Chapter Sixteen
Morning came too swiftly. Barnaby rang on Valentina’s phone, shouting excitedly, ‘Hello, Auntie Ezzie, it was snowing but now it’s raining, and we’ve got a new house and are you coming soon?’
‘Sure am,’ she answered sleepily. ‘It’s raining?’ She swung her legs off the bed and twitched the curtain aside to see that a freezing rain was washing away the last of the short-lived snow. Then she remembered the half-cleared kitchen she and Mats had abandoned last night in favour of the glorious hours in her bed. ‘Got a couple of jobs to do and then I’ll be with you. Shall I come to Thistledome? Or meet you at Overlook Cottage?’
Valentina’s voice joined Barnaby’s. ‘Shall we meet at the cottage? Barnaby can’t wait.’
‘Fine.’ Ezz smothered a yawn. ‘Be there soon.’ She showered and dressed, choosing her hiking trousers because they were showerproof, and she could wear leggings underneath. Outdoor wear was a practical choicein Skye, regardless of whether you actually hiked in your hiking trousers or walked in your walking boots. She ran downstairs. On the threshold of the kitchen, she almost fell down the step in surprise. The washing up was done, dried and left for her to put away, the table and surfaces gleaming. Mats must have already cleared in here by the time he came to take his leave of her in the early hours.
‘Damn, you’re good,’ she said into the empty room. ‘I could get used to you.’ Except there was no point in that.
Leaving the fairy lights twinkling in case her family members joined her here later, she set out after breakfast. White clouds were smeared with grey, like cotton wool that had been used to clean off last night’s mascara. The rain stung her face and only the occasional stubborn white line of snow still edged a cottage roof. Ezzie strode down Creag an Lolaire, the pewter sea looming closer. The tide seemed to be running hard and a handful of white boats had appeared in the sheltered mooring, as if their owners knew wind was coming. Skye’s weather was capricious.
A strong smell of woodsmoke came from a chimney, and she imagined those inside reading beside the fire or watching TV. She was happy outside though, despite the raindrops flying on the wind making her screw up her eyes. It was a good-to-be-alive day, the memories of last night plastering a beaming smile on her face and her body heavy and pleasantly aching in important areas.
Hands jammed in pockets, she turned right onto Harbour View and hurried along its curve. Nobody else was in sight and she wondered if Mats would bring the children to the beach as planned now the rain was coming in horizontally off the sea, ice spicules amongst the drops.
Gary’s enormous, blue, gas-guzzling SUV was pulled up outside Fishermen’s Cottages, and the rain suddenly cameon as if it wanted to beat her into the ground. The sea’s surface whipped up like steam, the gulls rode the wind with shrieks of glee and Ezzie broke into a run.
Panting, she reached the decrepit front door of Overlook Cottage and twisted the doorknob, relieved when it opened and she half-fell into the narrow hall. Barnaby jumped through the doorway from the front room, his wellies making a clatter on the bare boards. ‘Auntie Ezzie!’
‘Barnaby!’ Ezzie was about to hug him, then realised her coat was soaked, and contented herself with tousling his hair. ‘This is awesome. I didn’t think I was going to see you till Christmas.’
Barnaby beamed, his mousy hair sticking up at the front. ‘Christmas is only three weeks away. But this weekend we’re going to have dinner and spend time together, aren’t we?’
Ezz grinned at this obvious parroting of his parents’ promises. Or his mum’s, anyway. ‘We definitely are.’
‘Hello.’ Valentina’s voice floated down the stairs. ‘Be down in a minute.’
Gary loomed from the living room, his hair a darker version of his son’s, without the cow’s lick because he was receding. ‘Great to see you, Ezzie.’ He’d grown a moustache, which made him look older than his fifty-four years.
Ezzie turned her cold cheek for Gary to kiss, the moustache bristling against her like a punk caterpillar. ‘Great to see you too,’ she said brightly, though she and Thea were only ever happy to see Gary because it usually meant Valentina too. The way he called them ‘girls’ was patronising, as was the way he occasionally looked down his nose at … well, anyone who wasn’t Gary. He wasn’t good at shouldering his share of household tasks andthough he and Barnaby obviously loved each other, he also dodged the more onerous parenting duties. Ezz said, ‘Let me dump my coat … somewhere.’
‘There are a few old nails sticking out of the wall for coat hooks,’ Gary said drily. ‘Valentina’s drawing a plan of the bathroom for the builder. Elastic walls would be a good thing.’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘And I thought we were slumming it in Thistledome until we came down here. Whatever possessed Valentina—’
Ezz was stung by the ‘slumming it’. ‘Thea’s given up her lovely cottage to you this weekend, when she’s not even here to enjoy the visit. Newly pregnant and facing a long drive, she made time to change the bed so you could have it.’ Probably Dev had done it, but that wasn’t the point.
Gary undoubtedly thought his grin was boyish and charming. ‘I know. But I’m much more Broadford Hotel than cramped cottage.’
Ezzie reminded herself that he was Valentina’s husband and managed to smile. ‘You must love the view from Overlook Cottage.’ She brushed past him into the front room where the window looked over Causeway to the rocky beach and troubled sea. ‘You’ll be able to see every change in the weather. Even since I came in, a blue patch has miraculously appeared over the bay.’ The rain had eased to no more than the occasional spot, as if feeling its work done after chasing her here.
‘Great, if you like weather,’ Gary answered off-handedly, turning from the window. ‘I’ve no idea what we’ll do in this freezing, grotty shell of a place all day.’
Tempted to ask why he’d come on the trip at all, Ezzie turned to Barnaby, who was suddenly looking around with a disappointed expression. Probably he hadn’t noticed the cottage’s shortcomings until Gary had pointed them out.To a six-year-old, a car ride through the snowy darkness to the village where his aunts lived by the sea would be exciting. That he was bundled up in a fleece and boots against the chill inside the cottage wouldn’t bother him. Hoping to reignite his excitement, Ezz said, ‘Which is your room going to be, Barnaby? Will you show me? I wonder what it’ll look like when it’s painted and carpeted.’
‘Yeah!’ Smile restored, Barnaby spun around and Ezz followed in his wake, leaving Gary to hate the ‘freezing, grotty shell’ alone.
The staircase had been repaired, and now felt solid underfoot, the smell of fresh wood combatting some of the mustiness. Valentina emerged through a frame that was obviously destined to be a doorway now that one room had been partitioned into two, her hair in a bun, her top half swaddled in an enormous jumper that could once have been Gary’s. Ezzie launched herself at her elder sister for a hug, realising only once she was in those familiar arms how good it felt; how right. To prevent her mind from darting up the parallel track of thinking about Julia and Iona, who she would presumably have loved as much as she loved Valentina and Thea now, had she been brought up by Kay and Rick, she explained, ‘I asked Barnaby to bring me upstairs to show me which room will be his.’
‘This one,’ Barnaby shouted, capering on the spot as he waited for Ezz to follow him through the original doorway. The new stud partition wall was the only clean thing about the room. A patch of floorboards had been lifted to allow for the passage of wires or pipes. The walls had been scraped of wallpaper and revealed a patchwork of drab paint that attested to decoration through the years.
‘It’s great to see how much progress Mummy’s madealready. What colour will your walls be?’ she asked Barnaby brightly.
‘Blue,’ he shouted.
Valentina slipped her arm along his shoulder. ‘Very shouty today, Barnaby. Just lower your volume a little bit.’ But she smiled.
Barnaby gazed up at her. ‘Blue,’ he repeated softly. ‘With Minecraft on the duvet. Or maybe footballs.’
