On Dublin Street(6)

Who talks this much?


I hid a smile as she showed me the master bedroom. Like Ellie, it was cluttered. She prattled on a little more about her brother’s obviously vapid girlfriend and I wondered how this Braden guy would feel if he knew his sister was divulging his private life to a complete stranger.


“And this could be your room.”


We were standing in the doorway of a room at the very back of the apartment. High ceilings, a massive bay window with a window seat and jacquard floor-length curtains; gorgeous French Rococo bed, and a walnut library desk and leather chair. Somewhere for me to write.


Oh hell, I was in love.


“It’s beautiful.”


I wanted to live here. To hell with the cost. To hell with a chatty roommate. I’d lived frugally for long enough. I was alone in a country I’d adopted. I deserved a little comfort.


I’d get used to Ellie. She talked a lot, but was sweet and charming, and there was something innately kind in her eyes.


“Why don’t we have a cup of tea and see how we get on from there?” Ellie was grinning again.


Seconds later, I found myself alone in the sitting room as Ellie made tea in the kitchen. It suddenly occurred to me that it didn’t matter if I liked Ellie. Ellie had to like me if she was going to offer me that room. I felt worry gnaw at my gut. I wasn’t the most forthcoming person on the planet, and Ellie seemed like the most open. Maybe she wouldn’t ‘get’ me.


“It’s been difficult,” Ellie announced her re-entrance into the room. She was carrying a tray of tea and some snacks. “Finding a roommate, I mean. Very few people our age can afford somewhere like this.”


I inherited a lot of money. “My family is well-off.”


“Oh?” She pushed a mug of hot tea towards me as well as a chocolate muffin.


I cleared my throat, my fingers trembling around the mug. Cold sweat had broken out across my skin and blood was rushing in my ears. That’s how I always reacted when I was on the verge of having to tell someone the truth. My parents and little sister died in a car accident when I was fourteen. The only other family I have is an uncle who lives in Australia. He didn’t want custody of me so I lived in foster care. My parents had a lot of money. My dad’s grandfather was an oil man from Louisiana and my father had been exceptionally careful with his own inheritance. It all went to me when I turned eighteen. My heart slowed and the trembling ceased as I remembered Ellie didn’t really need to know my tale of woe. “My family, on my dad’s side, originally came from Louisiana. My great-grandfather made a lot of money in oil.”


“Oh how interesting.” She sounded sincere. “Did your family move from Louisiana?”


“To Virginia.” I nodded. “But my mom was originally from Scotland.”


“So you’re part Scottish. How cool.” She threw me a secret smile. “I’m only part Scottish as well. My mum is French but her family moved to St. Andrews when she was five. Shockingly, I don’t even speak French.” Ellie snorted and waited on my expected commentary.


“Does your brother speak French?”


“Oh no.” Ellie waved my question off. “Braden and I are half-siblings. We share the same dad. Our mums are both alive but our dad died five years ago. He was a very well-known businessman. Have you heard of Douglas Carmichael & Co? It’s one of the oldest estate agencies in the area. Dad took it over from his dad when he was really young and started up a property development company. He also owned a few restaurants and even a few of the tourist shops here. It’s a little mini-empire. When he died, Braden took it all on. Now it’s Braden everyone around here panders to–everyone trying to get a piece of him. And they all know how close we are, so they’ve tried using me, too.” Her pretty mouth twisted bitterly, an expression that seemed completely foreign to her face.


“I’m sorry.” I meant it. I understood what that was like. It was one of the reasons I had decided to leave Virginia behind and start over in Scotland.


As if sensing my utter sincerity, Ellie relaxed. I would never understand how someone could lay themselves out like that to a friend, never mind a stranger, but for once I wasn’t scared of Ellie’s openness. Yeah, it might cause her to expect me to reciprocate the sharing, but once she got to know me, I’m sure she’d understand that wasn’t going to happen.


To my surprise, an extremely comfortable silence had fallen between us. As if just realizing that too, Ellie smiled softly at me. “What are you doing in Edinburgh?”


“I live here now. Dual citizenship. It feels more like home here.”


She liked that answer.


“Are you a student?”


I shook my head. “I just graduated. I work Thursday and Friday nights at Club 39 on George Street. But I’m really just trying to focus on my writing at the moment.”


Ellie seemed thrilled by my confession. “That’s brilliant! I’ve always wanted to be friends with a writer. And that’s so brave to go for what you really want. My brother thinks being a PhD student is a waste of my time because I could work for him, but I love it. I’m a tutor at the university as well. It’s just… well it makes me happy. And I’m one of these awful people who can get away with doing what they enjoy even if it doesn’t pay much.” She grimaced. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”