The Little Gift Shop on the Loch: A delightfully uplifting read for 2019!. Maggie Conway
sound like that of a lithe 60-something woman. Some logical part of her brain was telling her burglars didn’t have keys but that didn’t stop her heart hammering uncomfortably in her chest. She’d almost stopped breathing when the door opened and the silhouette of a large man filled the doorway.
Definitely not Iris.
There was a moment of stunned silence as they stared at each other until Lily managed to find her voice. ‘Wh-who are you?’ she stuttered.
The man hitched his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, seemingly in no hurry to explain himself. When he did, his voice was deep and drawling. ‘I could ask you the same thing.’
Lily opened her mouth and then closed it again, not seeing why she should explain herself to this intruder. Or maybe he was a squatter – he did look a bit scruffy. But a squatter with keys – was that even possible? One thing was for sure, she should never have left the place as long as she had. Taking a step closer, she drew herself up which admittedly didn’t make much impact on their height difference.
‘Why don’t you go first – who are you?’ she demanded, amazed her voice sounded normal.
‘I’m Jack Armstrong.’ He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. ‘And you must be Patty’s daughter?’
‘That’s right.’ Seriously, who was this man?
‘Iris said you’d be here sometime.’
Slightly placated on hearing Iris’s name, Lily still found his presence extremely unnerving. Maybe because in the semi-darkness his features were shadowed so that only the contours of his cheekbones and strong jawline were visible. Other than that, the only thing she could see was how obviously broad and tall he was. And she still had no idea what he was doing here.
‘So um, why are you here?’
‘I’m here to feed Misty.’ His tone implied this was something she should know.
Lily blinked. ‘Misty?’
At which point, a black and white cat miraculously appeared and began purring and rubbing itself against the man’s legs. Lily frowned. This was all starting to feel quite strange. The man lowered onto his hunches, and Lily watched his hand run along the length of the cat’s black fur. ‘Hello girl,’ he murmured gently.
Lily suddenly felt exhausted, feeling incapable of understanding anything right now. ‘Sorry but why is there a cat here?’ she asked.
He straightened up. ‘You didn’t know there was a cat here?’
‘Evidently not.’ Her voice was sharper than she’d intended but the unexpectedness of finding this stranger looking after a cat she knew nothing about had thrown her.
He let out a small sigh. ‘Misty was a stray in the village. I used to feed her now and again but Patty let her come and live here with her. With the place lying empty, we weren’t really sure what to do with her. Thought she might leave of her own accord but she seemed intent on staying and since I live nearby Iris gave me a set of keys. I’ve been keeping an eye on her.’
There was an awkward pause, Lily unsure of what to say next. Although she couldn’t see them in the dark, she felt his eyes on her, assessing her in some way. ‘So,’ he said eventually. ‘Now you’re here, you can take care of Misty?’
Lily wasn’t sure she liked the insinuation that she’d simply breezed in on a whim. She also didn’t really like cats. ‘Um, yes … of course.’
‘You’re sure?’ he checked, not sounding too convinced.
‘Absolutely.’ What on earth was she going to do with it?
‘Okay.’ He gave a shrug. ‘Well, in that case her food is under the sink and the litter tray is probably needing emptied.’
‘Litter tray?’
‘You know, for her—’
‘Yes. Of course,’ she snapped.
‘I’ll leave you to it then, I’m sure you have things to do.’ He looked like he might be about to add something, but Lily didn’t give him a chance.
‘I do actually,’ she agreed, making a move towards the door. ‘And er, thank you.’
‘Not a problem.’ He paused for a moment, his voice softening. ‘Patty was a lovely lady. I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied quietly.
He bent down to give the cat a final stroke and then with a brief nod in Lily’s direction, he was gone.
Lily waited to hear the door close and then grabbed her glass, gulping a mouthful of wine. She gave herself a small shake, feeling well and truly rattled after that little encounter. If Jack Armstrong was a taste of what was to come, then the sooner she sold the shop and returned to Edinburgh the better.
Lily was woken by a strangely heavy sensation on her chest. Her eyelids fluttered open to find a pair of jade-green eyes staring at her. She bolted upright with a shriek as a flash of black fur shot away in disgust, clearly not too pleased at the disruption. Feeling dazed, Lily perched on the edge of the sofa letting her heart rate settle as the room came into focus and her brain processed where she was and why a cat had been sitting on her.
Last night she’d ended up putting on her PJs and settling herself on the sofa. She had briefly considered sleeping in her mother’s room but the truth was she’d been afraid, as if shadows and echoes from the past would come to haunt her. She doubted she’d get much sleep anyway so it didn’t really matter. Instead, Lily had unearthed a patchwork quilt that she remembered her mother, in a rare moment of domesticity, had made years ago and wrapped it around her body. As she had feared, sleep hadn’t come to her until the early hours when her body had finally given way to exhaustion.
She hadn’t drawn the curtains last night and now early morning light trickled in through the window, the blue sky beyond promising a beautiful summer’s day to come. Under other circumstances she might have been full of energy, tempted to explore her surroundings. But today she felt shrouded in a sense of the past, of having to deal with things she didn’t want to.
She supposed she’d better feed the cat, which was now sitting in front of the fire licking itself in unmentionable places. Lily grimaced, looking away. Rising gingerly from the sofa, she shuffled her way through to the kitchen where she successfully managed to locate two bowls, filling one with fresh water and the other with biscuits.
With her cat duties out of the way, Lily’s thoughts turned to a hot shower although she wasn’t holding out much hope. In the bathroom she switched on the shower, waiting with trepidation. There was a good amount of clunking and clanking from the pipes as the system came to life but to her relief, hot water finally spluttered out. It worked far better than she’d dared hope and after standing under the spray of hot water for several minutes, she stepped out feeling sufficiently galvanised for the day ahead.
Dressed in jeans and a soft grey jumper, she went about filling the kettle and finding a mug in the kitchen. She looked out of the window and down onto the back garden. It was more of a courtyard really, with wooden tubs full of colourful flowers sitting on paving stones and dark green ivy snaking its way along a trellised wall at the bottom.
Recalling the taxi driver’s remarks from last night about the warm spell of weather, it was obvious from the vibrancy of the plants that someone had been watering them. Unless the cat man from last night had been watering the garden as well as feeding Misty, it must have been Iris. Big-hearted, kind Iris; Lily dreaded to think what she’d have done without her.
She and her mother had been kindred spirits, their shared passion for the Edinburgh festival one of many things the two women had bonded over and every year they would go