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

Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

Tara looked at her phone as she changed the sheets in one of the Inn’s bedrooms: a lovely Canadian couple in their fifties had just checked out, and she had to get the room ready for two friends who were checking in that afternoon. They’d requested that the room be made up as a twin, and so Tara had spent a good ten minutes pushing the two large divans that had been sandwiched together to make a king size bed, into two beds with a good sized gap in the middle. She’d built up quite a sweat doing it and, not for the first time, wondered how her mum was doing it every day and not becoming totally exhausted. The more that she worked at the Inn, the more she realised that Dotty probably needed some help – and, characteristically of her mother – wasn’t asking for it.

She’d been texting Carla on and off, and thought it might be her, texting from somewhere on her travels. Apparently, Carla and Craig had decided to spend another couple of weeks touring Europe together. The last text Tara had received said that Carla was in Paris .

Hi Tara, good to see you in The Wee Dram the other day. I’m not stalking you, honest! It would be good to have a chat.

It was Ramsay.

Tara stared at her phone for a moment. She didn’t want to reply. She wished Dotty hadn’t given Ramsay her number.

Another text popped up.

I’ve missed you so much . There are things we have to talk about.

Leave me alone , she thought, desperately.

I’d love to talk to you soon, Tara another message flashed up.

Tara felt suddenly overwhelmed.

She stared at her phone for several minutes before striding into her mother’s bedroom. She was angry that her mother – who knew exactly how she felt about Ramsay, and, she hoped, remembered how hurt she’d been when he disappeared – would betray her trust and just give him her phone number, willy-nilly. She’d been cross about it the other day, when Ramsay had turned up in the rehearsal room, but she hadn’t said anything to Dotty then.

Had Dotty told Ramsay how much Tara had missed him? Ye know , Dotty might have said, leaning in towards him, her voice dropping to a confidential tone, she was never the same after losing ye. Ruined her for all other men. Lived like a nun for the last ten years.

God, I hope she didn’t say that , Tara thought. She knew her mum probably wouldn’t have gone that far, but Dotty was an oversharer by nature.

She picked up her phone and stormed into her mum’s room, where she found Dotty lying on her bed, watching TV.

‘Thanks for this,’ she said, holding her phone up so that her mum could see the messages. ‘He won’t leave me alone, now that you’ve given him my number.’

‘I hope yer no’ havin’ a go at me, hen.’ Dotty looked up from her bed, where she was crocheting what looked like a cardigan for a baby. ‘Because it sounds suspiciously like ye are.’ She fixed Tara with a steely gaze. ‘May I remind ye that I’m yer mother.’

‘As if I could forget!’ Tara blurted, and then saw the look in her mother’s eye. ‘Sorry, Mum. But I just don’t know why you gave Ramsay my number.’

‘Why not? It’s no’ like yer just never goin’ tae speak tae each other again.’ Dotty poked her crochet hook in and out of the cardigan, with a skein of wool stretched expertly between the fingers on her other hand. Tara had watched her mother crochet so many times that she knew Dotty didn’t need to look at what she was doing. Tara took a deep breath and tried to control her temper: it didn’t do to shout at Dotty Ballantyne. She’d learnt that many years ago. ‘You and Ramsay were joined at the hip. Peas in a pod.’

‘But, I don’t know what to say to him. And he keeps texting me, and the other day – after you gave him my number, which I didn’t give you permission to do – he came and found me at the community centre, and we had a really uncomfortable conversation. And then, when I was at The Wee Dram, he found me there – accidentally? Maybe not? And we ended up doing a bloody tango because Grenville asked us to.’

‘I know. Grenville told me.’ Dotty’s eyes flicked back to the cardigan for a moment as she turned it and began a row in the opposite direction. Tara wondered if she was counting stitches or whether she just knew, instinctively, how many to do.

‘You knew, and you didn’t tell me?’

‘Ye didnae seem tae want tae talk aboot it.’ Dotty gave a world-weary sigh. ‘I learnt a long time ago that I cannae make ye talk tae me unless yer ready.’

‘Hm. Well, he blindsided me at the community centre, thanks to you. When I’d gone there to spend some quality time alone, dancing. He just bowled in like I owed him something. And then, at Grenville’s shop, we ended up doing the tango. And it was really awkward, actually,’ Tara continued, angrily.

‘What did you and he talk aboot? When he came to the community centre?’ Dotty asked, in a level tone. ‘And I’m sorry if ye feel I crossed a boundary. I was just doin’ what I thought was best.’

‘Well, it wasn’t best. I would have preferred it if he just left me alone,’ Tara snapped.

‘You’d prefer it if the world left you alone.’ Dotty raised an eyebrow. ‘But, I’m sorry tae say, lassie, that’s no’ how the world works. Ye have tae face up tae things. And people.’

Tara stared at her mother for a few moments, knowing that if she argued, Dotty would probably tell her off. Is she right? she thought. Do I have to face up to the past at some point?

She gave Dotty the outline of Ramsay’s impromptu visit. Dotty sighed, and put her crochet in her lap.

‘I’m sorry, hen. I shouldnae have given him your number without askin’. I didnae think you’d mind.’

‘Well, I do mind.’ Tara was trying not to disrespect her mum – but I’m still allowed to have boundaries , she thought. I am a grown up.

‘Right enough. Sometimes I forget yer a grown woman,’ Dotty sighed. ‘I know I can be bossy. But it’s because I love ye.’

‘I know, Mum.’

‘I wanted the two o’ ye tae talk,’ Dotty said. ‘Clear the air. I know it’s bothered ye so much. All these years.’

‘I know, Mum,’ Tara repeated, patiently.

‘He was the son we never had,’ Dotty said, wistfully.

‘I know.’ Tara knew she needed to curb her impatience in talking to Dotty, but sometimes it could be hard. ‘But I want to know what to do about him now.’ She sat on the edge of the bed, pushing a pile of sudoku books to one side.

‘He had a hard time, ye know.’ Dotty nodded, as if Tara hadn’t said anything. ‘At home.’

‘I know,’ Tara said, remembering the bruises, the day that Ramsay had wanted to steal the whisky from The Wee Dram. The times they had made off with a bottle of wine from the Inn’s bar when they were older and drunk it together under the stars. ‘His dad.’

‘Aye. He was a right so-and-so.’ Dotty shook her head. ‘Turn your hair white if I told ye what he did tae that poor lad.’

‘You’ve never told me. You just always say that. That it’d turn my hair white.’

‘Aye, well, what’s the point now? All in the past.’ Dotty’s hands started crocheting again, as if the action was soothing to her, or a helpful distraction.

‘Mum. Tell me.’ Tara reached for her mother’s hands and held them gently until they stilled.

‘Tara. Ye dinnae want tae know,’ her mother said, in a warning tone. ‘It’ll just upset ye.’

‘I’m already upset. I want to know,’ Tara insisted. Dotty sighed.

‘I dinnae see the point, darlin’,’ she prevaricated, but Tara met her eyes with a level stare.

‘Mum. Please.’

‘Fine.’ Dotty put her crochet down and let out another long sigh.

‘Jack Fraser. That was his name. Ye probably dinnae remember him.’ Dotty’s voice was low. ‘God knows we kept ye away from that hoose. Poor Ramsay. We kept him here as much as we could,’ her mother began.

‘I know that,’ Tara said.

‘Aye. Well, when he was younger, Jack was a nice enough fella. Used tae come tae the Inn, have a few drams, nae bother. Then, long story short, after his wife left – Stella, nice girl – he got nasty. We started hearin’ from Jack’s neighbours there was noise at night. Crashin’. Yellin’. Course, ye wonder what Stella was puttin’ up with that made her leave.’ Dotty raised an eyebrow. ‘To this day I dinnae why she didnae take Ramsay with her. I can only think that he wouldnae let her take him.’

‘He never talked about his mum leaving,’ Tara said. ‘I knew she did, kind of, but I was a kid. I mean, I remember her a bit, but we were hardly at his house. It all sort of passed me by.’

‘Aye. Some of us girls in the village tried tae find her when she left, but she’d gone wi’out a trace.’ Dotty looked sad.

‘I wish he would have talked to me about it,’ Tara said, sadly.

‘I think, when he was with ye, darlin’, ye made him so happy that he didnae want tae think aboot his home life. We gave him a little oasis away from all that. See it as a compliment.’ Dotty smiled affectionately at her daughter.

‘So, what then?’

‘Well, Jack started showin’ up to the bar already drunk, an’ he just got worse after a few drinks. Yer Dad had tae bar him in the end. He didnae like it.’ Dotty raised an imperious eyebrow. ‘Let’s just say that he made Ramsay’s life hell after that. There’s a reason they call it the demon drink , hen.’ She shook her head sadly.

‘In what way?’ Tara wanted to know more, but Dotty shook her head and pursed her lips.

‘Least said, soonest mended,’ she said. ‘He wants tae talk to ye. So, talk. You owe each other that,’ Dotty said, gently. ‘He loved ye so much, Tara. An’ I know how much ye loved him. All I’m sayin’ is, there’s a lot o’ pain on both sides, eh? At the very least, ye can communicate. He’s obviously got somethin’ he wants tae say. Maybe be friends again, aye? I miss the lad. I’m glad he’s back. Aren’t you?’

Dotty met Tara’s gaze with such a kind and yet direct look that Tara felt it penetrate her soul.

‘Yes. I am,’ she breathed. She could never lie to Dotty. ‘I missed him so much.’

‘Come here, hen,’ Dotty said, her voice full of love, and Tara sat on the bed next to her mother, taking care not to disturb her injured leg. She rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, and Dotty stroked her hair, just like she’d done when she was a child. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she said, and she put her arm around Tara. ‘You and Ramsay are meant tae be together. I believe that,’ she said.

‘It’s too late for that, Mum,’ Tara said, her heart breaking. She thought of the text message on her phone. Ramsay wanted to build bridges. But how could she?

‘Maybe. Maybe not, eh,’ her mother said. ‘If not together, then make an old woman happy and at least be friends, aye? It’s been a long time since I had ye both around the dinner table. I’d like that again, if I could.’

‘I’ll talk to him,’ Tara sighed. ‘That’s all I can promise. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ Dotty continued to stroke her hair. ‘You know best, darlin’. But I want ye to know that I love you. Okay? And I love him. I told ye, he was the son we never had. Regardless of what happened between you two. An’ I will love ye both, always, whatever happens.’

‘I love you too, Mum,’ Tara whispered.

They sat there in companionable silence for a while.

Looking back, Tara could see that she had closed herself off from her mother after Ramsay had left: it was too raw, too much to deal with, and even though Dotty had felt Ramsay’s loss keenly, Tara hadn’t been able to share it with her.

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she said, hugging Dotty a little tighter. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it.’ A sob burst from her chest as she finally said what she needed to say. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. You lost him too.’

‘Ah, Tara.’ Dotty’s voice broke a little, and she hugged her daughter back just as tightly. ‘It wasnae yer fault. It wasnae anyone’s fault. We were just both heartbroken. But maybe now, we can move on. Eh? Give your old mother a smile.’ Dotty kissed Tara’s forehead and sat back, studying her face. ‘Come on. I know ye’ve got a beltin’ smile. Remember all those dance judges that ye melted with it.’

‘That was Ramsay.’ Tara chuckled, wiping her eyes. ‘He was the beauty.’

‘Oh, no, Tara.’ Dotty stroked her daughter’s cheek. ‘It was always you, darlin’. Don’t ye know that? Ye were always the most beautiful lassie in the room. Still are. An’ wi’ the kindest heart.’

‘Aww. Mum.’ Tara didn’t know what to say.

‘Aww, Mum, nothin’.’ Dotty patted Tara’s hand. ‘Use that good heart, my girl. It’ll never lead ye wrong.’

‘Okay.’ Tara nodded.

‘Good girl.’ Dotty sighed and leaned back on her pillows. ‘Now. It’s comin’ up fer lunch, an’ I suspect ye’ve still got the rooms tae finish. I’m here if ye want tae chat later. All right?’

‘Yes, Mum.’ Tara stood up, picking up the tea tray. ‘Thanks.’

‘Always here fer ye, sweetie. Me an’ yer Dad. Ye know that.’ Dotty nodded.

‘I know.’ Tara smiled.

In the kitchen, she set the tray on the side and took out her phone from her pocket. Ramsay had texted again.

Tara, I’m sorry to pester you. Would really love to talk.

I’m sorry not to reply. Let’s meet for a chat. Lots to catch up on! Tara x she replied to Ramsay, and found herself smiling as she watched the three little dots as he wrote an immediate response.

Would love that. Meet me for a coffee on Gyle Head on Thursday morning? he replied.

Sure x she replied. Her heart lifted, despite all of her doubts. Perhaps Dotty was right, after all. She was following her heart, and it felt good.

On impulse, she slipped out of the Inn for a moment and jogged over to the loch. She needed a moment of calm. It was a clear day outside, and the high street was quiet.

She knelt down and trailed her fingers in the silky, cold water of the loch. She took in a deep breath and released it.

Calm and clarity. Calm and clarity.

It was scary, following her heart, but she had to believe she was doing the right thing. Perhaps she hadn’t ruined everything, after all, though the worry niggled at her, still. She had the thought again of the tower, falling, and the same brief sense of vertigo, but pushed it away. She had worried about whether she’d caused Ramsay’s disappearance for years.

But she couldn’t think about that now. What was done, was done.

Wasn’t it?