Chapter Eleven
As was usual in the winter, Ezz arrived home in the dark, to an unlit, empty cottage. Her garden light picked out pebbles of ice on the path left by the hailstorm. An iron frost had clamped down on the island and, despite her scarf, coat and boots, she shivered.
Diagonally across the road stood the Jolly Abbot, windows cosily ablaze. Brodie was out the front, rolling a metal beer barrel, hair and beard dark against the light streaming through the door. He waved, then hugged himself to mime how cold it was. She waved back imagining strolling across and into the bar, ordering a large glass of chardonnay and perching on a bar stool to peruse the food menu. The dance of cold wine in her mouth, the smoothness on her throat. The softening of her muscles as the weight of the bad day rolled from her shoulders. Another glass while she ate. And then the slow burn of whisky to round off the meal. Maybe the Regular Drinkers would be in, and they’d chat. She’d have companywithout the effort of unpausing her dating apps and going through the palaver of arranging a date.
With an effort, she turned away from what would surely be a horrible back-sliding into destructive behaviour, drunken mistakes and hangovers. Her door opened with a small sucking sound, as if to warn her that it had been thinking of freezing shut.
Exhausted by this afternoon’s emotional hurricane, she stepped indoors. The door closed behind her with a click and she paused in the dark, listening to the quiet whirr of the boiler that was all that welcomed her home. Abruptly, she missed the company of Thea’s fluffy little dog Daisy, who she’d often looked after on her days off. Now Thea’s lovely boyfriend Dev worked from home, Daisy stayed with him.
When Ezz had finally stopped crying earlier, it had been all she could do to persuade Thea that she’d survive being home alone tonight, knowing Thea and Dev had already booked dinner at a favourite restaurant. ‘You can come with us,’ Thea had gabbled anxiously. ‘Or we’ll eat at home. Or at the Jolly Abbot. Or we can get Rosamund to make it up as a takeaway and eat at yours …’ Thea had so obviously wanted to ease Ezz’s pain, and Ezz had rarely loved her sister more, even while firmly vetoing each and every suggestion. She’d blown her nose and asked, ‘How did you know I was upset?’
Thea rubbed her arm. ‘Mats Larsson heard you crying and Grete called me.’
‘Oh, crap.’ Ezz sniffed. So, Mats had heard her bawling like a baby.
Later in the afternoon, he’d stuck his head into her office. ‘All right?’
She’d pressed her lips together to hold back fresh sobsand tried simultaneously to turn her mouth up at the corners in a smile and nod. She’d probably looked like a deranged puppet.
An hour later, it had been Grete’s turn to pop in. ‘Here are some pepparkakor for you to try. Gingerbread,’ she added, though Ezz would recognise most Christmas-related sweet treats at fifty paces.
Then Josefin brought in hot chocolate. ‘I made one too many by mistake.’ Her gaze had radiated sympathy. ‘And this was on the reception desk.’ She put down a white, square envelope. On the front was written neatlyEsmerelda Wynter.
Ezz had smiled and taken the letter without comment and without opening it. She appreciated every little gesture meant to make her feel better but had longed to be alone in her own place. And now she was.
And it didn’t feel that great. Her head ached like hell.
Wearily, she fumbled for the light switch and then the yellow walls and red carpet became real. Slowly, she hung up her coat, changed her shoes for the purple slipper boots that had been a birthday gift from Thea, and headed for the kitchen. While she made coffee, she filled the silence by playing music from her phone through the small speaker on the windowsill, then seated herself at the table. That her birth parents and a hand-delivered letter in unfamiliar handwriting had turned up on the same day seemed too much of a coincidence not to be connected, so it was no shock when she finally slit the envelope and found the letter inside had been signed ‘Kay’.
The note was on the headed paper of the Scalpay View Hotel, the kind hotels put in rooms and visitors took away as souvenirs.
Dear Esmerelda,
I’m so sorry we made you angry. I don’t deal well with rage and find it hard to keep my end up in arguments, but there are a few things I wish I’d felt able to say to you. Here they are:
A birth mother is a mother for life, regardless of whether she was able to parent her child.
I envy your adoptive parents because I had the grief and anguish of giving you up and they had the joy of loving you. Still, I’m grateful to them for giving you everything I couldn’t – a good life, a nice home, a family, and others to love you.
I’ve loved you since your conception, and so has Rick. Your not loving us won’t stop us loving you.
Love,
Kay
Ezzie sipped her coffee and read the letter again.Rage.Had she been guilty of rage? If so, it shamed her. Now, she wished she’d been able to keep the meeting polite and light, asked enough questions to assuage her curiosity, exchanged handshakes or awkward hugs, and said goodbye. Instead, she’d lost control so badly that she couldn’t remember her own words.
Her doorbell rang, a fruityding-donglike a distant relative of a church bell. Her heart tumbled. Was it Kay and Rick? Not knowing her address, had they followed her home from work?
Apprehensively, she padded to the door. The Isle of Skye wasn’t the kind of locale where doors had spyholes, and the view from the windows was blocked by the porch, so she opened the door a crack and peeped around it.
Then she opened it wider. ‘Mats.’ She heard relief with top notes of welcome in her voice.
He looked pleased at this reception. His beanie hat was blue today and it brought out the streaks of blue in his eyes, even in the scant light spilling from the hall. Behind him, the frost was beginning to look like a silver-white wolf pelt thickening for winter. He held an insulated bag horizontally between his hands. ‘Mum’s certain that you won’t cook tonight, so has despatched me with a meal and hopes you won’t feel awkward about accepting it.’
His eyes crinkled, and her heart gave a giant thump. She stepped back to allow him in, as if there was nothing strange in the son of the bosses driving into the village to deliver her supper. ‘That’s so kind.’
He brought a rush of the outdoors with him, fresh and chilly. ‘Kitchen?’ he suggested, though already halfway down the short hall.
