Chapter 12
Skye picked the bike up from the wall, and ran her fingers around the lights, trying to find the button to switch them on. Paolo set off in his car only after she had promised she would cycle back safely and that meant lights. Only there wasn’t one, or if there was it wasn’t doing anything. She wondered if they were instead connected to the wheels, and so got on the bike and pedalled around the farmyard. Still nothing.
Bear, who had stayed behind to talk to Angus, appeared in the yard. He stopped, and watched her for a second.
‘Any reason you’re going in circles?’ he asked.
‘It’s the three glasses of wine,’ Skye quipped. ‘But seriously, I can’t work out how to turn the lights on. And lord knows, I’m in no position to be a lawbreaker. Imagine if I ended up passing my exam only to jeopardize my career again by ignoring the Highway Code!’
Bear came to stand next to her. ‘I don’t want to mansplain anything to you, but could I take a look?’
‘Be my guest.’
He crouched down, and after several seconds, he looked back up. ‘Think you’ve got two flat batteries.’
‘Shite. And it’s twilight.’
She looked up at the heavens, the early stars bright in the pinky-blue sky, and shivered. There was no way she could get home safely without lights.
She could perhaps ask Angus if she could borrow some spares. He must have batteries somewhere on the farm but he and Chloe been so generous already tonight.
Bear jangled a set of car keys and Skye remembered he had opted for elderflower as he was driving. ‘Say, Bear, could I cadge a lift? I’m not sure if you’re staying in town or not, but I’d really appreciate it. I can text Chloe about the bike and collect it tomorrow.’
His eyes crinkled at the edges, and he stood back up. ‘Of course. I’m over here.’
A handful of cars, presumably belonging to Chloe, Angus and Angus’s mother Fiona, cluttered up a corner of the yard. Bear led them to a small, battered, red hatchback, and stuck the key in the lock.
‘It’s not on a fob, but it does have central locking,’ he joked, dryly.
Skye climbed in. ‘I would have expected someone like you to drive something sleeker, more modern. Like a hybrid.’
‘My mother has one. She’s ever so precious about it. She practically demands hazmat suits if you’ve been in anything other than dry, fine conditions.’
‘But she’s a case which illustrates my point. I always think of architects as having swishy cars.’
‘While I’m fond of this banger, I’m torn between putting down a part-payment on something newer, and saving up for other things.’
‘Like what?’
Bear turned the key, the engine spluttering into life, and they began their journey back up the potholed drive.
‘You know. Stuff.’
Skye glanced at him. ‘No. I don’t know stuff.’
‘Och, doesn’t matter,’ he said, frown back in evidence. ‘Really, it’s nothing.’
Naturally, Skye’s interest was piqued by this. Most people, if they were saving up for a house, or a foreign holiday, would simply say so. Maybe if he was saving for a personal sex dungeon, he wouldn’t drop it into casual conversation, but from what she knew of him he didn’t seem the type. Then again, you shouldn’t go judging by appearances and all that. Bear himself had reminded her of that the other day.
‘You’re a man of mystery.’
‘Hardly.’
He’d returned to the curt answers. Skye had thought she’d started to peel back the outer layers of Bear Sinclair like an onion but, now she considered it, over dinner he hadn’t revealed much more about himself. True, he had talked about traditional Scottish building techniques, something Chloe’s boyfriend, Angus, had found fascinating and quizzed him on at length. His enthusiasm was infectious. Even Skye had found herself carried along wanting to know more.
She supposed a meal with people you didn’t know well wasn’t a time for deep dives into the psyche. Especially when you were employed by one of them.
‘Come on. I pretty much know nothing about you,’ said Skye.
Bear looked at her out the side of his eyes. ‘You realize we only met at the start of this week.’
He had a point. ‘I guess so,’ she conceded.
Bear changed the gears with a clunk, as they headed up a hill through a patch of forest. The car lurched as he did so.
His tone softened. ‘Are you really interested?’
Interested in a man who was doing his level best to be of no interest to anyone? You bet. It was like catnip to Skye.
‘I am, actually.’
‘Fine. You get one question. But not about what I’m saving for. That’s off limits.’
‘I kinda got that. Right . . .’
While he wasn’t laying his cards on the table, he was offering to show her one. She could ask anything. But suddenly it was startlingly obvious what she wanted to know.
‘I’ve got it! I meant to ask you at dinner, then forgot. Bear. Is it your real name?’
‘That’s what you want to know? When you could have asked anything?’
‘Yup.’ Skye rubbed her hands together.
The car emerged from the forest, and the stars above them twinkled gently.
He shook his head. ‘Disappointing. It’s like wasting a wish from a genie, only you don’t have two left.’
Skye shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Fine. If you’re sure. My real name’s . . .’ He paused for effect. ‘Bj?rn.’
He pronounced it with the ‘or’ bit landing somewhere between an ‘er’ and an ‘ur’.
‘Which is Swedish for “bear”. Not overly complicated, or revealing,’ he added.
‘But who called you “Bear” in the first place? Was it a name you bestowed upon yourself? I met a guy at uni who introduced himself as Blaze, but was Brian on his birth certificate.’
‘Much as I’d love a reinvention story, it was my mum. She thought Bear was cute. It stuck. In fairness, it’s easier for people — they tend to mangle Bj?rn. My paternal grandmother — she of the handkerchiefs — is Swedish. My dad’s called Sven, although he was born over here, and he wanted to keep that tradition going.’
‘That’s sweet. And Bear is a pretty great name. Personality-wise you can fulfil it in opposing ways. You could be wild and terrifying, or cute and cuddly.’
‘I like to think I’m less binary than that.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ said Skye. ‘It’s more interesting than Skye, at any rate.’
‘Really?’
‘My father wanted to name me after a saint — he’s very religious, but mum wanted to call me Skye because it’s where they went on their honeymoon.’
‘Don’t tell me you were conceived there.’
‘I don’t think so, thank God. Not sure I could handle the ick factor.’ Skye laughed.
Bear pulled up outside Paolo’s flat. The car’s windows were down, cool air streaming in, and Skye watched as the reflection of the stars wobbled on the rippling sea.
‘My turn now,’ said Bear.
Skye turned to him. ‘There was never any mention of quid pro quo.’
‘Don’t you throw your Latin legal jargon at me.’
He might have worn a serious expression, but Skye heard the gentle joshing in his words.
‘My apologies. I’ll try to use laymen’s terms for all future conversation. Only one, though. Those are the rules.’
Bear looked at her dead on, and Skye felt her pulse skip a beat. The anticipation of the question, she told herself.
‘Why did you walk out of your exam?’
Skye felt a numbness set in. She wasn’t ready to talk about this yet. Not with anyone, definitely not with someone she barely knew. Not with the gnawing feeling in her stomach from the knowledge that there was more to her panic attack than just seeing Will’s hands all over The Woman, snaking round her waist, playing with her hair. The mushrooming knowledge that her chosen career wasn’t necessarily the one for her, cementing the fact that she would never be able to leave her past behind and become a model citizen. Sitting behind that desk, her pen poised above the paper, she had had an epiphany. She didn’t want to be sitting in that room in Tilling and Browne. Not in that moment, perhaps not at all, and she wasn’t sure how much it had to do with Will, The Woman or anyone else.
‘I’m going to use my pass card on that one,’ she said. ‘Next question?’
It was barely perceptible, but Skye heard him inhale deeply, his lips barely open.
‘I’m thinking about going to that house Paolo mentioned, on Sunday. And, if you’ve got nothing to do, want to come along? It would be nice to have company.’
‘Oh!’ Skye had prepared herself for a question which plumbed the depths of her soul.
‘You can say no. It’s not what a lot of people would do with their free time.’
Skye looked at Bear. She had written him off that first time, thinking he was cold, unfriendly. Though burningly attractive. Yet here he was, definitely not cold and perhaps even friendly.
‘I’ll bring the bug spray.’
‘That’s a yes?’
‘It’s a yes. Thanks for the lift.’
Skye got out of the car, waved Bear off, only realizing she was beaming as she turned the key in the lock.
She burst into the flat, ready to share her news with Paolo, only to find he’d gone to bed. A note on the kitchen counter read:
Surgery is open Saturday mornings. I’ll probs be out before you’re up. Hope you got home OK. P x
Skye, her facial muscles still twitching slightly, poured herself a glass of water and went to take off her make-up. She could tell him all about it tomorrow afternoon.
Shedding her daywear and tugging on her pyjamas, Skye flopped on to the bed and decided to dial Houda. Her friend was a night-owl, who enjoyed binge-watching box sets. It rang a couple of times, then Houda picked up.
‘Skye! I was wondering when I’d hear your dulcet tones,’ came Houda’s cheery voice down the line.
‘Sorry,’ Skye said. ‘I wanted to hole up for a day or so before talking to you. I didn’t think I’d be able to manage without crying.’
‘I gave Will a dirty look for you, when he passed my desk.’
‘Thanks.’ Sadness bubbled to the surface. ‘I missed so many signs. Or I ignored them. Like never meeting his friends, which he claimed was down to them all having children, or because half of them lived in London and it was a faff to get there. Which, by the way, it’s not. And when I mentioned telling Tanya about us, he’d brush it off, and find an excuse. He was always so convincing. Not that that doesn’t make me feel like any less of a fool.’
‘Older and wiser women have been taken in by men like him,’ said Houda. ‘Men who want to have their cake and eat it. He already had one on his plate, but couldn’t resist a nibble of the pretty fairy bun in the office.’
‘Did I confuse smarm and charm?’ Skye already knew the answer.
‘After a couple of pornstar martinis, haven’t we all?’
Skye snorted with laughter, then remembered the exhausted limpness she had felt when she first caught sight of Will and the other woman. She had all but crumpled to the floor of her cubicle. She’d fled, but not before Will had spotted her, locked eyes with her. Called after her.
She had attempted the exam, trying to block out the intrusive thoughts that might distract her, only for them to win out.
‘I was literally aching on Monday, Houda. Like seeing them brought on instant love-flu.’
‘And now?’ Houda asked. ‘How are you now?’
‘Better,’ said Skye. ‘I’ve been out and about. And while Hugh’s not here, the rest of the team at the surgery have been lovely.’
‘And the exam? What did Tanya say?’
Skye picked off a piece of polish from a nail, her manicure now looking distinctly chipped, its original shine dulling. ‘She said she’ll sort it out, and not to worry.’
‘I’ll bet. They don’t want superstar Skye slipping the net.’
Skye let out a ‘pah’ to flick the compliment away. But in truth, until the panic attack struck, there had been nothing in the exam she hadn’t been able to answer. In fact, for the first few questions, her pen had flown across the page, almost unable to keep up with the pace her brain was going at. Then, halfway through, she had felt that shot of cortisol course its way through her body.
Was it the discovery of Will’s cheating, fuelling the rising panic?
Discovering Will’s cheating had lit a fuse, but the sudden desire to flee was fuelled by the culmination of fears she had kept at bay for some time. Fears that Skye had spent all this time trying to become someone who was not the person she wanted to be.
For a second Skye felt the panic take hold all over again. A shiver coursed through her and forced herself to remember that none of this was why she had called Houda in the first place.
‘Anyway, the reason I called . . .’ Skye trailed off.
She stopped, deciding to keep her weekend plans with Bear to herself. It was far too soon to be thinking about anyone else, especially a man she barely knew from Adam.
‘Yes . . . ?’ Houda prompted.
‘Nothing. I only wanted to hear your voice. And let you know I’m OK. More than OK.’
She could hear Houda smiling down the phone. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Oh, Isaac’s woken up.’
‘I’ll let you go. Love you.’
‘Love you too. And look after yourself. Now listen, unless you need to, I don’t want to hear from you, OK? This is time away from work. By all means, call if you have to, send the odd text. But make sure you switch off, Skye. Recover.’
They said goodbyes and hung up, and Skye settled herself under the covers. She focused on Bear again, on the thought of how he transformed when he talked about the blackhouse. Of how he’d come to her rescue with an unexpected lift.
But then she reminded herself that until just a few days ago, she had been convinced she loved Will and Will loved her.