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

Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

‘Hello?’ Tara called as she walked into the community centre. It was a Thursday morning, and her dad had reminded her that she needed to go and pick up some brownies and other baked goods from someone called Sheila, who ran a drop-in coffee morning there today. Her mum had told her to send her regards and apologise for the fact she couldn’t attend. Tara was also mindful that she’d promised June she’d help the ladies with some dancing, and felt guilty that she hadn’t followed it up yet.

‘What yer mother means is,’ Eric had said as he’d handed her some cash and a carrier bag for the cakes, ‘Tell everyone at her crochet coven she misses them. An’ she misses the gossip.’

‘Good mornin’.’ A woman standing at a trestle table looked up and smiled. ‘Can I help ye, lassie?’

‘Morning. My mum sent me over to pick up some cakes for the Inn? I’m Dotty’s daughter, Tara. And I’m supposed to teach you some country dancing… I chatted to June the other day…’ She looked around for the woman she’d seen before.

‘Ach, Tara, of course!’ The woman jogged around from the other side of the table and enveloped Tara in an unexpected hug. ‘I’ve heard so much about ye! ’

‘All good, I hope?’ Tara replied, smiling politely.

‘Ach, o’ course. Dotty’s so proud o’ ye, bein’ a teacher, an’ all. I’m Sheila. Welcome,’ the woman said, pulling away and disentangling her bright yellow jumper from Tara’s heart pendant necklace. ‘Sorry, hen. I made this thing with big stitches, and it gets caught on everythin’.’

‘No trouble.’ Tara’s hand went instinctively to the pendants around her neck; she’d worn them for so long now that she hardly remembered they were there, most of the time.

‘That’s pretty. Aren’t ye supposed tae wear the one, though?’ Sheila nodded to the half heart pendants.

‘Oh. Yeah. Long story.’ Tara frowned. ‘So, this is the crochet coven?’ She changed the subject.

‘Indeed it is. Welcome to our not-so-secret circle of crochet and cake.’ Sheila nodded and gestured to the trestle table of mouthwatering-looking cakes in various open Tupperware containers.

‘Wow. That truly is a magical combination. I mean the cakes, really.’

‘Aye. All hand baked. I made the cookies, Mina made the brownies an’ the blondies. June, over there –’ Sheila pointed to a black woman with grey hair, dressed in a long purple kaftan type dress with an elegant long line cream jumper over the top, like a robe – ‘She made the carrot cake an’ the lemon drizzle. I’d recommend those, but they’re all good.’

‘Yes, I met June the other day. She persuaded me to come and teach you all some country dancing moves. For an event you’re having, I think?’ Tara tried not to think about seeing Ramsay that day, and then after, at The Wee Dram. She hadn’t heard from him since: he hadn’t tried to find her again, or call her. She was grateful for the silence, but it also weighed heavy on her.

‘Oh, she did say! Ah, that’s marvellous. Now…’ Sheila turned away, holding up her index finger, then tu rned back to Tara, holding a white cardboard box. ‘These are for the Inn. Twenty-four brownies, an’ the same blondies. That’s what Dotty asked fer.’

‘Amazing. Thank you.’ Tara took them, and gave Sheila the cash her dad had pressed into her hand. ‘Mum says hi, and Dad says that she misses the gossip. So I guess if you’ve got any in particular, you can give it to me and I’ll take it back for her.’

‘Haha. Indeed, indeed. I expect there is some; this is Loch Cameron, after all. But I’ll give Dotty a call later, or pop in,’ Sheila chuckled. ‘Give her my love, won’t you?’

‘I will. So, what are you raising money for?’

‘The primary school fundraiser. You must’ve heard aboot this by now.’

‘Ah. Right. I was up at the primary school the other day and Emily mentioned it.’

‘Ah, Emily. She’s a good sort, aye. She’s over there. You’ll say hello an’ stay for a cuppa?’ Sheila looked at her expectantly.

‘Okay. Sure.’ Tara looked across the room and waved at Emily, who was chatting to another woman and holding a ball of wool on her lap.

Tara chose a large oatmeal cookie and poured herself a cup of coffee, heading over to where Emily was sitting. She sat down in a free chair next to her.

When Ramsay had first left, Tara had spent a year trying to fill the hole he had left in her heart with food. It hadn’t worked, and she’d put on two stone. After a lifetime of dance, her body relaxed and changed, losing its rigid muscle and toned middle. She didn’t entirely mind being softer, now that she was older, and had stopped comfort eating quite as much. But, now that she was dancing again, she could feel her old body re-emerging, and it was good. She felt more like herself, even after a short while.

Still, she thought it was definitely okay to have a cookie. A cookie was hardly comfort eating. She was just being sociable .

‘Hey.’ Emily looked up as she sat down. ‘So, you’ve discovered the crochet coven? What do you think? This is the beating heart of Loch Cameron, if you haven’t realised it already. Where all the power-broking happens.’ Emily grinned at her. ‘Joking. But only kind of.’

‘Hiya. Yeah. So, is this what you do here? Crochet and cake?’ Tara took a bite of the cookie. ‘Damn. That’s good.’

‘Pretty much. Gossip. We’re working on the fundraiser for the school as well. I tend to just come along in the holidays,’ Emily said. ‘Hey. I’m glad I saw you, by the way. I wanted to check in and see if you were okay. It was all a bit fraught up at the school the other day, with Ramsay Fraser?’ She lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t have your number otherwise I would have called you to check in. You seemed pretty upset at one point.’

‘Aww. Thanks, that’s kind.’ Tara let out a deep breath. ‘I have been kind of in a state about it. Also, I’m surprised that my mother hasn’t just put my phone number on a community pin board somewhere. She seems to be giving it out to all and sundry.’ Tara rolled her eyes.

‘So, what’s going on?’ Emily leaned in towards her. ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to say, by the way. But, as I said, I’m here if you want a friend.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate it, really. And you’re welcome to have my number, by the way.’ Tara got out her phone. ‘Tell me yours. This thing with Ramsay is just doing my head in, though. The other day I ran into him at the whisky shop, The Wee Dram? We ended up doing the tango. It was mortifying.’

‘The tango? Why?’ Emily looked mystified.

‘We used to dance together professionally. From when we were kids. It’s a long story. Grenville, the owner?’ Tara paused, and Emily nodded.

‘I know Grenville. He’s a character.’

‘Yeah. Well, he suggested it and it just… sort of happened.’

‘Wow. I feel like there’s a lot more to this story between you.’ Emily sipped her tea and looked at Tara over the top of her glasses.

‘There is,’ Tara sighed. ‘There’s a reason I haven’t come back to Loch Cameron much in the past ten years.’

‘Because he’s been here?’ Emily frowned.

‘No. I don’t think he was, until fairly recently. My mum would have told me. But it was just too much to come back. Too many bad memories.’

‘There’s definitely a bigger story there. I’m so sorry it’s all a bit much to be back.’

‘Thanks. It’s okay.’ It wasn’t okay, but that was what people said.

‘Hallo, Tara, dear.’ June tapped her on the shoulder. ‘I see you’ve met Emily.’

‘Hello, June. How are you? Yes. Fellow teacher.’ Tara smiled up at the older woman. As before, she was elegantly dressed and possessed an air of no-nonsense calm. Tara was glad of the distraction. She didn’t really want to tell Emily the whole story in front of the crochet coven: even though they’d been speaking in low voices, she’d noticed that a few women were keeping a not-so-subtle ear open. She reminded herself that this group of women were her mum’s friends, and, as Emily had wryly observed, this was the beating heart of the Loch Cameron gossip mill.

‘Ah, I’m fine, thank you. I’m the same when I meet a nurse. Always a good gossip.’

‘You’re a nurse?’ Tara asked.

‘I was. Retired many years now. I miss it, but it takes a toll on your body after a while. I’m too old for the long shifts, but I still visit up at the local hospital. I used to train nurses until relatively recently, but I had to give that up too. Nowadays, I content myself with playing piano, crochet and baking.’

‘That still seems like a lot of things.’

‘Ah, well, I like to be busy. I just wanted to say thanks again for offering to help us with the dancing, and to see if you’d mind coming in again next Thursday lunchtime?’ June pushed up the sleeves of her long, stylish cardigan.

‘That should be all right.’ Tara made a note on the calendar on her phone. ‘I’ll be here.’

‘Thank you! And, I hope you and your young man made it up, from the other day,’ June said.

‘Oh… he’s not my young man,’ Tara said, a flush rising to her cheeks. ‘He’s just an old friend. Everything’s fine.’

Emily shot her a look: it was clear that she suspected June was talking about Ramsay from the way that Tara reacted.

‘Well, I should hope so,’ June said, her tone teasing. ‘Lovely looking boy, too. Man, I should say. Comes a time, dear, when everyone looks like a boy to you.’

Thinking about Ramsay made Tara uncomfortable. She stood up, suddenly, and scraped back her chair.

‘Well, I should be going,’ she said, abruptly. ‘Thanks for the coffee and the cookie.’

‘Oh. Are you going, already?’ Emily looked up at her, in consternation.

‘Yes. I should get back.’ Tara felt silly, knowing that she was overreacting to a throwaway conversation, but Emily and June didn’t know everything that had been going on in her mind recently. Emily and June didn’t know how painful and confusing it had been, seeing Ramsay again. How much hurt she had locked away behind that door in her mind, in her heart.

‘Okay. Take care, Tara. Give me a call, okay? We’ll go out for a glass of wine or something,’ Emily called after her.

‘See you soon, dear,’ June called.

‘You’re welcome. Yes, see you,’ Tara replied hastily, suddenly desperate to be gone. She picked up the box of cakes, waved a quick goodbye to everyone, and headed back out onto the high street.

Loch Cameron was nice when she could find a quiet moment in nature. The air was clean, the glittering loch was beautiful and there were so many tranquil spots where you could go and re-centre yourself.

But when it came to being in the community, it was difficult to navigate. There was a big part of her that found Loch Cameron soothing, but what she definitely didn’t find calming at all was the presence of her old, lost love. There were memories around every corner. Like the vision she’d had of herself, holding her mother’s hand, in The Wee Dram. Now, as well as those old shadows from the past that just felt strange, Ramsay’s presence was an extra layer of emotional bleariness.

June mentioning him just now had made her feel confused all over again.

What did he want? It had seemed as though he wanted to see her. And there was a connection between them: a heat, a deep love that couldn’t be denied. But they always seemed to speak at cross purposes, and there was an ocean of misunderstanding between them.

I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever drama comes with being around Ramsay Fraser again , Tara thought, standing still for a moment and staring out at the loch. The loch had always been the place she had gone to re-centre herself: if she hadn’t been holding a box of cakes right then, she would have waded in and let the cold water still her jangled nerves. Instead, she took in a deep breath of that clean, cool air and let it out again, slowly.

I don’t have to get involved in any drama that I don’t want , she told herself, firmly. All I have to do is get through another few weeks of helping out mum and dad, then I’ll be out of here and I never have to see Ramsay Fraser again.

Did she never want to see him again? In her heart of hearts, she knew that she’d be sad if she didn’t. But it seemed that every time she saw him, something happened to make her feel disjointed, disconnected and wrong. It wasn’t as easy as picking up where they’d left off. There was a valley between them: a depth of wrongs that need to be bridged before either one of them could cross to the other side.

Maybe that bridge would never be built. Tara didn’t know if she had it in her to build it, and she wasn’t sure if Ramsay wanted to try. I guess I’ll see , she thought, feeling calmer as the lochside air loosened the knots of anxiety in her muscles. One way or the other.