They sat at a wooden dining table in the sitting room of Gretchen Ross’ flat. Hal had given Deb Gretchen’s details, saying that Gretchen could help answer any questions about the cottage. In an email, he’d written:
Gretchen is a mine of local information, history and – dare I say it – gossip. She’s a great lady, as Zelda would say, and she loves company, so do pop up and give her a visit at the care home if you’ve a mind to. She does still get the odd bit of post delivered to the cottage, so you might take it up to her.
There had in fact been a stack of mail in the hallway of the cottage, addressed to Gretchen, so Deb had decided to take it up to her. The drive to Gretchen’s care home looked like it took in some lovely scenery, so she’d taken advantage of a beautiful blue sky and the clear air of a spring morning and hopped in the carafter breakfast, having called Gretchen to check whether she was up for a visitor.
Deb was glad that she had, because the drive over the moors and fields, on a twisty tree-lined road was absolutely beautiful. Along the way she had passed fields with sheep grazing, others with shaggy, brown cows with long horns and cute stone cottages dotted along the landscape, sometimes arranged in a tiny village that she had driven through before she knew it was one. The odd signpost pointed to something intriguing as she drove past: castle ruins, burial mounds and a sign to a stone circle that she thought she should definitely go back and discover.
Deb wound her window down and breathed in the fragrant, herb and heather-infused air of the highlands and sighed happily. There was something so healthy and free about the air up here. As if breathing it really could give you a new life. Remake you from the inside.
I could do with being remade, she thought as she drove along.I’ve had one troublesome organ removed, so maybe it’s just my heart and brain that need replacing, or at least, cleansing.What was it that people did now? Waving sage smoke over themselves to cleanse their auras? Deb hadn’t tried it, but she thought that a good walk in the Scottish countryside would probably have the same effect.
Gretchen’s apartment at the care home was delightfully cosy, with a modern white kitchenette to one side and Gretchen’s bedroom and bathroom to the other. A log burner glowed in one corner of the sitting room, and as well as the wooden table and chairs, Gretchen had bookshelves lining one wall of the sitting room, and a brown leather sofa facing them, as well as an ergonomic recliner type chair, also in brown leather. A large window looked out onto a large garden, with oak trees along one side, and a wide lawn that had been mowed in neat stripes.
Framed book posters lined the walls: Deb recognised various bestsellers of the 80s and 90s. She’d even read a few of them.
Deb had seen a quite lovely common room, stacked with books and comfy chairs, and the gardens on the way up to Gretchen’s flat. All in all, it looked like a pretty nice place.
When she’d got there, she’d asked about the playing cards on the table – Gretchen had been playing patience, but she’d suggested that she teach Deb canasta.
‘Okay.’ Deb frowned at her hand of playing cards. ‘And the aim is to go out first?’
‘Usually, but timing is everything. Ideally, you want to wait until I’ve got a handful of cards and nothing much on the table, and then go out. Because everything still in my hand will count against me. But if I’ve got a lot of points on the table, and a few canastas, then it’s worth thinking about who’s going to come out with more points, because you only get a hundred points for going out first. A bit like life, really.’
‘Ha. Which part?’ Deb laid a four of hearts on the giveaway pile of cards next to the stack of playing cards on the table between them.
‘Holding your cards close to your chest doesn’t always pay off, and dying early’s a gyp,’ Gretchen explained, grinning. ‘Far better to lay all your cards on the table, get as many points as you can, take risks but also be a bit canny, and live your life for as long as you can. I could add some more card-playing metaphors here, but you get the idea.’
‘Playing the game. Luck changing on the turn of a card. Being dealt a bad hand. That type of thing,’ Deb chuckled, and took a sip of the tea that Gretchen had brewed in a lovely blue and white bone china teapot. The design featured a country scene, with a castle in the background and a figure depicted against trees in the foreground.
‘Exactly. I rather feel that no one gets dealt an entirely bad or good hand, most of the time. It’s very much what you make of it. Of course, some people have terrible luck. I’ve been quite fortunate, all in all. Still, I worked hard for it. And there have been ups and downs, I won’t deny that.’
‘I could say the same.’ Deb thought about the hysterectomy. On the one hand, it had been bloody painful. But, on the other, it had given her freedom. She thought again of the Little Mermaid, and the price she had paid for her legs. It wasn’t as bad, of course, because, unlike the character in that fairy tale, Deb’s operation wouldn’t make it feel like she was walking on glass for the rest of her life. That part had only lasted a month or two. And, now, she had the rest of her life to look forward to, which would be pain and discomfort free. Whenever she thought about that, she felt a little bubble of excitement in her stomach.
‘So, the laird gave you my details?’ Gretchen asked, as she studied her hand of cards.
‘Yes. He said to ask you if I needed any local info, and he’s arranged for me to be able to get groceries in town, on his tab, and dinners and lunches at the Inn, if I want. He’s been incredibly generous,’ Deb explained.
‘Ah, Hal’s a good egg.’ Gretchen nodded. ‘I don’t want that four, dear. Throw away something I want next time.’ She winked at Deb, and picked up a card from the pile. ‘Oh. That changes things somewhat.’ She whistled under her breath and laid down four eights.
‘Haha. That’s not the aim of the game,’ Deb replied. ‘And it looks like you did better on the pickup.’
‘I did. You’re right. So, what do you think of Loch Cameron so far?’ Gretchen had a shrewd gaze, and she fixed Deb with her bright eyes.
‘I like it. It’s very quaint, and the castle is beautiful.’
‘It is stunning. Lovely view on Queen’s Point. I do miss it,’ Gretchen sighed. ‘My family were tenants for years. I grew up there.’
‘It’s a gorgeous little place,’ Deb replied.
‘It certainly is.’ Gretchen looked wistful. ‘I moved back there for some years when my daughter was young. She loved it there too. That whole area has a real magic to it. I miss it.’
‘I bet. But this place is nice,’ Deb added. ‘Your apartment is really nice, and I saw a cinema and a beauty salon on the way up here.’
‘Oh, it’s not bad. I know I’m lucky to be here. But hanging out with old codgers all the time does rather grate, after a while.’ Gretchen rolled her eyes. ‘That’s partly why I like to be the point of contact for tenants at the cottage and help Hal out. It means I get to chat to people under eighty who have different things going on in their lives. I like to stay connected to what’s going on in the outside world. Hip rather than hip replacement.’ Gretchen made the peace sign with one hand, and Deb laughed.
‘I get that. You’re hip, Gretchen.’
‘Down with the kids, as they say.’ Gretchen shot Deb a playful smile and looked at her over the top of her glasses. ‘I read a lot too, and I always think that’s a good way of staying up to date with society. I love all these new young authors. Writing about sex and identity and gender and feminism and all sorts. Very eye-opening.’
