The Secrets of the Glen (Scottish Highlands #2)

Chapter 30

Gayle wandered into the kitchen wearing a silk dressing gown over her pyjamas. She gave a wide yawn and acknowledged Robyn, but her attention was on a pile of letters in her hand. There was no post on a Sunday. Robyn had collected them from the doormat the previous day and had left them on the sideboard in the hall, but Gayle hadn’t bothered to pick them up or open them straight away. She sifted through them, turning one over, studying it for a moment, then sighing and tucking it back into the pile as if into a pack of cards.

Robyn had a strong sensation of déjà vu. ‘More bills?’ she asked.

‘Oh, yes.’

Robyn imagined that this explained Gayle’s reluctance to look at them when they’d arrived the previous day.

‘They’re all addressed to me,’ commented Gayle. ‘But I’m not complaining.’

Robyn smiled as she picked up her cup of tea. Of course she wouldn’t complain. The family home she’d grown up in was now hers, so she didn’t have to worry where she would live when her mother was no longer around – all thanks to her father changing his will. It meant that all the bills were in Gayle’s name now.

Robyn had wondered why Gayle’s father hadn’t told Gayle and her siblings that he’d changed his will. But she had seen how angry and upset Gayle’s siblings had been after the reading of the will. Perhaps, towards the end of his life, their father had not wanted his older children haranguing him to change it back.

Previously, Gayle had rented all her life. Her father had given her the security of a home – something her brothers and sister already had. Robyn glanced at the letters in Gayle’s hand. All Gayle had to do was pay the bills. Her father had left her his savings, which had given Gayle a financial cushion to pay the bills. And she had the rent money from Nick, her lodger. But very soon, come the summer, Lark Lodge, the guesthouse, would be open for business, and Gayle would hopefully earn a decent income.

‘You’re up early,’ Gayle observed as she flicked the kettle on.

Robyn had already washed and dressed. She’d woken early, and had tried to get back to sleep, but she had been unable to. The planned visit to The Lake House with Marty that day had been on her mind. She’d quietly slid out of bed so as not to wake David, and had crept downstairs, trying to avoid the creaky stairs, which was a bit difficult when every single one creaked.

She had thought that Nick, who liked an early morning run with Olive, might have gone out already, but she had soon discovered that it was too early even for him on a Sunday morning. When she’d walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on, Olive had still been there, on her cushion, and had been unable to get out of her bed fast enough, excited to see Robyn, as though she’d been gone for months, not just one night.

After lots of cuddles and licks from the energetic dog, Robyn had filled Olive’s bowl with dog biscuits and had then made herself a cuppa. No sooner had she sat down at the kitchen table than Gayle had appeared. She was still sorting through the letters while she waited for the kettle to boil.

‘Oh, there’s a letter for you, Robyn.’

‘A letter – for me?’

Gayle handed her the envelope.

‘Who’s it from?’

Robyn didn’t want a letter if it was from someone in her past, especially if she couldn’t remember them.

I don’t want to remember my past life , thought Robyn. And I don’t want anything or anybody turning up to take me away from the life I love here, or the people I love too.

Gayle was still holding out the letter. ‘It looks as though it’s been redirected from the university.’

Robyn looked at Gayle, and thought why did I let her persuade me to give the university a forwarding address when I told them I wasn’t coming back? Gayle had persuaded her not to drop out completely but to defer instead, just in case. Who knew what would happen when her memory came back? Robyn did not feel very reassured when Gayle had said that.

Robyn took the letter. She already had an idea who it was from. She recognised the expensive stationary and the neat handwriting.

‘Is it from your mother?’ Gayle asked.

‘Yes.’ Robyn had discovered letters in her suitcase from her mother that she’d kept hold of. She’d discovered from the dated letters that her mother contacted her just before any major holiday, sending her a cheque to cover flights, hoping she’d join her for a holiday in whatever destination she happened to be travelling to. Why didn’t she just text me, and then deposit the money straight into my bank account, thought Robyn. Perhaps it was just the way she preferred to communicate, Robyn reasoned, in case she was in a place with poor mobile phone reception, and no bank.

Robyn had lost her phone, and her purse, in the car accident on Christmas Day, so apart from the savings book in her suitcase, she would have no clue whether her mother had called or texted her mobile, or put money in a bank account.

Perhaps she thought she’d send letters because I wasn’t answering her texts or returning her calls. Robyn had no way of knowing unless she regained her memories at some point.

She’d been putting off writing to her mother to tell her she’d dropped out of university. She could go back in the new academic year, in six months’ time, if she wanted to, but she had a life, a business, friends, David. Robyn couldn’t imagine changing her mind. She hadn’t told her mother that yet. She hadn’t told her anything – about the accident, her memory loss, or the life she was building.

She stared at the letter.

Gayle turned around with a cup of tea. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

‘I haven’t written to her and told her I’ve dropped out.’

‘Deferred.’ Gayle took a sip of tea, sat at the kitchen table, and stroked Olive, who was sitting on the floor by her chair. Gayle put her mug down. ‘Do you want to leave the course permanently?’

‘Yes, of course I do. I can’t imagine leaving this place.’

‘You can’t stay here forever.’

Robyn’s face dropped.

‘I meant at the guesthouse.’

That did not make her feel any better, especially when she realised that by coming up with the guesthouse idea, she might just have done herself out of a room. ‘I said I’d pay rent.’ Robyn didn’t know how many times she’d told Gayle this.

‘It’s not the money, sweetheart.’

‘Then what is it? I don’t understand.’

‘You and David.’

‘What about us?’

‘ Us – that’s the operative word. One day, possibly quite soon, you will want to move in together – properly, I mean, in your own home.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Robyn breathed a huge sigh of relief. She didn’t know when or if that was going to happen. But she did ask, ‘Can I stay here until—?’

‘Robyn, I wouldn’t mind if you stayed forever. For my own selfish reasons, I wish you’d never met David. Perhaps you two could have a huge falling-out. Then you wouldn’t leave.’

‘All right. I’ll try.’ Robyn laughed. ‘I thought for a moment there that you were showing me the door.’

‘Nonsense. I wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of what?’

Robyn swung round in her chair to see Marty standing at the kitchen doorway. He looked at them both sheepishly. ‘Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing.’

Robyn stared at him, wondering how much he’d overheard.

Gayle said, ‘Morning! Did you sleep well? Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I’d prefer orange juice.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. I forgot you don’t like tea.’

He joined them at the kitchen table.

Gayle poured him a glass of orange juice as she said, ‘We were just discussing Robyn moving out.’

‘Really? That’s a shame.’ Those words were barely out of his mouth, Robyn noticed, when he asked, ‘Does that mean there’s a spare room going for rent?’

‘Why – do you want one?’

‘I’m not moving out,’ Robyn said quickly.

Gayle sighed. ‘I know, Robyn. There are other rooms.’

‘Yes, but they’re in a bit of a state,’ Robyn blurted.

‘I don’t mind,’ said Marty. ‘Anything will do. Honestly, I’m not fussed.’

Robyn and Gayle’s eyes met across the table. She wondered if Gayle was thinking the same thing – what had precipitated Marty suddenly wanting to move out of his parents’ house?

Gayle smiled. ‘You’re welcome to use that room for as long as you like, but …’

Robyn looked at Gayle, realising the words had caught in her throat. She wasn’t surprised. Gayle was a lovely lady, and was just too nice to ask people for money, even if she was meant to be running a business. Robyn had tried to think of the possible obstacles to turning Lark Lodge into a bona fide guesthouse – this was not one of them she’d considered.

Robyn was going to help her out. She turned to Marty. ‘What Gayle is trying to say is that she needs to charge you rent money.’

‘Of course. I pay my way at home. I’ll just pay to live here instead until I figure something else out. I’ll go and pack my things after breakfast.’

Gayle handed him a cup of tea. ‘But won’t your parents miss you? And, um … what about the money you pay them?’

‘Yeah, they’ll miss me. They’re okay for money, though. More than okay. It was me who insisted on paying them for my keep once I took over the gardening business and started earning. I would never want them to think I’d take advantage.’

Gayle smiled. ‘Of course not.’

There was a long silence. Robyn and Gayle exchanged another glance, realising that Marty wasn’t going to tell them what was going on at home.

Everyone sat watching Olive hoovering up the dog biscuits that she’d managed to spread all over the kitchen floor and under the table. As soon as she finished, she pounced on Marty, cheering him up no end when she offered him her paw and then put her huge head on his lap.

Gayle pointed at Robyn. ‘Aren’t you going to read that?’

Robyn had forgotten all about the letter in her hand. She waved it in the air. ‘This can wait.’

Olive suddenly jumped up and snatched the letter.

‘Hey!’

There ensued a frantic chase around the kitchen table, and then Olive ran out of the door into the lounge, followed by Robyn, Marty, and Gayle in quick succession. Olive was having great fun.

This game was nothing new. Stealing was her favourite past-time. Everyone had learnt the hard way not to leave things lying around, especially shoes by the front door.

They were trying to corner her, but she managed to get past them.

She ran out of the lounge, just as Nick called out, ‘Walkies!’

Olive skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, Nick had appeared in his jogging gear. ‘There you are,’ he said, smiling at his dog.

The three of them appeared behind Olive. Robyn saw Nick’s smile fade. ‘What’s she done now?’ he said, resignation in his voice.

Robyn shook her head. ‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Really,’ Nick replied, walking down the stairs. He was used to everyone covering for his naughty dog.

‘I just need to get this…’ Robyn prized her jaws open and retrieved her letter, which had two rather large holes where Olive’s teeth had been.

Nick looked at the letter. He turned to his dog. ‘Olive!’

‘It’s fine, really. It’s nothing important.’ Robyn stuffed the letter in the back pocket of her jeans. She turned to Marty. ‘Shall we go and visit The Lake House now?’ David was still asleep, and she rather fancied having breakfast with him, and spending the day together. It suited her to do the visit early.

‘All right. Let’s go.’ Marty opened the front door.

Olive took that as her cue to follow them.

‘No, no – not you.’ Nick jogged down the stairs. ‘Olive – here, girl.’

Olive stood beside Marty, ignoring Nick.

Although Marty had only been there one night, Olive had taken rather a shine to the new house guest, Robyn noticed. Olive wasn’t the only one. Nick had made friends with Marty too, chatting amiably to him at the dinner table the previous night. She realised that Marty was going to fit right in at Lark Lodge.

Robyn was still smiling at the thought as she walked down the drive with Marty, on their way to The Lake House.