The Little Gift Shop on the Loch: A delightfully uplifting read for 2019!. Maggie Conway
on their annual pilgrimage to the festival when Patty had become unwell. Lily had been due to meet them for dinner later until Iris had rung to say Patty had been taken to hospital after collapsing. By the time Lily had reached the hospital, a cerebral aneurysm had already tipped her mother’s body into a coma.
Lily had sat by her bed, somehow knowing her mother wouldn’t linger. Being prodded and poked by doctors and nurses in a hospital bed wasn’t her style at all. It wasn’t just the indignity of it, it was simply far too boring. She would have hated people to see her like that, to be surrounded by sadness and tears. Lily could almost hear her voice; ‘Must be going now, darling.’
This way her body would never be ravaged by months of sickness and even with life ebbing away Patty still managed to radiate beauty. Her dark chestnut hair held a rich hue despite a sprinkling of grey. Lily had brushed it gently, willing her mother to open her eyes but they remained resolutely shut. Lily had watched her intently, breathing every breath with her.
Theirs hadn’t been the easiest of relationships but Lily had loved her mother. Seeing her like this, when she was usually so full of life and energy, was the worst and most difficult thing she’d ever had to do and despite Iris being there, she’d never felt so alone.
Lily had never met her father and knew little about him – only that he was French and part of a theatrical touring company in Edinburgh for the festival. According to her mother, Lily was the result of a passionate short-lived love affair. She didn’t talk about him much, but Lily suspected her free-spirited mother found it all quite romantic. But whatever romanticised notions she may have had, the reality was that Lily had been brought up alone by her mother so now she had no other family member to share the same grief.
And so Lily had sat in the hospital holding her mother’s hand, talking quietly about anything and everything until finally there was nothing left to do except thank the hospital staff and be grateful that she’d been with her at the end.
The world had suddenly felt a very different place; cold and dark. It didn’t seem right that everything should be going on as normal. Somehow, she’d stumbled her way through the next few days, Iris constantly by her side. Lily didn’t know how she’d have got through that time without her. She suddenly couldn’t wait to see her.
It had taken Lily a while to calm down the night before after her unexpected visitor in the large, unsettling shape of Jack Armstrong. Not sure why it had irked her so much, she’d replayed their conversation over in her head, hoping but failing to see it in a more positive light. Eventually she’d given up and turned her attention to phoning Iris.
Lily hadn’t told her in advance she was coming for the simple reason she feared she would change her mind at the last minute. After receiving a mild scolding for not telling her, Lily had to stop Iris coming round there and then. Instead, Iris told her she’d be there this morning.
Aware she’d be arriving soon, Lily finished making her coffee and carefully negotiated her way down the staircase, passing the door to her mother’s bedroom. Sorting through her mother’s personal things was for another day. She’d need a mountain of courage for that which she simply didn’t have, at least not yet.
She stopped for a few seconds before entering the shop, filled with a sudden apprehension. Taking a deep breath and mentally squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and stepped into the shop.
Bright daylight poured in through the windows as if to welcome her in so that instead of the cold emptiness she’d braced herself for, she experienced an unexpected warmth. The air was a little musty and a fine film of dust coated the surfaces but it could have been much worse considering the shop had been empty for all these months. Despite the slightly neglected air, there was something immediately appealing about the shop. Leaving her mug on the wooden counter Lily crossed the floor to the large front windows where outside people were wandering along the main street, the sparkling loch providing the perfect backdrop. She savoured the view for as long as she dared and then, worried she might be seen, turned away from the window to survey the shop.
The black and white tiled flooring was in need of a good clean, but complemented the pale green walls perfectly. Rows of wooden shelves lined one of the walls while an old distressed dresser formed the focal point of another. There were a couple of freestanding display cabinets, and stacked rather precariously in one corner was a pile of cardboard boxes and a mound of various parcels and packages which, by the looks of things, remained unopened.
A friendly looking old-fashioned till sat on the counter and Lily ran her hand over the cool metal wondering where her mother had unearthed it from or if it had always been there. She couldn’t help smiling when she saw a messy pile of papers and a couple of notebooks scattered about behind the counter – her mother was never one for orderly piles. But there were also sheets of coloured tissue paper, boxes and bags in different shapes and sizes and pretty swathes of ribbon, ready for gift wrapping.
As she moved around, Lily was unexpectedly comforted by how much she could feel her mother’s presence. How easily she was able to picture her here, floating about in one of her quirky ensembles with clashing colours and patterns that she somehow always managed to make look stylish.
Lily gave herself a small shake. A plan, that’s what she needed. Organisation was her first, last and middle name. Thinking about where to start first, she swallowed the last mouthful of her coffee just as she heard the sound of a key in the side door and then Iris’s voice drifting through from the hall.
‘Lily?’
‘Through here,’ she called, rushing to meet her. And then suddenly, Iris’s kind face was there in front of her.
‘Iris.’ It came as a half-sob.
‘Come here,’ Iris soothed, dropping a massive yellow canvas bag onto the floor and wrapping Lily in a warm hug.
Until that moment Lily hadn’t realised how much she’d been holding herself back, how uptight she was. Iris eventually released her, holding her at arm’s length with an appraising look. ‘Goodness, there’s a lot of tension in you.’
It was true, she had a knot of tension the size of a small boulder between her shoulder blades that seemed to have lodged itself there recently. ‘I’m fine,’ Lily assured with a watery smile.
‘Hmm, perhaps you’ve arrived just in time,’ Iris said, sounding rather enigmatic as she picked up her bag and followed Lily through to the shop.
Lily looked at Iris affectionately, marvelling at how she never seemed to age. It occurred to her she didn’t know exactly old how Iris was, but it seemed somehow irrelevant because she never changed. Her blue eyes were as vibrant as ever and she still wore armfuls of bangles, her hennaed hair styled in a loose bun, her smile never far away.
She still lived in the same cottage near the caravan park where they’d first met her all those years ago. She’d been a music teacher before retiring, travelling throughout the Highlands and Islands to different schools. She’d been married two – or was it three – times but had never had children of her own.
She had been more of a permanent fixture in Lily’s life then her own grandparents whose strained relationship with their only child meant she’d seen more of Iris over the years than she had of them. Lily felt a rush of emotion for her. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t been before. Leaving you to deal with all this.’
Iris waved away her apology. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. Patty was my friend, of course I wanted to help any way I could. Besides, I didn’t do much. Just a bit of dusting and tidying.’ She paused, taking Lily’s hand. ‘I have the ashes at home with me, I didn’t want to leave them here. So, whenever you think the time is right we can take them to the loch.’
Lily nodded mutely, blinking away the sudden tears clouding her eyes. She knew it was something that had to be done but it wasn’t something she could easily contemplate at that very moment.
Iris continued. ‘I left her bedroom for you, all her personal bits and pieces are there. I know it’s going to be difficult for you but its part of the healing process. A stage of mourning