Page 5 of Knots About You
‘Hope you didn’t skimp on the barley. Stew’s not stew without barley.’ Dad helped himself to one of Jeff’s beers, knocking the cap off on the dented corner of the long wooden table. The indent spoke of so many dinners, and decades worth of beers.
I hoped that one day I would leave such an indelible mark on something. Until then, I felt like a kid wearing my dad’s wellies. I’d stepped right into his footprints and harboured such big hopes about how I would leave my imprint on the distillery’s legacy.
But in a world where it was no longer good enough just to produce a cracking whisky, I might well be remembered as the Harris who failed the family business.
‘Yes, there’s barley,’ I said. ‘It’s Gran’s recipe.’
We took our usual Monday night seats. Dad sat at the head of the table as always. I didn’t even sit in his seat when I was on my own in the house. The only one who dared was the cat, and he had balls of steel. Well, technically, an empty scrotum of steel.
Bread passed from hand to hand, spoons clinking over the comfortable chatter of family. Isla moaned about the village committee and the plans for the upcoming autumn fair. Jeff pitched another half-baked business idea. Dad muttered about the weather, despite my insistence that he could put his feet up at home and stay out of the wind.
I listened more than I spoke. My job was keeping the bowls full, and glasses from running dry. Holding the fort while trying to avoid them bringing up their favourite topic.
My love life.
Or lack thereof.
Inspector Meowrse curled up at my boots, purring loud enough to compete with the chatter.
It wasn’t a fancy life. But it was good. Steady.
Stew, bread, family, and a roof that had seen the Harris family through over a century of winters. I’d take that over most things.
‘Have you heard from Becky?’ Isla asked when we sat with full bellies while nursing our drinks.
Fantastic. Just the person I didn’t want to talk about.
‘No.’ I hoped my brash answer would cut her probing off.
As if Isla could ever be stopped.
‘I saw that she was in Edinburgh for a couple of weeks with work. Maybe you guys could work things out?’ Isla continued.
‘Oh, we love Becky,’ Mum added.
Yeah, I loved Becky too until she stomped on my heart. Until she threatened to blast pictures of me tying her up to everyone I knew unless I paid her off.Five grand.For a holiday with the man she cheated on me with.
I’d come out of that lookingjust great.
No. I’d stuffed any thoughts of Becky in the attic with my rope and kinks.
‘I’m not seeing Becky. What’s done is done.’ The finality in my voice curbed any further probing for one night, at least.
Because in Otterleigh Bay, little changed from one week to the next. Or year to year. Life remained steady.
Simple.
Boring.
three
CLAIRE
I spottedthe sign for Otterleigh Bay through a sheet of rain that bordered on a waterfall. While I’d known the village was remote, the three trains and dodgy taxi ride really hammered it home. Not to mention the taxi driver had dumped me at the edge of the village because the puddled road was too deep for his car. Not for me to traipse through, though.
My suitcase wheel had given up three pavements back, leaving me to drag it pitifully along the cobbled road. The map on my phone was near death, with only one per cent remaining and zero signal. Each footstep squelched, my poorly chosen heeled boots were like tall ponds.
‘Brilliant,’ I muttered, wiping sodden hair out of my face. My GPS hadn’t updated in over fifteen minutes, and I was pretty convinced I’d passed that same hedge three times.
