‘Huh? Oh shit – God no!’
Her arms were crossed, eyebrow sky high.
‘Honestly,’ Taylor said.
‘You want to turn out your pockets for me then?’
‘Are you serious?’
She looked more than serious, she looked faintly terrifying until Taylor noted just a glint to her eye, the hint of a smile.
‘Here,’ he said, a little shyly.
She studied the tweed samples and handled them with care. ‘Where did you get these?’
‘From my mom,’ he said. ‘She quit the island a long time ago, but she’s kept these. Her father was a weaver – his parents too and so on. I thought it would be cool to find out more. My dad’s side of the family, well they’re all civil engineers from Colorado.’
‘And what are you?’
‘Me?’
‘Aye –you. Engineer or weaver?’
‘Neither. I’m starting grad school in the fall.Communications.’ He could hear the flatness in his voice and it made him glance away. ‘But I want to be a writer – a novelist.’
‘I want to be a film star but sometimes, we just are who we are.’ She turned her attention to the tweed. ‘These areold,’ she said, her voice soft and thoughtful as she studied them. ‘The wool was probably hand dyed the traditional way before it was spun. They used heather tips for this pastel green I’d say, and bracken roots for that soft yellow.’
Taylor took a beat. ‘I don’t suppose you’d know where I could find some tweedy weaver person who might know something about anything? As you’ve probably guessed I know jack.’
‘Can your mother not tell you more?Oi!Eyes up!’
With a start, Taylor realised he had been staring at her name badge which was pinned over her left breast. He pointed at it, which didn’t help his case.
‘Shona,’ he said.
She placed her hand over the badge protectively. ‘Your mother?’ she prompted.
Taylor shrugged. ‘She left here when she was sixteen.’
Shona regarded him intently, during which time he felt as if he was being assessed, as if he may or may not be granted entry into some secret weavers’ coven.
‘You’ll be wanting to visit Becca Hutton in Northton,’ she said brightly.
‘I know where Northton is – and that is has a name that looks and sounds nothing like Northton.’
This made Shona laugh. ‘Wait until you visit Amhuinnsuidhe,’ she said. She handed him back the tweeds. ‘Becca’s a weaver and if she can’t help she’s sure to know someone who can. I’ll give her a call, if you like. She’ll have a cup of tea and a story or two for you, for sure.’ She regarded him quizzically. ‘You do know there’s this thing called The Internet? You could’ve hit Google and saved yourself a very long journey?’
Taylor shrugged. ‘I know.’
‘Instead you’ve brought them back.’
‘I have.’
She thought about this. It seemed to make sense.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘You left this at the till.’ It was an energy gel in blackcurrant flavour, his favourite.
‘I’m running a marathon here,’ he said, taking it gratefully.
