Free The Inn at the Edge of the World by Alice Thomas Ellis

diagnosed her as an inadequate personality. Ronald too was regretting his question since he didn’t really want to know why Jessica went on the stage, and feared, as always, that she would go on to talk at length about herself and her problems, or conversely, avoid him like the plague. Out of his habitat he was beginning to realize that other people’s problems bored him stupid. He had allowed himself to become conditioned into asking pertinent questions and it was high time he got over it. It was high time he had a holiday.
    ‘Coffee is served in the lounge,’ said Eric.
    He went to bed at two o’clock, having rendered the inn shipshape, and half woke in the night, rolling over in bed searching for the warmth of his wife; but she was in Glasgow. Her side of the bed smelled faintly of seaweed.
     
    He was up at six, lighting the fire in the dining room. Finlay’s sister-in-law had already let herself in through the yard door and was smoothing rashers of bacon on the chopping board. Eric looked in the freezer to make certain he’d remembered to get kippers and finnan haddie from the fishmonger on the mainland, and went to lay the breakfast table, thus freeing Finlay’s sister-in-law to get on with her preparations. He wondered uneasily what he’d do if she contracted a virus or was called away to tend to the dying.
    Anita was first in the dining room, having already made herself a cup of instant coffee in her bedroom, utilizing the electric kettle and the little packets provided. Eric regretted the necessity for this discourteous arrangement, but he could not afford to waste time running up and down with trays of early-morning tea. The hot rolls would correct any impression of uncaring on his part. He had also put the butter into pats because he knew everyone hated those tiny foil packages, one of which did not contain enough butter for one slice of toast, while two supplied too much. It was these small touches which made such a difference.
    ‘Would you like your breakfast now?’ asked Eric.
    ‘No,’ said Anita, ‘I’ll wait till the others come down.’
    ‘Coffee?’ said Eric.
    ‘Well . . . yes, please,’ said Anita, standing by the fire and looking down at the newly established glow. She mustn’t let herself drink too much coffee since it acted as a diuretic and she wanted to go for a walk.
    Harry had already been for a walk along the strand as dawn was breaking and came in with his muffler still round his neck. Ronald and Jessica came down shortly afterwards, but there was no sign of Jon. Eric wasn’t surprised: from what he had seen of Jon he would not have expected him to be either thoughtful or punctual. He determined that if Jon came down a minute after nine he could get stuffed. He was prepared to put himself out for those guests who would appreciate it, but if Jon wasn’t careful he’d find more in his soup than he’d bargained for. Eric caught himself up: the landlord should not get into the habit of cordially loathing customers or he could drive himself crazy. He must maintain a calm, detached attitude – rather like a psychiatrist – and not permit himself to get upset.
    Jon didn’t wake until nearly midday, when Finlay’s sister-in-law came to make his bed. He crawled from under the sheets stark-naked before half-heartedly draping a towel about his loins. Finlay’s sister-in-law was unmoved. If Eric had witnessed this he would have appreciated even more deeply her sterling qualities: a lesser woman might have shrieked and rushed down to insist that the landlord do something about it.
    ‘I think we did the right thing,’ said Jessica, standing outside the inn and sniffing the air like a retriever. ‘I wondered for a while, but now I’m reassured. The mad lady in the high heels gave me a bit of a turn – I thought there might be more like her all over the island, and she wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I wonder who she was?’
    ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,’ said