Josefin looked baffled. Ezz supposed in Brodie’s brogue it had sounded to foreign ears like ‘yukun hay a wusky on it’, and repeated his words in her English accent.
Josefin nodded enthusiastically, beaming at Brodie. ‘I like whisky.’ They began an earnest discussion about the relative merits of Talisker or the whisky liqueur Drambuie. Josefin chose Drambuie, and Brodie got busy with ice, Irn-Bru and a double Drambuie, while Ezz made a mental note to offer to drive Josefin home, imagining her falling in the copse, and having to sleep rolled up in her Puffa coat.
Soon the two women were seated near the cheerfully dancing flames of the log fire. The pub was quiet, probably because it was a weekday. The Regular Drinkers switched bewilderingly between English and Gaelic as they drank pints and exchanged banter with Brodie, deadpan until they all roared with laughter. Two middle-aged couples sat at another table, occasionally joining in.
Ezz sipped the ice-cold Irn-Bru that was almost as brightly orange as its can and brought out one of the titbits that working in the local leisure industry had lodged in her memory. ‘Drambuie’s meant to have originated in the Broadford Hotel in Broadford Bay.’
‘Oh?’ Josefin took a healthy draught of her spirit-laced version. ‘I like it. What did he say my drink is called?’
‘A Girder,’ Ezz supplied. Then, when Josefin looked uncertain, took out her phone and found an image of an iron girder.
Josefin spluttered into instant laughter, making her face rounder and redder and her eyes merry. The description ‘natural’ was perfect for her – no make-up, no highlights, a basic haircut and an out-in-all-weather complexion. ‘Very good. You don’t drink alcohol?’
Ezz shook her head. Although she liked Josefin, their relationship wasn’t close enough for her to bare that tender part of her soul. She turned the conversation. ‘How are you liking Rothach in winter?’
‘It’s not quite as cold as Sweden, but so beautiful. Tomorrow, I bring the children to the beach here in the village. If we have fine weather the next day, we are all to drive around the island, I think.’ Josefin tilted her head consideringly. ‘Perhaps not Grete. I don’t know.’
Ezzie felt curiosity stir. So far, Grete hadn’t pursued the chat about Christmas visitor attractions, despite her apparent enthusiasm during their video call of only a few days ago. ‘I haven’t seen much of her.’
Josefin crossed her legs, which were clothed in comfy brown corduroy. She frowned. ‘No, I have not either. But I have been with Mats and the children.’ Her expression softened.
Ezzie tilted her head enquiringly. ‘I’m sure you love Astrid and Alvin. They’re so cute.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Josefin beamed. ‘They are lovely children, and so lively. I have a very good job.’ She took another sip of her drink and lowered her voice confidingly. ‘I should not say it, but I like it better now I live in Mats’ apartment while Inger is away.’ Josefin peered out from a fringe that lay like a slew of quills across her forehead. ‘Since the divorce, the children spend half the week with Inger and half with Mats, so I must do the same. But now Inger is with her new partner, Andreas, on a big motor yacht, so we all stay together – Mats, the children and me. Mats, without her, is relaxed.’
Ezz stared. Mats and Inger were divorced? She’d had no idea. And a new partner for Inger? Ezz remembered her as beautiful in a way that invoked thoughts of salons,gyms and expensive boutiques, but had a trick of looking through employees as if they were part of the furniture.
While she waited to see if Josefin would expand on the subject, Ezz remembered Mats playing soldiers in the playground fort, wind-blown and laughing, silvery eyes alight. When he’d blushed beet red at being caught, she’d even felt a stirring of liking that she definitely hadn’t felt when he’d sent her to the pub with Josefin. But maybe that wasn’t too much to carp about … considering she was now in the pub with Josefin again.
Anyway, it seemed that Josefin liked Mats enough for both of them, as she continued extolling his virtues. He was kind and courteous. He never shouted at Astrid and Alvin. He’d taken a break from his job to be with his kids while their mother was away. Ezz listened, knowing that Josefin was being indiscreet about their employers, but too curious about Mats to find a way to shut her up.
Cheeks growing ruddier, Josefin drank two more Girders, which meant she’d downed three double Drambuies, and went on to talk about herself. ‘I spent my childhood north-east of Gothenburg. There were farm fields but also forests and rocks. When I was married, we lived in Gothenburg for my husband’s job, but then we separated. Our son, Lars, lives in America.’ Josefin smiled fondly when she mentioned her son, and then turned the conversation to Ezzie. ‘Where in England was your home?’
‘I came from Suffolk, a county in the east of England, where it’s quite flat and agricultural. We lived in a village in the countryside, a gorgeous place to grow up, about an hour and a half from the sea.’ Ezz was beginning to enjoy Josefin’s company. She seemed open and friendly and, like Ezz, didn’t have the people around her she’d usually hang out with. ‘It’s very different to rocky, craggy Skye.And here the sea’s only a couple of streets away from my cottage.’ Ezz smiled just to think about Rothach. ‘My sister Thea and I came here when Rothach Hall had just been restored. Thea applied for a job first, and when I saw the photos, I fell in love with the place. They needed an assistant manager, so I applied. I left an ex behind, but we weren’t married.’ The explanation tripped from Ezz’s tongue. None of it was untrue, but it left out the part about her and Thea having other things to leave behind in Suffolk apart from boyfriends.
By ten o’clock, Ezz, Josefin and the Regular Drinkers were the only ones left in the pub, the couples having pulled on their parkas and left. One of the Regular Drinkers, who habitually ran a hand over his suede-like head of buzzed hair, smiled at Ezz across the room, making Josefin send Ezz a meaningful waggle of her eyebrows. ‘You have an admirer.’
‘I think he’s called Gus – short for Angus,’ Ezz murmured. ‘And he’s a married dad. Not on my radar.’
Josefin pulled a face. ‘Oh, no. No married men.’
Then the door opened and Mats Larsson strolled in, pink-cheeked from the cold but wearing a thick blue-grey fleece in place of a coat. Something flared in Ezz’s chest at seeing him so unexpectedly, and it took her a second to assume her professional smile.
‘Hej, hej,’ he said to Josefin, grinning, then to Ezz, more formally, ‘Good evening. I’ve come to give Josefin a lift home.’ He glanced at their glasses, which were both half-full of orange liquid. ‘Do you mind if I grab a quick coffee while you finish your drinks? Mum said she’ll listen out for the children.’
Ezz felt she had no choice but to mask her surprise and say, ‘Please do.’
‘This is called “a Girder”.’ Josefin picked up her drink to show Mats. ‘It’s whisky liqueur with Irn-Bru. It’s growing on me.’
He answered good-naturedly. ‘Don’t tempt me when I’m the one who has to drive back.’ He ordered black coffee from Rosamund, who’d taken over the bar from Brodie, and then pulled up a stool at their table. He glanced around at the proliferation of twinkle lights and polished brass. ‘Nice place,’ he said to Rosamund, when she brought his mug of coffee.
Rosamund beamed. ‘Thanks. It is.’
As Josefin had trained all her attention on Mats and was chatting about whisky, Ezz pushed away the last of her sugary drink. ‘If you have a lift home, Josefin, I’ll go.’
Josefin rose to give her a warm hug, but didn’t attempt to change her mind. ‘Thanks for coming out with me, Ezzie. I enjoyed it.’
‘Me, too.’ Ezz said general goodnights, pulling on her coat as she shuffled from behind the table.
