“But if we’re being honest, there is something I want from you, Margot.” I shifted on the sofa until I snagged her gaze. “Not business-related, not about the company. I just want my aunt back.” My voice caught. “I want the woman who used to let me help her put on lipstick when I was little. Who taught me how to order wine. Who was Mum’s best friend before she was ever anything else.”
Margot’s eyes went shiny, and she groaned. “You’re going to set me off again.” She reached for a tissue from the box beside her mug, and blew her nose. “But I’d like that, too. Maybe we can actually talk rather than be polite at our Sunday lunches from now on.”
I smiled. “Especially if Max is cooking, then we can focus on the wine.”
That drew a laugh from all three of us.
“There’s something else.” Should I say it? It seemed trivial, but we had just agreed to be honest with each other. “There was something Eliza shared that irked me. She said when you were at Max’s, you made her a mean fried egg. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I got jealous. I wanted you to cook me a fried egg. She’s not your niece. I am.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks.
Perhaps that was oversharing.
“You want me to make you a fried egg?” Margot’s smile broke through her tears.
“Is that the most pathetic request you’ve ever received from a grown adult?”
“Not even close. Last month, Max wanted a butterscotch Angel Delight after a particularly hard day. Whatever makes you happy.” She gave me a rueful smile. “I like Eliza. She deserved a fried egg for what I was putting her through. I’ve apologised to her, and I want to apologise to you both, too. But it was done with the very best of intentions.”
She stood, smoothing down her jeans. “Though I should warn you, my fridge currently contains two bottles of champagne and some questionable cheese. We’ll definitely need to raid the village shop for eggs.”
“Perfect. Nothing says family reconciliation like a quest for eggs at the local Co-Op.”
Margot laughed, the sound lighter than I’d heard from her in quite a while. “Stay the night, both of you. We’ll go to the pub for dinner. They do an excellent steak-and-ale pie, and the fish and chips have great mushy peas.”
“Will there be more crying?” Katy dabbed at her mascara.
“Almost certainly. But also wine, so it balances out.”
Margot opened her arms again, and this time when we fell into her embrace, it was less a tearful reunion and more like three women who’d finally figured out how to be in the same room without family pressure weighing them down. We weren’t staying because we had to. We were staying because we wanted to.
“Right then.” Margot pulled back with renewed energy. “Family dinner it is. Fair warning, though: I might actually be terrible at this whole emotional availability thing. I’ve been practising on Max, but he’s very easy to please.”
“We’ll muddle through,” I said. “We’re British. It’s what we do.”
Hours later,when I was lying in bed full of pie and wine and scrolling my phone, a message popped up. It was from Eliza.
My heart did one of its best somersaults, and I pushed myself up further in the bed.
I swallowed hard, then clicked.
I’m sorry how we left it, but I hope you know that everything I said and did was real. I didn’t fake any of it, Pops. I’ve sent a first-class sleeper ticket to your email. I’m in Scotland. Please come join me. Fiona and the gang would love it. But not as much as me. E xxx
The ‘Pops’ felt right.
And perhaps Eliza was right for me, after all.
The only way I’d find out for sure was to go to Scotland.
CHAPTER 38
The last time I was on a sleeper train to Scotland, I was wary of Eliza and what might happen if I let her back into my life. The memory of our awkward carriage-sharing made me smile. I could never have foreseen falling for her, or the spectacular mess that would follow.
But now, as the Highlands rolled past like the world’s most expensive screensaver, I found myself semi-optimistic. Maybe it was the wise lack of gin this trip, or the plush first-class cabin. Or perhaps it was because I finally had some idea what I was doing with my life.
Eliza clearly had an affinity for this place: she kept fleeing here like some sort of corporate refugee. Perhaps there was something in the Highland air that induced clarity, or at least the illusion of it.
Despite everything, I was looking forward to seeing Eliza. With Margot restored to her rightful position as my aunt — and the company crisis resolved — Eliza was the final piece of the puzzle. Whatever happened, at least I’d know where I stood.
