“It’s fine, Gavan. I get it.” I look across the square. “Why don’t I fetch us some cider?”
“I’ll go,” he says eagerly, and I sigh. It was supposed to be an excuse to leave and find Ren. Still, a wee cider to wash my food down won’t hurt. I might even find some courage in it.
Gavan hops off the wall, heading into the sunlit square. I realize we’ve been sitting in a patch of shadow, and the aptness of it almost makes me laugh. I spy Duncan Stroud across the square. He gives me a wave, and I nod back at him, before noticing who he’s standing with.
Giles Stewart. He is laughing, patrician face tilted to the sky, teeth gleaming, the picture of the jovial leader. Employer. Husband. Father. Pillar of the community.
He was in love with my mother.
It’s one of the reasons – probably the biggest one – that no one really believes him when he says my father killed her. Everyone knows Giles Stewart was sweet on her, and sour she didn’t feel the same.
I had no idea until he came to our cottage one afternoon. He hadn’t been before, and it felt exciting, that he’d come all the way up to see us – few ever did. My mam sent me to my room and kept him on the doorstep, but I opened my window to listen. It was near my birthday, you see, and I’d got it into my head that he might have come about my birthday party. I hoped he would offer his big house for it, as a surprise, because I’d been hinting…
I used to go to Gavan’s house for tea on Friday night after school, just the two of us, and Giles – Mr Stewart, as he was to me then – would hover, asking me questions about my da and mam, and our lives, while Mrs Stewart stood in the background, mousy and silent. He used to say I was welcome any time, that I was like a sister to Gavan. I didn’t notice at the time that my mam never went there. That it was always Mrs Stewart who’d walk me to the bridge, where my da would collect me.
Giles wasn’t there about my birthday party. He was distraught my mother was pregnant again. I heard him say two Douglas children was too many. She was pushing her luck, and his love wasn’t limitless.
My mam tried to interrupt him, but he kept going. He could forgive her for marrying Lachlan Douglas, and for having me. But he couldn’t forgive another baby.
“Giles, I never promised you anything.” My mam tried to sound gentle; I recognized it as the voice she used on sick or frightened animals. “We never had an understanding. I don’t know where this is coming from.”
“Not a spoken one,” Giles had insisted. “What we had was deeper than an understanding, or a silly promise. Look at this place,” he’d said, gesturing up at our cottage. “It’s a hovel. You can’t be happy here, not you, not with what you came from. I can give you a town house, make you a lady.” She tried to speak again and he held up his hands. “I know you’re worried about your reputation, but you don’t have to be. No one would dare say a word to us, not with the mill now up and running. I can give you everything you want.”
A silence, and then my mother said, “Don’t you see? I have everything I want.”
“How? How can you be satisfied with this?”
“Giles,” my mother said, and her voice was firm now. “You have to know I’d never leave Lachlan. Never. Nothing on earth would make me leave this place, or my family.”
Giles would remember that. He would remember that when she went missing.
I stopped going to Gavan’s for tea after that, saying I was needed at home. I didn’t like how hungry Giles looked to me, like a caged bear, waiting for its moment.
Now, in the shadow of a sunlit square, I watch Giles Stewart laughing. And, as if he can sense my attention, he turns and looks straight at me.
“Sorry it took so long. There was a queue.” Gavan takes his place by my side again.
Across the square his father sees us, and frowns.
“Actually, Gavan, I need to be getting on,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“At least drink your cider.”
“Why don’t you—”
“Miss Douglas.”
I fall silent. I have no idea how Giles crossed the square so fast, but there he is, standing too close. Duncan is at his side, a tankard in his hand.
“Giles,” I say as politely as I can. “Duncan.” He gets a smile.
Giles’s face is thunder-dark. “I’m afraid I need to take my son from you, Miss Douglas,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.
“Let me finish my drink,” Gavan says easily.
“Now,” Giles says, taking both mugs from Gavan and setting them down on the wall. After a moment, Gavan stands and Giles puts an arm around him, steering him away. I watch him try to turn to say goodbye, only for his father’s grip to tighten on his shoulder, preventing him.
Duncan watches Giles’s retreating back.
“Was it just me, or was that a wee bit awkward?” he says.
“Giles is not a fan of mine,” I tell him.
“More fool him,” Duncan says, and my cheeks flush. “I’m afraid your monks didn’t send any work for you this time,” he continues.
Of course they sent none; I’ll be joining them in a few days’ time. But he can’t know that.
“They don’t want me any more,” I say, and shrug. “Sent me a note last time thanking me for my services, but telling me I was no longer needed.”
Duncan tuts, shaking his head. “Ah, Alva, I’m sorry. After you working so hard for them all these years. Shame on them to cut you loose with no warning.”
“Aye. But what can you do?” I shake my head. “I’ll send the last lot back with you and get paid for that at least. What time are you leaving tomorrow?” I say it as casually as I can.
“After lunch, I expect.” He looks down at the tankard in his hand. “I won’t be wanting an early start.”
I smile. “Of course not. Say around one?”
He smiles. “One sounds about right.”
“Although,” I look at my own drink and raise my brows, “if I haven’t brought them by then, don’t hang about,” I add. I don’t want him waiting for me while I’m huddled in the back of his cart, desperate to get on.
“Too right.” He grins. “No more than they deserve, to be left in the lurch after ditching you.”
Giles beckons to Duncan to join him.
“I’m being summoned by my host. But I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Enjoy the feis,” I call after him, and he raises a hand in acknowledgement.
“You’re a curiosity,” a voice says the moment Duncan is out of earshot. “That’s the only reason he’s interested in you. Same with Gavan. Novelty.”
Hattie Logan is at my elbow, upturned nose in the air.
“Nice to see you too, Hattie,” I say. “Thanks for that. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”
“The strange girl from up on the mountain. That’s your allure.”
“At least she has some.” Ren has appeared unnoticed at my other side. Now he looks out across the square with the air of a man surveying his lands and finding them wanting. “Unlike certain others here, who are about as enticing as sheep dip and twice as loathed.”