Page 66 of One Night in Edinburgh

‘Oh…’ I hesitate. ‘I’d love to, Lizzie, it’s just that Mrs Carmichael’s still waiting for me to pick up that extra item for the auction, and I’m working late all this week because of those two new cases that have been assigned to me.’

‘Absolutely.’ Lizzie waves her suggestion away. ‘It was just a thought.’

‘How about we do it over lunch?’

‘Perfect. It’s a date. I’ll treat us to something nice.’

I give her a thumbs up and hurry out of the door with the thought that, right now, I’m not only shadowing Lizzie, I’m emulating her behaviours. She’s always rushing around, thinking about ten things at once. It’s not my usual style, but I find myself feeling energised, excited even. Busy may not always equal productive, but in this case, with everything I’m getting involved in, I really do feel like I’m starting to make more of a difference. Lizzie’s certainly showing me a whole new way of thinking, and it’s fuelling something in me that’s like an itch I need to scratch.

Half an hour later, I pull up outside Mrs Carmichael’s mansion and crunch my way across the gravel driveway to her enormous porch. I’ve barely rung the old-fashioned clanger of a doorbell when the door opens, and Mrs Carmichael’s housekeeper greets me with a kind smile.

‘Steph, how are you? Dorothy’s in the drawing room waiting for you. Come on in.’

‘Thanks Angelika.’ I follow her across the high-ceilinged entrance hall, past the grand mahogany staircase (a feature I love of this old house) and into the drawing room.

‘Steph, how lovely of you to stop by.’ Mrs Carmichael gets up slowly from her embroidered armchair to greet me when I enter the room. ‘I was delighted when you called. Was starting to wonder if you had received my message.’

I pull an apologetic face. ‘Sorry, Mrs Carmichael, I did hope to come last week, or over the weekend, but I’ve had so much going on.’

‘Well, why don’t you sit down and relax, and Angelika will bring us some tea and cake.’

‘That sounds lovely, thank you.’

I turn to thank Angelika as well, but it seems she has already left the room to prepare the refreshments without me noticing. Instead, I take a seat in the armchair opposite Mrs Carmichael in front of the huge cast-iron fireplace, which is belting out such a heat, I wonder if my eyebrows are at risk.

‘I know we are in spring now,’ she says. ‘But I find I feel the cold so much more these days.’

‘It is still a bit chilly. Best to keep yourself cosy.’ I eye her frail frame, wondering if she’s lost some weight since I last saw her.

‘Mmm… quite. How are things at work?’

‘They’re good.’ I bob my head enthusiastically as I say this. ‘I’m working on our April fundraiser as you know, and I’ve been doing some work on the frontline again as a key worker. I get a lot out of that side of things. The people I’m working with are in very difficult situations, so I’m helping them get training, find work, that sort of thing, so that they can move into accommodation of their own.’

‘It is so awful that youngsters find themselves in these situations.’ Mrs Carmichael looks truly saddened by this. ‘They should be nurtured and supported by their families at that age.’

‘You’re absolutely right. Unfortunately, though, that’s not the case for various reasons. That’s why we do what we do. Did I tell you that Lizzie, my boss, has been giving me experience in other areas of the organisation?’

‘You did not. That sounds interesting.’ Mrs Carmichael sits forward in her seat, prompting me to tell her more.

‘It’s very interesting. I obviously already had an understanding of the work management does, because Lizzie shares things at our team meetings, but this has given me some solid experience – and I’m pleased to find I’m picking things up quite quickly. Lizzie’s a bit of a whirlwind, so she can sometimes be hard to keep up with, but she says I’m a natural. Especially with the relationship management and influencing side of things – you know, meeting with MPs and all – and I’ve got my head around the financials way faster than I would ever have expected.’

‘That’s wonderful, Steph. And what will you do with these newfound skills?’

I puff out my cheeks whilst I consider this question. ‘I’m not sure. But the whole thing has got me energised and thinking about what’s next for me. I’m obviously more capable that I’ve allowed myself to believe – probably as a result of the endless stream of criticism from my family – and maybe I need to find a way to put these capabilities to good use… in the charity sector, obviously.’

‘Well perhaps you should do just that. Show that family of yours what you’re made of.’

She gives me a knowing wink, which makes me smile. I sometimes feel like Mrs Carmichael is trying to live vicariously through me. Having grown up privileged, and never having worked or had the experiences some women now take for granted, I feel like she’s not just lonely, but also bored, rattling around in this big house by herself.

‘So, tell me, apart from work, what else is keeping you so busy?’ she asks. ‘Is there perhaps a young man on the scene? I remember you telling me during one of our telephone conversations that you were courting a few different men. How exciting. That would have been frowned upon in my day.’

I’m used to this kind of chat with Mrs Carmichael. She probably knows way more about me than I should share with her, given the ‘professional’ nature of our relationship. But as she’s living alone and has very little company, except for Angelika and her gardener, I don’t see any harm in being another source of companionship every now and then. Also, if I don’t share when she asks, there are a lot of long silences and even longer conversations about the contents of the artisan shops of Edinburgh. I learned that lesson the hard way.

‘Now when was that?’ I make a show of trying to remember our last conversation. ‘Oh yes, I think that was when I was doing the online dating thing and I’d been on a few first dates.’

‘That’s right. When we caught up about my dietary requirements for your fundraiser. This online dating thing sounds like oodles of fun.’

A mental montage of all the worst elements of my brief online dating experience races through my mind: innuendos, dick pics, inappropriately intrusive questions, borderline verbal abuse.

---