Page 135 of One for the Road
Despite my very obvious mess-up, he dropped a few pounds into the tip cup as he took his drink and left.
The mornings were still a little slow around here. But outside, the sky was overcast, the swollen clouds threatening rain, and a handful of tourists had sought refuge, poring over the laminated menus at the tables by the window.
I turned back to Jess. She raised her eyebrows at me – well, what eyebrows she had left. “Is that what the wee’ins are calling it these days?” Her stare far too probing.
Why did Thursdays have to be our joint shift? “I don’t know what you mean.” I picked up the wasted coffee and took a big sip, trying to hold back my cringe as it scalded my tongue.
“I wasnae born yesterday, hen. I ken what someone looks like when they’re heartbroken. You’ve been moping around all week.”
My eyes strayed to Teddy, sitting quietly in the corner, drawing, her headphones firmly in place. “I’m not moping.”
I was . . . being sadly introspective. There was a difference.
“There yer go again.” Jess tutted, wiping her hands on her apron. “Just tell me what the lad did, and I can tell yer all the ways to make him suffer before yer eventually forgive him.”
I wrapped my hands tightly around the coffee cup. “He didn’t do anything – well he did. He went behind my back and paid for Teddy’s school trip.”
“The one Cameron was supposed to be payin’ for?”
I nodded.
“A man willingly digging into his pocket? Strap him in irons.”
“It’s not just that . . . Cameron revealed some stuff Alistair hadn’t told me about. In his past – petty stuff—” I cut off because it all sounded stupid when spoken aloud.
And I realised, just like with Heather, I couldn’t tell Jess the crux of the problem without revealing that Alistair had planned to leave Kinleith.
I couldn’t talk to anyone objectively without betraying his confidence. I had only my own muddled mind to use as a guide, and I tended to obsess over all the ways it could go wrong.
“Of course Cameron’s involved.” She wagged a finger. “That lad is no good; he never was.”
“It’s not about Cameron.” Cameron was doing what Cameron always did. I was the one who let him get into my head. “I’m the problem because I – I don’t trust myself to be enough for Alistair, to keep him.” My throat narrowed, the embarrassing truth a painful knot. “I’m so scared of reverting to Old Isla, Jess. Letting Alistair’s life become my life. His family become my family. And then in five, ten years, when he’s done with me, I’ll be right back where I started.”
She stared at me for so long I began to sweat. “I’ve been married for forty-nine years.”
“I know.” She and Angus bickered more than any other married couple I’d ever met, and yet he was here every day at closing time, ready to walk her home.
“Want to ken the secret?” she said. “Grow yer own tree.”
I blinked. “The cottage is rented; I don’t think I can plant a tree—”
“What are they teachin’ in schools nowadays? It’s a metaphor.” She waved her hands. “You’rethe tree. Healthy trees share the same soil, intertwine, but they don’t fuse – it would make both of them unstable. Angus had the farm and now his golf, and I have this place.”
Huh. “That . . . is great advice actually.”
“Of course it is.”
“How do I grow my own tree while guaranteeing Teddy doesn’t get hurt?” She had to come first. Always.
“You can’t.” She shrugged. “Something will eventually come along and break her wee heart all over again. That’s the way of life. But what ye can do, is set an example. Stop dreaming about that bakery of yers and actually make it happen, for a start.”
“How do you know about the bakery?”
“Do ye think I’m daft and blind? Yer spend more time writing down recipes and doodling logos on napkins than ye do actually working. And I caught ye looking up business loans on yer phone one time.” She pulled something out of the drawer by her hip: a wrinkled white napkin I recognised at once. All my sums for how much it would cost to open my own business.
My cheeks burned as she pressed the napkin into my hand. “It’s not bad to want things for yerself, Isla. The bakery. The lad.”
I nodded. “I know that but . . . sometimes I can’t shake the idea that doing things for myself is selfish. Not that it matters. Even if I could afford to open a place of my own, it’s too risky.” Not to mention, a third bakery in a tiny village was ridiculous.
