Chapter 15
Down the steps from the terrace at Glenalmond, at the bottom of the vast lawn — which was roughly the same size as a public park in Edinburgh — burbled a river, which meandered lazily past the castle. Skye had dragged an exhausted Hamish to a bench that overlooked it, for a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, a sundowner to ease his bones after a hard day’s graft on the estate.
Higher up the hills, the water had to force its way down the valley as a small burn, a narrow stream that bubbled and burst around corners. Here at the bottom of the valley, where the land flattened, it calmed down a bit, gradually widening out before it reached the sea.
It went on a journey, Skye reflected, that resembled her own. You started out with enormous energy, crashing about, trying to work out where you were going, somewhat all over the place. There were rocks, sheer drops, bits you left behind, but all the while you kept going. Then, eventually, you slowed down, no longer in a hurry. And then, finally . . .
‘What do you think happens to us when we die?’ she mused aloud.
Hamish was lying at her feet, on a giant blue rug on the grass, his eyes closed. ‘Have you been speaking to your parents? Did your father tell you we all end up where we deserve again?’
Skye felt a shiver at this, and hastily brushed it off. ‘No. I haven’t even told them that I’m here. They’ll only ask why.’
Hamish opened his eyes and rolled over. ‘You’ve just been through a really rough time, and you haven’t told them? It’s been a whole week, Skye!’
‘Of course I haven’t,’ said Skye. ‘I don’t want to panic them.’
‘Yeah, yeah. You keep telling yourself that.’
You couldn’t get much past Hamish. He might have claimed to find it easier to talk to the trees on the estate than other people, but Skye knew from when they were younger that he had more emotional intelligence than most.
Skye let out a huff of defeat. ‘I like to present the positives as a fait accompli. I want them to think I’m a functioning person who has grabbed life by the horns, ridden it like the most bucking of broncos without falling off, and won the game of life.’
Hamish sat up. ‘Ah, so you’re afraid of them seeing any of your less successful moments?’
‘Yeah. Now at least.’
Who didn’t want to be successful? Skye had broken her back working to get so far, taking comfort in the path laid out in front of her. Only now it seemed like somewhere along the road she had taken a major wrong turn.
‘I get that,’ said Hamish. ‘You did have that wee rough patch as a teenager.’
‘You gloss over it so eloquently.’
‘Yeah, but that’s all it was. And it’s behind you now. You’ve moved on. We all fall down. Nobody wins all the time.’
‘By that logic, nobody loses all the time either, but you could still fail ninety-nine per cent of it. Oh God, I sound so dreary. Tell me about your date, Hamish. Perk me up.’
Hamish had been out with a man he had met on a dating app. They’d been over in Nairn the day before, for a stroll.
‘It was fine,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘No long-term potential, but at the moment it’s all about practise. I was with Daisy for so long, I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to put myself out there. Which, as you know, was never really my thing. I hate these dating apps. I’m more of an organic situation kinda guy.’
‘Why don’t you go out with Paolo? You were getting on like nobody’s business at the Anchor last week.’
Hamish’s cheeks became more ruddy than usual, and lines appeared on his forehead. ‘I’m not sure about that.’
Trying not to spill her wine, Skye slid off the bench on to the rug, and leaned up close to him. ‘I think I’m on to something. Like the Sherlock Holmes of the Highlands. Denial, blushing, a faraway look whenever I say the name “Paolo”. It’s elementary, my dear, Hame.’
Hamish shifted. ‘You’re taking up most of my personal space, Skye.’
‘Yup. Open up and I promise to remove myself from it.’
That Skye had hit upon something was as clear as a long June day in Eastercraig.
Hamish let out a grumbling noise. ‘I’ve not properly dated a guy for ages, not more than a casual app-enabled sober afternoon meetup. Before Daisy, there was Augusta, and Letitia. Don’t laugh, I’m aware they’re quite posh sounding. I live in a castle, it attracts a type . . . But no guys since uni, for no real reason other than I was dating girls. Well, that, and the fact James broke my heart, and I didn’t want to go out with another guy after that.’
Skye took herself back in time. James had been one of Hamish’s best friends, and when they had broken up Hamish had been devastated. That summer, when Skye had arrived, Hamish had spent most of the holidays moping. Skye in turn had spent hers desperately trying to stop him from getting in touch with James and getting hurt further.
‘Then last year I had this connection with Paolo,’ Hamish continued. ‘But I was with Daisy.’
Skye found it reassuring that there were some principled men left in the world, ones who still thought going behind their partner’s back was an act perpetrated by only the morally bankrupt.
‘Anyway, there are many reasons I haven’t gone for him. Primarily, I didn’t want to rebound on Paolo only to get it wrong. What if I didn’t like men anymore, and it was merely a passing feeling? I ought to check, rather than make a mistake with him. It’s why I’m soft launching myself back out there. Hence meeting Barry for a drink. “Baz”. Ugh.’
‘That bad?’
Hamish gave a small smile. ‘There won’t be a second date, but I’m currently arranging a meetup with a chap called Steven, if that shuts you up.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘Oh, Hame! Sorry,’ said Skye. She gave him a nudge. ‘Keep trying? They won’t all be that dismal. And, let it be known, I still think Paolo and you would be a perfect match. Why don’t you let me intervene? Sprinkle some fairy dust on the two of you?’
‘Och, Skye. I’m not sure.’ Hamish ran his hand down his face.
Somebody deserved true love, even if it wasn’t her, and nobody deserved it more than Hamish.
‘I really don’t want to mess Paolo about. Or risk getting hurt myself. I’m happy to stick to swimming. That way I can see him regularly, without having to make a big deal out of it.’
‘That’s not a winner’s mentality,’ Skye replied, borrowing from a workshop they’d had at the office about manifesting success. ‘You like him, so you should make a big deal out of it.’
‘So many reasons why it would be a bad idea.’ Hamish rolled his eyes. ‘Too many.’
Skye pushed a little. ‘Try me.’
‘Paolo isn’t shy. He’s confident and outgoing. He doesn’t melt into the background, and I bet wants someone with similar energy, like his last boyfriend. Perhaps that’s why things have gone quiet — we’ve been hanging at the pool, and he’s realized I’m wrong for him. And if I’m not wrong for him, and if something did happen, what if it went tits up? I’d have to bump into him every other day in town. The only alternative would be to become an eccentric recluse who never leaves his ancestral pile. Like Beast, from Beauty and the Beast .’
‘There was a happy ending with that, remember?’ Skye felt compelled to point out.
Hamish paused, and Skye sensed that the touchpaper had been lit.
‘I’ll be very subtle about it . . . He won’t even know a plan is afoot . . .’ She left it with him for a long moment, making herself count to ten in her head, before saying: ‘Please?’
Hamish let out a small growl. ‘Maybe . . . och, fine. Go on. But I’ll still see Steven. He seemed nice in his messages and I don’t want to muck him about.’
Skye let out a squeal and threw herself on to Hamish, then sat back, laughing at Hamish’s attempt to keep any excitement from his face. ‘Thank you. I swear I won’t do anything extreme. Pass me some olives?’
An affectionate, if wary smile crossing his face, Hamish handed them over, and Skye took one, sucking the brine out. They were the healthy end of snack food, she argued, taking a couple more. The last one she flicked up into the air, and craned her neck back to catch. Hamish gave her a shove, and it landed on her bare arm, leaving a trail of oil as it rolled down towards her elbow.
‘What did you do that for?’
‘Didn’t you tell me Bear had stopped you from choking yesterday?’
‘Sort of. Why?’
‘Because olives can easily get lodged in your throat, especially when you’re trying to catch them like a child impersonating a bird. Be less bird, and more human. Know your limitations.’
Skye knew hers, thank you very much. They lay somewhere between being able to correctly choose the right partner and safely chew quiche.
‘He didn’t actually have to Heimlich me,’ said Skye. ‘But perhaps it would have been nice if he had.’
‘For you? You mean? You wanted him to save you?’
She had lain in bed the previous night, thinking of how Bear’s strong arms had momentarily wrapped around her, pulled her tight against him.
Skye scrambled for the words. ‘Yes . . . no. I don’t know.’
‘Jesus, Skye. It would also have been a real bummer if he’d tried and failed. And you’d be dead an’ all.’
Skye snorted with laughter at the truth Hamish had laid before her. She closed her eyes for a second and tried to parse her thoughts.
No, she didn’t want to be saved by Bear, or for Bear to save her. The only person who could save her was, as she well knew, herself. Or — her father’s voice interrupted her thought process — a higher power. She would only take that as a last resort, though.
No. She didn’t want to be given the Heimlich by Bear. What she thought she wanted was the aftermath — a positive one. To have shared the real relief with him, to have collapsed into his arms, and been held for a second longer than needed while she . . .
‘Oh crap.’ She looked at Hamish. ‘I think I fancy Bear.’