Page 26 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

‘So maybe . . . a wee walk to clear your head and get your focus on? You’re meant to get out in nature every day, aren’t you? We could call it a forest bath?’

She attempts a conciliatory smile. She doesn’t think Essie is depressed, clinically depressed; she has worked with particularly elderly people who lose their hearing and withdraw from the world, and Essie is not in that place. But she recognises her beloved daughter is very, very sad, and incredibly upset about this halt in her hitherto glittering career. Janey understands completely, and wishes Essie could talk to her about it. But obviously she’s too proud and can’t, or won’t. And Janey feels so bad that things have got to this state. But you can respect that people are sad and feel sorry for them, while also finding them quite annoying, that’s for sure.

‘Anyway, you need to strip your sheets, it’s a perfect drying day.’

This is true: it is breezy and bright, and also, giving Essie an ultimatum might help. Janey glances down at Essie’s laptop. It is open on the same property website Janey was looking at.

‘Were you snooping at the houses for sale next door?’ she asks immediately.

‘No!’ Essie scoops up the laptop. ‘Maybe.’

‘They’re not on there,’ says Janey.

‘I know. Why not?’

‘Well, I happen to know the answer to that,’ says Janey. ‘I’ll tell you if you come for a walk. Fancy buying one?’

‘Of course not!’ chokes Essie, horrified.

‘I was only joking,’ says Janey. ‘Come on. A wander through the woods and I’ll buy you a hot chocolate at the shore. With marshmallows. You love them.’

‘Mum!’ says Essie. ‘I’m not nine!’

‘Marshmallows are not ageist,’ says Janey, conscious that for once she appears to be winning a battle. ‘They are the only thing in the world that isn’t. I’ll see you downstairs in half an hour.’

*

Of course it’s nearly an hour, and the glorious morning is nearly gone and the afternoon, as is so often the case, looks as if it might not be nearly so nice. But even so. It is a victory of sorts, compounded when Essie rather clumpily brings down her coffee cups and stuffs her sheets in the laundry basket, which is not the washing machine, but close enough for government work.

They agree to go together into the cobbled streets of the town, heading down naturally, as your feet take you, towards the harbour. They’ll skirt it, then turn south into the woods, following people walking their dogs – it’s a happy life in Carso for dogs, although depending on your standards of dog cleanliness it can be tricky for their owners, as dogs like nothing better than a good splash about in the waves in the morning followed by running into the forest for a quick roll in the mud, plus some fox poo if that’s available, which it always is. There are plenty of West Highland terriers, and terriers in general, with short wiry coats, who don’t mind the cold but dislike swimming, which is useful. The people with long-haired wave-loving spaniels learn very quickly to give up on any ultra-high standards of non-muddiness for their cars, hair, houses, clothes, etc.

The children had been desperate for a dog when they were little, but Colin had not had time for it, didn’t want the fuss. In fact, Janey reminds herself, that big dog that Johnson was talking about is still missing. An Irish wolfhound, it turned out; it was sitting, looking gormless, on the local Facebook page while people offered up various hopes and prayers but, tragically,no sightings. It isn’t a dog she recognises, but it appears to be the size of a small horse, which leaves an obvious question as to how it could be missing, unless someone had accidentally jumped on it for the Grand National.

They walk in what Janey would call a companionable silence. She wants to say something normal, like did Essie have fun at the quiz, but doesn’t want Essie to snort and sayof course notlike she did when she’d made a mild remark about buying the house next door. Also, Janey herself is still feeling slightly too touchy about making a slight idiot of herself in front of that man to really think about it.

‘Sorry you got Owen yesterday,’ she offers.

Essie blinks. She doesn’t want to admit it but going out last night – even with Shelby there, grumpily eyeing her up from the corner – and being out in the fresh sea air this morning – she has had a shower and is wearing jeans and a jumper and is not, amazingly, freezing to death, even though the jumper was incredibly expensive and therefore has holes and fraying bits all over it, thus making it not very good at actual jumpering – is doing her a little bit of good. Obviously last night was terrible: but it had stopped her missing Connor and her lost life for five seconds, particularly as they had to put all their phones into a basket as apparently there had been some fairly rampant Google cheating from ringers in the past, and Hector was having a crackdown.

And today there is a clear blue in the air, and the wind has dropped. The wind doesn’t ever really drop in Edinburgh; the whole place is effectively a wind tunnel, designed that way to keep the English out, someone once said, in which case it has been quite spectacularly unsuccessful.

‘I thought you were setting me up,’ she says, but not in an angry tone.

‘I know I’m a terrible mother,’ says Janey, ‘but even I would not inflict Owen on you. I’m just surprised he works in a hospital rather than running the prison service.’

‘What does he do in the hospital?’

‘Why, you interested?’

‘From a psychological standpoint, sure.’

Janey laughs. ‘Guess.’

‘IT? Or would that be too obvious?’

‘It would,’ says Janey. ‘Owen looks after the fax machines.’

‘Thefaxmachines!’

---