Keepsakes from the Cottage by the Loch (Loch Cameron #6)

Chapter 1

ONE

‘Miss?’ the little boy asked, shyly. He was the last of all his classmates, and Tara had just said goodbye to them all individually as they’d filed out for the day. The rule was that you could choose how you wanted to be greeted as you came in, and choose how you wanted to be bid goodbye to – a handshake, hug, high five, a hello with no touch or a little dance.

The idea was simple but effective: it gave the power to the child to choose what they felt comfortable with. Tara knew that consent was important: all too many children had grown up being forced to kiss and hug people they didn’t want to. Becoming accustomed to having to endure unwelcome touch wasn’t a good message for children to take on board.

Tara stood just inside the classroom door with Andrew, the last of her Primary 4 class to leave for the afternoon.

‘Yes, sweetheart?’ Tara tucked a tendril of auburn hair behind her ear. Most days, she tended to wear her shoulder length hair in a ponytail, but today she’d done it in a severe twist at the back of her head – and she was regretting it. It was pulling on her scalp, due to the amount of grips she’d had to put in it .

‘Can I have a hug today?’ Andrew asked.

Tara made an effort not to look surprised. Andrew was a child in foster care, with a history of traumatic abuse. He didn’t usually like to be touched at all, for obvious reasons, and Tara understood why. Andrew always went for a hello or goodbye with no touch. Not even a high five.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked, doubtfully. ‘Not just a goodbye today?’

‘No, Miss.’ Andrew looked nervous, but hopeful. ‘I think I’ll try a hug today.’

‘All right, then.’ Tara leant forward slightly and gave Andrew a light, brief hug. Even though it wasn’t a bear hug like some kids gave back to her – it was adorable when they did – the action brought a tear to Tara’s eye, and she felt emotion well up in her throat. She swallowed. ‘How was that?’

‘Good,’ Andrew said, simply, and gave Tara a little nod. ‘See you tomorrow, Miss.’

‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, watching him as he trotted off down the corridor. Oh, my heart , she thought, closing the classroom door and resolving to tell her colleagues what had happened in the staff room tomorrow.

This was one of the greatest parts of being a teacher. Children were unpredictable. Yes, they could be a pain sometimes, but Tara had never lost her amazement at how sweet they could be. They surprised her every single day, and she loved the fact that every one of her work days was different to the one before.

That night, when her flatmate Carla got home, Tara was watching TV, having just finished some marking and a microwave meal for one.

‘Hey.’ Carla stuck her head around the living room door; her short pixie cut framed a pretty, heart-shaped face with deep brown eyes and long lashes.

‘Hey.’ Tara looked up and smiled. Carla was a good friend; they’d lived together for two years now, and apart from Carla’s clumsiness – she was prone to breakages from over-enthusiastic washing up, and knocking things over with the hoover – Carla was a good flatmate. She was also a teacher, although she taught English at the large local secondary school.

Tara guessed that, if Carla could criticise her living habits, she could be accused of leaving piles of schoolbooks on the living room floor and half-read books all over the flat. But Carla had never mentioned either of those things, which made Tara appreciate her even more.

‘G instinctively, she put her hand on the arm of the sofa. ‘Dad? Is everything okay?’ Her tone alerted Carla, who looked up from her phone in concern.

‘Everything’s fine,’ her dad began in a placating tone that he only ever used when something was definitely not fine. ‘How are you, hen?’

‘Dad. Why are you calling me?’ Tara’s heart sank, and an oily wave of dread pulsated in her belly. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s yer mum, hen. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’