth and shortbread’s anything to go by, maybe shecouldgo some way towards replacing Lana in the kitchen.’
‘You mean if you supply her with something other than industrial quantities of oven chips?’
Atholl had a faraway look in his eyes. ‘And if Gene cannae be tempted back into the kitchen by the taste upon his lips tonight, I’ll have to look further afield for a new head cook. I’ll have done my best for Gene and it’ll be time. It’d be a shame, though. This Cullen Skink is braw but nothing compared to Gene’s cooking.’
Beatrice followed his gaze across the road at the scene on the jetty, attracted there by the light sounds of Kitty’s laughter carrying on the evening breeze.
They could just make out that Kitty’s bare shoulders were now draped in Gene’s suit jacket, and even though they’d finished their cranachan and coffee at least half an hour ago they were still sitting drinking the last of the champagne as the moon rose in the heavens above them. Beatrice took all this as a good sign. They’d actually pulled it off.
They’d taken it well, the surprise, Beatrice told Atholl as she took her first ever taste of Cullen Skink.
‘Mmm, this really is delicious, Atholl.’ She threw a chef’s kiss and a wink towards him and he laughed heartily.
‘So it turns out I didn’t need to use any of our pre-prepared arguments on Gene, after all. There was a millisecond where I thought he was going to turn on his heel and run off like he did on Saturday night when you ambushed him with Patrick and his box of seafood.’ Beatrice was laughing too between savoury mouthfuls. ‘I even put on my trainers this evening in case I had to bolt along the road after him. But he took one look at Kitty standing there all wide-eyed and stunned into silence, and he patted down his suit, ran his hand over his head, all flustered and red but then he crooked his arm and said, “If you’ve nae objection, will you come to dinner wi’ me, Kitty Wake.”’
Atholl laughed at Beatrice’s impression of his brother.
‘Good for him. He brushes up well, does he no’?’
‘He really does.’
Beatrice didn’t like to say she had been almost as surprised as Kitty to see Eugene Fergusson looking fresh-faced after his makeover by the Bobby Dazzler duo, who had revelled in their mission. He had a hint of movie star glamour about him now in his dad’s baggy-legged vintage demob suit and a crisp white shirt. His skin had been bright and dewy, and his eyes dazzlingly blue behind his contact lenses.
Kitty had smiled and blushed down towards her feet and Beatrice had simply watched it happen: the way Gene’s eyes danced over Kitty’s red dress and how his shoulders had melted and his chest swelled with the deep intake of breath as he realised what was happening – he was being set up on his first date in years.
‘You were right, Beatrice,’ said Atholl. ‘They look like a very fine couple together.’
Beatrice smiled, thinking of the way she’d followed them to the linen draped, candle-lit table at the end of the jetty and how Gene had stooped his back and leant a little awkwardly to the side so Kitty could comfortably hold his forearm. There was a hint in the way they moved together that spoke of something shared, something that just fitted.
‘Gene even pulled Kitty’s chair out for her to sit down,’ Beatrice said, still watching the couple, thinking dreamily of the sweet old-fashioned gesture and how Kitty had smoothed her retro petticoated skirts beneath her as she sat down, all the while looking up into her date’s shyly bowed face, her eyes reflecting the golden glow of the lights strung along the walkway.
They hadn’t spoken during the stroll along the jetty or as Beatrice uncorked and poured the cold champagne but Kitty had masked a grin when Beatrice threw her a wink over Gene’s shoulder and she’d left them to their date, assuring them Atholl would be out in a jiffy with the inn’s new seafood specialities and Gene had remarked gruffly, ‘I knew my wee brother would hae something to do with this,’ and he and Kitty had broken into harmonious laughter together.
Beatrice tore her eyes from the couple and instead considered Atholl eating absorbedly in his white t-shirt, jeans and apron. His hair had formed in tight curls around his forehead from the steam of the kitchen.
The heat of the Cullen Skink warmed her against the little chill in the air, a sign that August was slowly passing and the cooler, shorter days were on their way. ‘Delicious,’ she said again with a smile, but in that moment her heart felt suddenly dull again after the excitement of the day and the slow realisation that her task was completed. She had nothing else to occupy her now, other than thoughts of returning to Warwickshire.
‘Beatrice?’ Atholl’s voice came to her as though through a wall. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m just tired; it’s been a long day.’
‘That it has. You did well today.’
‘Wedid. And Cheryl and Jillian, Seth and Patrick, and Mrs Mair. Talk about a team effort.’
‘You have a knack for bringing people together, Beatrice.’
She smiled, saying nothing and wondering what she would do now. They’d fixed up Kitty and Gene – any further meddling in their love affair would be babying Gene to an unfair degree, wouldn’t it? And she’d taken her weaving lesson – Atholl surely wouldn’t want her hanging around the workshop any longer – and she really ought to try to fix her own life back at home. Yet the idea of stepping onto the platform at Warwick station lined her stomach with lead.
