‘Goodbye Adrian,’ she managed, before twisting back on her stool towards Polly. ‘I think I’ll give the food a miss, I just want to go home.’
‘Are you sure?’
Felicity was absolutely sure. Her appetite had diminished further and even though she knew it had been over with Adrian for a while she still didn’t need to watch him have dinner with another woman, friend or no friend.
Polly lifted up the hatch to the bar and walked towards Felicity, her arms open wide, waiting to swathe her in the biggest hug.
‘You have a safe trip and call me when you arrive,’ she insisted, hugging her hard. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of weeks … and make sure you FaceTime me.’
‘I will,’ Felicity promised, pressing a kiss to Polly’s cheek before walking out of the pub towards the tube station.
It was time to go back to Scotland and set aside her personal hang ups to support her mum at such a sad time. At the time she’d thought she’d left with an air of elegant sophistication, but it was only recently she had begun to realise the hurt she’d left behind.
She knew arriving back at Heartcross wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it would be the hardest thing she’d ever done.
At the airport, the buildings were still shrouded in Christmas decorations and the ten-foot tree sparkled in all its glory. The morning was cold, freezing in fact, with temperatures dropping to minus one, and Felicity had wrapped up warm. Pulling down her unflattering woolly hat over her ears, and with the cold biting the tip of her nose, she wandered towards the glass revolving doors and stood inside Heathrow airport. She was wearing tights as well as socks, two jumpers and a thermal vest. She knew that once the plane landed in Inverness the temperature would be even colder than in London.
After skimming the departures board, she was thankful the flight was on time. She checked in at the desk, then made her way to the lounge area and purchased a skinny latte alongside a ham salad baguette; her appetite was back and finally her fierce hunger was satisfied. Last night, when she’d arrived home Felicity hadn’t felt much like eating. Instead, she’d poured a large glass of wine and soaked in a hot bubble bath. All of Adrian’s belongings had disappeared, and for the first time ever, he’d managed to pick up his dirty underwear off the floor. She was thankful he’d gone; he just hadn’t been her happy ever after.
She’d soaked in the bath for over an hour, until the water was barely warm, her mind whirling. When she’d got out, she’d telephoned her mum to let her know what time she’d be arriving, but there had been no answer. It was more than likely her mum was over at The Grouse and Haggis, the local pub situated in the middle of the village which offered a warm welcome to all with its flagstone floors, wooden pews and roaring log fires. It was the hub of the community, especially during the harsh winter months. The locals all huddled together after work, sharing stories, while sampling the local ales and whiskies. Without fail Hamish would play his fiddle, adding to the good-humoured atmosphere. The pub was run by Meredith and Fraser Macdonald and their daughter Allie had been Felicity’s best friend from school before she’d moved to London.
Up until their early twenties the two girls had been as thick as thieves, and Allie had been the kind of friend that Felicity could always be herself with. But Felicity knew she’d let Allie down. She sighed to herself, feeling glum. Allie had every right to be mad with her. Felicity had never confided in her that she planned to leave for the big city. Looking back now, she knew her actions had been underhand, but at the time she’d known that Allie would have tried to talk her out of it. And after everything that had happened with Fergus, Felicity had needed to escape with minimum fuss. She knew on her return she’d have many bridges to build and even though Felicity had made friends in London, nothing had come close to the bond she’d had with Allie. She missed her and their friendship and hoped things were fixable between them.
Finally, trying to shrug off the guilt, Felicity had packed her suitcase and snuggled inside her grey fleecy PJs, determined to get a good night’s sleep to be fresh and ready for her trip back to Scotland.
The airport was busy and while waiting for her flight to be announced Felicity buried her head in a book, but after reading the same sentence over and over she realised she wasn’t concentrating at all; her mind was on other matters. Lifting her head, she watched a young couple gently chastise their son who was running around leaving a trail of crisps behind him. He hovered in front of Felicity and lifted his blue eyes to meet hers. He was adorable and by her reckoning must have been around three years old. He offered her a crisp with a cheeky smile. Felicity hesitated for a millisecond before accepting. ‘Why thank you, young man,’ she said with gratitude before his expression knotted with concentration and he ran off with his arms stretched out wide pretending to be an aeroplane. The parents’ annoyance now softened as he giggled.
Watching that tiny boy, Felicity felt another pang of sadness. If only things had been different, she thought, blinking away the sudden tears that sprang from nowhere. The pain of the past still twisted in her stomach, and the fear of seeing Fergus again never went away, but over time she’d learnt to cope as best she could. With her heart thumping anxiously in her chest, Felicity shut her eyes briefly, trying to compose herself. As she calmed herself, a voice over the tannoy announced her flight and within seconds a surge of passengers stood up and began to make their way towards the gate clutching their passports and boarding cards. Felicity took in a breath and glanced towards the window. Outside, the sky had darkened and threatened snow. This was it, she thought to herself. She had no idea how people were going to react to her homecoming. All she could do now was hope for the best. Feeling anxious, she squeezed out a wobbly smile at the small boy who was now standing in the queue, grasping his mother’s hand and pointing towards the aircraft they were just about to board through the window.
Felicity’s chest heaved, and she couldn’t bear to think about it anymore. Keep breathing, she told herself, there’s no turning back. It’s time to go home.
‘Where to?’ asked the taxi driver after he’d placed Felicity’s suitcase in the boot of the cab and climbed behind the wheel.
‘Heartcross,’ replied Felicity, pulling the gloves from her hands and resting them on her lap.
The driver turned and looked over his shoulder. ‘Heartcross? The track will be treacherous over the bridge and these flakes are falling fast.’
The moment Felicity had stepped off the plane she’d known this might be a problem. ‘I kind of gathered that may be the case. How close can you get me?’
The driver raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Maybe just before the bridge? I don’t want to be stranded.’
‘As close as you can then,’ Felicity replied, knowing she was in for a short trek up the track in severe weather conditions.
Heartcross was separated from the local town of Glensheil by a Grade II listed bridge that had arched over the River Heart for nearly two hundred years. The only way into the centre of the village was by a steep, mountainous track, approximately half a mile long. In the summer it was the most beautiful track to walk along, easily accessible by foot and four-wheel drives, but it was trickier in winter when the snow hit. The village was compact, home to approximately two hundred cottages, but with every amenity you might need.
Fifteen minutes later the cab began to crawl along, the wipers moving frantically and the wheels finding it difficult to turn in the snow. ‘This is about far as I can get you,’ the driver said, pulling the cab to a halt and climbing out to retrieve Felicity’s suitcase from the boot of the car.