From Scotland with Love (3 page)

‘And would she like that with garlic? Onions? A splash of red wine?’

‘Just the basic kind. But we could have all that other stuff.’ He frowned. ‘I’m not used to women who cook.’

Daisy realised she felt flattered to be described as a woman, not a ‘slip of a girl’. ‘Well, someone cooks around here. It’s a great kitchen.’

He harrumphed. ‘I put it in for my ex-wife who said it was her dream kitchen. She had all the gear and no idea, as the saying goes. She liked to play kitchens, not actually get her hands bloody.’

‘Not keen on that either, actually. But I’ll cope.’

While she was waiting for the meat to defrost in the microwave, Daisy checked her phone again. There was a text from Venetia. ‘How’s it going? You haven’t pissed him off, have you?’

‘Not at all!’ Daisy texted back triumphantly. ‘I’m cooking his dog a stew. He thinks I’m amazing for being able to cook at all!’

‘Well, you are good at that,’ said Venetia, who’d been to Daisy’s little flat for supper. ‘So if you get the chance, ask him if he’s going to write another book!’

Daisy thought she probably wouldn’t be doing that. It really wasn’t her place to get top authors to agree to new contracts.

‘So where will Griselda have her puppies?’ she asked Rory a bit later, when he came into the kitchen for tea. She’d made scones, having decided that a kitchen full of lovely equipment and quite a good stock of provisions, should be used. And she wanted to keep busy. It would make her feel less of a nuisance.

‘I’m hoping Hamish will take her away before that happens. I’m a bit squeamish.’

‘But the snow? If I can’t get out, surely Hamish can’t get in?’

He looked at her pityingly. ‘He has a four-by-four and he lives very close by.’

‘Oh,’ said Daisy. ‘That’s OK then. But just in case –’

‘My study. It’s on the ground floor. I’ve converted it into somewhere Grizzie can be. My laptop is upstairs now.’ He frowned. ‘I suppose we’d better sort you out with somewhere to sleep.’

‘Would be good,’ said Daisy. She hadn’t allowed herself to explore the house while Rory was out, expect for the little loo by the front door. She was longing to get upstairs.

Daisy grabbed her case and headed up the stairs behind Rory.

‘You can sleep here,’ he said, opening a door to a very comfortable looking room with a double bed. It looked like the master bedroom to her. It had cushions on the bed. Men didn’t put cushions on beds.

‘Why don’t you sleep here?’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to sleep where my wife has slept. There are clothes in the cupboard if you need anything.’

Daisy wasn’t really into second-hand clothes but she did realise she’d need something. She opened a cupboard and saw a pair of sheepskin slipper boots. Her feet were cold, in spite of the gumboot socks.

‘There are sheets in the cupboard outside the bathroom.’

‘What? Isn’t there an en-suite?’ It was the sort of bedroom that suggested the presence of a glamorous bathroom close by.

He shook his head. ‘Never got round to it. We were just living here while we had work done on the main house.’

Daisy frowned. ‘Why aren’t you living in the main house?’

‘I gave it to my ex-wife. I’m happy enough here.’

He hadn’t given much detail but Daisy sensed there was a lot of sadness behind those simple words. She would have to find out more.

She had borrowed a cashmere cardigan and the sheepskin slippers and was feeling much more comfortable. She decided to text Venetia. ‘Do you know anything about his divorce?’

A little later the reply came back. ‘Think his wife went off with his best friend. Very messy and painful. We think it may have put him off writing. How are you getting on with him?’

Daisy couldn’t really tell, so she just put, ‘OK, I think. His dog is lovely, though.’

‘You like dogs! That’s good!’

Daisy didn’t reply. She just stirred the dog’s dinner.

Rory didn’t have any white wine (Daisy guessed his wife had drunk it) but he did have some red and he opened a bottle for them to have with their supper.

‘This is really very good!’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘What is it?’

‘Pretty much the same as Griselda’s, only with garlic and onions, carrots et cetera. You’ve got so much good stuff in the freezer.’ Someone had obviously stocked up against the storm.

He shrugged. ‘Did you manage to find bed linen and things?’

She nodded. ‘All folded and ironed in the cupboard.’

‘That’ll be Mari. She looks after me well. Though I doubt if she’ll make it tomorrow, through this snow. Griselda loves her.’

Griselda, who was at their feet under the kitchen table where they were eating, wagged her tail when she heard her name.

‘So, is there pudding?’

‘Of course. Bramble crumble. I’ll go and get it. Would you like custard or ice cream with it?’

‘You made custard?’

‘Well, with custard powder. I didn’t make it properly. I didn’t like to use too many eggs in case we needed them for something else.’

‘I love custard made with custard powder,’ he said.

Daisy felt it would have been remiss of her not to provide pudding. Venetia would expect it of her. And if she’d failed on the book plate front, she could at least make it up with bramble crumble. She wasn’t exactly sure what brambles were until she got them in a pan and discovered they were blackberries, but she was fairly sure Rory liked them, or why would they be in there? She suspected Mari, faithful retainer, of lovingly filling his freezer with his favourite foods. She’d have been very upset about the divorce, thought Daisy, who had a vivid imagination. Mari would always have known that his wife was a ‘a flighty piece’. Mari would have a fit if she ever met Daisy, she was sure.

Rory ate his crumble and custard thoughtfully. He regarded Daisy as if she were an interesting specimen. She couldn’t tell if his gaze was approving or not.

‘I have some work to do. Will you be able to entertain yourself for the rest of the evening?’

A part of Daisy had been hoping he’d suggest coffee and whisky by the fire in the sitting room, but the thought was far from his mind, it seemed.

‘Oh, I’ll be fine!’ she said, eager to please. ‘I’ll just put this lot in the dishwasher…’

‘You could leave it. Mari might be able to get here in the morning.’

Daisy smiled. She couldn’t possibly do that. ‘Would you like some coffee? I could bring it to you?’

Again he seemed faintly startled by this suggestion. ‘That would be good, thanks.’

After asking him how he liked it, Daisy delivered it a little later. His room was sparsely furnished with a make-shift desk in one corner. ‘Scottish simplicity’ certainly reigned here. Rory closed the lid of his laptop as she appeared so she couldn’t tell if he was writing another book or playing Solitaire.

‘Er, we don’t get much in the way of television reception up here – especially when it’s snowing,’ he said, ‘but there are some books in the bedroom next to yours. They were my wife’s. You might find something to entertain you.’ He smiled. ‘Or you might not. Or there are some DVDs.’

‘I love reading,’ she said and left him to whatever he was doing on his laptop. She realised too late that she was probably stating the obvious. She worked for a publishing house. Of course she loved reading.

Although she found a little single bedroom, lined with bookshelves, some of which contained the sort of fiction she loved, she didn’t really want to settle to a book. Looking out of the window to see what the weather was doing she realised it had stopped snowing, the wind had dropped and the moon was up. She gasped at the beauty and magical quality of the scene before her. The snow covered mountains reflected the moonlight and created a silver path which led across the loch which was as still as glass. The trees at the base of the mountains were white. It could have been the image on a Christmas card, and yet Daisy doubted such serenity could really be captured, however skilled the artists.

She stared for a long time and then she realised she had to go out in it, she had to experience the whole scene more intimately. She ran downstairs and opened the big cupboard in the hall, hoping to find wellington boots and a big coat to wear.

It was all there. The boots, too big for Daisy but definitely female, a very new down jacket, a cashmere scarf, were all in the cupboard next to far more scruffy male coats and fleeces. Rory’s wife had apparently been fond of clothes but why had she left them all behind?

Wrapped up, Daisy wondered if she should call out to Rory and tell him she was going. She had decided it was better not to disturb him and just go when Griselda stirred herself and came up to say hello. She stretched elegantly and put her head on Daisy’s chest and seemed to be asking to go out.

Aware of how he felt about her Daisy felt she couldn’t just take Griselda for a walk in her condition, not without telling Rory although she was still loath to break in to his working time. She paused at the foot of the stairs, the dog impatient, she as yet undecided. What would Venetia do? She asked herself. Venetia would tell Rory. She slipped off the boots and padded upstairs.

‘Rory? Is it all right if I take Griselda for a little walk? It’s lovely out there now and she seems to want to go.’

Rory came to the door. He looked as if he’d like her to fill out a risk assessment form before taking his precious dog out of his orbit. ‘Well, take a torch in case the moon goes in. Maybe a stick? And keep her on the lead, she probably won’t come back to you, she doesn’t know you. And if she took off after a deer or something, it could be fatal.’

‘I’ll keep her on the lead and be very careful. I’ll take a torch. Do I really have to take a stick? I wouldn’t have a spare hand for it.’

He considered, as if possibly counting her hands. ‘OK. I’ll let you off the stick.’

Relieved, she said, ‘Would it be all right if I walked down to the loch, do you think?’

‘If the snow isn’t too deep that should be fine.’

‘I won’t be long.’

‘Let me know when you come back. I’ll be listening out for you.’

‘I don’t have to take Griselda if you’d rather I didn’t.’

‘No, she does usually have an outing at about now. It’s probably why she assumed you were taking her.’

‘I’ll keep her safe, I promise,’ said Daisy.

He nodded. As Daisy padded back down the stairs again she wondered what Venetia would do to her if she did anything to harm Rory’s beloved, pregnant, dog. Daisy would be lucky to come out alive of that particular carpeting. Except of course that Rory would have killed her first.

Griselda was perfectly happy to stay close, Daisy discovered. There was a loop of lead as she picked her way alongside Daisy. Together they went out of the back door and surveyed the scene for a few moments. It was spectacularly beautiful and icy cold, but the jacket didn’t let her down. It was so light she hardly felt she was wearing it and yet she was snuggly-warm.

‘So, which way, Grizzie?’ said Daisy, aware that she had never been in such deep snow before and anxious not to fall over in it. Beautiful as it was, Daisy felt her preference for scenery on screen was justified.

The dog pointed her nose to the left and then Daisy spotted a gate in the wall. There was probably a path leading from it down to the loch.

The snow nearly came to the top of her boots and Daisy took careful steps. Griselda, a little impatient with her handler, looked back, wanting to go faster. Daisy didn’t hurry though, aware she didn’t know what was under her feet beneath the snow and wary of twisting her ankle.

She stopped when she got to the loch and just drank in the beauty of it all. Griselda gave her a rather strange look but then squatted to relieve herself. Daisy sensed she’d rather have been off the lead to do this and turned her head away to give the dog some privacy. Her wee could have filled a small swimming pool, Daisy noted.

The snow was far lighter on the shores of the loch and Daisy and Griselda walked along it together in the moonlight. There was no tugging on the lead, just the occasional reproachful look. If circumstances had been different, Daisy would have let her off, certain that she’d have stayed by her side, a stately companion. But she wasn’t going to do that, not now.

Griselda stopped and so Daisy stopped too, suddenly aware that they’d gone quite far. ‘Come on, Grizzie,’ she said, ‘we’d better go back or Rory will worry.’ She turned and looked up at the little house on the hill and realised it was quite far away. There was a light on upstairs where, she imagined, Rory was writing. Oh please let it be a book, she thought, and not just angry emails.

Although she had Griselda by her side, Daisy felt suddenly lonely in a way she hadn’t before. She’d felt a bit homesick and fed up with herself for getting herself into this ridiculous situation but she hadn’t been so aware that she wasn’t part of a couple. While she had a loving family and lots of friends there was no one in her life who cared more about her than anyone else. Rory, who’d had that in his life must miss the lack of it even more keenly. Daisy herself had had lots of boyfriends, some more serious than others, but she was only in her early twenties. It was far too soon to think about settling down. What was it about the light in the window that made her feel so alone?

She paused in her journey to gaze at the moonlit scene. It was all so vast. There was so much history, so much geography, so much – everything. It made her feel very small and very insignificant. From nowhere tears started to form in her throat. She’d felt tearful before when she realised how wrong everything had gone but now she was getting on with it and it was sort of OK, she was losing it. It didn’t make sense.

Better cry now when she was on her own, she decided. She didn’t want to be heard sobbing in her bed by Rory. How embarrassing would that be? She kept her gaze on the silver loch and let the tears trickle down her cheeks, hot for a few seconds and then icy cold.

‘Hey! Daisy! What are you doing out here?’

It was Rory, who had somehow arrived beside her without making a noise. Daisy jumped, not because she thought he was a monster or someone likely to hurt her but because she’d been in another world in her head, where there were no other people.