‘Temporarily, yes,’ she smiled. ‘OK, I’m Beatrice Halliday, but you already know that. I’ll be forty pretty soon, and that’s… all right, I guess. I recently lost my job, and pretty soon I’ll be put out of my house too, so technically I should be at home looking for a new place.’ She felt her fists tighten as she gave away the information, skirting dangerously close to the secrets she’d promised herself never to reveal.
Atholl received the information without any outward sign of surprise or sympathy but he did move closer beside her so he too could lean on the rock. He crossed one ankle over the other, leaning his head back casually before seeming not to know what to do with his arms and standing up straight again, all of which made Beatrice smile. For the first time it struck her that his self-consciousness could be a sign that he might be beginning to like her a little. She tried to pack that thought away, alarmed and hopeful in equal measure.
Knowing she’d have to talk again to stave off the awkwardness, she pressed on. ‘What else…? I like arty stuff. I’m trying to get back into community enterprise work, bringing people together and creating things: performances, clubs, that sort of thing. My work’s always been about community cohesion. And… I like dogs, don’t have one though, and I have a baby niece called Clara who I adore. And… that’s me,’ she shrugged.
‘OK,’ Atholl said in a dry tone, clearly unsatisfied.
‘And I like dating shows,’ Beatrice blurted in desperation. ‘I like a glass of wine with a cheesy dating programme where there are cameras right up in the faces of a couple going on an awkward dinner date.’ She laughed lightly. ‘I like when it all goes perfectly, and they leave the date together at the end, and over the credits it says, “Katie spent the evening with Craig in the Soho nightclubs. Since then, they’ve been on a date to London Zoo and are planning a weekend away in Margate”; that sort of thing.’
‘Oh aye?’
‘Yep. Love them.’
‘Like you loved sending Kitty on a date with Gene?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘I thought he was hard workbefore, he’ll be even more hopeless now he’s falling head over heels for Kitty. I’ll never get away from that inn now. And it was pretty bad timing to have your matchmaking coincide with the Port Willow ceilidh. I mean, it’s good he’s promised to start cooking again in the evenings and now he’ll have someone to birl at the dance but the moonbeams in his eyes’ll make it difficult for him to make the Cullen Skink and run the bar these coming days.’
Beatrice laughed again. ‘Mymatchmaking? You thought it was a brilliant idea. “A stroke of genius,” you said.’
‘Maybe I hadnae thought it through properly or considered its impact on me getting my workshop up and runnin’. It seems even less likely now. I don’t know what’s worse, Gene heartbroken or Gene in love.’
Beatrice’s laughter ended with a sudden realisation. ‘Hold on. Did you say there’s going to be a ceilidh?’
‘Aye, it’s almost Harvest Home.’
‘Nope, none the wiser.’ Beatrice squinted.
‘It’s the end of the harvest and the start of the ceilidhs. We host it. Long ago, every pub and hostelry in the area held its own dance, and the farm workers would celebrate the end of their toilin’ and the fisherfolk would celebrate the start of the autumn tides, but it’s a small affair now, almost forgotten, apart from at The Princess. My mother loves the ceilidh so I do it for her, really.’
‘I’ve never been to a ceilidh before, it sounds good.’
‘Och, it is, but it’s no’ been the same without Gene.’
‘He doesn’t turn up for it?’
‘In recent years he’s taken to his bed at the ceilidh. In the run up he’ll help organise it a wee bit, but I host the night by myself.’
‘He takes to his bed?’
‘You see, he and Lana married at Harvest Home. Their wedding receptionwasthe ceilidh – a braw night that was. Seth got carried away on the elderflower wine and danced himself right off the end o’ the jetty. Aye, it was some night! But Gene can’t stomach it now. Maybe things’ll be different now he’s found Kitty.’
‘I hope so too. I just knew they were right for each other.’
‘But how did you know she liked him still?’
Beatrice turned her face to meet Atholl’s and realised they’d somehow, perhaps unconsciously, shifted closer as they’d talked. ‘It was obvious from the first moment I saw them together. Had you really no idea?’
‘None at all. It was obvious? How?’
‘Oh, I don’t know; the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she was putting her hand on her neck, like this.’ Beatrice raised her fingertips to her throat, lightly touching her skin. Atholl’s eyes followed them.
‘And that means something?’
‘God, yes! Have you never seenLove Island? It’s an unconscious sign that you like someone, touching your own skin somewhere you’d like to be kissed.’
Atholl’s throat moved and Beatrice was aware of him balling his fists where they hung down by his sides. ‘Made you self-conscious, have I?’ she laughed.
