The Secrets of the Glen (Scottish Highlands #2)

Chapter 15

Robyn was looking out of the window, focusing on nothing in particular as they were passing through town, when they were caught in traffic as they approached Gillespie’s general store. ‘Pull over!’ Robyn said urgently.

‘What?’ Gayle sounded distracted.

‘I want to get out. Stop the car!’

‘Alright, calm down.’ Gayle pulled the car into a parking bay a short distance along the road before they reached the store. She switched the engine off and turned to Robyn. ‘What’s going on?’

Robyn could feel herself sweating despite the cool breeze coming from the open window. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’ She opened the car door. If she didn’t go straight away, she knew she’d lose her nerve.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Gillespie’s General Store.’

‘That place is pricey. Why don’t you go into a supermarket instead?’

Robyn shook her head.

‘Want some company?’ Gayle said, unbuckling her seat belt.

‘No. It will just take a minute.’

‘What will?’ Robyn heard Gayle ask as she jumped out and strode at pace down the street.

As she stood in front of the store, Robyn’s urge to give David’s father a piece of her mind was now shrinking at an alarming rate. It didn’t help that she could see Mr Gillespie through the window, standing at a counter. He was serving a customer.

She nervously tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear as she glanced back at the car. Gayle had turned in her seat and was staring at her through the back window.

Robyn took one more look through the window before she considered venturing inside. Mr Gillespie was packing some groceries in plastic bags for the lady at the till.

From the outside, it looked like one of those old-fashioned stores that Robyn thought only existed in movies. Double-fronted, it had old, leaded windows and a display in each window on either side of the entrance. On the left were tins of food – spaghetti, beans and soup – stacked in a neat pyramid. There were packets of rice, flour, sugar, and a lot more besides, in baskets and on shelves.

Through the other window, Robyn noticed all sorts of bread – wholemeal, white, sliced and unsliced, along with bread rolls, croissants, and some cakes, packaged in packs of six, from a local bakery.

After Rose’s delicious scone, it’s just as well I’m not hungry, thought Robyn, otherwise I’d be tempted to buy a croissant. But she wasn’t there to buy anything.

She opened the door. A bell tinkled, announcing her presence. Robyn frowned. Inside the shop, long, bright strip lights glowed above a very modern interior that belied its old-fashioned store front. There were several aisles piled with modern convenience food, just like a regular supermarket, and Robyn noticed a clothing and accessory corner at the back, with walking gear and some fishing rods and nets.

She stood to one side, holding open the door for the lady with the shopping bags. Now it looked as though she was the only one in the store besides Mr Gillespie. She closed the door, and the bell tinkled again. She picked up a basket, just in case there was someone else in the shop who thought she was acting suspiciously.

Robyn stood on her tiptoes and looked over the shelving, spying on Mr Gillespie. He didn’t appear to have seen her come in. As she spied on him, she had the strongest sense of déjà vu, as though she had done it before, pretending to peruse the aisle of a shop while keeping an eye out for a shop assistant.

Her hand involuntarily moved to a packet on the shelf. She whipped it off the shelf, and stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket without a second thought.

‘What the hell am I doing?’ Robyn exclaimed under her breath, shocked that she’d do such a thing. She took it out of her pocket and was putting it back on the shelf, her hand shaking in case anyone had noticed, when she dropped it.

‘Here, let me.’ A teenage boy crouched down and picked up the packet of noodles.

‘Oh, thanks.’ Robyn didn’t know why, but she put them in her basket. Perhaps she was feeling guilty that a moment earlier, she’d been shoplifting. That was still bothering her – that and the déjà vu moment. She really felt like she’d done this before.

But I’m a student, with a healthy savings balance. Why would I steal?

‘Where are you, lad?’ a booming voice shouted out.

Robyn jumped.

The teenager sighed, rolled his eyes, and said under his breath, ‘I hate this job.’

With a boss like Mr Gillespie, Robyn could understand. ‘Thanks,’ she whispered, ‘about the noodles.’ She threw him a sympathetic glance, watching him disappear down another aisle towards the clothing and outdoor gear area at the back of the shop.

Robyn walked down the aisle, carrying her shopping basket and absently scanning the shelves. As she walked down the next aisle, she heard voices coming from the clothing area.

‘I told you I wanted it done this way!’

She stopped dead. Robyn couldn’t mistake Mr Gillespie’s voice. She’d heard enough of it while she was hiding behind the bathroom door.

‘Can’t you get anything right? Honestly, I don’t know why I employed you, Alec.’

‘Because my mum asked you to. We need the money.’

Robyn raised her eyebrows. That was a surprise, hearing that Mr Gillespie had done a good deed.

Looking up, she noticed a large round mirror high on the wall opposite her. There were others too, she noticed. She expected they’d been put there so Mr Gillespie could prevent shoplifting. Of course, it also meant he could see what his shop assistants were up to when they were down the aisles stacking shelves, or helping out customers. You couldn’t get away with pocketing anything if the shopkeeper caught you in the mirror.

Robyn could feel the colour rising in her cheeks at the thought of Mr Gillespie catching her pocketing noodles.

In the mirror, Mr Gillespie and his young shop assistant – the tall, lanky teen who’d just picked up the noodles from the floor – were standing next to a shop mannequin dressed in ski wear. The shop assistant was rearranging the clothing.

‘Yes, that’s the way I want it done. Have you got it this time?’ Mr Gillespie said in a patronising tone. ‘Or do I need to spell it out one … more … time?’

‘Yes, Mr Gillespie. I mean, no, Mr Gillespie.’

‘Are you having fun with me, young man?’

‘Of course not, Mr Gillespie. Perish the thought.’

Robyn put her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle as she saw Mr Gillespie do a double-take. He stared at the young man for a moment as he carried on dressing the mannequin.

‘Well, um … that’s good. Carry on.’

Robyn saw the teenager pull a face at Mr Gillespie’s back as he walked away. She smiled.

Mr Gillespie disappeared from view, but didn’t pass her in her aisle. Robyn breathed a sigh of relief. David’s father was in a bad mood. Mind you, he always seemed to be in a foul temper. Even so, she decided that today wouldn’t be a good time to speak to David’s father about what she had on her mind.

She looked at her basket and wandered down the aisle to the far end, scanning the shelves. There wasn’t anything she really needed, but she wanted to put the noodles back. Staring at the basket, wishing she didn’t have to return down the aisle, she rounded the corner.

‘Watch it!’ a familiar voice growled.

Robyn stopped abruptly, staring into familiar, piercing blue eyes. Mr Gillespie, holding a large open box, stared back, not moving aside to let her pass.

‘Sorry.’ Robyn apologised.

He studied her for a moment before moving aside.

Robyn scooted past, relieved he hadn’t appeared to recognise her. The first and last time they’d met had been during Hogmanay, when she’d been wrapped up in a hat and scarf and was wearing different clothing. He’d barely said a word to her. Probably barely looked at me , thought Robyn.

Then she thought, why did I apologise? What happened to the adage that the customer is always right?

Despite her first inclination to walk out, depositing her empty basket at the door, Robyn turned around. ‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’

Mr Gillespie was kneeling on the floor, depositing the contents of the box onto the lower shelves. He carried on unpacking the box.

Robyn was just thinking that he hadn’t heard her, when he looked up. With his eyes firmly fixed on her, his face expressionless, he stood up with the empty box in hand. Feeling unnerved, Robyn couldn’t think of what to say next, so she held out her hand, thinking she’d introduce herself. ‘I’m Robyn,’ she said. ‘Robyn Parker.’

He looked at her hand.

‘I’m a friend of your son, David.’

‘Is that right?’ He dropped the empty box.

‘Yes, it is.’

Robyn wondered what he was going to do next. To her surprise, he grasped her hand.

‘So, David’s friend. What can I do for you?’

What Robyn wanted him to do was let go of her hand. A horrible thought flashed through her mind – Customer murdered in aisle three for disturbing shopkeeper who was busy unpacking … Robyn looked at the shelf where he had been kneeling, unpacking … jammie dodgers . Robyn imagined the headline.

He looked at her quizzically. ‘What did you say?’

‘Oh, er … nothing.’

He let go of her hand. ‘What are you doing here?’

To her amazement, he abruptly turned his back on her and disappeared down the next aisle before she had a chance to answer. Robyn was just shaking her head at his total disregard for any manners when he returned carrying a second identical box of what she now knew contained jammie dodgers.

He stopped dead, as though she had just appeared from nowhere and hadn’t been standing there the whole time. ‘Didn’t you hear my question?’ He dropped the box, which made a dull thud on the floor. Robyn imagined all those customers who were going to buy packets of broken biscuits.

He regarded her for a moment, as if he were challenging her to say something about the biscuits, then bent down and proceeded to pile them on the shelves.

Robyn knew that the question meant, what are you doing in Aviemore? When David had introduced her to his father during the New Year’s Eve celebrations, Mr Gillespie had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t the least bit interested in meeting her. She decided it was none of his damn business what she was doing in that part of the world – the fact that she didn’t really know was none of his business either – but she was going to tell him what she was doing in his shop. ‘The reason I’m here,’ Robyn took a deep breath, ‘is that I wanted to talk to you about David.’

She watched him stop what he was doing and turn to look up at her, one hand in the box and the other on the shelf. ‘Is that right?’ he said again.

‘Yes, it is,’ Robyn said boldly, looking him in the eye.

‘Well, are you going to say what you want to say, or aren’t you?’ He turned his attention back to unpacking the box.

For some reason, Robyn hadn’t expected him to be interested at all in what she had to say. She’d thought he’d just tell her that she wasn’t welcome in his shop, and to leave right away.

Robyn decided that the direct approach would be best. ‘David wants to go to college to study history.’

He had finished unpacking his box, but he was still on his knees, and he seemed to be staring vacantly at the shelves. ‘His mother liked history.’

Robyn was taken aback that he’d brought up David’s mother. ‘Yes, David told me.’

He got up. ‘And what does he think he’s going to do with a qualification in history?’

Robyn recalled David’s scepticism when she’d suggested he could apply to study history at college. ‘He could teach history,’ she said quickly. She knew that David had been sceptical about that idea too. But after his accident on the ice, Robyn wished she hadn’t encouraged him to think about coaching ice hockey. History was a much better idea; safer.

Mr Gillespie’s expression told Robyn he wasn’t exactly enthralled with the idea.

‘Perhaps a lecturer,’ Robyn added. ‘At college. Perhaps even a university, a top university like … like St Andrews.’ Robyn frowned, wishing she hadn’t mentioned that one in particular. ‘You know, those top red-brick universities where posh people go.’

‘Posh people?’

Robyn didn’t know why she’d said that. After all, she was meant to be a student there, and she wouldn’t call herself posh.

‘I know what a red-brick university is,’ he continued, his eyes narrowing. ‘I may live in a small town and run a small store, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t had a university education, does it?’

‘You’ve been to university, got a degree?’ Robyn said, astounded.

‘Does that surprise you?’

She avoided the question. ‘Where did you go? What did you study?’

He eyed her. ‘I was in the army. Then I left, decided I wanted an education.’

Robyn stared at him. David had never mentioned that.

Mr Gillespie looked at the floor. He toed the empty box.

‘David doesn’t know, does he?’ Robyn couldn’t hide her surprise.

‘Look, it’s not common knowledge.’

‘But …’ He’s your son , Robyn wanted to say.

‘Listen.’ Mr Gillespie pointed a finger at her. ‘I’ve got friends in this town.’

Robyn didn’t understand. Was he threatening her?

‘They’re ordinary folks, you know, we went to school together. We dropped out of school together.’ He chuckled to himself, and Robyn realised she had never seen him smile before.

‘We all joined the forces, to leave this place, get away, have an adventure. Except I did night classes, unlike my mates. I wanted to better myself. I was young and foolish, but I grew up fast in the army, although I knew I didn’t want to stay in the forces. Education was my way out.’ He continued in a small voice. ‘At least, I thought it was.’

Something dawned on Robyn. ‘You’re afraid they might look at you differently if they knew you’d been to college?’ Robyn ventured. She wondered how he’d wound up back in his hometown, and ventured the question.

‘A girl – what do you think?’

‘David’s mother?’

‘I should never have come back. It was only meant to be a short visit, picking my parents up to take them to my graduation. That’s when I met her. I popped into the general store, and there she was. Moved into the area with her parents. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.’

Robyn stared at him.

‘Her parents ran the general store.’

‘This place?’

‘And before I knew it, we were married. Her parents were older, needed help running their store. And … well the rest is history, as they say.’

He sighed and picked up the empty box. He paused in front of Robyn, frowning. ‘Forget what I just said. I don’t know why I told you all that.’ He promptly disappeared down another aisle.

Robyn stood there, staring after him. She heard the door to the shop open and the bell tinkle as another customer walked in.

Robyn walked around the corner into the next aisle, expecting to find Mr Gillespie unpacking another box. The aisle was empty. She walked down the aisle and turned the next corner. The shop assistant glanced up from dressing the dummy, then returned to his work. Robyn heard Mr Gillespie talking to someone. She headed towards the checkout and saw him packing the customer’s purchases into a plastic bag. The bell tinkled again as the customer left the shop. She walked up to the counter, where Mr Gillespie was putting some notes into the till.

‘It’s nearly closing time,’ he said, without looking up.

‘Is it?’ Robyn looked at her watch. It was only mid-afternoon. ‘I don’t think so.’

Mr Gillespie shut the till and folded his arms. ‘If I say it’s nearly closing time, then that’s what it is. You’d better pay for that.’

‘Oh.’ Robyn looked down at the shopping basket containing the packet of noodles.

He clicked his fingers impatiently, holding out his hand for the basket.

Robyn reluctantly handed it over. She happened to glance around the counter, and saw sweets, and some dog toys and chews. Robyn took a packet of doggy treats, a ball and a chew toy and put them on the counter, along with a box of chocolates. She had a thought. ‘Do you sell wine?’

Mr Gillespie cocked his head to the left.

Robyn walked over and chose a bottle of red wine – just the sort she thought Gayle would like. She looked at the bottle in her hands as she returned to the counter.

‘Having a little celebration – are we?’

‘Not exactly.’ Robyn knew she was being presumptuous, but she hoped there was a surprise in store for Gayle at the reading of the will. Even so, her father had died, so there really wasn’t anything to celebrate. But she still wanted to buy Gayle a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates, hoping she’d appreciate a small gesture that might cheer her up a little.

Thinking of lifting her spirits, Robyn intended to tell Gayle her idea about restoring Lark Lodge and setting it up as a guesthouse.

Mr Gillespie eyed her. ‘Have you got the money for all this?’

‘Yes – of course I have.’

‘Is it David’s money?’

Robyn looked at him a long moment. ‘Of course not.’ It was, in actual fact, his brother Joe’s. He’d handed her far too much money for a sandwich and a drink at the hospital the previous night before he’d left. She hadn’t realised it was a fifty-pound note until she’d got it out of her purse. Perhaps Joe hadn’t realised either. Luckily she’d had some loose change for a drink from the vending machine. She’d pay him back – of course she would. But she wasn’t about to tell Mr Gillespie any of that.

She did say, ‘I’m not after David’s money. I’m not like his previous girlfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know he’s got a nice house, and some investments …’

‘He has investments?’

Robyn pursed her lips. She shouldn’t have said that. It sounded like news to him. ‘They’re tied up, apparently, so he can’t touch them.’

‘I see.’

‘I don’t think it’s much. Just some savings.’ Robyn wished she’d shut her mouth. She had no idea how much David had put by from his earnings in professional ice hockey. ‘Anyway, I was about to say I have my own income.’ Robyn didn’t know why she cared what he thought, but she did. ‘I’m an interior designer,’ she said proudly.

‘Are you now?’

Robyn stared at him. She did not like his tone. ‘I want a carrier bag. And I can pay for that, too,’ she said sarcastically.

He plucked a carrier bag from below the counter, took his time opening it, and rang up the items on his till.

He handed her the bag.

She frowned at him. She’d seen him packing for his other customers. Robyn packed her own carrier bag and handed over the fifty-pound note.

He took the note. ‘Fresh off the press?’

Robyn looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It was a joke. You know … like it was just printed. As in counterfeit.’

Robyn stared at the note and suddenly had a peculiar thought. Were the wads of cash in her bag fresh off the press? The cash was bothering her enough without the idea that they might be counterfeit. Where had she got it from? And how could she check whether it was real or not?

She expected him to put the note in the till and give her the change. Instead he picked up a pen and held the note on the counter.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Checking it’s not counterfeit.’

Robyn had it on the tip of her tongue to say, It can’t be. Your son, Joe, a police officer, gave it to me. Instead she watched him scribble on the note with the pen. She didn’t see any marks on the note afterwards. ‘Is that it? Is that how you check?’

‘Yep.’

‘Can I borrow that pen?’ Robyn blurted.

‘Why?’

Robyn wished she hadn’t asked. ‘Um, er … it’s just for a practical joke,’ she said off the top of her head.

‘Here.’

Robyn was taken aback. She cautiously took the pen.

‘I will need it back, mind. I don’t get many fifty-pound notes, but you never know.’

‘Of course. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.’ Robyn slipped the pen in her pocket.

Robyn gathered up the carrier bag and paused. ‘I just want one more thing.’

‘You don’t want much, do you?’ he said sarcastically. ‘You know I’ve got a store to run, and other customers?’

Robyn cocked her head to one side. She hadn’t heard another tinkle of the bell. ‘Aren’t you closing now?’

‘Oh, yes, right. So, what is it you want now?’

‘I want to ask you a question.’