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

Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

Ramsay: Where are you? We said Gyle Head at 11? I’m on the playground by the coffee stand.

Tara: Sorry, I had to work. Catch up another time.

Ramsay: Oh. Okay, that’s a shame. Let me know when is good for you.

Tara was frying bacon when Carla called.

‘I’m back. What the hell’s been happening between you and this Ramsay, then?’ She launched straight into the conversation with no preamble.

‘Hello, Tara, how are you? Oh, I’m fine thanks. And you?’ Tara replied, grumpily, putting the phone on speaker.

‘Don’t be like that. You texted me that you were meeting for coffee and then nothing. What happened?’

‘Ugh. I’m sorry. I’ve been like a bear with a sore head.’ Tara flipped the bacon with a spatula and cracked ten eggs into a huge cast iron frying pan. She was standing in the Inn’s kitchen, making breakfast for the guests, all of whom were taking their meal in the bar this morning.

Every morning, she had to get up at seven and put the half-baked bread rolls in the oven, make toast, tea and coffee, put out the cereals, croissants and jugs of juice on the bar. The system for cooked breakfasts was that guests made their order the night before on a little notepad that they left hanging on the doorknob of their room. It was Tara’s last task of the day to collect up all the orders and make a note for herself in the kitchen in the morning.

The options for breakfast were full Scottish, vegetarian Scottish, poached eggs on toast or the vegan option, which was smashed avocado on toast. This morning, everyone had opted for a full Scottish, which made Tara’s life easier.

‘Oh, no. What’s that noise, babe? It sounds like you’re standing in the middle of a raging inferno.’

‘I’m frying bacon.’

‘Nice. God, I could do with some of that right now. So? Spill the beans.’

‘He’s married, Car.’ Tara lowered her voice. ‘I went up to the place we’d arranged to meet, and I saw him with a kid and a woman. He never said anything about it. Still hasn’t.’ Her voice caught; she’d been trying to stay busy since seeing Ramsay, but she could feel the tears threatening.

‘Oh, Christ. I’m sorry.’ Carla’s voice softened. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Awful. I mean, I know we’re not involved, or anything. But I just wish I hadn’t had to find out that way, you know? It’s still hard, seeing him around the village. And now I have to risk running into him and his little family. I just think it would have been the decent thing to let me know.’

‘Maybe that was what he was going to talk to you about,’ Carla said, gently.

‘Maybe. But it would have been nice for him to tell me without me having to find out for myself. They were such a perfect little family, Car. Playing on the slides and swings and waving to each other, being cute.’

‘He’s allowed to have moved on, Tara. I’m just putting that out there,’ Carla said, still gently.

‘I know that! But that was our dream. A family. That’s what he always said he wanted with me.’

‘And then he suddenly disappeared out of your life and reappears ten years later with exactly that, with someone else. Yeah, that sucks.’ Her friend sighed. ‘I’m sorry, babe.’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ Tara sighed too. ‘So, you’re home now?’

‘Yeah. Just got back.’ There was the indistinct sound of a man’s voice in the background. ‘Oh. Craig says hi.’

‘Hi, Craig.’ Tara chuckled, despite her mood. ‘That’s still happening, then, is it?’

‘Eh. I guess so.’ Tara could sense that Carla was trying to sound casual, probably to spare her feelings. ‘Whatever.’

‘Come on. Spill. You don’t need to hold back on my account.’ Tara spooned baked beans from a saucepan onto the plates that she’d laid out and added bacon, two fried eggs, two sausages, two potato rosti and a couple of slices per plate of black pudding and a spoon of fried mushrooms to every plate.

‘Oh, well, yeah. You know. It’s been okay,’ Carla said, lightly.

‘He’s right there, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Text me later then. I assume things are going well,’ Tara chuckled. ‘It’s okay, Car. You don’t have to pretend you’re not happy. I want you to be happy. Even with Craig from PE.’

‘Oh my GOD!’ Carla hissed. ‘I can’t talk right now but he’s just gone in the bathroom. He is amazing. Just this morning he pushed me up against the–’

‘Okay, okay.’ Tara laughed. ‘I get it. Listen, babe, I have to serve the breakfasts. But message me the details. Well. The overview,’ she corrected herself. At least Carla was having a happy love life.

‘I will. You take care. I love you,’ her flatmate replied. ‘Remember you’re awesome. If he’s shacked up with someone else, then it’s his loss. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ Tara ended the call and picked up two of the breakfast plates. As ever, it helped talking to Carla, but she was still upset about what had happened.

If she was so awesome, then why had Ramsay Fraser dumped her so unceremoniously, all those years ago? If he had loved her, like he’d said in his letter.

I love you, but I can’t be with you anymore.

How could he ever be with anyone else? How could he have severed all contact from her for ten years? In that letter – which she’d memorised, she’d read it so many times – he’d said that he didn’t want her to be angry with him. But how could she avoid being angry and hurt and dismayed at what he’d done?

She couldn’t.

Tara made herself wear a cheery expression as she took the breakfasts into the bar and served them to the guests. She was fast learning that it was part of the landlady’s job to smile, chat and laugh with the people that were staying at the Inn, regardless of how she might be feeling. It was what Dotty did every day; surely there were days when her mother probably didn’t feel up to being cheery and sharing a laugh and a joke with total strangers. Yet, she did it every day. In fact, Tara couldn’t think of a time when Dotty hadn’t been the model of hospitality at the Inn. This was probably the first time she ever even remembered Dotty having any time off. Even if she was ill, she tended to work, brushing off her symptoms as “just a sniffle”.

Tara thought wryly about the television soap opera that she and Carla watched every week, and how they made fun of the characters, including the pub landlady. She thought about how both she and Carla mimicked their mothers. Obviously, it was all just in fun, but for the first time, Tara felt that she understood some of what Dotty really did on a daily basis, just to keep everything going. And, it was a lot.

As she went back out to the kitchen for more plates, Tara wondered if her mother would ever have asked for help if she hadn’t had to. In a strange way, she was glad that Dotty had been put in the position to have to ask for her help.

After making sure all the guests were happy, Tara popped upstairs to take Dotty her breakfast. She pushed her parents’ bedroom door open with her foot and leaned back with her bottom to push the heavy oak door open.

‘Breakfast!’ she trilled; usually, her mother was awake by now and was sitting up in bed reading a romance novel or crocheting. Yet, as Tara walked in, balancing the tray carefully, her eyes widened at the sight of Dotty lying back against her pillows, sobbing quietly.

‘Mum! What’s the matter?’ Tara put the tray down carefully on a side table and went to her mother.

‘Oh, love. I’m sorry,’ Dotty sniffed. ‘I didnae want ye tae see me like this.’

‘But what’s wrong?’ Tara took her mother’s hand. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her mother cry, and it was a terrible feeling. Dotty was always so strong, so together. Nothing was too much effort for the guests, and she was always cheerful, always practical and strong.

‘I’m just sad aboot ye and Ramsay,’ Dotty said in a strangled voice. ‘I wish we’d done more tae help him when he was younger, an’ I’m sorry, about him bein’ with someone else now. I really thought ye could get back together, an’ be happy. I prayed for it. I just feel like it’s such a shame, hen. An’ I’m yer mum. I just want ye tae be happy.’ Dotty started crying again. ‘Ach. Don’t take any notice o’ me. I think bein’ stuck in bed’s getting’ the better o’ me.’ She wiped her eyes .

‘Of course you’re going to feel low. It must be really hard being up here all the time,’ Tara agreed, handing her mum a tissue. ‘But as far as me and Ramsay goes, you shouldn’t feel bad about it. And you definitely shouldn’t feel bad about when he was a kid. You were always so good to him.’

‘Aye. But we couldae done more.’ Dotty shook her head. ‘It just makes me sad. The whole thing.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t know you felt like this.’

‘Aye, well. I dinnae like tae make a fuss.’ Dotty screwed up her nose.

‘You’re allowed to have feelings, Mum.’ Tara thought that, in a strange way, she would have liked it if her mum had cried in front of her before now.

‘I know. But you’re my daughter. I’m supposed tae be the one that helps ye, dries yer tears. No’ the other way around.’

‘No, you’re a human, just like anyone else. And I’m not a child,’ Tara said, gently.

‘Aye. But I hope ye know how hard it was tae ask for your help in the first place.’ Dotty let out a long breath.

‘I do know. And I’m grateful to be able to help you,’ Tara said, realising that it was true. There had been a distance between them for a long time: a wound, really, that neither of them had addressed. Tara knew they had both been hurt by what had happened with Ramsay. Tara had always felt resentful that Dotty hadn’t addressed it with her, she supposed. They’d never particularly talked about it, and she’d wanted to. But when she’d tried, Dotty had brushed it off and avoided the topic.

Tara, now having stepped into her mother’s shoes at the Inn, saw for the first time that Dotty’s life as the landlady at the Loch Cameron Inn had given her the habit of making the best of everything: always being positive, always putting a brave face on things. It was what you had to do as part of the job, and maybe she’d felt that it was the only way to deal with Ramsay leaving, and Tara being depressed and bereft without him. Dotty had felt that it was best left: she didn’t want to upset her daughter by talking about it.

But, Tara had really wanted to talk about it, and she realised that she had avoided coming home very much in the past ten years, partly because she felt a distance between her and her mother because of what had happened with Ramsay.

‘I’m grateful fer yer help, believe me, hen.’ Dotty squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. I just felt so sad when I woke up. I think I had a dream aboot ye when ye were a bairn. I remember holdin’ ye in my arms when ye were born an’ vowin’ I’d never let anythin’ or anyone hurt ye. An then, I did.’

‘Mum. Life is horrible sometimes. I know you think you could protect me from everything, but you can’t. Some things are out of your control.’

‘Hmph. Not somethin’ I like tae hear.’ Dotty chuckled wryly. ‘Yer father knows that I like tae be in control always.’

‘Ha. Well, you are, most of the time. But no one can be in control of everything. You tried your best, Mum. And that’s more than enough. What happened with me and Ramsay – and what’s happened now – isn’t your fault. There’s nothing you can do about it, apart from be here to give me hugs.’

‘I hope ye know I’m always here fer hugs.’ Dotty smiled. ‘Shall we have one now? I could do with one.’

‘Of course.’ Tara hugged her mum gently. ‘I love you, Mum.’

‘I love ye too, poppet.’

Tara hadn’t wanted to come back to Loch Cameron for the summer. But, being here with her parents had meant that she was spending more time with them than she had since she was a teenager. And, it was a shock to see, suddenly, that Dotty wasn’t as relentlessly practical and as closed off as she’d thought.

The experience of ‘being Dotty’ at the Inn had given Tara an insight she hadn’t had before: it was hard to be Dotty. And, seeing her mother break down over the hurt that she too had carried all these years made Tara sad, but it also made her realise that Dotty had a deeper emotional life than she’d realised. And, for that realisation, and knowledge of Dotty as a woman – a fallible, vulnerable person, just like everyone else – she was grateful.