Page 51 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

Freya rolled her eyes.Do you even know what mothballs smell like?

Another laughing-face emoji.

Thought not.

Do you?he asked.

No.She smiled to herself.Envious?

Of you having dinner in an old pile like that? Not really.

Did you go somewhere nicer this evening?

I ordered in.

Bet my dinner was nicer than yours.Was there a poking-out tongue emoji, she wondered.

Got more sightseeing planned?

Freya pursed her lips, annoyed that Hadrian was persisting with the idiotic insistence that she was there on a jaunt. She knew he was trying to cheer her up, but honestly! A bit of sympathy and understanding wouldn’t go amiss.

With aGood night, she closed all the apps down and tossed her phone on the bed, then as she cleansed her face and changed into her PJs, she resolved to tell him they were over. She should do it soon, she decided, and although she continued to be reluctant to end it over the phone, she couldn’t make the long journey to London and back, so the only option was to call him. Not now, though. She’d had a long day and was tired, and she’d only just had a conversation with him.

She would do it tomorrow.

Decision made, Freya felt rather despondent. Hadrian had been part of her life for the past two years, so she supposed it was only natural to feel glum.

However, it wasn’t Hadrian who invaded her thoughts as she drifted off to sleep – it was Mack.

Chapter 14

Freya scurried around the house one more time, making sure everything was perfect – or as perfect as she could make it, considering she’d had to improvise a fair bit. No doubt her dad wouldn’t be pleased with the way she’d organised his sitting room, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and she’d done her best with what she had available.

Earlier this morning, Rhona had knocked on her door to tell her that she’d seen a card in the window of the post office with a riser chair for sale, along with a commode, so Freya had hurried to the main street to see for herself. She’d bought the chair (not the commode, though) and having wrestled it into the van with some considerable cursing, mostly under her breath, it now sat next to her dad’s bed, angled towards the TV.

It meant that the room was more crowded than she would like, but there was little she could do about that, unless…

Freya shook her head. She’d imposed enough on Mack already – she couldn’t ask him to help her move one of the armchairs into her dad’s bedroom. Anyway, it wouldn’t be long before it would have to be moved back down again. From what she’d read online, Dad should be able to manage the stairs by himself in a few weeks, if not before.

Crossly, she recalled the visit from the two ladies from social services and their recommendation that she had a stairlift installed.

Honestly! Where did they find these people? Dad didn’t need one and he certainly didn’t want one, although she had every intention of persuading him that a rail going up the stairs would be a good idea. After all, he wasn’t getting any younger. Future-proofing, it was called; however, she suspected there would be a limit to how much future-proofing her dad would allow.

She wished she’d been able to put the handrails up before he came home, because she had a feeling he’d object to those too, so that was an argument waiting to happen. It would have to happen on another day, though, because right now she was too concerned about her dad getting home safely.

With worry a low-grade whine at the back of her mind, Freya drove to the hospital. After finding a parking spot, she dashed inside and was relieved to see her father fully dressed and sitting in the chair next to his bed, waiting for her, his bag at his side.

‘Have you got everything?’ she asked, giving him a kiss.

He nodded.

‘I’ll just check.’ She opened the bedside cabinet. It was empty.

‘Stop fussing,’ he grumbled. ‘Can we go?’

A nurse appeared. ‘All set, Vinnie?’

‘Yes. Please, can I just go?’

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