Page 15 of A Summer of Secrets on Arran (Scottish Romances #5)

Rosie was now wishing she had prepared dinner earlier as the thought of chopping and slicing did not appeal. As she sat in the garden, she realised how tired she was and stifled a yawn.

‘I think I could do with another cup of tea,’ said Isobel. ‘Otherwise, I will faceplant onto the table.’

Rosie sighed. ‘I know what you mean. Check us out, living life on the edge. A change from our younger days, eh?’

‘I know, I forgot too. What are we like? But I’ll go and make the tea. That’s as long as you don’t mind me rummaging around,’ said Isobel, standing up.

‘Make yourself at home,’ said Rosie, thinking how nice it would be for someone else to make her a cuppa for a change. ‘I’ll come in and sort the wine and glasses too.’

‘That sounds like a good plan,’ said Isobel.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Not hugely,’ said Isobel.

‘How about I just bring out some picky bits we can snack on?’ suggested Rosie, who had now lost her appetite too.

‘That sounds wonderful to me,’ said Isobel. ‘I’m still quite full of all that cake. Honestly, we’re like a pair of grannies.’ She clocked Rosie yawning again.

Rosie groaned as she rolled her shoulders. ‘I feel about eighty-five at the moment. Definitely not youthful in the slightest.’

‘Well, I am the opposite. I feel like a teenager again but for all the bad reasons. Like the hormones and the mood swings,’ said Isobel. ‘Sometimes I feel like I’m fifteen again — and not in a good way. I just want to eat chocolate and go to sleep and wake up when this is all over.’

Rosie realised that she must have been lucky so far with hot flushes and the change , although she reminded herself that her mind had been otherwise distracted with the breakdown of her marriage.

She now wasn’t sure if the murderous rages she felt towards Dermot were due to the perimenopause or the fact she actually couldn’t stand him. Or both.

Isobel stood with her hands on her hips.

‘And I am so easily distracted. I went online the other day to order something and then all of a sudden, I found myself looking at competitive swimming costumes on Amazon. How that happened I have no clue. I can’t remember the last time I went swimming and I certainly don’t plan to.

’ She shook her head. ‘I wish I could bottle your serenity, Rosie. You’ve always done a good job of looking calm, regardless of what is happening. ’

Rosie laughed in disbelief as she followed her into the kitchen. ‘I must be a good actress as I don’t feel serene.’ Then she suddenly grinned. ‘Do you really want to know my secret to happiness and wellbeing?’

Isobel had just filled the kettle and she turned to her, eyes wide. ‘Wild sex parties? Don’t tell me you’ve got a secret man stashed away somewhere? Or is it magic mushrooms? Rosehip tea?’

Rosie reached down and ruffled Coisty’s head.

‘This wee furry chap. He has got me through it. Coisty is the love of my life. Obviously apart from Ben,’ she added hastily.

‘Coisty loves me unconditionally, gets me up in the morning and forces me to go out and walk, even when it’s pishing with rain or snowing.

He seems to know if I’m a bit down and plonks his head on my lap and makes me sit down.

And he cuddles up to me at night. Who needs a bloke when I’ve got this wee fella?

I can highly recommend dogs. Coisty has changed my life. ’

Isobel grinned. ‘I still can’t quite believe that he is called Coisty though.’

Rosie laughed. She had named him after her favourite Glaswegian footballer, Ally McCoist, who was now a leading TV sports commentator.

It was now even more pleasing to think how much it had annoyed Dermot at the time.

He was a lifelong fan of the Edinburgh team, Hibernian, and had no time for Ally McCoist and his cheeky chappy commentary.

He disliked him so much that he changed the channel whenever he was commentating.

‘You’re actually going to shout “Coisty” at the park?’ he had said in abject horror.

‘Indeed I am,’ she had said stubbornly. ‘What better name than Coisty?’

Rosie now gazed at Coisty with complete adoration, glad she had stood her ground.

‘I think a pet would tip me over the edge,’ said Isobel good-naturedly. ‘Much as I love Coisty, I don’t know that he would fit in with my lifestyle.’

‘Maybe you should go and see the GP then and get yourself checked out. Especially if you’re feeling so rubbish,’ suggested Rosie gently, taking the wine bucket outside and plonking the glasses next to it.

‘Maybe,’ said Isobel. Just then a Calvin Harris track started blaring from Isobel’s phone. She snatched it up from the table. ‘Hi Bella, love, how are you?’ There was a pause.

‘How’s the camping going? I’m just with Rosie, relaxing in the cottage. In fact, I’ll just put you on speakerphone so you can say hello to her.’

There was a pause before Bella spoke. ‘Hi, Rosie, . . .’

‘Hi, Bella, so what is life in a tent like?’

‘Um, so I didn’t end up going camping,’ said Bella.

‘Oh. How come? Though we were just saying camping is our idea of hell. I don’t blame you for—’

Bella cut her off. ‘Um, Mum, I’m actually here. I’m on Arran.’

Rosie watched as Isobel suddenly sat bolt upright. ‘What do you mean, you’re here on Arran? Did you change the camping location?’

‘No,’ said Bella.

‘Is everything okay?’

Coisty jumped up to attention and barked.

‘Kind of. But I need to talk to you. Now. Can I come round?’

Isobel looked at Rosie who nodded.

‘Of course. Come now.’ Isobel gave Bella directions. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Okay thanks, Mum,’ said Bella in a wobbly voice.

Isobel ended the call and looked at Rosie in shock. ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on, but it must be serious if she’s here on the island.’

Rosie nodded in concern watching her friend and knowing her mind would be racing wildly.

Isobel’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘What if she’s pregnant?’ She grimaced. ‘Surely not? She doesn’t even have a boyfriend. Not since that fella she was seeing that she met in Corfu. But that fizzled out. Mind you, who am I to talk. I didn’t have a boyfriend and look what happened to me.’

Rosie tried to stay calm. But she knew how level-headed Bella was and she wouldn’t normally just get the ferry over to Arran on a whim.

Bella’s sensible approach to things was a quality she must have inherited from her father as Isobel tended to do drama .

She had a sense that whatever it was that Bella needed to talk to her mum about was going to be serious.

Huge. And Rosie had a feeling that their summer plans were about to change. A lot.