Chapter 35
Toni hadn’t been here in years. There had been a time when she’d come often – so often, she knew Miro would have disapproved. But then Cillian had grown into an unpredictable toddler and bringing him to the former quarry, with stones and sudden drops everywhere, had been too stressful.
It was testament to her unsettled state of mind that she was here today, with the warm wind in her hair and Cilli sending her curious looks, as though he sensed she didn’t know what to feel.
The sound of the waves and the colour of the rocks reminded her a little of Elba, but this was the Isle of Portland in Dorset, not the isola in the Tyrrhenian Sea.
‘Was I already born when you brought Dad’s ashes here?’ Cillian asked, giving her no time to adjust to the sudden line of questioning.
‘Yes, you were on my chest, wrapped up in a sling,’ she answered with both a smile and tears welling up.
‘Teddy’s grandpa was buried in a coffin,’ he said. Teddy was a boy in Cilli’s class.
‘Yes, that’s what some people want.’
‘But not Dad?’
Andreas referred to Miro as ‘Papa’ when he spoke to Cillian, but Toni had automatically reached for the English terms. Miro hadn’t been there to introduce that name to his son, but she couldn’t do anything about it now.
It was a part of Miro she hadn’t been able to replace, but maybe one day, Cillian would explore his heritage himself.
‘Your father didn’t mind what happened to his body,’ she began, pausing when she didn’t like how callous that sounded.
‘Did he know he would die?’
She shook her head immediately. ‘No, but there’s enough risk in mountaineering that we talked about it. There’s no harm in talking about what we’d like to happen when we die, although it can be difficult. But your dad, he just told me he’d be gone and he didn’t want any trouble or fuss.’
Cillian’s wide-eyed stare made her wonder if he hadn’t been ready for this conversation. So much trial and error in life, with no option for a do-over – which was part of the reason she was here today.
‘Andreas brought his body home for me – for us,’ she continued, now she’d started. ‘I knew he wouldn’t want to take up space in a cemetery, so I scattered his ashes into the sea just down there.’
Usually, Cillian would scramble ahead, but he was reluctant today and she suspected it had nothing to do with the jagged rocks or steep hill down to the cove.
‘Do you think Gabri would want to have his ashes scattered on a beach like this on Elba?’ he asked.
Toni nearly tripped as her steps faltered. ‘What made you think of that?’
He shrugged. ‘It just reminded me of the beach on the island – the hidden one he told me about after I found the turtle’s nest.’
It hurt, that Miro was long gone, but Gabri was so present in Cillian’s mind – in her mind – even after they’d left the island.
No, perhaps that’s not what hurt. If she was honest with herself, a tingle of warmth had washed through her at his name – at the knowledge that Cillian was thinking about him too.
What hurt was the disconnect with what she wanted to feel.
‘I don’t know. I think Gabri would like to return to the ground, although probably not in a coffin,’ she commented, even as the twist of mixed feelings pulled tight. ‘But it would be up to him.’
‘That’s true. He likes plants more than rocks.’
Miro had always dreamed and looked up, whereas Gabri was firmly on the ground.
‘What about you, Mum?’ he mumbled.
She stopped to fiercely pull him close. ‘There’s no reason to think I’m going to die any time soon, but I would probably have my ashes scattered somewhere too.’
‘Somewhere I could visit? Like here?’
When she couldn’t answer in words, she gave him a nod.
It was a misty day, so unlike the blinding blue sky of Elba.
Toni could barely see the coastline winding away to the west and Chesil Beach.
The distant horizon was completely obscured.
A handful of climbers were down in the rocky cove below, setting up their coils of rope and stepping into their harnesses in preparation for their attempts on the natural rock wall.
But the path she would take lay to the south, across a field of loose rocks and down to the pebbles of Hallelujah Bay. Toni scrambled over the stones, holding a hand out to help Cillian, even though he clearly didn’t need it.
‘Do you miss Dad a lot today? Is that why we’re here? Do you think about him all the time?’
Toni almost regretted bringing him, since she had no satisfactory answer to that question.
She thought of Gabri again, who’d told the truth to Cillian even when it had caused problems. He was right; you shouldn’t lie to a child.
When she lied to herself all the time, telling the truth was uncomfortable.
But she wanted to tell him.
‘No, I don’t think about him all the time any more,’ she said softly.
‘And that’s why we’re here. Your dad’s place in my life has changed over the years.
I think it had to. He’ll always be the man I love – and your father – but the present moves on and drags us with it eventually.
He’s not in the present – in our present.
’ No matter how hard she tried to keep him there.
‘Is that the spot?’ he asked, pointing out a mossy knoll extending almost into the water.
‘You remember it,’ she commented softly.
She’d always wondered if Miro would have preferred his ashes to be scattered from a high mountain in his homeland, but she hadn’t been able to part with him at the time.
Now, she imagined he’d be happy that his son knew the exact place where she’d tried – and failed – to say goodbye.
Gabri had been right; she’d never be able to say a final goodbye to him. But she could let go of the tight grip she had on his memory. Her life had opened up anyway, without her realising, and she was ready to admit it, accept it – embrace it.
Today was some kind of goodbye. Then she’d go home and write Gabri a long email and maybe one day, they’d see each other again and things would work out differently. Her life wasn’t over – not even her love life.
Grabbing Cillian, she squeezed him close, knowing these hugs would always be as much for her as for him and she’d have to let him go one day too. It was time for Toni to open her arms and move on.
Arriving at Great Heart on Monday morning, Toni appreciated that she had a few hours alone in the quiet.
The gym wouldn’t open until after lunch, so she had time for admin work – orders, inventory, shift planning and some bookings – before the echoing shouts and the clink of carabiners would intrude.
She’d composed and deleted what felt like a hundred emails in her head as she drove to work but it didn’t seem appropriate, emailing Gabri to tell him he’d been right – but also wrong. Trying to express the clarity from the day before was difficult when she started wondering how he’d react.
Unlocking the front doors, she made her way to her desk and paused when she got there. The keyboard had been shoved back and sitting in the middle of her desk was a plant, the pot wrapped in brown paper. Another paper bag was next to it.
From the scent alone, she knew it was rosemary. No blossoms, just shiny leaves. The scent took her right back to Gabri’s garden, triggering memories of sitting under the pergola and enjoying life. Rubbing a sprig, she brought her fingertips to her nose.
Who was thoughtful enough to leave a Mediterranean plant on her desk? She could only imagine it was Kira or Andreas, but Andreas had no idea how much her recent trip had meant to her and she wouldn’t expect Kira to even know what rosemary looked like.
Picking up the paper bag, she noted that it weighed almost nothing and opened it curiously. Luckily, she peered in before sticking her hand inside, because at the top was the spiky pink head of a thistle. Her breath caught. Groping for the back of her chair, she plonked into it, her mind racing.
There was no writing on the bag. It wasn’t a flower delivery from a local florist. Someone had placed this on her desk over the weekend. It couldn’t have been Gabri, but… who else would have done it?
She filled a glass with water in the kitchenette and tipped the thistle out of its bag, setting it carefully in the glass. She’d have to ask Gabri what to do with it – how best to preserve it. Perhaps that’s what he wanted from her, with this symbolic gift.
Glancing at the rosemary, she wondered if there was symbolism in that and perched at her desk to find out. Opening a browser, she looked it up on a floristry website and read until her vision swam with tears. Remembrance. Immortality. Fidelity.
Gabri knew exactly what those words meant to her, how they had shaped her life.
But aside from making her bawl at her desk, she wasn’t sure what his purpose was, sending her floral symbols and making her wonder how he’d achieved it – whether he wasn’t a thousand miles away on Elba right now but perhaps much closer than she thought.
She didn’t dare hope.
‘Is he trying to torment me?’ she muttered to herself. He wasn’t here to witness what he’d done to her with that soft heart that beat under his protective prickles – or answer the hundreds of questions she had for him now.
Mainly: what on earth were they going to do with each other?
Fumbling for her phone, she was about to ring him, but Andreas appeared at the door and she stuffed the device back into her pocket and rushed at her old friend.
‘Is he here?’ she said in lieu of a greeting as he came through the sliding doors.
‘Who?’
‘Who do you think? Gabri! Did he ask you to put these plants on my desk?’
Andreas threw his hands up. ‘I didn’t want to be involved, but Sophie and Ginny together can be scary.’
‘Sophie and Ginny?’ she repeated. ‘Speaking of which, you need to actually communicate if we’re going to get your wedding off the ground.’
‘I was happy they were distracted by you for a little while,’ he grumbled in reply.
‘Did you put these things on my desk?’
He met her gaze. ‘He called me, over the weekend, said he had something for you.’
‘And?’
‘He promised he’d give you space. If he’s pushed you, then I’ll—’
She shook her head to cut him off. ‘You don’t need to protect me any more, Andreas.’
‘I know,’ he said gruffly, ‘but it gives me something to do to—’
‘Miro wouldn’t want that – you know it’s true. He’d want us both to be happy.’
The look Andreas shared with her was full of sympathy. He’d struggled with the loss as well – being happy and in love, expecting a baby when his best friend had died and he’d survived.
‘And you’ll be happy with this Italian florist?
’ He enunciated the word ‘Italian’ with a hint of disdain, as though his own nationality weren’t the Tricolore and the five-pointed star.
But she knew his German-speaking region valued its identity and autonomy.
‘I suppose you’ll be moving and leave me alone with the I Do Destinations frou-frou. What does Cillian think?’
‘We haven’t got that far! All he’s done is give me a rosemary plant and a thistle!’
‘A thistle?’ Andreas’s laboured pronunciation reminded her of Gabri’s ‘tizzle’ and a laugh escaped her. ‘That doesn’t sound romantic.’
‘It’s a long story, but did he put this on my desk, or did you?’ she asked frantically.
‘He did! He asked me to let him in here last night,’ Andreas replied, studying her as though she had a screw loose. ‘Why would I give you a thistle?’
Toni didn’t answer him. She was too busy processing the fact that he was here. Gabri was here, in Weymouth, when he’d said he wouldn’t visit.
‘What did he say to you?’ she asked, gripping Andreas’s arm urgently.
‘He said he was going to give you time.’
‘Me? It was him that wasn’t ready.’
Andreas shrugged. ‘He just said he was willing to wait.’
Toni groaned. ‘Waiting is the last thing I want to do. Please tell me you know where he is.’ And how long he can stay and whether he has any idea how we can fix the little issue of a thousand miles.
‘Ask Ginny. She got us all into this mess, so I’m sure she’ll work out a way to get you out of it.’
Snatching her phone back out from her pocket, she scrolled for the number, but paused to point a finger at her old friend. ‘You’re not off the hook, you know. We’re going to prepare a dream wedding for you and Sophie and that means you need to tell us what you want too.’
‘I just don’t want to cry in public,’ he mumbled, turning away, although Toni heard him anyway.
Oh, Andreas, she thought to herself. You have no idea what’s in store for you when the baby is born.
His voice stopped her from making the phone call to Ginny, the timbre low and moody. ‘Toni?’
‘Hmm?’ she prompted, studying the deepening lines of his face.
‘I’m proud of you for letting go of the rope. I know it wasn’t easy.’
She understood the graphic climbing metaphor in her gut, knew how difficult it had been for Andreas to open his heart again after losing his friend and partner.
‘You and Gabri seem to think it’s about letting go,’ she began. ‘I won’t. He’s Cilli’s father. But I can let out the rope a little so it’s not so tight. It turns out it’s possible to love both of them… because I do.’