Page 12 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

Feeling completely put out and too tired to make sense of her disjointed thoughts, Freya went home. She had always referred to her dad’s house as home, even after she’d bought her first studio flat, the one where, if she stretched out her arms, she could have touched both sides of her kitchen at the same time.

But if that was the case, why did she feel like she didn’t belong here, she wondered as she stepped into the tiny hallway. Abruptly, she felt a sudden yearning for London and the life she couldn’t return to while her father needed her.

Chapter 5

Freya was stripping the sheets off her dad’s bed the following morning when there was a rat-a-tat knock on the door. Curious, she went to answer it, and it took her a moment to realise that her visitor was Rhona from next door. Freya hadn’t seen her for ages, not for a couple of years at least, but the woman hadn’t changed a bit, despite being in her seventies now.

Rhona peered at her through a pair of round spectacles. ‘Freya? Is that you?’

‘How lovely to see you,’ Freya replied. ‘Won’t you come in?’

‘I’ve only popped by because I heard noises last night and saw the light on. I guessed it was you, but I thought I’d better chap on the door and check.’ Her brows lowered. ‘You can’t be too careful these days.’

‘No, of course you can’t,’ Freya agreed. ‘Are you sure you won’t come in? I was about to make a pot of tea.’ She’d nipped out to the shop for milk and bread as soon as it had opened at seven o’clock, so she could have a cup of tea and a slice of toast for her breakfast.

‘Go on, then, just a quick one,’ Rhona said, and as she showed her in, Freya saw her eyes widen. ‘You’ve been busy.’

Freya ignored the innuendo that her dad’s house had needed a good clean. Filling the kettle, she said, ‘Dad and I owe you a huge thank you. Goodness knows how long he would have lain there if you hadn’t heard him calling.’ She switched the kettle on, then pulled out a chair. ‘Please, sit down. Would you like a biscuit?’ Freya had found an unopened packet in a cupboard.

‘I’m watching my figure,’ Rhona said, patting her plump tummy.

Freya, who wasn’t, opened it and took two out, trying not to let her amusement show. Rhona had been ‘watching her figure’ ever since Freya could remember.

Rhona cocked her head to the side. ‘How is he?’

‘He’s broken his hip, I’m afraid.’

‘I thought as much. I could tell by the way he was lying. He didn’t want me to phone for an ambulance, though, the silly auld eejit. But I did anyway.’

‘And I’m very grateful.’

Rhona hadn’t finished. ‘I think he was hoping I’d be able to lift him!’ She tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘Will you thank him for the flowers? It was kind of him.’

‘I will.’

‘So, you’re going to be here for a bit, then? Or will he be going to stay with you in London?’

‘Milk?’

‘Aye, just a wee drop.’

Freya poured the tea, then joined her dad’s neighbour at the table. Rhona was looking at her expectantly and Freya realised she hadn’t answered her question. ‘I’ll be staying here,’ she replied.

Rhona raised her eyebrows and Freya simply knew that the news of her return to Skye, albeit on a temporary basis, would soon be all over the village.

‘That’s nice. I dare say he’ll be glad of the company. He’ll need it too, with a broken hip. How is he in himself? I must admit, I’ve been a bit worried about him these past few months.’

‘Oh? Why is that?’ A slow dread crept into her bones.

Ever since she’d got here last night and saw how her father had let standards drop, Freya had worried that maybe he hadn’t been coping. Were her fears about to be confirmed?

‘He’s not been himself,’ Rhona said, ‘but I can’t put my finger on it.’

‘Do you think he’s ill?’ Freya blurted.

Rhona thought for a moment. ‘It’s probably just old age. It comes to us all eventually. Look at me: I’ve got arthritis, high blood pressure, a cataract in one eye and my bowels haven’t been right for years.’

Freya winced. She honestly didn’t need to know that. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said, thinking that if there was something wrong, the hospital would surely have picked it up, considering the number of times Dad’s blood pressure, pulse and temperature had been checked this past week. But on the other hand, seventy-four wasn’toldold.

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