Chapter 30
Toni was just about to call Gabri again when the two silhouettes appeared on the path leading to the cabin.
They were walking slowly and speaking in quiet voices.
Her eyes soaked up the form of her son, chin up, his tread light, twisting towards Gabri when he said something.
And the broad-shouldered form of her… whatever he was – whatever he’d been – bent slightly to bring his face closer to a child’s level.
It was not the picture of a man who didn’t like kids with a child who’d caused trouble.
When they moved into the porch light, Toni sucked in a startled breath. Gabri had a cut on his face, the blood dried now, and the crisp dress shirt she’d admired was torn in several places. Cilli, on the other hand, looked completely unscathed.
‘Mum!’
She wrapped her son in a hug when he rushed to her, the relief in her veins still as strong as the adrenaline that had come before it. The pounding of her heart steadied and life came into powerful focus.
‘I love you so much, sweetheart,’ she mumbled, swiping at a tear. ‘You scared the life out of me, but I’m so lucky to have you back – to have you. Don’t ever do that again!’
‘I won’t, Mum,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘Gabri nearly fell off a cliff and I wouldn’t want that to happen.’
When she snapped her gaze to Gabri, it was to find an odd expression on his face: part amusement, part dismay.
‘I’m glad you’re looking out for me,’ he said drily. ‘I should…’ He gestured over his shoulder with a half-hearted motion.
‘Wait, I—’
Toni wasn’t sure what she could say. She needed to fuss over Cillian, get him into bed, process the horrible evening and then try to let it go – along with the necessary recriminations for the way her first I Do wedding had turned out.
But she kind of wanted to do that processing with Gabri, where she could press her cheek to his chest.
‘You need to… I can—’ His hands expressed the words he couldn’t seem to find.
‘You have a cut on your forehead,’ she blurted out. ‘Let me clean it for you?’
‘You don’t have to—’
Cillian gave a loud yawn and they both glanced down at him.
‘Sweetie, go wash up and put your PJs on. I’ll be there in a minute.’ As though a minute would be long enough to… She didn’t know what she wanted to do with Gabri.
After Cillian disappeared inside, she grasped his arm and pulled him to one of the porch chairs, urging him to sit. ‘Stay there. I’ll get some swabs and antiseptic for that cut.’
The wariness in his eyes made her wonder if he’d stay put or disappear into the night without saying goodbye. The experience of losing Cillian must have triggered all of his anxieties, but he’d gone out in search of him anyway – the way he’d helped her clean up her leg despite his own discomfort.
Some hint of a realisation tickled in the back of her mind as she brushed a hand over his cheek and went to fetch the first aid supplies, but she was too tired and mixed-up to reason it through. He was a good man – the best – no matter what he thought of himself.
The kick of attraction and recognition when she turned his face up and gently cleaned the wound landed with more force than she’d expected. The heightened emotions of the day were catching up with her.
‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice gravelly.
‘I should be thanking you.’
He shook his head, then turned it, taking her wrist gently and pressing a feather-light kiss to the inside. Toni froze, no defences left against the quiet tenderness.
But his words broke the spell that had threatened to upset the careful balance of her life. ‘Anyone would have done it.’
It wasn’t true, but she couldn’t dispute it, because what he meant was: she shouldn’t read anything into his actions. He still needed his simple, lonely life, the selfish idealist.
‘Was it awful, being worried for me?’
His brow drew in, making him wince at the sting from the scratch. ‘It was horrendous.’
‘Lucky we’re going tomorrow then,’ she said lightly.
‘Toni.’ The frustration in his voice took her aback.
‘It’s all right,’ she insisted, inspecting the wound. It was shallow, barely a scratch. It had probably only bled so much because it was a facial wound – blood vessels close to the skin and all that.
‘I don’t know that it is all right,’ he disagreed, his eyes dropping closed and his hands gripping her waist.
‘Tone, are you going to read—? Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just— I’m not here. Carry on.’ Daphne slipped into the cabin backside first, her hand slapped over her eyes.
Then came a voice from behind her. ‘Is Mum going to read a chapter of our book? She said she—’ Cillian came scooting to a stop in the doorway when he caught sight of them. Gabri had dropped his hands from her body, but she was still standing between his knees, steadying herself on his shoulder.
The scrape of the plastic porch chair tore through the awkward tableau as Gabri rushed to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you to get him to bed,’ he said tightly. With a brief squeeze to her elbow, he turned and left without another word.
‘Have a wonderful time on your honeymoon. Come and see us – I mean Sophie – at the office when you get back and she’ll take you through the photos.’
‘I’m glad everything was all right with your son,’ Alison said as she gave Toni a loose hug. ‘Parenthood is a challenge, so I understand.’
Oh God, even that was enough to remind Toni of Gabri, which seemed to be the pattern for the day.
She was annoyed he’d tried to express feelings, got that tortured gravel tone in his voice and then just left, escaped as soon as the other two generations of Toni’s family appeared – which was typical, actually, so she shouldn’t have been surprised.
She shouldn’t have let her heart start to wonder if last night had altered anything for him – not that a change of heart would do anything about their circumstances.
But he’d slinked away without saying goodbye – not even arrivederci, since they probably wouldn’t be seeing each other again, maybe not even online.
The worst part was that in theory, he’d done the right thing: a quick, painless farewell.
She had most of the day to spend with Cilli before their ferry off the island, a night in a hotel in Pisa and then, after an obligatory picture of Cilli pretending to hold up the Leaning Tower, to the airport and home. That’s what she should be focusing on.
‘Another one done,’ Reshma said with a sigh as they waved off the happy couple. ‘It’s been too long since I helped out on site. Maybe I should do it more often.’
‘You might have to when Sophie has the baby, at least until she’s ready to come back.’
‘But we have you to help out too, now your starter wedding is behind you.’
‘Oh gosh, I’m never doing that again. Even the thought of juggling being away from Cillian or bringing him along – we know how badly that ended – is difficult enough. I’m out. No more weddings.’ If that meant no more job, Toni was tired enough to be sanguine about it.
‘All right,’ Reshma said, so gently that Toni had the urge to give her a hug, even though Reshma was clearly not a hug person. ‘But you know, just because something didn’t work out the first time doesn’t mean you should give up on the idea entirely.’
‘I think it means exactly that,’ Toni scoffed. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out for it anyway. The whole “it’s easy to be cynical” thing.’
‘Nothing… changed your mind over these two weeks you were on the island? Or no one?’
‘No,’ she said gruffly. ‘Would you like a lift anywhere?’ she asked, changing the subject. ‘We’re checking out and heading to Portoferraio for the day – to the beach.’
‘No, I’m staying on a for a few days,’ Reshma answered.
‘Oh? You didn’t mention that.’
‘Didn’t I? I think we told you right at the beginning that we quite often tack a holiday on the end. We often need it after wedding week.’
‘I’m beginning to understand that.’ Toni paused. ‘Well, I’ll see you back in Weymouth, I suppose, next time you’re at Great Heart Adventures.’
Packed up to go half an hour later, Toni found herself on the beach at Innamorata one last time, no trace of yesterday evening’s wedding left on the sand – as it should be.
Cillian stood well back from the turtle nest, watching it with an intensity that made her concerned about getting him away in time to enjoy the white sand beach on the northern shore of the island.
But he eventually turned away himself, reminding Toni of snippets of her conversations with Gabri about holding onto some things and letting others go. He’d carved a place for himself in her mind and she had a moment of panic about how she was going to get him out.
Stopping in town at a panetteria, they picked up schiacciata, cheese and prosciutto, and three enormous pieces of millefoglie custard slice, then headed for the Sottobomba beach, its white pebbles blinding in the sunshine.
The water was an impossible shade of turquoise, lapping gently on the shore, protected by today’s south-westerly wind.
And every part of that half-hour – except for the millefoglie – reminded Toni of him: their first day at the beach together, so uncertain of each other; windsurfing in the maestrale at Procchio; their last picnic dinner on the western shore. She had to pull herself together.
Cillian was a child of the coast, so he made straight for the water, barely stopping to drop his T-shirt on to the sunlounger.
‘Just a minute, Cillian Alexander Goschl,’ she called after him. ‘Sun cream and a drink of water and then you have to play Dobble with me until the sun cream has soaked in.’
She wondered if Gabri played card games. She guessed not. He probably sucked at least at the games that required impulsivity and a flair for risk. Puzzles, on the other hand…
It was so easy to forget the man had a PhD. She couldn’t picture him behind a desk, working on his electricity grid optimisation or whatever it was he’d said. But then, he probably had no idea what she was like in Weymouth, since he seemed to think she was vivacious and entertaining.
She’d been vivacious and entertaining here.
Gah, she was thinking about him again, and Cillian was clapping his hand over each and every Dobble card as she paid zero attention to the little pictures.
She smiled after him when he bolted for the surf as soon as she released him.
The water looked cool and inviting, especially from under her umbrella, which seemed to capture the heat and radiate it back on to her.
Conditions were calm. She could swim out and see what was beyond the white cliffs jutting into the sea.
She could enjoy submerging herself in the warm water of the Mediterranean before she went home to the bracing English Channel.
Instead, she hesitated, watching Cillian without taking in what he was doing.
A nudge from Daphne dragged her out of her distraction. ‘Toni.’ The long pause gave Toni an idea of what she was going to say, but Daphne was even more direct than she expected. ‘Go see him.’
She sat up straight, the simple statement still making no sense to her. ‘There’s nothing more to say. I mean, except a proper goodbye.’
‘Are you worried he won’t want to see you?’
‘No…’ If anything, the opposite.
‘I just think,’ Daphne said, far too matter-of-factly for the subject of their discussion, folding her hands over her stomach as she stretched out on the second sunlounger, ‘that if you don’t go – even if it’s just to say goodbye – you will always wonder what might have happened.’
‘Nothing is going to change if I say goodbye.’ She meant practically.
She would still miss him; he would still live his solitary life here.
But if she’d learned anything over the past two weeks, it was that every moment changed people’s lives – usually infinitesimally, but occasionally in a giant crack from one heartbeat to the next.
She wasn’t sure she wanted whatever change she’d get if she drove up to Gabri’s home one more time, but she did wonder what that change would be. Daphne had a point.
Scrambling to her feet, she pressed a quick, impulsive kiss to her mother’s hair and ignored the self-satisfied smile. ‘I won’t be long,’ she promised.
Daphne waved her off. ‘Take your time. We’ve got five hours until the ferry. Five hours to fill – somehow.’
As Toni headed back up to the car park, she heard her mother call after her and turned to find her peering around the sunlounger.
‘Do you still have condoms?’ Daphne mouthed urgently.
She shushed her mother with a scowl and a finger to her lips.