‘You too.’
Nate went back to his dad and Morgan set off for home, texting Ronan that she’d call him in twenty minutes or so. He would’ve enjoyed the talk tonight because the author shared as much passion about Scotland as Ronan had himself.
As Morgan went inside Forget-Me-Not Cottage and into the kitchen for a drink of water, she was greeted by Marley mewing, his front paws and head the first to come through the cat flap before the rest of his body fell inside. She set the book and her phone on the kitchen benchtop and picked the cat up instead. ‘You’re good company, you know that?’ she said into his fur as she held him close.
When her phone rang, she put the cat down and answered the call. ‘I said I’d ring you,’ she laughed.
‘What can I say? I’m desperate to know what the author talk was like.’
‘It was really good. And thank you, the book and the dedication are perfect.’
‘I didn’t want you to miss out on getting a copy.’
She doubted she would’ve done; it looked like the author had brought plenty and there would be enough left over to sit on the shelves in the Bookshop Café for future customers.
‘Did you talk to him? Ask him all about Edinburgh?’
‘No time, there were so many people there.’ He’d never know that she could easily have queued up and waited her turn. ‘Besides, I have you to tell me all about it and I’ve seen it a few times already.’
‘True that. So is it a good book?’
‘I’ve not had much of a look yet and with the markets early tomorrow, I won’t be doing much late-night reading tonight. But I’ll read it as soon as I can.’
‘Your mum would be really proud you’re going back to the markets.’
The softness in his voice was comforting. ‘I like to think she would be too.’
She listened to him tell her all about his day – the other reason he was calling was to tell her that work was going even better than expected; the company were really pleased with him. He sounded genuinely excited about his job, which was a good thing, and he was even more buoyant about the houses that were starting to come on the market.
‘We’ll find something soon,’ he said, ‘I just know it.’
‘I’m sure it won’t be long,’ she agreed before they finished up the call so she could get to bed.
But sleep didn’t come straight away. She looked at the book about Scotland resting on her bedside table, waiting for her. And she wondered, were her dreams beginning to pull in a different direction to Ronan’s?
She glanced over at the cat, who had been on her bed before she had even done her teeth. ‘I don’t know, Marley. What do you think? Am I being a scaredy cat?’ He barely shifted at the sound of her words, merely stretched out his paws in front of him, claws displayed before he curled his paws back beneath him as though he hadn’t been disturbed at all.
8
Morgan hadn’t really talked to her mum much about her love life. They’d never had that sort of relationship, at least not when Morgan was a teenager or a young adult. They’d talked about Ronan a bit more since Morgan came to live at Forget-Me-Not Cottage again, but back then, Morgan hadn’t had any doubts. She’d been swept along into helping her mother, being here for her, Ronan had gone off to start his job and they’d got into their own routine. The times Ronan had called and Elaina had said hello in the background had been short and sweet and all her mum had told her was that he seemed nice and it was obvious he thought the world of her youngest daughter.
But if her mum was here now, Morgan wouldn’t be able to help blurting out her doubts. ‘Probably a good job it’s just me and you, Marley,’ she told the cat after she sorted him out with food and fixed herself a bowl of cereal, nice and generous in preparation for a day at the markets. ‘I can tell you about Ronan, talk about Nate, and know it won’t go any further.’ Because last night, she’d enjoyed seeing Nate a bit too much for a woman who was engaged to someone else. And she hadn’t only left the Bookshop Café to answer Ronan’s message but to step away from a man she barely knew but to who she felt an instant connection. Nate was a man she’d met on the top of a small bridge in an unassuming British village and who’d been down to earth from the moment they started to talk. Ronan, on the other hand, had been someone she met in a cocktail bar and who’d immediately set up a date at a top restaurant with all the frills, the menu she barely understood, the quiet wait staff dotted around a room. Ronan was a man who liked to impress with a flourish; Nate, on the other hand, gave her the impression he’d be as happy at a back street café or out on a long walk with a girl he’d started dating than anything more frivolous.
She finished up her breakfast, and despite a slight trepidation about running the market stall without her mum, she also felt excited. What would her mum say if she could see her today, heading out to her loaded-up car and making the short journey to Snowdrop Lane markets? And if Morgan worked hard and kept doing so over the next few weeks at the stall, she could get through all this stock in no time. And at least she didn’t have to make up stories any more to explain her mother’s absence or her need to sit down at the back of the stall for extended periods of time. Elaina had kept the truth about her diagnosis from most because she didn’t want everyone feeling sorry for her or making assumptions about what she couldn’t do. She wanted to decide that between herself and Morgan. And so, when she needed to sit, they told people she’d hurt her ankle from dancing around the lounge at home or that she’d stumbled over a tree root in the woods. When Morgan had come here alone, they’d pretended Elaina was at home with a cold or a headache. What Elaina had wanted more than anything was as much normality as she could grab a hold of, to keep her life a happy existence for as long as she could.
Morgan reached the carpark on Snowdrop Lane, found a space and began to unload. It was a beautiful morning, cool enough for setting up the stall, the sun there in the background with its soft, steady warmth. She wasn’t the first here, not by a long shot; in fact, she couldn’t ever remember being the earliest trader when her mum was alive either. Several other stallholders were already unloading. She waved across to Mindy, who ran the cards, wrapping paper and ribbons stall, who called her hello with her arms cradling a big box. She exchanged a quick greeting with Kevin, who worked the sweets and treats stall, as he emerged from the entrance, presumably to come back for a second load. And with the first box of her mother’s stock in her arms, Morgan headed towards the markets’ entrance.
The field was nice and flat and not muddy given the sunshine and lack of rain, so there was no need for wellies unless they got a sudden downpour; Morgan’s trainers would be suitable all day. She and her mum had been caught out on occasion coming here in trainers or shoes that were fine at the beginning of the day, but come closing time, they’d slipped and slid their way back to the car.
The Snowdrop Lane markets weren’t huge, but they were popular and attracted both locals and visitors from further afield. Local businesses appreciated market day too because they tended to get a boost in turnover. As well as weekend trade being slightly better anyway, visitors to the markets either parked in the village or at least stopped off on their way through, had something to eat, used the post office, went to the pub or the bakery. She’d heard André and Nel say their sales at the pizzeria went up on Saturdays, Audrey and Gus from the bed and breakfast had, several times, hosted guests who’d come here for the pub fayre and the markets, and Morgan knew from Sebastian and Belle that the Bookshop Café got a lift come market day.
Morgan headed to the biggest stall and the first one visitors came to upon entering the markets. On the right-hand side, it had excellent visibility. Her mother hadn’t started at this stall but rather a much smaller one towards the back, but Jasper had soon seen she had so much stock, it was time to move her.
She’d only just set the first box down when, right on cue, Pedro, who ran the craft stall, came over. ‘I’ve finished my unloading,’ he bellowed – a little bit louder than was necessary, with heavy emphasis on the jolly. ‘I’ll keep an eye out for you while you get everything brought across from your car. Or I can do the carrying for you?’
‘Thanks, Pedro. Much appreciated. But I’ll do the carrying myself – nothing’s heavy but plenty is breakable.’
He sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Then no way do I want the responsibility. The missus says I’m clumsy at the best of times.’
