A lump formed in my throat. I could picture it perfectly. Mum walking Katy down the aisle, radiant in powder-blue silk. Only five years ago, though it felt like another lifetime.
“The strangest part? She made me tea.”
I actually laughed. “Maybe she’s finally got domesticated in the afterlife.”
“If miracles are going to happen, I suppose it would make sense it’s there. Then she sat with a plate of your gran’s scones.”
Every nerve in my body suddenly came alive. I could taste them: buttery, perfect, exactly as Eliza and I had made them that magical morning. The memory turned acrid in my mouth. I really hoped I hadn’t ruined my gran’s scones forever.
“She told me to persevere, that everything would work out. Said she was grateful I’d always been there for the family. Then she pulled out that Montblanc pen she treasured.”
I bent forward, hands on my thighs, suddenly unsteady.
“She told me I’d made the right choice about the facility: reusing the old premises instead of building new. Which is excellent timing, since we’ve just signed the lease.” Fiona chuckled softly. “When I woke up, I swear I could smell her perfume lingering.”
A punch of grief hit then: raw, immediate, overwhelming. I sniffed, trying to capture Mum’s perfume, but I could only smell freshly cut grass. In the distance I could still hear the rumble of the lawnmower. Somebody had been busy this morning.
“I just hope SwissTok honour everything,” I told Fiona, verbalising my thoughts.
“Or maybe your mum knows something you don’t? She was very relaxed about everything in the dream.”
“Fingers crossed she’s in the know. I’m not 30 until next March. I don’t have a say in the fate of Voss until then. It’s all in Margot and Katy’s hands.”
“I’d say you should talk to Katy. She called me last night, too.”
It seemed like everyone had got to Fiona before I managed it.
“Whatever happens, come see us. See the new facility, get excited about the Roka prototype. I sent you a sample—”
A wasp appeared near my ear, its buzz unnaturally loud in the humid air. I shrieked, eyes squeezed shut, flailing wildly in the universal dance of wasp terror.
“—while you wait for it to arrive.”
“Sorry, Fiona," I gasped, spinning around frantically. “Wasp attack. What did you say?”
“I was saying if the sample hasn’t arrived, Eliza has one.”
Another reminder of how thoroughly she’d infiltrated every corner of my world.
“We need you up here. Eliza absolutely loved it. The lochs and glens gave her the clarity she needed about her future. They might do the same for you.”
She’d contaminated my gran’s scones and now the Scottish Highlands too. My initial wariness about Eliza had been spot-on. The dead weren’t the threat: it was the living who could destroy you.
“Once I know where things stand, I’ll definitely visit,” I said. “I could use the escape, too.”
“You’re always welcome to stay with us, although I know you prefer your independence. Eliza stays at the pub. I can have Marcus reserve you a room, too.”
“Perfect.”
“One last thing, hen. Whatever Margot’s decision, there’s reasoning behind it. She’s not heartless: she’s doing what she believes is right under impossible circumstances. Try to remember that.”
CHAPTER 37
For the past few days, it felt like all I’d been doing was driving to showdowns. At least this time, I wasn’t behind the wheel, as Katy had insisted on coming with me. Plus, now I’d confronted Eliza, this was truly the final reckoning.
While Katy drove at speed — she didn’t know how to do anything else — I stared out at hedgerows that blurred past in shades of green. We’d barely spoken since leaving London, both of us wrestling with our own versions of what we’d find when we reached Margot. The radio had kept us company, providing background noise to our crowded thoughts.
Her cottage sat tucked behind an overgrown hedge at the end of a narrow lane, its thatched roof and honey-coloured stone walls looking like something from a postcard.
