Chapter 4

“Asshole.” She muttered to no one in particular and hit the indicator to turn into a big half-empty car park. Within minutes Rose found a space easily and expertly deposited her car, latching Muffin’s lead on and exiting gracefully with a much sunnier disposition.

Although the town was bustling with pedestrians, it seemed most came via a little free bus from surrounding areas, and few drove. The streets were quiet from traffic and felt peaceful, despite the people milling around. Wandering about, she soon managed to navigate her surroundings, quaint little shops ranging from the normal grocery stores to cute little boutiques, home decor, crafts, and tourist shops. Several cafes and a huge bakery shop sat very close to the car park she had used.

It was a pretty and picturesque little town with lots of barrels filled with flowers, park benches to pretty it up, and lots of potted trees and quaint, old-fashioned street lamps. It was more beautiful than even her memories, and she could see the appeal for tourists. This was proper highland charm right here.

She browsed the shops before pursuing the church she had yet to see, buying the odd necessity and getting a feel for the place. Rose was happy to find that although it wasn’t exactly the small town of her childhood memories, it was unchanged enough that she got a familiar tug of emotion deep in the pit of her stomach just the same. This had been Olivia’s favourite place. She would have loved to see it thriving but still held all the same charm as before, as though caught in a time warp.

After successfully not finding the church in the small town and seeing a lack of mulling locals, Rose decided to head to the coffee shop in the bakery to rest her weary feet. It wasn’t signposted, and no obvious roofs rose above the rest to indicate where the church would be. She had put Muffin back in the car with a bowl of water, a new bone, the windows opened, and the radio on before coming to get something to eat and ask for directions.

She was sure her car and the dog would be safe from a break-in in this little place. Besides, her alarm was loud and immobilised her vehicle easily, and although Muffin wasn’t much of a guard dog, he did have this incredibly scary toothy face he pulled when he was frightened and tried his version of a broken growl. If nothing more, it would scare away any lingerers; It did make him look a little rabid and possibly mentally unhinged.

As soon as she opened the door, the smell of newly baked bread and fancies hit her like a warm hug. She wanted to fall into that smell. It was so heavenly, and she had memories flooding back and filling her with so much warmth, chasing away the last ounces of anger. She almost felt transported back to her childhood and eagerly swept in to see if they still stocked her favourite cakes.

The tables were almost all empty, with the odd couple or group sitting far apart, quietly chatting and oblivious to her entrance. There was a relaxed, friendly atmosphere, despite being a stranger here, and she felt better that no one was openly staring and pointing as she had feared.

The girl behind the counter, dressed in a green uniform reminiscent of school dinner ladies, smiled at Rose as she approached, with no expression other than friendly.

“Hi there, what can ah get for yeh today?” The girl asked in a polite yet very heavily accented brogue that suggested she had grown up in the farms surrounding the town.

“Hi, can I have a jam tart and a hot chocolate, please? Thank you.” Rose smiled back and pulled her purse from her shoulder bag, breathing in the fresh ground coffee bean smell wafting her way.

“Sure thing, will just be two ticks for yeh.” The girl turned on her heel and moved off to arrange Rose’s order on a tray, allowing her to look around the clean surroundings properly.

Glancing around, she took in the bright, simple decor. The mint-coloured walls and dark wood floor all seemed new. The cases of fancy patisseries and treats and the huge display case showcasing elaborately decorated cakes for seasons and celebrations. It didn’t have small town oozing from it, and it saddened Rose a little.

This bakery had been one of her favourite places to come on a weekend with her aunt, back when it had been a small corner shop and not the huge one she now stood within.

The bakery her aunt had loved had been small and quaint and had grown into the neighbouring shops over time to accommodate more seating and bigger kitchens. The woman who used to run it was an Italian woman called Bella. A large round warm lady who had enveloped little Rose in cuddles and always satisfied her sweet tooth with a cream cake when they had come.

Rose guessed this is what success looked like when a small-town bakery managed to keep going for decades. As she looked around at the modern art and clean, simple window dressings, Rose was suddenly aware of the young woman at the window table, smiling at her openly.

Rose glanced away awkwardly, assuming she was smiling at someone behind Rose. But a quick look showed no one had come in behind her, and she was the only one standing there. Rose looked back again, catching the girl’s eye, and gained another bright smile. This time Rose smiled back and returned her gaze to the counter as her hot chocolate and strawberry tart were placed on the tray in front of her.

Rose took the little round wooden tray with its paper lace doily and moved off, looking to choose a seat. The girl beckoned to her with a waving hand, catching her eye, and tapped the table, showing she was offering her a seat. Rose hesitated, then followed the gesture and approached shyly

“Hi.” She got close and slid her tray onto the table opposite the dark-haired stranger.

“Hi, there.” The girl smiled the most dazzling smile Rose had ever seen, all perfect straight white teeth and pretty, pouted lips, although there was something vaguely familiar about it. She had long black hair, the colour of raven feathers, pale flawless skin with peachy blushed cheeks, and dazzling green eyes that sparkled out at you mischievously. She was dressed casually, and it made her appear very young. She was young, maybe in her early twenties or late teens, and stunningly beautiful in a casual, naïve way.

She extended her hand, announcing her name was Abby, Abigail, but everyone called her Abby. That she was killing time and could do with the company.

“I’m Rose Turner. As you enter the village, I just moved into the little cottage on the main road.” She smiled back at the pretty face and saw her nod, hinting she knew exactly which cottage.

“It’s nice to see a new young face, especially a girl. We don’t get many newcomers.” Abby beamed her way, lifting her mug and sipping down some coffee; Rose felt an instant ease with this girl, a genuine friendliness.

Conversation soon began to flow, and Abby told Rose she was studying art history and held up textbooks from the seat beside her as if to prove her story was legit. A face-down book was on the table in front of her, a plate with a half-eaten chocolate doughnut, and an empty coffee mug. She was waiting for her brother, collecting her after four, and loved to spend her free time in Bella’s bakery. Rose loved this girl’s down-to-earth, straight-shooting attitude and genuine openness. She had always found the people in this village to be like this.

Rose was thrilled to hear Bella was still around and owned this place. She learned that Abby was nineteen and incredibly easy to talk to, sweet and genuine. Despite looking very young, she was very mature and well-spoken. Although typical for around here, her accent had a slight upper-class clearness, much like the male strangers this morning.

The girls found conversation flowed effortlessly and had an immediate connection. Both were artists and loved to paint! Both were obsessed with the Sunflower painting by Van Gogh, and both didn’t like abstract art in the slightest. Abby ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over Rose’s dress and almost died of envy when she told her that her car was pink too.

“Rob told me he’d never let me have a pink car.” She laughed. “He said it would embarrass his manly self to take it for maintenance. Of course, because I would be completely incapable of doing such things, being a woman!” She joked with a slow shake of her head and a sigh. An obvious look of sibling love in her eyes when she said his name.

“So, Rob is your brother?” Rose enquired, trying to imagine her older brothers being that way so many years before. It had been so long since her two brothers, and she shared the same time zone, let alone home.

Why did that name ring a bell? Rob?