Page 57 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

He smiled. ‘Haven’t we been here before?’

‘I suppose we have.’

‘No whisky this time, please.’

‘Don’t you like whisky?’ Her eyes widened, as though it was unheard of for a Scot not to like whisky.

‘Of course I do. But a simple “thank you” is enough. If you keep buying folk bottles of the good stuff every time they lend a hand, the corner shop will run out.’

He wasn’t offering to help because he wanted payment. He was doing it because that was the neighbourly thing to do.

Mack ignored the naggy voice in his head taunting him that therealreason was because it would give him an excuse to see her again.

Chapter 15

With her dad settled in his chair, Freya laced up her Doc Martens, grabbed her phone and some money, and dashed out the door.

If she was honest, she was glad to be away from him for a few minutes. This morning had been quite fraught; actually, the fraughtness (if that was a word) had begun last night, after Mack and Jean had left. Dad had wanted to watch TV, which was fine by Freya, but as she’d had little interest in the programme, she’d spent an hour or so on her phone, answering emails, checking her website and social media, and catching up on a couple of blogs she followed.

She’d had earbuds in so as not to disturb him, but her dad had objected nevertheless. He seemed to resent her not watching TV with him, but when she’d put her phone to one side, he’d accused her of sulking. Freya had most definitelynotbeen sulking, but his constant picking at her had resulted in her feeling quite petulant by the end of the evening.

As she scurried along the road, heading for the shop and a newspaper purchase, she recalled how crabby he’d been last night as he was getting ready for bed. She’d seen that he was struggling and she’d tried to help, but it had only made him crabbier. And this morning hadn’t been any better.

Reminding herself that he must be finding it difficult, she vowed (yet again) not to take it personally. He was used to his own space, and had his own routine and his own way of doing things. She might be his daughter and he might love her unconditionally, but she was getting on his nerves.

‘Stop fashing me,’ he’d said, more than once since he’d come out of hospital, and she had a feeling he’d be saying it a few more times before she returned to London.

Although she didn’t want to fuss, it was hard not to, especially since she had to constantly remind him to use his walker.

‘Just until you’re more confident on your feet,’ she’d told him this morning, after discovering him heading towards the bathroom by way of holding on to the wall. The glare he’d given her could have felled a sheep at fifty paces.

‘Aw, hen, how’s your dad?’ Mrs Davy in the shop asked when Freya approached the counter to pay for the newspaper.

‘Getting there slowly, thanks for asking,’ Freya replied.

‘I meant to tell you the other day, when you popped in, that you’ve turned into a bonnie lass. I bet Vinnie’s glad to have you home.’

Freya wasn’t entirely sure that was the case. Resentful was probably a more apt description. Telling herself that her dad’s mood would improve as he became more mobile, she paid for the newspaper, assured Mrs Davy that she’d let her dad know she was asking after him, and hurried home.

To her surprise, she discovered Mack’s truck parked behind her van, and when she went into the house, she heard laughter coming from the bathroom.

‘I had to use a boathook to nab it, with Angus holding on to my legs to stop me toppling in,’ Mack was saying. ‘I wouldn’t have minded, but it was only a cheap one. She could have picked up another easy enough, without me having to risk a soaking.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Freya asked, taking in the scene at a glance. Her dad was perched on the toilet seat (thankfully with his trousers on) and Mack was holding a handrail against the wall with one hand and had a pencil in the other.

‘A daft woman and her daft hat,’ Mack said. ‘We’d barely cast off and it blew off her head into the loch. She demanded I went in after it. You can imagine what I said – under my breath, of course.’

‘Stick to fish, lad,’ Vinnie said. ‘They don’t answer back. I could never be bothered with people. Too contrary.’

Mack chuckled. ‘I should have known she’d be trouble when she told me she expected to see orcas or she wanted her money back. Did she think I kept a tame one in my pocket?’

‘Some people just aren’t right in the head,’ Vinnie tutted.

‘Tell me about it,’ was Mack’s heartfelt reply.

Pleased to see her father in better spirits, Freya took his newspaper into the sitting room and stopped dead.

One of the armchairs was missing.

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