‘Hi there.’
‘Skye. Good to see you.’ Ross came round to the front of the deli counter. ‘I really appreciate you helping us out.’
‘Better wait until tomorrow evening to say thank you,’ Skye laughed, reaching up to kiss his cheek. ‘I hope your excellent reputation will still be intact.’
Ross wouldn’t tell her that Tom had said more or less the same thing.
‘I’m not worried,’ he said.
Skye was petite and very pretty in a quilted jacket, her fair curls spilling out from under a pink woolly hat. She took the hat off and shook her head so that the curls sprang back into place.
‘I’ve got my cap and my chef’s whites with me,’ she said. ‘Lucky I kept them or I’d have to borrow from Tom.’
Ross thought of his burly chef, his girth evidence of his love of food. ‘I don’t think that would have worked, do you?’
She put her hand on his arm. ‘You and I could probably both get into them.’
He took a step back.
‘I wasn’t going to pounce on you.’ Skye grinned at him. ‘I’m in professional mode today. Besides, I was speaking to Stella and—’
‘And what?’
‘When you told her I was coming down here, did you tell her I was cooking? I don’t think I actually said that? Anyway, she was like a deer in the headlights. Stricken.’
Ross went to call through the connecting door. ‘Tom! Skye’s here.’ He turned back. ‘Your name didn’t come up,’ he said. ‘What I do or who I see is nothing to do with her.’
‘If you say so,’ said Skye, taking off her jacket.
‘You and Tom can sit here to go through the menu and I’ll throw in my two pence-worth if necessary.’ He indicated the table in the window. ‘This is going to be my mini café when the coffee machine is delivered in the New Year. Ah, here’s Tom now,’ he said, thankful to have a third party in the room. ‘You remember Skye, Tom? She enjoyed your dinner here a few months ago.’
Well, that was clever, reminding Skye of that evening.
‘She’ll have to cook something for me tonight and see if I enjoy it!’ Tom said, shaking Skye’s hand heartily.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Ross said, as the bell indicated he had a customer. He was pleased to see that it was Carol, Gav’s wife.
‘Rossie! How are you? I’ve only got a minute. Gav’s sister says you’ve got a brilliant venison pâté – I thought it would make an easy starter on Christmas Day. What’ll I need – a couple of those big tubs?’
‘How many are you feeding?’
She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘My mum. Me. Gav. His sister and brother-in-law. Their three kids. Although they’ll hate it. I’ll get them something else. Some of your smoked salmon. And give me two lots of pâté anyway – maybe we’ll have unexpected guests.’ She gave him one of her looks, as if he should be able to tell what she was thinking. ‘And,’ she rattled on, as he rang up her purchases, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come round to ours tomorrow night, have a bite to eat, catch up?’
‘Are you kidding?’ He grinned at her. ‘Two days before Christmas? It’ll be a madhouse here.’
‘That’s what Gav said but I wanted to ask you something. We’re having the babe christened the week after New Year, the Sunday, and it would be great to have a lunch party here at Uncle Ross’s restaurant afterwards.’
‘Oh, well, if you’re putting business my way,’ Ross teased. ‘It would be good to catch up with you both. No chance of tomorrow evening, though, Carol. I could pop up for an hour during the day if that suits you.’
‘Twoish, threeish suit you? I’m going to Edinburgh with Mum. I’ll text you.’ She blew him a kiss as she left.
He must remember to ask Bette if the baby was a boy or a girl. Since it must be about two months old it was rather late in the day to ask Gav’s sister to remind him, and he could hardly refer to the child as ‘it’ tomorrow.
He hoped that Gav would be there too – they hadn’t seen each other properly for ages, plus he had a calming effect on Carol. If she let him get a word in edgeways.
The received wisdom was that opposites attract, but it was true too that some couples looked almost as if they could be brother and sister. Did they start out that way or did they change over the years?
The ‘opposites attract’ theory wasn’t only about physical appearance of course but about personality, interests, outlook. Gav thought before he spoke and hid his dry sense of humour until he knew someone really well, while Carol fizzed with life and could talk for Scotland – what you saw was what you got with Carol right from the start. How would their baby turn out? Ross wondered. Which parent would it take after or would it be a combination of the two of them?
He wasn’t sure if he liked being called ‘Uncle Ross’ – it was sweet in one way but positively elderly in another …
‘Ross.’ Tom beckoned to him. ‘We’ve been through the menus. See what you think.’
‘I trust you but let’s have a look.’ He pulled up a chair.
‘Skye says she makes a mean risotto,’ Tom said, ‘so we’ve put that as the veggie option at lunchtime.’
Ross read down the menus quickly. It all sounded delicious. Apart from the mushroom risotto. But that was just him. He was sure the customers would love it. ‘Terrific.’ He nodded at Tom. ‘You could find yourself out of a job.’
‘No chance,’ said Skye. ‘I’m looking forward to this but I prefer to set my own hours, thank you. I’m afraid I didn’t have what it took to work all hours, every day. I couldn’t stand the heat so I got out of the kitchen.’
‘It’s not easy,’ Tom agreed. ‘But I can’t imagine doing anything else.’
‘Although funnily enough, I love staying really late at the workshop when I’ve got an order to finish. It gives me a real buzz.’
Tom waggled his eyebrows up and down. ‘This is a pretty buzzy place, isn’t it, Ross?’
Ross didn’t rise to Tom’s banter. ‘I’ll catch up with you later,’ he said to Skye. ‘Tom will show you the kitchen now.’
‘Yes, boss.’ Tom gave a mock salute and was about to escort Skye through the back of the deli when Bette came in.
Bad timing. Bette had guessed that he’d spent a night with Skye – she’d enquired after Maddie and then put two and two together. She made no comment – why should she? He was a free agent. But he suspected she wasn’t happy about it because of Skye and Maddie being friends.
‘Mum, you remember Skye?’ he said, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘She came to stay with Maddie one weekend.’
His mother didn’t let him down. ‘Yes, of course.’ She smiled politely at Skye. ‘You brought Alice that lovely jug you made. She was thrilled with it.’
‘I’m sorry about her accident,’ Skye said.
‘My father and I are hoping we’ll be able to visit her soon. Ross, do you have time for a quick word?’
‘Of course. Tom, Skye, I’ll see you later. Skye, I’m doing front-of-house tonight. Everything all right, Mum?’
‘Fine,’ Bette said. ‘Just to remind you that I’ll be out all day tomorrow.’ She was going to pick up Kenneth, Ross’s dad, from Glasgow Airport early in the morning. They had to see a solicitor to finalise the purchase of their new house and then would visit relatives of Kenneth’s before coming home. ‘Will you have time to pop in and see your grandpa?’
‘Of course. Is he all right?’
‘He’s been very down since Alice’s accident. He won’t admit it but I can tell. They’ve been such good friends all these years. There’s hardly been a day when they haven’t chewed the fat, put the world to rights. He’s missing her.’
‘I’ll go after lunch. Then I’m nipping up to see Gav and Carol – they want to have the christening party here. Oh, Mum, I’ve forgotten, did they have a boy or a girl?’
‘Men.’ Bette shook her head. ‘It’s a little girl. Emily.’
‘Emily, Emily. Right, I’ve got that. Hope all goes well tomorrow – oh, but I’ll see you later. I’ll sleep at yours tonight and tomorrow if that’s okay – Skye will be in the flat.’
‘I see.’ Bette’s face gave no indication of her thoughts. ‘Of course you can.’ She made no move to go. ‘Have you … have you heard anything from Stella?’
‘Why should I have?’
‘It’s a hard time for her. Alice is everything to those girls. It’s at a time like this that Stella must feel the lack of other relatives.’
‘I suppose so. I didn’t think of it like that.’ Ross thought of his own family. Bette was an only child but on his father’s side there was a host of uncles and aunts and cousins. ‘But what can I do? We’re barely on speaking terms – and that was her idea, remember?’
‘I know,’ Bette sighed. ‘I’ll never understand why she did what she did, taking off to London like that.’
‘Yes, well.’ Ross didn’t want to have yet another variation of this conversation. ‘What’s done is done. Excuse me, Mum. I’ve a pile of things to do.’
‘Sorry, darling.’ Bette stretched up to give him a quick hug. ‘See you later.’
Back behind the counter, Ross picked up his phone. What could he say in a text message to Stella that would be supportive but not friendly? It was too much of an ask.
Especially as he’d deleted her from his contacts list.
Stella got off the number twenty-four bus. It was late morning, three days before Christmas, and Princes Street bustled with shoppers. The German market beside the Royal Scottish Academy was so busy she could hardly walk through it so she retreated back onto the street.
On her right-hand side a train glided into Waverley Station. Down in Princes Street Gardens water had been flooded in and frozen to make a skating rink and it was busy both with competent skaters and people holding on to each other, laughing if they fell over. That was a comic Christmas-card scene – but the wider picture showed the dull winter green of the gardens; stalls selling food and mulled wine; the wheel – Edinburgh’s equivalent of the London Eye over the Christmas period; the towering monument to one of Scotland’s greatest, if now largely unread, writers; and behind that, but from this angle almost appearing to be part of it, that brightly coloured fairground ride that moved up and down as well as whizzed round and round. A more-than-life-size statue of Sir Walter Scott sat in the middle of his monument, stonily unaware of the gaiety going on around him. But none of these attractions were much fun if you were on your own.
She crossed the road and went up to the lingerie department of Marks & Spencer’s to choose nightwear for Alice. It was full of men, presumably doing last-minute Christmas shopping. She exited the shop as soon as she’d made her purchases and walked round to Hanover Street, where it was a little quieter. A coffee would be good before she faced the crowded shops again.
Grand old buildings, modern office blocks, tenement flats, all huddled together. Edinburgh was a city that had grown organically over many centuries. She knew it well but it could still surprise her. She’d forgotten how breathtaking the view was from further down Hanover Street when the road sloped away and you found yourself looking right over the city to the Firth of Forth, and beyond to the coast of Fife.
Brrr! It was cold, much colder than in London. The downside of that view was the wind whistling off the water and up the street. She didn’t remember it bothering her before. The last fifteen months in the south must have softened her. But it was lovely to be back, despite the circumstances, and for the moment to have no one to please but herself. To wander down this street with its cafés – many more since she’d last been here – and its small art galleries …
She stopped in her tracks. The painting displayed in the front of the Lothian Gallery’s window looked to be very much in the style of the oil Lilias had given to Alice. A seascape this time, in blues and greys – who knew there were so many different tones of these two colours? A boat on the horizon disappeared the closer Stella got to it.
This couldn’t be by Lilias, could it? Was there a signature? Yes, but it was difficult to make out. The surname might begin with Av. She didn’t know if she’d ever heard what Lilias’s second name was. The first initial could be an L but was equally likely to be I.
The gallery’s location suggested prestige and high prices. Stella peered inside, caught someone’s eye. Should she go in or not? She looked at the seascape again, and thought of the painting hanging in Alice’s hall. Yes, she would swear they were by the same person. There was one way to find out.
‘The Irene Avery? We’ve only recently acquired it. I shouldn’t think we’ll have it for long. She’s much sought after but, sadly, not very prolific.’ The assistant was a smooth-talking young man. How could you tell if what he said was true or a sales pitch?
‘What can you tell me about her?’
He reached for a sheet of paper and handed it over. ‘We don’t know a lot, unfortunately. That’s about it.’
‘Can I keep this?’ Stella asked, not wanting to read it in front of him.
‘Of course.’
‘And can I ask the price of the painting?’
His eyes lit up. ‘It’s on there as well.’
Stella unfolded the sheet she was about to put in her bag. She couldn’t help gasping. ‘Fifteen thousand pounds!’
‘Beautiful to have on your wall, and a sound investment, I can promise you.’
‘Well, thank you for your help. I can’t buy it but I agree it’s beautiful. I’m sure, as you say, that you won’t have it long.’
‘I can take it out of the window so you can see it better,’ the young man persisted.
Luckily the door was pushed open at that moment to announce a well-heeled couple and Stella made her escape. Perhaps they would be the new owners of the painting by Irene Avery, whoever she was.
She ducked into the nearest café, ordered a latte, and sat down to see if the information on the paper provided any clues.
Irene Lilias Avery was born in London in 1943 and entered the Royal College of Art in 1962. She left the RCA without finishing her degree. Nevertheless, she had several successful exhibitions in London before moving, with her sister, to live quietly in the south of Scotland. Her first exhibition in many years, in Edinburgh in 2015, was a sell-out. Her early work has been reappraised and now commands high prices.
There followed a string of review quotes: Stunning … traditionally modern … where have you been, Irene? … everyone wants an Avery.
Stella felt stunned herself.
Why was Lilias – because it was undoubtedly her – living with Alice as if she didn’t have two pennies to rub together? And what happened after that promising start to her career?
She wrapped her hands round the warm cup. Gray might be able to throw some light on the matter – and she could tell him about the unexpected visit to the Infirmary she’d made after she’d spoken to him this morning.
Huddling into the corner of the café she tried to speak on her phone at a level that he could hear but that wouldn’t disturb the other customers. Gray was happy to know that he should be able to visit his old friend soon and promised that he would walk round to tell Lilias that Alice was improving.
‘Talking of Lilias, Gray, I’m in Hanover Street and I’ve seen a painting of hers in a gallery,’ Stella said. ‘Did you know she’s very well thought of?’ Shamefacedly, she recalled her quick dismissal of Gray’s high opinion of Lilias’s work the other day in the car, and her own subsequent amazement when she saw an example for herself in Hill View.
‘Yes, there was quite a bit of publicity about her last year when she had an exhibition,’ Gray said. ‘An interesting character. Problems with her nerves most of her life, I believe. Or at least that’s what they used to call it. Shame. Probably could have been helped if she was born later. But such talent.’
‘How come she’s ended up staying with Alice?’
‘Lived with her younger sister, bossed about by her by all accounts. Then at the ripe old age of sixty-five the sister upped and got married. Lilias had never lived by herself. Didn’t know what to do. Alice heard about her and, well, you know your granny.’
‘I do know,’ said Stella.
‘She not only asked Lilias to come and stay with her but persuaded her to start painting again, and rang around the galleries, persisting until she got someone to come down here. Lilias was offered an exhibition on the spot.’
‘Quite a story. I love her Hill View painting, although it did cause Alice to end up in hospital.’
Stella became aware that the woman at the next table had paused, a piece of millionaire shortbread halfway to her mouth, obviously listening to the conversation.
‘Gray, I’m in a café. I better go.’
‘Hold on, Stella. You’re the second Greenlaw sister I’ve heard from today. Maddie phoned me after you did this morning.’
‘Maddie phoned!’ She was speaking too loudly. Now other people were turning in her direction, torn between disapproval and nosiness. ‘Gray, I can’t talk now. How is she?’
‘Great. But wondering of course why she’s not been able to speak to Alice.’
‘She must be worried sick. I’ll call you right back.’
She gulped down the remainder of her coffee. Back in Hanover Street she found a doorway to a shop that was shut for refurbishment and scrolled for Gray’s home number. He must have been waiting by the phone.
‘I had to tell her, Stella. I hope I did the right thing. Not the whole story. Just that Alice had hurt her ankle falling off a ladder and was in hospital in Edinburgh.’
‘Yes – it’s true as far as it goes anyway. But what else did she say? What’s she doing?’
‘Having a whale of a time by the sound of it. Most of Charlie’s family are artists one way or another. Maddie’s in her element,’ Gray laughed.
‘But does she know why he and Alice lost contact?’ It was lovely that Maddie was happy but there were questions that had to be asked.
‘You know, I’m not sure that he knows very much himself – he wasn’t much more than a baby apparently when he was adopted.’
‘Adopted? That’s so sad. I wonder what happened, what Alice will remember? But she would have been very little herself.’ All those years of separation. ‘I can see why it would be too painful for her to think about, never mind talk about.’
‘Indeed,’ said Gray. ‘So Maddie knows now that Alice had her accident before she could tell you about it. Hold on, I’ll give you the number – it’s Charlie’s landline.’
Stella put her handbag on the ground so she could have both hands free, and alternately listened to Gray and punched in the numbers.
‘It’ll be night in Sydney, won’t it?’ she asked. ‘Do you know what time?’
‘Not sure – ten, eleven o’clock? Maybe later.’
‘Is it too late to call?’
‘Up to you, sweetheart. I think it’s time you and Maddie talked. You can reassure her about Alice and maybe get a message from Charlie to pass on to her.’
Stella gathered up the lapels of her jacket and held them to her neck. ‘I wish I was in Sydney – it’s freezing here! Yes, I’ll call her now. And if Alice can have visitors you’ll come up on Christmas Eve?’
‘You bet. Do you think I should take Lilias?’
‘Maybe wait a bit longer for that. Until Alice is well enough to cope with her. She’s quite hard work. It would be great if Bette could come though – she’s always so practical.’
‘And you’ll come back down with us, for Christmas?’
‘I don’t know, Gray.’ No. No. No. ‘I’ll ring Maddie now. I’ll be in touch.’
Eagerly she keyed in the number. There was so much to say even if it couldn’t all be said while standing in a draughty doorway. She’d repeat what Gray had told Maddie about Alice, not mentioning that she’d been knocked out; she’d say she was staying in Maddie’s room and then she’d hear all about their great-uncle and his family. She could almost hear Maddie’s excitement as she waited.
‘Charlie Hollis.’ Hollis. So that’s why she couldn’t find him on the web. It was him – Alice’s long-lost brother.
‘Hello, this is Stella. Maddie’s sister. Alice’s granddaughter.’
‘Stella! That’s made my day. Are you as terrific as your sister? We love her! And Alice – she’s in hospital? That’s not good.’
‘She’s doing well,’ Stella said, mentally crossing her fingers. How dreadful it would have been if she’d had to give Charlie bad news. ‘I’ll see her tonight. I can’t tell you how thrilled she’ll be to know I’ve spoken to you.’
‘You give her a big hug from me, Stella, and one for yourself. Maddie’s right here.’
Maddie wanted to know how Alice had fallen and how she was, and she was frustrated that she couldn’t speak to her.
‘You came home when you heard about it?’
‘I’m in Edinburgh, staying in your room. Well, at the moment I’m standing in Hanover Street in a howling gale.’
‘I’m standing in Charlie’s hall. I can see yellow sand and blue sea. Blue-green sea. It’s beautiful. We’re going to have Christmas on the beach.’
‘Lucky old you! So, they’re nice, are they?’
‘Fantastic. Imagine us having cousins and an auntie and everything!’ And she was off, sounding as excited as Stella had imagined. The names of Charlie’s wife and daughters and grandchildren, even a great-grandchild. The shops, the crafts, in Coolharbour. The endless sunshine. Eventually she ran out of breath.
‘Sorry Stell, this call must be costing you a fortune. I’ve got a phone now – Briony helped me choose.’ Before Stella had a chance to ask how Briony fitted into the family, Maddie gave Stella her new number and asked, ‘Will Alice get out of hospital for Christmas?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Oops. Maddie would be suspicious – surely a broken ankle wouldn’t merit being in for another few days. ‘Mads, it’s great to hear you. I think I’m about to run out of charge.’ Which was true. ‘We’ll speak soon.’
Isabel kicked off her shoes and swung her legs onto the sofa. ‘I hate Thursdays. Especially the Thursday before Christmas. Late-night shopping night. Two days to go! Two days to go! Not sure my tootsies want to believe that though. They’re ready to go home for Christmas right now.’
Stella laughed. ‘It must be hard being on your feet all day. Guess what.’ She picked up her phone and waved it at Isabel. ‘I’ve got an app that will let me contact Maddie easily, and not use up all my battery.’ She told Isabel about her conversation with Maddie – and Charlie. ‘Hearing that I spoke to him was better than any medicine for Alice tonight.’
‘It’s just like that telly programme I catch sometimes,’ Isabel said. ‘Families get separated for all sorts of reasons. It’s heartbreaking – I always have a box of tissues handy when I watch. But it’s amazing the ways people can be traced. Alice must be sooo happy. How about a Chinese takeaway to celebrate?’
Stella thought about it.
‘Why don’t we go out? My treat.’ Hang the expense, she thought. ‘Is there somewhere nice nearby?’
‘Ooh you don’t have to do that, Stella.’
‘I do,’ said Stella. ‘I really appreciate being able to stay here and you’ve been so nice.’
‘There’s a new Italian restaurant round the corner,’ Isabel said. ‘Skye and I had a pizza there when it opened. Great! I don’t feel sleepy any more.’
Stella didn’t want to talk about Skye. ‘Right,’ she said. She stood up and held out her hand to pull Isabel to her feet. ‘Sounds good,’ she said. ‘I feel hungry just thinking about it.’
The street sparkled at night; in fact it looked better in the dark than during the day. Christmas trees shone out of most of the windows of the flats in the tenement buildings. Fairy lights. Baubles. Tinsel. Some a myriad of colours, some in tasteful themes.
At Hill View, the tree was always in the front hall, never put up until three evenings before Christmas. Alice made a party of the occasion, with homemade mince pies and star-shaped biscuits. When they’d been at primary school they asked friends, including Ross, round to join in the tree decorating.
Every year Alice and Maddie would contrive to make the tree slightly different in appearance from the year before, with decorations of their own making.
Then there were precious glass balls with nativity scenes inside that had been in their grandfather’s family, carefully taken out every year and a thing of wonder to the girls when they were little.
The fairy was bought for them by Alice the first Christmas they were with her. They all had to make a wish, Alice said, but they mustn’t tell anybody what it was. I wish my mummy and daddy would come back. That was Stella’s first Christmas wish, maybe the second too. But after that the wishes were more easily granted. I wish for a doll’s pram. I wish Granny would let me walk to school on my own. I wish I’d pass my exams. She didn’t know about Maddie but she still silently spoke to the Christmas fairy as it was placed at the top of the tree.
Alice always bought the tree locally. Would it be delivered as usual? Stella suddenly wondered. She hated to think of it being dragged into the hall and left lying, undecorated, the fairy and the nativity baubles still wrapped in tissue paper in their special boxes in the dark cupboard under the stairs.
She was glad to sit down at the restaurant table. High heels and cobbled streets were not an ideal combination.
Warm garlicky smells came from the open kitchen where the chefs could be seen tossing pizza dough, and she felt herself relax into her comfortable chair.
Isabel leaned back too. ‘Thanks for suggesting this,’ she said. ‘I can almost feel the Christmas break starting now. Two days to go!’
‘Are you looking forward to going to your parents’?’
Isabel nodded. ‘Bliss. Mum always makes me have breakfast in bed. And we’re all going to my brother’s for Christmas lunch. He’s got two kids. It’ll be fun.’
Stella felt a stab of envy. She missed the idea of having a mum and dad more than the reality because she hardly remembered her parents. There were photos of them of course and Alice told them stories about when their father was little but now Stella wondered what her and Maddie’s lives would have been like if the accident hadn’t happened, if they’d had a proper family. But that sounded so disloyal to Alice.
‘Where do your parents live?’ she asked, realising she knew very little about her companion.
‘On a farm near Stirling,’ Isabel replied as she accepted a menu from the waitress.
Stella looked at her over her own menu. ‘So you’re a country girl too.’
‘Born and bred. But a city girl now. It’s great to know the farm’s there, to go back to visit, but I love living here. There’s so much to do in Edinburgh but it’s small enough you can walk to most places. At home it’s always a big expedition to get anywhere. And if you don’t drive you’re stuck.’
‘You don’t drive?’
‘Sat my test four times. Failed my test four times,’ Isabel said ruefully. ‘I can drive. But I get beyond nervous when it comes to proving it.’
Stella was surprised. Isabel struck her as being so capable, as if she’d be able to do anything she put her mind to.
‘So do you think of yourself as a country girl?’ Isabel asked.
‘I loved growing up in Melrose. I think about it so much when I’m in London. Don’t get me wrong. There are lots of great things about it but …’ A bustling, crowded city, everyone minding their own business, can make one person feel very insignificant. But she wasn’t going to burden Isabel any more with Stella Greenlaw’s problems. She didn’t finish the sentence. ‘Let’s see the menu. Their Christmas specials sound interesting.’
‘Mmm. I think I’ll have the mushroom risotto though. See if it’s as good as Skye’s.’
Ross hated mushrooms, Stella remembered, not without satisfaction. So Skye wouldn’t find the way to his heart through that dish.
‘Pumpkin gnocchi,’ Stella said to the waitress. ‘And a glass of house white.’
‘Red for me,’ Isabel said, giving her order.
The waitress went away and came back with a basket of sliced focaccia loaf and a small dish of olive oil mixed with balsamic vinegar.
‘Do you like to cook?’ Stella asked, reaching for a slice of the crusty bread.
‘The basics. Soup. Spag bol if I’ve got time. Skye cooks for the three of us sometimes – usually when my mum sends me back to Edinburgh with half her larder and I’ve no idea what to do with it. She’d be horrified if she knew how often I eat ready meals or takeaways.’
‘Microwaved scrambled eggs on toast for me.’ It was Stella’s turn to be rueful. ‘Alice taught us both to cook but it’s too much effort to go to for one. By the time I get home I can’t be bothered.’
There she went again, sounding sorry for herself. ‘If I have friends round I make more of an effort.’ Well, at the moment there was a congenial flatmate and they pooled their resources sometimes. And she’d had Jane and Nathan from the office over, and Nathan on his own.
‘Do you like living in London? I’ve been a few times – holidays, and for work.’
‘I love my job. It can be very stressful but it’s a real high when it goes well. And then you start all over again.’ She smiled at Isabel. ‘It’s incredibly crowded of course – like Edinburgh in the Festival, but all the time. But I think I’ve got used to that now.’
Isabel appeared to be considering her next words. ‘Have you met anyone special in London – is there a man in your life?’
Stella looked out of the window, as if the answer to Isabel’s question might be written in large letters on the wall. But all she could see were the potted trees in the little courtyard and couples, chatting and laughing, as they came nearer the door to read the menu board.
‘Sorry. Don’t answer that if you don’t want to.’ Isabel dipped her bread into the olive oil mix.
‘There’s a guy in my office. Nathan. We’ve been out a few times. It’s not serious though.’ She felt bad saying that – he had been sweet when she spoke to him yesterday. ‘I like him but …’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘He doesn’t set the heather on fire?’
Stella thought about Isabel’s phrasing before she answered. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the waitress, as a bowl of pale orange gnocchi sprinkled with parmesan cheese and fried sage leaves was put in front of her. ‘No, he doesn’t.’
It was a strange expression when you came to think of it – in the real sense ‘setting the heather on fire’ wasn’t a good thing; in the metaphorical sense it was. Someone who made the world light up – so yes, Ross had set the heather on fire for her. Until she put the fire out.
‘He didn’t understand when I said I hoped to be there for only a couple of years,’ she burst out, as if Isabel had been privy to her thoughts. ‘But how could he understand? I never explained the reason.’
Isabel lowered the forkful of risotto she was about to eat, and waited.
‘I didn’t want to move to London, but I desperately needed the extra money.’
There. She’d said it. The words that shame and pride prevented her from saying to Ross fifteen months ago. That she’d never said to anyone else. They hovered in the air over the table. It was a huge relief to have them out after all this time. Perhaps now they would give her peace and stop going round and round in her head.
‘Isabel, please eat. Don’t let your risotto get cold. Can I tell you about it? You’re such a good listener.’ Stella made herself take a forkful of gnocchi and some wine. ‘I didn’t get the artistic gene. I always loved maths and I did accountancy at university,’ she went on. If she were going to tell the story it would be best to start at the beginning. ‘I don’t know where that came from – it passed Alice and Maddie right by. I tease Maddie about it – she still counts on her fingers.’
Isabel laughed. ‘I’ve seen her do that.’
‘Alice lived – lives – frugally; she’s never spent money the way other people do. I mean, hardly any new clothes, no foreign holidays or expensive meals out. Make do and mend and all that. Recycling before anyone else did. But it never occurred to me to think about her income, or lack of it.’
She took another gulp of wine. ‘She’d been teaching art at the local high school but she gave that up when our parents died and we went to live with her. She started a pre-school art class in the house and did some adult classes too at the community centre but that was her only income. Her husband was a solicitor and a lot older than her – he left her money I think but that was thirty years ago. That old house always needs something done to it. We had to be clothed and fed. Educated. And there were always the waifs and strays. They had to be fed too.’ Stella looked over at Isabel. ‘That’s what Maddie and I used to call them. Alice’s artist waifs and strays. Lilias – I’ll tell you about her sometime – is the latest in a long line. Anyway, what I’m getting at is, she never talked about money. I never thought about her finances.’
She stopped, remembering the moment when she was forced to think about them.
‘But that’s how it is, isn’t it? Or how it should be,’ Isabel interposed gently. ‘Grown-ups take care of you, not the other way round.’
‘But when I was older … anyway I was looking for an envelope in her desk and saw some paperwork from one of those money-lending companies. She owed thousands of pounds to them. I had to ask her about it. She cried – I’d never seen her cry before. It was harrowing.’
Alice had been burying her head in the sand for a long time and even with a sympathetic, if horrified, listener was reluctant to discuss it. She’d seen an advertisement, she said eventually, and the man sounded ever so nice when she phoned, went through all the forms with her.
It was after that bad winter a few years ago when one of the chimneys was blown down, and the gutters at the front of the house collapsed under the weight of snow; both had to be replaced. It hadn’t felt like too big a loan to start with but then the letters came and the figures at the bottom got larger and larger and she didn’t know what to do. She was so ashamed – she’d never been in debt ever before and the thought of telling anyone about it, well, she just couldn’t.
‘I got in touch with these people,’ Stella said, ‘but what were they going to say? Alice had signed the papers. It was all legal. The very next day my firm offered me a promotion, if I went to the London office. I would have turned it down – I didn’t want to move so far away from Alice and Maddie and … and Ross. But there it was, like a godsend. The upshot was that I said I would pay it off. Even though London’s so expensive to live in, I worked out that with the much higher salary and if I spent the minimum, I should be able to pay off a fair bit every month. Alice didn’t want me to, of course. Said she would sell Hill View and move to a flat. But I knew that would break her heart. Mine and Maddie’s too.’
She put her finger to her lips for a moment. ‘Please keep this to yourself. We never told Maddie about why I went to London. I knew she’d be so upset and she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself. I hated having to prevaricate over why I was going. And Maddie of course couldn’t understand why moving to London meant breaking up with Ross. And he thought I was interested in my career to the exclusion of everything else.’
‘And you couldn’t tell him?’
‘Of course I wanted to. But it wasn’t about me. I didn’t want him and, inevitably, Gray, to know that Alice was … that we were in this predicament.’
Even though, as she’d said to Gray yesterday in the car, she thought of him almost as a member of the family, she couldn’t tell him. If Alice had wanted him to know she would have told him herself. This was something Stella could and would sort out.
Stupidly, she’d thought that somehow Ross would understand and put their future on hold for a couple of years. But, not being in possession of all the facts, he hadn’t. He couldn’t.
And even though she’d managed to pay off a chunk of the debt, that wasn’t the end of it. Alice’s financial prospects were unchanged. Pete had indicated she was doing well and would get more responsibility. Stella had to face up to the fact that her foreseeable future was in London.
She ate some of the almost cold gnocchi. ‘You must be wishing you hadn’t come out with me, Isabel. Let’s change the subject. Tell me more about your plans for the Christmas break.’