500 Miles from You (Scottish Bookshop #3)(53)

“Why did you choose here?” said Nina curiously. “I mean, I kind of got stuck . . .”

Lissa shrugged. “The . . . I mean, this is where it came up. With Cormac.”

“Good old Cormac,” said Nina. “I bet he’s having an absolute ball down there.”

Lissa wondered what she meant by this but didn’t pursue it in case it meant, as she suspected, “getting lots of girls,” some of whom might even be her friends. She thought of her hedgehog picture and smiled, then dismissed it. He obviously did that for everyone.

Instead she leaned forward. She was glad she was off the internet, but she did miss just having people to chat to. And she felt she ought to be a little brave. After all, they’d all made the move.

“I . . . They kind of sent me here to . . .”

The other girls went silent, sensing she had something to say.

“I had a rough time in London,” Lissa confessed. “I was a witness to a hit-and-run and . . . it all got a bit much for me.”

Nobody said anything.

“So. I’m kind of supposedly on a quieter beat for a bit. The NHS equivalent of basket weaving.”

She attempted to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

Zoe leaned forward. “Was it awful?” she said gently.

Lissa got that awful about-to-cry feeling again. She couldn’t speak, just nodded.

Nina, who was next to her, patted her gently on the hand. “God, that must be awful. The worst that’s ever happened to me was a paper cut.”

Lissa half smiled.

“Is it helping?” said Zoe.

“I wasn’t . . . I mean, I wasn’t, like, traumatized or anything. But I was stressed out and miserable, and coming here . . .”

A flock of swallows lifted up from the far field across the road, in one great swarm. Lissa watched them go.

“I think so.”

“Hang on,” said Nina, standing up and going inside. She came back with a small book with a woman standing on the cover. “Here.”

Lissa picked it up.

“I got two copies by accident,” said Nina. “You can have it.”

“The Accidental Tourist,” read Lissa. “What’s it about?”

“Healing,” said Nina. “Best book ever written on the subject.”

Lissa looked up at her, touched beyond measure. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Oh.” Her face changed. “Here they come!”

Lennox was bouncing the baby on his shoulders, heading down from the fields for lunch. In the old days he’d have taken a lunch box and thrown a sandwich in his mouth in the barn. Now, he knew there was warm bread in the kitchen from the baker, good cheese, and ripe tomatoes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Nina had bought some ironic ginger beer that they were both enjoying entirely unironically. Seeing they had company made him clam up slightly, as usual, but the girls talked enough for them all, as they sat out on the first clear warm day of the year, watching John try to crawl on the rug, as the chicken pecked sinisterly at the corner of the barn. Eventually Lissa headed off, clutching her book gift as if it were a treasure.

“Oh,” said Lennox as she went. “Are you talking to Cormac at all?”

Lissa flushed. “Um . . . only professionally, you know, patient notes and stuff.”

Lennox wasn’t interested in that. “Tell him I need harvesters, I’m not kidding. Barn’s all set up. Ninety squillion lads in London, they can surely spare a few.”

Lissa blinked, then nodded and carried on her way.





Chapter 41


Cormac headed out, taking Robbie his breakfast. To his surprise Robbie was sitting up, staring into the distance; normally he was unconscious at this time of day, and Cormac would leave the food near him.

“Morning,” said Cormac.

Robbie looked at him, and it wasn’t the usual unfocused look he had. The sun was out and could just be glimpsed behind the roundabout underpass. Robbie scratched his head. “Man,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” said Cormac.

Robbie looked uncomfortable. “Can I . . . can I have a shower?”

Cormac thought about it. Sure, nobody was going to mind. The only person he was going to have to deal with was . . .

“MORNING,” HE SAID.

The grumpy porter looked up and grunted. Then he focused on Robbie, looking disgruntled. There was, undeniably, quite the whiff.

“I brought you this,” said Cormac. “I just had too many.”

And he handed over a bag of fresh pain au raisins. Being able to go out and buy pretty much whatever you liked whenever you felt like it remained quite the novelty to Cormac, and he was enjoying it.

“Try them,” he said. “I think they’re French. They’ve got custard in them!”

The man sniffed, then without another word took the bag off Cormac, who quickly shuffled Robbie inside.

CORMAC BUNDLED ROBBIE into the showers with a fresh towel, some of his clothes, and instructions to stay in as long as he wanted; the hot water was limitless, even if the tiles were cracked.

Kim-Ange caught him at the basement laundry door and stood there, arms folded. “Who’s that in the shower?”

“A . . . friend,” said Cormac.