men, dressed in their uniforms of black T-shirts and matching trousers. They’d been ruthlessly efficient back in Glasgow, their removal expertise putting her to shame. Trouble was—right now, none of them were moving.
She pulled the car up outside the cottage and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face and Isla squealed in excitement. ‘Is this it, Mummy?’
Gemma nodded and helped Isla from the car. The cottage was everything she’d hoped for—two bedrooms, a study and a small conservatory on the back. That, combined with a view over the Firth of Clyde, was more perfect than she could have imagined.
There were even little shutters at the windows. From the look of them they were only decorative and could do with a lick of paint. But they added to the character and she loved them immediately.
Before she could stop her, Isla had raced through the open front door.
Gemma gave her hair a shake, pleased to be out of the stuffy car on such a clammy day. One of the removals men approached her straight away. Her stomach was already jittery with nerves. ‘Something wrong, Frank?’
He nodded. ‘I think so.’ He pointed to the front door. There, sitting next to the steps, was a row of large paint tins. Gemma walked over for a closer look—pale yellow for Isla’s room, mocha for her own bedroom, magnolia for the hall and living room. There was a tightly wrapped parcel at the end of the row. She peeled back some of the wrapping to reveal the purple wallpaper she’d picked for the feature wall in her living room.
Her brow furrowed. ‘What’s all this doing here? I’d an arrangement with a local contractor to have painted and decorated for us before we got here.’
Frank shrugged. ‘He’s obviously bought the materials and intended to do it. Something must have happened.’
Gemma let out a sigh and walked into her cottage. There it was. That instant feeling.
It made her catch her breath.
People said that you made up your mind in the first thirty seconds when you viewed a house. And even though the deal was done Gemma knew immediately she’d made the right decision. She walked around. Some of her furniture and most of her boxes had already been put in some of the rooms.
She ran her finger along the wall. The place looked a little tired. If it had been decorated it would have been perfect. But she could live with it in its current state. If need be, she could do the painting herself.
Frank tapped her shoulder. ‘There’s another little issue.’ He pointed back outside.
Gemma followed him to find her brand-new purple sofa sitting in the driveway. ‘What’s wrong?’
He pointed to the doorway. ‘It’s too small. We can’t get it in.’
She spun around. ‘You’re joking, right?’
He shook his head. ‘Did you ask for the dimensions of the door before you bought it?’
She could feel the colour flare into her cheeks. Of course she hadn’t. She’d fallen in love with the colour immediately, and once she’d sat in it in the showroom her mind had been made up. Dimensions hadn’t even entered her brain. Not once. ‘Could we take the door off?’
He shook his head. ‘We’ve already tried that. It’s just too big.’
Just like she thought. Ruthlessly efficient. She’d half a mind to invite these removal contractors to work with her in one of the big hospitals in Glasgow to see what changes they would make. They would probably have the whole rambling hospital running seamlessly in a matter of days.
One of the other men approached. ‘I’ve checked the back window—the one that’s broken and boarded up. If we take out the window frame we might get it in there.’
‘I’ve got a broken window?’ She was trying not to let her chin dangle open. This was just getting better and better.
‘You didn’t know?’
She shook her head, her long strides taking her back into the house and following the pointing fingers to the window at the back of her living room. There were a few remnants of broken glass caught in the window frame, but someone had done a good job clearing up the floor and ensuring it was spotless. The carpet in this room had been slightly worn and damaged in the pictures she’d seen so she’d given instructions for it to be lifted. Her new carpet was currently rolled up inside the removal van, waiting to be fitted—another aspect of the efficient company.
She touched the edge of the window. ‘I knew nothing about this. I guess I’ll need to phone the estate agent.’ She sighed. ‘If taking the frame out is the only way to get the sofa in then just go ahead.’
Two other men appeared with the underlay and carpet, ready to fit it. One of them gave her a smile. ‘I take it you just want us to go ahead, lift the old carpet and get the new one laid?’
She gave a little nod. She’d have to worry about paint stains later. The removals company had covered just about every angle. It was just a pity the decorator hadn’t fulfilled his duties.
Her phone rang sharply and she pulled it out of her pocket.
‘Dr Halliday? Are you here yet?’ It was a deep voice and one she didn’t recognise.
‘That depends. What “here” do you mean? And who are you?’
‘Sorry. It’s Logan Scott. One of the GPs you’ll be working with. I needed to see if you could cover a shift.’
She let out a laugh. ‘Cover a shift? I’ve just got here. And my house isn’t painted. A window’s broken, I haven’t unpacked a thing and I would have no one to look after my daughter. So, Dr Scott, I don’t think I’ll be covering any shifts any time soon.’ She winced at the snarky tone in her voice. She was taking her frustrations out on a perfect stranger—and, worse still, a new workmate.
‘You have a daughter? I didn’t know that.’
She felt herself bristle. What did that mean? And what business of his was it that she had a daughter? But he continued, ‘You’re at the cottage? I’ll be there in two minutes.’
Before she could say another thing he’d hung up. She shook her head and walked back inside, just in time to see the wooden board being taken off the window and the window frame being slid out of place.
The underlay was already down on the floor and was being anchored in place. These removal guys really didn’t waste any time. Then again, she could bet none of them wanted to risk missing the last ferry home and being stranded for the night. She’d been warned in advance that the Arran ferry could be cancelled at the first gust of wind.
She walked along to Isla’s room. Her bed was nestled in the corner with the new bedding and curtains sitting on top of it. Isla was on the floor with one of her boxes upended and toys spread across the floor. She was already in a world all of her own.
Gemma’s eyes ran over the room and she gave a groan. No curtain poles. She hadn’t even given it a thought. She’d just assumed there would be some still in place. Another thing to add to the list.
Isla’s oak wardrobe and chest of drawers had been put in place—in the exact spots where Gemma would have positioned them herself. Most of Isla’s clothes were in the car—still on their hangers—it would only take a few minutes to pick them up and start to get Isla’s room ready.
She walked outside and opened her car door. The wind was starting to whip her dress around her legs and she grabbed it as she leaned inside to grab a handful of Isla’s clothes. The last hanger slid from her hands on to the floor between the front seats and the back. She leaned further, her feet leaving the ground as she stretched as far as she could, just as the biggest gust of wind caught her dress and billowed it upwards.
‘Well, there’s a sight I don’t see every day.’
‘What?’ Panic filled her chest as her cheeks flared with heat. Her