Then the elderly pair told the tale of Flora MacDonald rowing Prince Charles Edward Stewart from Benbecula to Skye, disguised as an Irish maid called Betty.
Fraser wagged a horny finger in Josefin’s direction. ‘Thatstory’s no fairy tale. Clan MacDonald of Sleat, they lived at Armadale Castle and feuded with the MacLeods of Dunvegan.’
Her meal disposed of and a second drink drunk, Josefin looked hugely entertained as Maisie and Fraser continued to ‘blether’, as they would call it. Ezz soon began to wonder how long the social occasion was expected to go on. Should she suggest to Josefin that they wind it up? Or was a nanny so much like a member of the family that she’d expect to call the shots? When Mats had asked her to bring Josefin here he hadn’t set a time limit. Ezz would much rather be at her desk than in the pub, where everyone but her seemed to have an alcoholic drink. Having decided that alcohol had no place in her life even before she came to Skye nine years ago, she was becoming restless. She rarely came into the Jolly Abbot. But … maybe that was why she sometimes felt she lacked company? She put the thought away to examine later.
Finally, as Josefin ordered her third large glass of wine, Ezzie ventured, ‘Are you looking after the children later?’
Josefin only relaxed further into her seat. ‘No, I have the rest of today off.’ Her ruddy cheeks were even rosier now, and her eyes glittering.
‘Oh. OK.’ Ezz settled down to listen to Josefin tell Maisie how different Skye was to the seaport city of Gothenburg.
Then Thea and Dev burst in on a blast of cold air, cheeks rosy and eyes alight. Ezz greeted them gladly. ‘Here’s mysister Thea and her boyfriend Deveron. Thea, Josefin’s the nanny for Mats Larsson’s lovely children. He suggested I bring her here and introduce her to the village.’
One of Thea’s eyebrows twitched, and her dark eyes met Ezzie’s, clearly understanding Ezz’s discomfort over the assignment. ‘Great to meet you, Josefin,’ she cried. ‘I hope you like Rothach Hall.’
Soon, she and Josefin were chatting happily. After a while, Thea suggested, ‘Would you like to come with Dev and me while we walk our dog? We can show you the footpath through the copse in case you ever want to come down here without a car. The drink-drive rules are strict in Scotland.’ She glanced at Ezz’s feet. ‘Ezz isn’t wearing her walking shoes—’ ignoring the fact that Ezz’s home was only a few yards away so she could have changed her footwear in a minute ‘—so she’d better drive back.’
‘Yes, yes,’ cried Josefin, flushed with bonhomie and shiraz. ‘I would like to.’
Barely sparing a quick ‘Are you sure?’ Ezz made good her escape, sending Thea a silent but heartfelt ‘Thank you,’ from the doorway before she whisked out.
She drove her yellow hatchback through the winding, narrow lanes. At Rothach Hall the family door was firmly closed, so she settled back at her desk.
Her first job was to phone Gwen. ‘Mats has mentioned the children’s meals.’
‘He talked to me,’ Gwen said comfortably. ‘Today, I’m to cook a plain meal for the children at about five p.m. Grete and Mats want stovies, later. Josefin and I will share getting the children’s meals through the week.’
‘Great, thank you.’ Ezz ended the call feeling like a fish secure in her own little pond again.
An hour later, Josefin traipsed through the lobby, wavingto Ezz and looking rosily relaxed. ‘I’m back. Thank you for taking me.’
Waving back, Ezz returned, ‘You’re welcome.’
When nobody had emerged from the family area to request anything by five-thirty, nor phoned or emailed, she switched off her computer and was soon following the beams of her car’s headlights along the familiar roads home.
Indoors, she made herself coffee – she’d treated herself to hazelnut latte pods ready for Christmas – and curled up on one of her turquoise sofas to catch up with schoolfriends and past work colleagues on Facebook while she drank it. Once she’d commented on a skiing party in the Dolomites, a new baby and a winter wedding, she put her phone and empty mug aside. The boiler in the kitchen gurgled but, otherwise, the silence of the cottage pressed down on her as if to emphasise her solitude.
Glad that the village was so safe that dark, wintry walks weren’t out of the question, she jumped up and ran upstairs to change into fleece-lined jeans and her favourite boots. Back down in her hallway she pulled on her ski jacket, gloves and a purple hat and then set out into the dark evening. Heading down the steep lanes towards the sea, she enjoyed the refreshing sting of freezing air on her cheeks as she passed cottages lit from within like pumpkin lanterns at Halloween. Once in Harbour View, the streetlamps cast a net of light that allowed her to see the beach, where frost-spangled pebbles tumbled, and rockpools sported lacy edges of ice. Until she’d spent winters in Skye, she’d believed that salt water couldn’t freeze.
A row of cottages faced the beach, and a boat waited on worn wooden stands, its mast angling out from thetarpaulin. There wasn’t another person in view, which wasn’t uncommon in the village, especially in cold weather. She settled her hat more cosily over her ears and followed the bay’s curve to Fishermen’s Cottages, where Harbour View met the Quays above Causeway.
When she reached number 1, she halted, experiencing anew the joyful thrill of Valentina’s surprise announcement. She’d see so much more of her eldest sister now she owned a holiday home in the village. Although she’d seen the cottages hundreds of times, she examined number 1 with fresh eyes. It was the end terrace, closest to the rocks at the end of the Quays. A side window looked over Rothach Bay to the peaks of Knoydart on the mainland, which she’d seen dusted with snow earlier today as if from a giant sugar shaker. ‘It’s certainly a fixer-upper,’ she murmured to herself, surveying the tiny dwelling. In the light of the streetlamps, she could just about see that the cottage had once been pale blue, though much of the colour had flaked away. There was no more paint left on the wooden window frames or the door than there was on the walls, lending the place a neglected air. When she cupped her hands against the filthy glass, she could see only darkness, but on brushing encrusted salt from a wonky sign, she saw someone had once cared enough to bestow the name Overlook Cottage.
Fishermen’s Cottages were among the smallest in the village, under their slate roofs. They had no front gardens, though each boasted a rectangle of cobbles where she imagined past fishermen spreading their nets. A couple of decorative lobster creels stood outside the house next door, and its windows were brightly lit behind its curtains, as if to demonstrate to Ezz how cute and cosy Overlook Cottage could be with love and attention.
Impulsively, she pulled out her phone and called Valentina. ‘I know you’re probably busy, but I’m standing outside your cottage and feeling excited for you.’
Valentina’s laugh echoed down the line. ‘You ratbag, you’re making me jealous. Send me a pic.’
‘It’s pretty dark down this end of the bay.’ But Ezz held up her phone to take a view of the cottage. As she sent it, she commented circumspectly, ‘It needs a bit of work. Did you know it’s called Overlook Cottage?’
‘Alotof work – and no, what a charming name,’ Valentina enthused. ‘But look at those rotten windows.’ She was obviously studying the photos Ezz had just sent. ‘Some won’t close and two at the back are broken. The agent says we’ll be able to replace them, as long as we have the same style.’
‘You’ll have to buy a boat,’ Ezz announced solemnly. ‘And row out to sink your own lobster creels in the bay.’
‘Not likely.’ Valentina laughed. ‘Once the renovation’s complete, Overlook will be for us to relax in. I can’t wait to pick up the key. Actually, I was wondering … Could I stay with you on the weekend of the 23rd and 24th? Gary’s parents are hosting a gathering in Warwickshire because cousins and aunts are over from America. I could easily cry off that and let Gary take Barnaby.’
Ezzie’s heart soared at the idea of two whole days with her big sister. ‘That’s not even two weeks away! Do come.’ Then reality intruded and she added, ‘I might have to work chunks of the weekend, though. I’m not sure if I can get time off when there’s family in residence.’ Then she shivered, a sea mist stealing up Causeway and trying to slither its chilly fingers into the collar of her coat. ‘Brr, it’s getting cold. I’ll walk home while we talk. I’m ready for a hot meal and TV.’
