‘So am I, but there it is,’ said Julie. ‘And I really don’t want to see you again!’
‘Well fine, I’m off!’ Tom was obviously moving away, and just before Ally returned to her washing line, she heard him mutter to himself, ‘Plenty more fish in the sea!’
By late morning, Joel had appeared in a smart little Jeep and ensconced himself in the sitting room with his mother and Patti. The girls had escaped to their bedroom, and Ally could only hope that Julie hadn’t been cajoled into telling her younger sister what Tom had said.
Ross had gone home for a few hours, and Ally was just about to make herself a cup of coffee when Desdemona arrived.
Desdemona wasn’t exactly a neighbour because she lived a good five miles away, but their pathshad crossed on several occasions, and a vague sort of friendship had taken place. She lived, with an assortment of dogs, in an old stone house beside Loch Trioch, a couple of miles from the nearest point of civilisation, The Bothy Inn. Rumour had it that her father, a professor of English, and his actress wife had arrived out of the blue from London many years ago, with their two young daughters, Desdemona and Ophelia. They’d taken themselves to this remote spot where the father had built a walled garden, into which he planted all manner of flora, many types which would not normally survive this far north. Her parents and sibling now gone, Desdemona carried on the gardening tradition, as well as being a talented artist. It was her beautiful watercolours which really provided her with a living. She had also been the earl’s lover for years, or so Ally had been told, and her younger sister, Ophelia, had been the earl’s first wife.
Desdemona, around seventy, was still a colourful character. She parked her ancient mud-splattered Land Rover outside and strode in, wearing a couple of mismatched jumpers under an emerald-green kaftan and black leggings. This whole outfit was further adorned with some red wooden beads which rattled as she walked.
‘Oh, glad you’re in,’ she said to Ally as she plonked herself in an armchair in the kitchen, ‘because I’ve brought you some apples. I’ve just been selling some fruit and vegetables to the Craigmonie so thought I’d drop in.’
‘Oh, thank you. Have you time for a coffee?’ Ally asked.
‘I shall make time for a coffee.’ Desdemona sighed loudly. ‘There’s a load of media people down there, milling around. Ugh! Is it any wonder I wouldn’t want to live in Locharran!’
‘They’re becoming part of the furniture round here,’ Ally agreed.
‘I understand that someone out there is killing off your Canadians,’ Desdemonasaid.
Ally brought her up to date with the latest events without going into too much detail.
‘I guess you’ll be glad to see the back of them all,’ Desdemona said. ‘It’s been an eventful year one way or the other.’
‘It certainly has,’ Ally said, passing her a mug of coffee.
Desdemona refused the offer of shortbread and knocked the coffee back quickly. ‘I’ve got to be on my way because I’ve got this new puppy, and I’ve had to shut him in the barn because he’s not house-trained yet. Dear little fellow!’ She stood up.
‘Thank you for these lovely apples,’ Ally said as she accompanied her visitor to the front door – at the exact time that Wendy and Joel came out of the sitting room. She introduced them to each other. ‘Desdemona,’ she said, ‘is a wonderful painter. She painted the beautiful landscapes hanging on the bedroom walls, and some in the dining room. She’s a lady of many talents because she’s also an ardent gardener.’
Desdemona smiled modestly. ‘I’m really sorry about your loss.’ She paused. ‘Losses.’
‘Thank you,’ they both murmured.
‘You been in a fight?’ Desdemona asked, studying Joel’s swollen eye.
‘Oh, just a little misunderstanding,’ Joel said dismissively.
‘Looks like the other guy won,’ Desdemona said cheerfully.
Then Wendy asked, ‘So you’re a gardener? I guess it must be difficult to get things growing in this climate?’
‘Not at all,’ Desdemona replied airily, ‘if you know what you’re doing.’
‘I love gardening,’ Wendy said, ‘and I’m longing to get home to my own little patch and get it all tidied up before the winter. But I’d soloveto see your garden! I guess our climates are very similar, and I’d really like to see what you’re able to grow.’
‘Well, I live right off the beaten track,’ Desdemona said, heading rapidly towards the door. ‘But if you happen to be passing, do pop in!’
Then, with a wave, she was off, confident in her isolation.
‘Where exactly does she live?’ Wendy asked Ally as they waved her off.
‘Oh, a couple of miles further on from The Bothy Inn,’ Ally replied. ‘Have you eaten there yet?’
Wendy shook her head. ‘Is it good?’
‘Yes, very good,’ Ally confirmed.
