Page 57 of Of Heather and Thistle
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The following day, Heather woke with a renewed sense of purpose. After a hearty breakfast of porridge, fresh scones, and tea atThistle Haven Inn, she made a list on a scrap of paper. It felt satisfying to list what she needed: linens, cleaning supplies, groceries—and maybe a few cozy touches to make it feel like home.
She went to the town’s car rental office, a modest building just off the main street.
After some paperwork and a friendly chat with the attendant, Heather drove off in a small but sturdy hatchback, its tires crunching along the gravel road as she navigated the countryside.
Her first stop was a local shop that specialized in home goods. Inside, she found shelves lined with colorful bedding, plush towels, and simple kitchenware. She paused in front of a display of quilted duvets, her fingers brushing over the soft fabric before selecting one in a soft cream color. “Something simple,” she murmured, adding matching sheets and pillows to her basket.
Next came a quick stop at the grocery store, where she filled her cart with essentials: bread, eggs, milk, coffee, and a few treats for Byrdie. She also picked up a collection of cleaning supplies—bleach, mops, scrub brushes—and then wandered down the candle aisle, where she chose a lavender-scented one for good measure. Her trunk was packed when she returned to the car, and seeing it all made her feel oddly accomplished.
Byrdie, safely nestled at the inn, was next on her list. Heather carefully packed Byrdie’s food, dishes, a small blanket, and a litter box when she arrived at Thistle Haven. The cat let out a questioning chirp as she scooped her into his carrier. “I told you I’d take you with me,” she said softly, scratching her head through the mesh. “It’s time to see your new home for the time being.”
The drive back felt lighter—or so she told herself. The sun had broken through the clouds, and the rolling hills seemed less imposing, more welcoming.
As she turned onto the familiar dirt road leading to the estate, Heather glanced in the rear-view mirror at Byrdie. Her green eyes were wide, taking in the sunlight streaming through the car windows.
When they arrived, Heather parked near the front of the building and began unloading the car.
“Alright,” she said, gently setting Byrdie’s carrier down on the porch. “Home sweet home.”
Inside, the house was still as dusty and dim as she’d left it, but now, with supplies in hand, it felt like she could begin making it her own. She opened all the windows to let in freshair, her curls whipping in the breeze as she swept cobwebs from the corners and wiped down surfaces. When she finished unpacking the groceries and setting up the bed with new linens, the bedroom upstairs felt almost… welcoming.
Byrdie padded across the floor cautiously, sniffing at the furniture before hopping onto the bed and curling up in a sunbeam. Heather leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed as she took in the sight. “What do you think, Byrdie?” she asked softly. “It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.”
The cat purred in response, her contentment echoing her tentative optimism.
Hair in a messy bun, sleeves rolled, she surveyed the task ahead. Dust motes danced through the open windows, and every surface seemed coated in a thick layer of grime. It was daunting, but Heather was determined to reclaim the space, room by room. She started in the kitchen, scrubbing the countertops until they gleamed beneath years of neglect. Byrdie perched on the windowsill, watching her wide eyed as she attacked the ancient sink with a sponge and some elbow grease. She unearthed a small stack of old tea towels in one of the cabinets and smiled, imagining her mom drying dishes in this room as a little girl.
Moving on, she hauled a mop and bucket into the main hall, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell that lingered in the corners. The floors were beautiful underneath all the dirt—a dark wood that, once cleaned, reflected the light pouring in from the tall windows. She worked her way up the staircase, pausing occasionally to catch her breath and marvel at the intricate banister.
“You’re starting to look alive again,” she muttered to the house, almost feeling a sense of camaraderie with its tiredwalls. The living room took the longest. The fireplace was clogged with ash, and the furniture was draped in sheets so stained they were beyond saving. She tossed them into a pile by the door and wiped down the worn leather armchairs underneath. There was a small bookshelf in the corner, and as she dusted it off, she found an assortment of faded books, their spines cracked with age.
She picked one up—a collection of Scottish poetry—and set it aside for later. By mid-afternoon, Heather was sweaty, covered in a thin layer of dust, and starving. She took a break in the kitchen, slicing herself some bread and cheese she’d brought from town. Byrdie padded over to sit by her feet, letting out a slight chirp as she bent down to stroke her head.
“Not bad for a day’s work, huh?” she said to her, glancing around the room. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.
After lunch, she tackled the upstairs bedrooms. Most of them were in various states of disrepair, with peeling wallpaper and creaky floorboards. She focused on tidying the ones closest to hers, sweeping out debris, and airing them out. It was hard not to imagine what it must have looked like in its prime—bright and lively, with family bustling in every corner.
The final task of the day was the downstairs bathroom. The clawfoot tub was a masterpiece hidden under layers of grime, and Heather scrubbed at it until her arms ached. When she finally rinsed it clean, she stood back and admired her work, already picturing a hot bath to reward herself later.
Heather collapsed onto the small loveseat in the sitting room as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the room in a golden glow. Byrdie hopped beside her, curling into a tight ball against her side. As she dozed off for a quick nap,Heather felt a quiet sense of purpose settle over her.
After the long cleaning day, Heather stood in the bathroom, peering into the streaky mirror. Her face was smudged with dust, and her hair had escaped its messy bun in all directions. She groaned softly, turning on the faucet to wash her hands and splash cool water onto her face. “You look like you’ve fought the house and barely survived,” she muttered to her reflection, giving Byrdie, who sat perched on the side of the tub, a sideways glance. “Time to scrub up.”
She hopped in the archaic shower, letting the warm water rinse the sweat, dust, and grime from the day’s work. She felt human again when she stepped out, wrapped in a towel. She chose a casual but flattering outfit—dark skinny jeans, a soft navy sweater, and waterproof Chelsea boots. Her hair, still damp, curled naturally around her freckled face. She dabbed on a bit of concealer and mascara, her freckles still visible, and decided it was good enough.
As she grabbed her jacket, she paused to stroke Byrdie’s head. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t wreck the place, alright?” Byrdie let out a small, unimpressed chirp before curling back on the chair she’d claimed. Heather headed downstairs and locked up, the cool evening air hitting her as soon as she stepped outside. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. She’d noticed a pub in town earlier that day—a cozy looking place with a wooden sign that swung gently in the breeze. It wasn’t far, and after a day of sandwiches and scrubbing, the thought of a hearty meal (and maybe a glass of wine) was too tempting to resist.
When she arrived, the pub, The Highland Hearth, was precisely what she’d hoped for: warm, inviting, and filled with the murmur of conversation. The scent of roasted meatand fresh bread greeted her as soon as she entered. She found a small table near the fireplace, the flames crackling cheerfully. As she waited for the bartender to take her order, Heather leaned back in her chair, taking in the surroundings. The pub was quaint and rustic, with mismatched chairs, low beams, and walls lined with old photographs and faded maps of the Highlands. A group of locals played darts in the corner, their laughter echoing through the room. When the bartender finally came over, Heather smiled. “I’ll have the steak pie, please. And a glass of red wine.” He nodded, jotting down her order. “First time in town?” She nodded. “Just moved here. Sort of.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry, disappearing into the kitchen. Heather sighed in relief and pulled out her phone, scrolling absently as she waited for her meal. It wasn’t long before the plate arrived, steaming and delicious-looking, and she tucked in, savoring every bite. She couldn’t help but feel the day’s tension melt away as she ate. The pub’s warmth, the delicious food, and the hum of life around her were comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. Heather allowed herself to relax for the first time since she arrived in Scotland. As Heather polished off the last bite of her steak pie, she leaned back in her chair, cradling her glass of wine. She let her gaze wander around the room, soaking in the relaxed atmosphere. The fire crackled warmly, and the faint hum of a fiddle playing from the small sound system added to the pub’s charm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this grounded, even after such a chaotic start to her new life here.“Not bad for a solo dinner,” she murmured with a small smile.
She was about to wave for the check when thebartender came back over. “How was it?” he asked, his accent thick and friendly. “Absolutely perfect,” Heather replied, meaning it. “This might become a regular stop for me.”
He grinned. “Yer welcome anytime. We don’t get too many new faces in town, so you’ll be remembered, that’s for sure.” Heather chuckled softly, but his words reminded her of how small this community likely was. Moving to Glenoran might make her stand out in ways she hadn’t fully prepared for.
A voice interrupted her thoughts as she gathered her things and paid her bill. “Excuse me, miss.” She turned to see a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile near her table. “Sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t help overhearing you’re new around here. Are you staying in town?”
