out together?”
“Well, she hasn’t changed her Facebook status . . . and he doesn’t really use his, so . . .”
“Not even to ‘it’s complicated’?”
“Nope.”
Lissa was annoyed at the fact that she felt slightly relieved. “Maybe it’s just a casual thing.”
She was still disappointed in him. She hadn’t thought of him as a player like that. Mind you, wasn’t that the point about players? They were really sweet and fun—that’s why they reeled you in every time. But she’d definitely thought he was different.
Kim-Ange was still talking. “Yazzie is a filthy mare. Of course, I approve of that.”
“And gorgeous,” said Lissa.
“What do you care?” said Kim-Ange. “Haven’t you got a date?”
Lissa thought of cute Jake. “I do,” she said, smiling wryly.
“Well then.”
“What about you?”
“Yes!” said Kim-Ange. “See, this is a lot of news. I like catching up like this.”
“It’s almost as good as having you here,” said Lissa. “Not quite, though.”
“Well, spray a shitload of Jo Malone perfume around and it will almost be the same.”
“Almost too much.”
“What?”
“Not at all too much! Who is your date with?!”
“Piotr.”
Lissa had to think for a minute. It wasn’t just nurses in the home; it was more a general backup housing facility for anyone who had to work at the hospital and couldn’t quite manage on the wages the hospital paid.
“Piotr the porter? Amazing!”
It was indeed the diminutive porter Kim-Ange had spent the evening dancing with at the ceilidh, who was completely overwhelmed.
“Is he nice?”
“I don’t care,” said Kim-Ange. “There are no men in this town and I haven’t had a proper date in eight months. As long as he doesn’t eat weasels, I’m probably going to let him get to second base.”
“What if he licks weasels?”
“First base.”
Lissa smiled. “I just can’t believe we’ve all got dates!”
“I know,” said Kim-Ange. “Skype me later and I’ll tell you why you’re dressed all wrong.”
CORMAC SENT OVER the last of the week’s notes to Lissa and couldn’t stop himself from adding at the bottom, seemingly innocently, Going to Fordell Fair?
Lissa saw the line and smiled, then frowned. Word got around. She took another bite of her russet apple.
Maybe. What about you? Busy I believe?
Cormac squinted at the message. Oh, obviously she’d heard. Kim-Ange would have been all over it. It felt very odd—were they . . . were they friends now?
Oi! he typed, throwing the core of the russet he was eating into the bin.
There you go, all Eastenders again. Where are you going?
Some hot new restaurant.
You’ll be queueing for an hour and it’ll be full of snotty types and all anyone does is take photographs of the food, and the plates will be too small and you won’t get enough to eat and it will be filthy expensive.
Well YOU might throw up on the big dipper.
Shan’t! AND Kim-Ange has a date! It must be almost summer.
So we all have dates.
Cormac grabbed another apple from the bag.
Good!
Good!
Lissa decided on another apple and bit into it, trying not to betray how cross she was, and went out to feed Neddie Needles.
Chapter 50
The fog rose on the little town of Kirrinfief that Saturday and they had, by noon, one of those days in the Highlands also known as “you should have been here last week.”
It is a fact—sad but true—but please, don’t ever let it put you off visiting our beautiful country; we would be so happy to see you, I promise. Nonetheless, it remains a fairly hardwired truth that if you want to plan a visit to Scotland, or a wedding, or a barbecue, even simply planning it is an act of hubris that upsets the weather gods of Scotland. Lugh, he of the one eye and the ability to summon storms, will be displeased, and at the very least there will be light drizzle and ominous gray skies, and if you are in a place that has a beautiful view, you will have to put up with people telling you there is a beautiful view, because you will not be able to see it.
But take Scotland by surprise and you might just get a day like this, in early June, when the sun warms every nook and cranny, and the breeze gently pootling over a loch as calm as glass will keep you from getting too hot; when the stillness of the air means the cries of the many birds can be heard more loudly than ever, as well as the lightly tapping hooves of the deer in the forest. The sky is a freshly washed blue,