Independent Jenny by Sarah Louise Smith Page A

this.
    “Imagine living there,” I said to Hayley, gesturing at the house. I wasn’t happy with the photo and adjusted some of my settings before taking another.
    “Wonderful in summer, awful in winter, I imagine,” she said, getting back into the car. I didn’t know about that, I quite liked the idea of being snowed in, wrapped up warm with Ross.
    Oh. I hadn’t seen that coming. He was still there in my subconscious version of my future then. I looked at the house and imagined myself there with Aiden. Hmm, now it was even more appealing. I smiled at the thought and took one more photo before getting back into the car.
    As we drove on, I considered the idea of living here in winter. Snowed in, impassable roads, living on the supplies I’d have stocked up on in the autumn. No unexpected visitors. No local pub for my husband, whoever that may be, to go out and meet easy floozies. It sounded quite nice.
    Ross would hate it, though, I knew, despite what he’d said in Dartmoor. He loved living in a city. I wondered for a moment if Aiden would ever like to live somewhere like this.
    “I keep comparing a future with Ross to a future with Aiden,” I told Hayley. “I wish I could stop myself but I can’t seem to.”
    “What seems odd to me,” said Hayley, “is that you seem to think they are the only two options.”
    “Well, they are. I don’t have a queue of men to choose from Hayley.”
    “You could be single. You don’t need either of them, necessarily.”
    The thought made me feel slightly panicky.
    “Live alone?” I asked her.
    “Yes. Be free and single, work out who you are again. Be Jenny for a while.”
    Why hadn’t I thought of that? Was it something to do with my mother? She’d never been alone, or not for long anyway. I couldn’t picture myself coping well as a singleton, but I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t want a pep talk about being an independent woman.
    Eventually, we saw the bridge connecting the Isle of Skye to the mainland. We drove across it, and for a moment I wished it hadn’t been built. Getting a ferry across may have been less convenient, but it’d mean we were now cut off from the rest of the UK. I didn’t want my problems to follow me over the bridge.
    Something changed in my mind though as soon as we were on the island. It was head clearing time and I was determined to stop feeling sorry for myself. We passed more mountains and lochs and stopped to take yet more photos. It was a good job I’d bought my laptop; the memory card in my camera would be filling up pretty fast.
    “That’s Uig,” I told Hayley, glancing at the sat nav and then back out at the view below us. She pulled over and we got out. Uig was one of the major towns on Skye, and yet it looked so small from up here. It had just a small smattering of residential and commercial buildings and a small port. A ferry was coming in, presumably from the Outer Hebrides, and we stood and watched it for a moment before driving on.
    After a long drive down a bumpy, unpaved road, we came to a stone wall with an open gate. We drove through, and there were three cottages, all identical white with slate roofs. There were sheep in the neighbouring field. I pulled up into a parking area and got out to admire the view. Wow. I was going to love it here.
    “Oh my god, it’s so lovely!” Hayley said, running from the car to a fence that separated us from the sheep. Beyond their field was the sea. And past that, on the horizon, were the mountains of the Isle of Lewis. I left Hayley and Wentworth to admire the view while I opened up the cottage.
    A wooden front door led to a wide honey-coloured hallway with real wooden flooring. I put my bag down and entered the main room; a living area with a small kitchenette on the far wall. It was cosy and quaint, with new but rustic-looking furniture. There was a small bathroom with an electric shower, and two bedrooms, both with double beds and soft white bedding that looked rather inviting