Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I shuffled to answer my door the next morning.
Someone was giving it a good old knock.
I creaked it open, huddled in one of The Gorse’s fluffy white dressing gowns.
It was Campbell.
He examined me through the narrow crack. ‘Good morning. Bloody hell! You look awful.’
I stared back at him. ‘Thank you for that confidence boost.’ I hesitated. ‘I’m surprised you’re still talking to me.’
He didn’t say anything. He just angled his head to one side. ‘I take it you haven’t been down for breakfast yet?’
‘No. I’m not hungry. Think I’ll go back to bed.’
Campbell gestured to the door. ‘Well, before you decide to hide from the world, do you think I could come in?’
I didn’t feel like company or talking to anyone. All I wanted to do was curl up under that duvet and sleep away images of Logan and what I did.
I stared at Campbell out of teary eyes.
He didn’t move to leave. ‘Please?’
I let out a defeated sigh and stepped to one side to let him in.
He yanked his mobile out of the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Darcie, do you mind explaining to me why you recorded this video?’
I tightened the belt of my dressing gown. ‘I didn’t know you were a social media fan.’
‘I’m not. Julie just drew my attention to it, as I was about to come and see you.’
I shrugged, fighting to look Campbell in the face. ‘It had to be done. I feel wretched about what happened.’
‘Wretched enough to wreck your career and pretend you’re a liar?’
‘Yep.’
Campbell’s brows lifted. ‘There’s far more to this than deterring hordes of amateur treasure seekers from invading Skye and upsetting the local tourist information.’ He eyed me. ‘What the hell’s going on between you and Logan?’
My head insisted on pulling up pictures of the two of us rescuing that stranded dolphin; me laughing at his corny jokes; the way Logan had looked out for me when we were fossil hunting, catching me before I slipped and hurt myself; his arms cradled around me as we’d danced under the fireworks the other night; the way his lips had almost taken mine. I couldn’t stand it. Emotion balled up inside of me. I chewed my lip. ‘I’ve let both of you down.’
‘You aren’t falling in love with me though…’ Campbell’s lips flickered with a small smile. ‘Although I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’m still quite the catch.’
Despite tears banking up in my eyes, I managed a snotty laugh. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said a word to Justine about what we were doing. It was one of those stupid, spur of the moment decisions.’
Hot flashes of red lit up my damp cheeks.
I heard myself talking to Campbell, the words running away from me. ‘There was this envious mist that came down and I didn’t think about the implications of what I was doing.’ I closed my eyes shut for a few moments, wishing the embarrassment and guilt would evaporate. ‘As soon as I mentioned to Justine what we were doing, I knew it was a mistake. I should never have done it.’
I dug my fingernails into my palms as I stood there, trying to explain myself to Campbell. ‘I asked her to forget the whole thing and not to mention it to anyone. I asked her to promise me. But she didn’t; she just made this sort of conciliatory noise and ordered me to stop stressing over it, and I convinced myself that was enough.’
Campbell turned over what I’d just told him as he studied my room. ‘Do you know Logan’s left Skye for a few days?’
My heart stilled. ‘Where’s he gone?’
‘To Rum in the western isles. Camping. Texted me last night.’ Campbell gave me a loaded look. ‘Said he fancied getting away.’
I dropped my eyes to the carpet. My insides were churning. ‘Did he say when he might be back?’
‘No. He didn’t.’
Disappointment gave way to leaden realisation. I didn’t blame him. He didn’t want to set eyes on me. He didn’t trust me. Lord knows what he thought of me. In the beginning, he’d viewed me as an entitled spoilt social media princess who needed a reality check. That was probably polite compared to what he thought of me now. And yet, the way he’d encouraged me to embrace Skye when I first arrived… He’d ignored me when I’d been sarcastic or flippant, just rubbed his stubble and flashed that million-dollar grin of his as he teased me, encouraged me, willed me on.
I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting to keep the wobble from my voice. ‘I head back to London next week. Please let me help you in the meantime, if I can, with trying to locate the whereabouts of the cross. I know I’ll probably be about as much use to you as a chocolate fireguard, but I need to make amends and show you how genuinely sorry I am. To both you and Logan.’
Campbell’s eyes shone at me with understanding.
‘You’ve still got that copy of the letter that Elliot Becker gave you?’
‘Yes.’
I took a step closer to him, my features pleading. ‘Then let me help you.’ I could feel more frustrated tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. ‘I know in all likelihood I’ll be more of a hindrance than a help to you, Campbell, but please. I need to do this.’
Campbell reached out one hand and patted my dressing gown sleeve. ‘We’ve all done things at one time or another that we aren’t proud of.’ He hesitated and gave me a long look. ‘That video you made, you didn’t have to do that. And you do realise there’s now a chance that your publishers won’t want to proceed with your travel guide?’
My shoulders shrugged under my dressing gown. ‘I know that, and I don’t care.’ I swiped my eyes with the back of my hand. ‘I’ve spent a few years now endorsing places which I didn’t always rate or saying things I wasn’t sure about, or that maybe didn’t sit as comfortably with me as they should’ve.’ I stood up straighter. ‘It’s time for that to stop. And if they do pull the plug on my travel guide, I’ll deal with it.’
Campbell eyed me. ‘And you’re OK if your social media career is tarnished?’
‘I don’t care about that either. I mean it. It was like the scales were falling from my eyes when I made that recording last night.’
‘And what has the response been like?’
I laced and unlaced my hands. ‘I haven’t looked, but my phone’s been bleeping and pinging like a faulty microwave. I also blocked my agent’s number last night. She’s proven she can’t be trusted.’
Campbell’s brows fired up. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
I nodded my head so hard; I almost cricked my neck in the process. ‘For the first time in a long time, I feel like I do.’
Campbell gave me a quizzical look. ‘When you were talking on your video about finding something precious and never letting go, it wasn’t the Skye Lovers’ Cross you were referring to, was it?’
I bit my lip. Was it that obvious?
Campbell moved towards the door to leave. ‘I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get ready. Then you and I can have breakfast together.’ He patted his jeans pocket. ‘And you can take a look at this letter from Victoria McPherson.’
I bit back grateful tears. ‘Thank you.’
Campbell offered me a sympathetic smile. ‘Well, off you go then and be quick about it please. I’m hankering after Kathleen’s poached eggs!’
* * *
I prodded my scrambled egg and tomato, wondering why I’d ordered it. I didn’t feel hungry and couldn’t focus on food when flashes of what had happened—the disappointment and hurt radiating out of Logan before he took off, and me, hunched over, tearful, making that video—kept erupting inside my mind.
Campbell’s concerned gaze reached across the table. ‘You have to eat something.’
I set down my fork.
‘You can’t keep blaming yourself, Darcie.’
‘Can’t I?’
‘No.’
At my elbow, my phone let out a spurt of blips again. I’d debated whether to switch it off, but a glimmer of hope that Logan might make contact had persuaded me otherwise. That was fading fast though, given he hadn’t so far.
I glanced down at my phone with reluctance.
It was just more likes and comments on my video post.
No doubt Justine was lying down in a darkened room somewhere, with her ringed hand clamped to her forehead, demanding a gin and tonic.
I bit back a wave of self-pity. It was my own fault my life had imploded.
Campbell continued to watch me, then pointed to the golden slices of toast perched on the side of my untouched breakfast. ‘Right, young lady, you have to humour me by having a bite or three of that toast.’
I made a face like a fussy four-year-old, but Campbell was undeterred. He pulled Victoria’s photocopied letter out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the white tablecloth at me. ‘If you don’t eat that toast, I’m not letting you read this.’
‘That’s blackmail. And you sound just like my dad. How old do you think I am? Eight?’
Campbell took a mouthful of tea from his thistle-sprigged cup and flexed one brow.
I let out a frustrated sigh. ‘OK. OK. If emotionally blackmailing me makes you feel better, then I suppose I have to let you.’
I picked up one of the slices of toast, slapped on some butter and apricot jam and took a few unenthusiastic bites.
Only once I’d forced myself to eat the two slices, did Campbell push Victoria’s letter across the table for me to read. ‘Well done. Now, drink your tea and read this.’
I took a couple of mouthfuls of my cuppa and unfolded the letter.
Campbell quickly pointed one finger at the date—1 November 1909—located at the top right-hand corner of the letter. ‘That was the day Neist Point lighthouse here on Skye was first lit.’
‘Was it?’
Campbell nodded. ‘When I first read the letter, I thought the date rang a bell with me, but I wasn’t sure why, so I looked it up.’
Neist Point.
Echoes of Logan and I enjoying our picnic up there as the waves rolled in and the gulls dived underneath the clouds of the rose gold sunset flooded through me; the scene was lodged in my head like a permanent painting and refused to budge.
I rubbed my eyes and returned my attention to Victoria’s letter.
My dearest Edward,
I hope that despite the inclement weather, I find you well.
I apologise profusely for not having written to you earlier, but I have found myself preoccupied with a number of other matters.
First and foremost, I want to offer you my deepest and heartfelt apologies. Despite you making every attempt to protect my feelings and to prevent me from finding myself in such an emotional and difficult situation, I did indeed find myself falling hopelessly in love with Arthur. I did not intend for this situation to arise, nor did I choose to become emotionally attached to a married man. (Please note I am not referring to him as a gentleman. The reason for this will be made clear shortly.) I should inform you, and I’m certain, dearest brother, that it will come as no great surprise to you, that the inevitable has happened and I failed to heed your well-meant warnings.
On numerous occasions, Arthur promised me he would leave his marriage to Mary and begin a new chapter with me. When I explained that I was growing tired of his constant assurances, Arthur accused me of being demanding and unable to appreciate the delicate situation he found himself in. This was of course untrue and most hurtful, seeing as I had been nothing but understanding and circumspect with regards to his marital situation. Nevertheless, fractious words between us were exchanged and Arthur informed me that he felt unable to continue our association and was therefore leaving Skye and returning to Mary in Edinburgh, now that his archaeological work here had come to an end.
As I write this, there are tears flowing down my face but with a melancholy and rather strange sense of acceptance. At least I still have Skye, where light meets the sea, in the heart of the island. I knew this situation would result, but I persisted in deluding myself. I wanted therefore to take this opportunity to thank you, Edward, for remaining my support and stay, despite your deep reservations about my relationship with Arthur. I shall never forget your selflessness. That is why I am furnishing you now with some very important information.
During the course of my amateur investigations into the possible whereabouts of valuable and ancient trinkets here on the island, I conducted my own research into the Skye Lovers’ Cross. I had intended to share what I’d discovered with Arthur, but following his cruel and heartless termination of our relationship, I felt it far better to pass my theory on to you, dear brother. However, I would much prefer to do this in person.
I love you dearest brother and hope to be able to arrange a convenient time for us to meet to discuss this matter further.
Please write me at your earliest opportunity.
Your darling sister,
Victoria.
I jerked my head up from the letter and gawped at Campbell across the table. He was savouring his tea and watching my reaction.
‘Wow! You can tell how much Arthur broke her heart, just by reading this.’
My heart lurched in sympathy for her. I knew what that felt like.
I folded the letter and handed it back to Campbell.
Behind us, a few guests had finished their breakfast and were meandering out towards reception. A couple of others clattered their knives, forks and spoons while they finished their cereal, fried eggs and bacon.
‘Do you think Victoria did find the cross or is she just teasing?’ I asked Campbell.
Campbell set down his teacup on his saucer. ‘I think there’s a possibility.’ He chewed the inside of his mouth. ‘Like I said, Victoria wrote this letter on the day of the Neist Point lighthouse being lit for the first time, so I don’t know if that’s just a coincidence or a clue.’ He gave his head a considered shake. ‘And why on earth would she exaggerate to her brother?’
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘I don’t know if it might be worth us speaking to Elliot again? See if he’s managed to unearth any more familial information?’
I frowned. ‘It just seems odd that Edward didn’t try to follow up the search for it. Or maybe he did and he didn’t have any luck?’
I smiled over at Kathleen and Julie, who were darting around the dining room, clearing away the breakfast things, while Campbell took the opportunity to ring Elliot.
At least this mystery surrounding Victoria’s letter was managing to distract me for a little while from Logan and the fallout from my video.
As Campbell continued his conversation with Elliot, I stared at Victoria’s letter again laying by Campbell’s plate. What if the stories about the Skye Lovers’ Cross were just that? Stories? Fables? Exaggerations?
Campbell rounded off his call with Elliot. ‘Edward apparently never had the chance to try and locate the stone, even if he’d wanted to.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Elliot just told me Edward McPherson was killed in a car accident a week after he received that letter from Victoria.’
‘That’s awful!’
Campbell shook his dead in dismay. ‘It is.’ He paused and tapped the letter gently with his fingertips. ‘I’m beginning to think that we might be wasting our time.’
‘Don’t say that, Campbell. You’ve spent so much time and energy trying to find it.’
‘Aye, and look where it’s got me.’
We both gave Victoria’s letter a sad glance.
Then a kernel of an idea started to grow. ‘Campbell, could you pass me the letter again, please?’
‘Sure.’
He slid it across the breakfast table and my eyes greedily scanned Victoria’s loopy, black handwriting.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘This line,’ I remarked, pointing at it. ‘Victoria says “And at least I still have Skye, where light meets the sea, in the heart of the island.”’
I gave the photocopy of the letter a waggle. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit dramatic? Beautiful and poetic?’
Campbell considered my observations. ‘Yes. Come to think of it, it does stand out.’
I leant on the table and put down the letter. ‘Do you think Victoria might have been trying to convey a hidden message to her brother in that sentence? Maybe she was trying to say she thought the cross might be here in Portree?’
Campbell let out a defeatist sigh. ‘I bloody hope not! Even if it was, it could be anywhere in town.’
My frustration matched Campbell’s. Had Victoria actually discovered it or was she just telling tales?
I twirled the teaspoon between my fingers as I thought.
‘What do you want to do now, Darcie?’
Campbell’s question made me raise my head up from the fascination of the tablecloth.
‘I know I’m not Logan, but if there’s anything about Skye you want to ask me or any other research you want to undertake, I’ll do my best to help.’
‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you.’
I indicated Victoria’s letter again. ‘But what about this? You were so fired up about it before.’
Campbell flapped one agitated hand. ‘Och, maybe I’ve been letting my imagination get in the way of my common sense.’
‘What do you mean?’
Sad realisation began to creep over his distinguished features. ‘Maybe my career’s been built on a fairytale after all. Perhaps the critics were right and I’ve been deluding myself all these years.’
I sat up straighter. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘This.’
Campbell pointed one finger at Victoria’s letter, now sandwiched between the salt and pepper pots. ‘I suppose I let optimism get the better of me. And I was hoping Victoria might’ve given us more to go on than a little poetry.’
Campbell’s ringing phone disturbed us.
It was Ava.
They exchanged greetings and pleasantries and then I noticed Campbell’s face twist into one of concern. ‘Are you sure? When was this?’
Campbell listened and murmured. ‘OK. Thanks for letting me know, Ava. I appreciate it. You take care now.’ Campbell ended the call.
‘Is everything alright?’
He eyed me. ‘Ava was up at the local library studying yesterday when Leyton McPhail came in and she could hear him and Gabriel talking about the cross. McPhail was going on about possibly finding it with some initial dig.’
‘Where?’
‘Ava didn’t manage to pick up all of the conversation, but she did hear him say something about looking to dig the area around the Coral Beach.’
‘Why there?’
‘I think he’s grasping at straws. Leyton will have read everything possible about the cross and where it was rumoured to have been thrown.’ He touched the letter. ‘I’m certain it won’t be there, though. I did have an initial look in that part of the island myself, but I concluded that it’s too obvious.’
I pressed my lips together. ‘I still think that line Victoria wrote about the light and heart might have something to do with where the Skye Lovers’ Cross could be.’ I sighed and fiddled with my hair. ‘Maybe this is me grasping at straws, though.’
‘No, you could be right. Just a pity there isn’t more to go on right now.’ Campbell got to his feet. ‘Right. Let’s go. We’re going to drive ourselves crazy otherwise.’
I rose from my chair and began to follow Campbell out of the dining room wondering why that line about the light, the sea and a heart insisted on niggling me. It was weird.
While Campbell chatted to a couple of tourists perusing the maps on the wire rack in reception, I spotted a picture of Neist Point on one of the glossy map covers. It brought up memories of my picnic up at Neist Point with Logan again. The way the waves had waltzed below us, as though engaged in some sort of poetic dance, and the rocks had appeared to be on fire in the light of the sunset.
If I were being truthful with myself, that was when my feelings for Logan had made me begin to change. That and the uncompromising beauty of Skye.
That evening I’d begun to see Logan for who he was, not who I thought he was at first: some overly confident guy with a swagger and looks to match. No, there was so much more to him than that. My heart had begun to soften towards him and I’d tried to stop it but it’d been no good…
My heart.
Neist Point.
My brain threw itself into an emergency stop.
Could I be right? Was that what Victoria had been trying to tell Edward?
Was that why she’d mentioned the light and a heart? Come to think of it, the date of Victoria’s letter was clamouring for my attention now too.
My breath quickened.
My imagination might be playing tricks on me, but what if it wasn’t? We didn’t have anything to lose, so surely it was worth checking out?
Trying to stem the hot lava of excitement chasing through me, I barrelled over to Campbell, who was fighting with one of the maps. ‘The cross,’ I hissed. ‘I don’t know, but…’
Campbell tutted at the map and tried to right it. ‘Sorry?’
My hands were flapping around like I was one of the crazy gulls in Portree. ‘Look, this might not mean anything, but the lighthouse…’
‘Yes?’
I swallowed. ‘Victoria was going on about light and the sea in her letter, wasn’t she? And she mentioned a heart?’
Campbell finally folded up the map and stuffed it back into the rack. ‘Where are you going with this?’
A hopeful smile flooded my face. ‘I could be wrong, I mean I probably am, but there’s something about that line she wrote…’
Campbell narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Follow your gut instinct, Darcie. That’s what I always say.’
‘Alright.’ I took a breath. ‘The night you first came to see me at the B&B, Logan and I were up at Neist Point having a picnic and I spotted this rock… It was shaped like a heart.’
While a couple of guests vanished out into the street from reception, I lowered my voice. ‘I remarked about the shape of it to Logan at the time and he agreed, saying he hadn’t noticed it before.’
Campbell looked bemused now.
‘Sorry, I’m rambling.’ I tried to slow myself down, but my excitement was mounting. I just hoped I wasn’t wasting Campbell’s time with my theory. ‘What with that heart-shaped rock up there, don’t you think that the mention of light could potentially be referring to the lighthouse? With the date of her letter being the lighting of Neist Point, well…’
Campbell’s mouth formed a series of pensive shapes. ‘So, you think…?’
I threw out one arm. ‘Look, it might be a load of rubbish, but it might also be worth taking a look.’
Campbell’s dark eyes began to shine and he strode away from me, towards the guest house entrance. ‘Campbell? Hey! Where are you going?’
He beckoned me to follow him. ‘You mean, where are we going. We’re going to drive up to Neist Point and check out this heart-shaped stone theory of yours!’
I loitered, a sudden, leaden nervousness gripping me. What if I was wrong?
Campbell drew up to check I was following him. ‘Well?’ He gave the glass door of The Gorse a tug and opened it. ‘Are you coming or not?’