Page 96 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

Because he knows I’m right, she grumbled silently to herself. She’d find his flipping tablets, then make him his breakfast.

‘Someone got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning,’ she muttered, then wished she hadn’t been so snide, when his defiant expression turned to worry.

‘I just want my tablets, that’s all,’ he said, his voice quivering.

Instantly contrite, Freya crouched by his chair. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll knock my visits to Mack’s place on the head.’

Vinnie put a hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ll do no such thing. You need to keep working.’

Her eyes filling with tears, she said, ‘I don’t, Dad. I’m doing it because I want to; and I’m being incredibly selfish.’

‘I didn’t have to go to sea, you know. I could have got a shoreside job – it’s what your mother wanted me to do – but the sea called to me. Clay calls to you the same way. You know what they say: if you find a job you love doing, you’ll never work a day in your life. We’ve both been blessed.’

So has Mack, she thought – and Cal and Tara, and Mhairi, and the other crafters she’d met.

Freya covered her dad’s hand with hers. ‘Shall we start today again? I’ll find your tablets while you put the kettle on.’

‘Deal!’

But when she found the box and looked inside, she realised there were none left in the blister pack. He’d taken his last tablet, and he wasn’t going to be happy.

Freya smiled at the pharmacist. ‘Hi, I’ve come to pick up aprescription for Vincent Sinclair? It’s a repeat one.’

‘Vinnie? How is he? I was sorry to hear about his fall.’ The woman turned away to look through the stack of bags on the shelf behind her.

‘He’s getting there, slowly.’

‘I bet you’re giving him lots of TLC.’

‘I try, but he accuses me of fussing.’

The pharmacist glanced over her shoulder at her. She was frowning. ‘I don’t appear to have anything here for him. Let me check.’ She walked across to a computer screen and tapped something in. ‘No, sorry, we’ve had nothing through from the surgery.’

Freya’s face fell. ‘Oh dear, he’s not going to be happy when I tell him.’

‘Ask at the surgery first. They might have forgotten to send it through.’

‘Good idea. I’ll go there now.’ With any luck that was what had happened, and she could pop straight back to the pharmacy with the prescription.

There was a small queue at the surgery, and as Freya waited in line to speak to the receptionist, she glanced around curiously. She hadn’t been here since she was a teenager and was intrigued to see that it had gone hi-tech, with an automated signing-in system and another screen directing patients to the various appointment rooms.

It took a while, but she eventually reached the head of the queue. ‘I wonder if you could help?’ she began. ‘My father asked me to collect his prescription from the pharmacy, but it isn’t there. Would you have any idea what’s happened to it?’

‘I’ll take a look for you now. What’s his name?’

Freya told her, along with his address and date of birth, then waited anxiously.

The receptionist studied her computer for a moment, the mouse clicking as she moved around the screen. ‘Is it for his Parkinson’s meds?’ she asked, without looking up.

‘Sorry, his what?’

‘Tablets for his Parkinson’s. There’s a note on here to say that the doctor wants to see him to review his meds since his fall.’

‘Parkinson’s?’ Freya was confused.

This time the woman did look up, speaking slowly, her voice raised as though Freya was hard of hearing. ‘Parkinson’s disease? The doctor wants to see him before he’ll issue another prescription. Would you like to make an appointment now?’

Freya’s brain had gone numb. She’d heard what the receptionist had said, but she was unable to process it.

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