I remember what Ginny said, about Moira and the shop being connected, and I wonder how true that might be – if we do as Brody is suggesting, and restore the Edge of the World, will we help restore Moira as well? And is that the kind of miracle that can be worked in the time Brody and I are planning to stay?
Looking at his determined face, and Moira’s increasingly hopeful gaze, I decide that maybe, just maybe, it can.
The first miracle occurs when Moira finally nods. I know she’s refused offers of help before, and part of me wondered if she would do the same again. If she was ready to even try.
‘Okay,’ she says slowly, her lips curving into a smile. ‘Okay… I’m always one to bang on about fate bringing you two here, aren’t I? So maybe it’s fate’s will that I accept your helping hand. It’s what Angus would have wanted, and… and it’s what I want, too. Thank you, both of you.’
ELEVEN
BRODY
By the end of the day, I’m regretting ever suggesting this. In fact I’m regretting a lot of things, including being born.
Kate and I work our asses off. She scrubs and clears, and I use the tools from the cottage to start on the many small jobs that have built up since Moira took her enforced leave of absence. Rosie was right – these older buildings do take a lot of maintenance.
She sends her teenaged daughter Laurel over with more coffees, and later on in the afternoon, Xander arrives with two other fellas, both of whom were at the music night. They greet Kate like she’s already part of the inner circle, and Betty the spaniel greets me in the traditional way – by humping my leg. It takes Xander way too long to pull her off me. I think the man enjoys watching me squirm.
After a trip up a ladder by all men involved, we find a patch of tiles has come off at some point, and slid down to dislodge the drainpipe, making it a double whammy of damage. Neither is too difficult to fix though, which is good news. One of the guys, Jimmy, face like he’s run into a wall, tells me he has some spare tiles at home, along with some other ‘wee bits and bobs’. No ideawhat that means, but I guess I’ll find out. The roof is a task for another day – as is everything.
By the time we finally leave, Kate looks physically exhausted, just like me – her eyes, though… man, her eyes tell a different story. They’re glittering with happiness, and she seems more alive than she has since I met her.
She’s not the only one. Moira has fully embraced our plan, saying that if we can restore the place into some semblance of normal while we’re here, then she’ll move heaven and earth to keep the place going for the summer season. She sounded determined and upbeat and strong, and that’s a damn fine thing.
Kate also now has a ‘one last summer’ budget from Moira, and she’s already bubbling with ideas, all of which she described out loud as we worked. Fairy lights, lamps, cushions, a reading corner for children, dog treats, a weekly book-related playlist… you name it, she’s thought of it. My part of the equation will be the brawn, she’ll be adding the brain and the beauty.
We walk down to the harbour, and she finally goes quiet as we sit and watch the sunset. It’s beautiful, the kind of sunset people write poems about. I get a kick from watching the kittiwakes, and she amuses us by dolphin spotting – except every one she spots turns out to be driftwood or a rock. She’s so disappointed every time, and it’s unbearably cute.
‘We’ll go out on a boat trip,’ I tell her. ‘Look for dolphins. Maybe even puffins.’
‘You promise?’ she asks, eyes still scanning the horizon in hope.
‘Absolutely. Now, we need to think about food…’
‘Oh! I forgot to tell you. We’ve been invited to the Kestrel for tea. On the house apparently, because we’re such tremendous and wonderful people.’
I sigh a little. Truthfully, I was thinking a stroll to loosen my back up, then a long soak in the tub. I do need to eat though, andthere’s not much in the cottage. Maybe tomorrow we can look at borrowing a car, getting in some supplies. I realise this feels like I’m playing house with Kate, and it freaks me out how much I like it. I was even flirting with her a little earlier, and I liked that too. I’ve spent a long time not liking many things about my life, and I’m still not entirely sure I think I deserve to.
‘Okay,’ I say, not exactly sounding enthusiastic.
‘Oh, come on, it’ll be fun – you remember what that is, don’t you?’ she replies, standing up from our spot near the harbour wall and offering her hands. I take them, and she tugs, pretending to be out of breath as she pulls me upright. I keep hold of those hands for a few seconds too long – for comfort, for warmth, for the simple pleasure of human touch. She looks up at me, head tilted to one side, maybe a little confused but certainly not unhappy. What the hell am I doing?
I drop her hands, and she gives me a small smile. One that seems to say ‘it’s okay, I kind of liked it too’. I walk briskly in the direction of the pub. I need a pint of Guinness, and possibly a lobotomy.
The place is busy tonight, a singer on a makeshift stage strumming a guitar and preparing for a set. Good. It’ll be loud, and bustling, and we won’t be alone together.
‘All hail the conquering heroes!’ Shirley announces as we approach the bar. This is a very different reception than the one I got last night for sure. ‘Guinness, wine, and two bowls of cullen skink coming right up!’
I look at Kate and whisper: ‘What’s cullen skink?’
‘No clue,’ she whispers back. ‘It sounds terrible!’
It turns out to be a creamy fish soup, served up with warm crusty bread and butter, and it is delicious. Kate chats to the locals, and I inhale the food. Shirley gives me a look, takes the bowl, and comes back with seconds. She pats me on the back andsays: ‘We all appreciate what you’re doing for Moira. There’ll be no paying for a thing while you’re here now, you hear me?’
I mutter a quick ‘Yes ma’am’, because she has that tone you don’t mess with. Kate is barely eating, as usual, but seems happy. The singer does covers of gentle songs, and it’s a pleasant backdrop to a nice atmosphere. Even Betty gives up on humping me, and instead settles by my feet, gazing up at me in hopes of a crust of bread.
I oblige, and sit for a few moments enjoying the mood. I watch Kate as she circulates, keeping an eye on her as she laughs and smiles and enjoys herself. She’s changing before my eyes, shedding some of her nervousness. I don’t feel as heavy as usual myself, and make the most of the moment to send Shannon an update. I tell her about the bookstore, about the locals, and send her the photos from earlier in the day.
You’ve got a project!she replies straight away.You always feel better when you have a project. How’s Kate?
