Narcissus

Chapter Twenty-Two

One of the things you notice when you first come to the Highlands of Scotland is the wind and sky. The wind hardly ever stops to draw breath; it blows constantly. Sometimes softly, and sometimes with such force that it can blow waterfalls up mountains. As a result, the sky is ever-changing. And it's a huge sky, presenting itself as about three-quarters of your field of vision. The sky dominates the landscape, and because it never stops changing it is like a kaleidoscope that offers morphing vistas to hold the attention and challenge the imagination.

Sunsets and sunrises are often breathtakingly spectacular, displaying light that reflects off the North Sea to the east or the Atlantic to the west. At all points between you are offered constant change. I vividly recalled when I had first arrived here, driving to Rita's Aunt's house to see rain falling distantly in the east, sunlight slanting through the mountains in the south, a bank of black cloud gathering storm forces for attack out over the ocean and providing a perfect backdrop for a double rainbow just out of reach.

"Morning, sunshine." I plopped myself down in a seat opposite Rita as she groaned and covered her ears.

"Headache. Don't talk to me." she grumbled.

"Down the pub again last night?" I smirked, and she just gave me the finger. A bell rang out as the door to the bakers shop opened and a grin spread across my face as Marguerite Warrington bounded in. She was 6"3 with short, brown hair and a boxy fringe. We had met her when we first moved here two years ago. Rita worked in the Florists, and Marguerite worked with me in the local Primary School. Marguerite, we all agreed, was an unfortunate name, so we all called her Mary, as she had requested. She had been born in Scotland, but her wealthy parents sent her to Boarding School in England, so she had an extremely posh English accent.

"Shh. Rita's been drinking with the local 90 year old's again." I giggled.

"Ooh, sounds like fun." Mary grinned. Rita just placed her sunglasses on her face and took a bite of the croissant, ignoring us. She wore red tartan trousers with dark green wellies, a red woolly jumper and a massive black trench coat, her curly midnight hair piled on top of her head, a side fringe tickling her forehead.

"Right ladies, must dash, work calls." Rita stood up, grinning as she swiped one last croissant from the box and disappeared. I watched fondly as she mounted her dark green bicycle and placed her overly large handbag in the front basket, cycling off. The box of pastries lay open on the table, and I watched Mary eye them.

"I feel like I deserve these more than you, so I'm just going to..." she slowly drew the box closer to her, "I mean, you're not really eating these anyway, are you?"

"No, go on." I laughed fondly as she grinned and picked up another donut.

"Hey gorgeous!" I felt the odd sensation of wiry hair scratching my lips as Marcus appeared, kissing me lightly. He still had his apron on, and smelt slightly of dough. A mop of curly brown sat on top of his head, a bush moustache sitting on his upper lip but no beard to accompany it. He towered above me, the same height as Mary, but he was incredibly skinny which lent to his overall rather lanky appearance.

"Hello." I smiled gently at him.

"Here!" my fiancée proudly produced a doughnut wrapped in tissue. "Have a good day at work. I love you."

"And you." I responded awkwardly, smiling at him as he disappeared back into the kitchen of the bakery.

Mary glanced down at the donut, which he had decorated with a small heart. "Look, El..." she sighed, "I know you feel bad for him, but-" she took a bite of my donut, which I luckily hadn't really wanted, "you really need to break up with him. I know it's difficult, I understand that -" she held up a hand to stop me interrupting, "but I personally think you're being selfish, leading him on." she chewed quickly and swallowed, continuing, "I mean, let's face it, you're not going to marry him, which means one day you will have to break up with him." she shook half the donut at me, "You're just prolonging the inevitable." her speech was finished, and she now rejoiced in her free mouth by picking up the final pastry from the box.