Page 70 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘Oh!’ A smile spreads across my face. ‘Fiona? From the cafe?’

‘That’s good?’

‘Fiona lives in Granny’s house. Wow, that’s amazing. I can’t believe it!’

‘Would you like to go and see it?’ he asks, tentatively.

I nod. ‘I… I think I would.’

As we leave the bookshop and reach the path I’ve avoided for months now, the stones crack beneath our shoes. Rory reaches for my hand as we make our way along. We approach the fork in the road which leads to Granny’s cottage, and he stops dead in the middle of the track.

‘Are you sure about this?’ Rory says. ‘There’s no pressure. We could just turn back and forget about it.’

I nod again. ‘We’ll go. To Fiona’s house.’

It’s unexpectedly comforting, thinking of the lovely Fiona living in my granny’s house. Fiona, who loves to bake as much as Granny did, and who’s been so supportive of me and my life in Ullapool. I couldn’t have asked for a better new owner of my granny’s cottage.

I’d always known I’d have to make this trip at some point. I want to. And it feels a million times better doing it with Rory by my side.

‘You can go alone? I can wait here?’ Rory offers.

I glance up into his kind eyes.

I shake my head and pull on his hand. ‘Come with me.’

He nods and grips my hand as we walk together along the pathway towards Granny’s cottage. My heart pounds in my chest. I feel the buzz of arriving here at the start of each summer, the relief of leaving the city behind to breathe in the fresh sea air, followed by the thrill of riding down the lane on my bike at a million miles an hour.

As we turn a corner and I catch a glimpse of the stone cottage, I feel my heart swell in my chest. It’s as quaint as I remember it. Whitewashed, with a slate roof, smoke puffing out of the chimney even in the summer, just like Granny used to have it. I am home. I picture my granny waving at me from the window as she cleans the dishes – one of her favourite chores. She’d been appalled when I suggested she invest in a dishwasher.

Wash your mouth out and grab a drying cloth, Ava Campbell.

The window ledges have been painted a deep black and the curtains are much brighter and bolder than my Granny would have chosen. I smile at the red polka-dot curtains, thinking they are just Fiona’s style. Granny would have hated them. But it doesn’t matter. I can still feel her presence here. I inhale deeply and exhale again, proud of myself for keeping it together.

‘Are you okay?’ Rory asks in a low voice. ‘Has it changed a lot?’

I nod. Yes, it has changed. But also, yes, it’s okay.

I can handle this.

I point at the front door, which Fiona has painted a bottle-green colour. ‘She would have appreciated the green, but she’d never have been brave enough to paint it that colour herself. She would bring in colour through furniture and soft furnishings, but the rooms were always painted white or cream.’

‘So, you didn’t get your love of colour from her then.’

I smile, for a second. My love of bright colours was shared by another person. Macy. And now she’s verging on grey. I wonder if she’s coming up against the same challenges with the decor that I did. Oh well, that’s her problem now.

I place my hand on the door handle, the same one that I clutched with excitement every summer, and I turn it. The door swings open. I blink, taking in the surroundings.

As I gaze around the porch area, I can feel Granny urging me to come in and make myself at home,but for goodness’ sake, would you take those muddy boots off. I can hear her voice beckoning me inside. I can smell the waft of freshly baked scones from the kitchen. I stop on the spot and close my eyes.

‘We don’t need to go any further,’ Rory says.

‘I want to,’ I assure him.

Despite the change in furniture, colour and photographs, I can still picture the way it used to be. I can still see her in each room. My fear that by seeing this place I’d know she was really gone turns out to have been false. She is still with me, even now. I take her wherever I go.

‘That corner over there’ – I point to a slight dent in the wall – ‘I can’t believe it’s still there! Granny told me I wasn’t allowed to roller skate inside. I did it while she was hanging up the washing and crashed into the wall. I skinned my knees and tried to convince her it was from playing outside, but she knew the truth as soon as she saw the dent.’

‘Were you a rebel?’