Because of You

Chapter 22

Paolo drove his Fiat 500 up the lane, listening to it grizzle loudly as he changed gear. He had bought it as a nod to his Italian heritage, and because his nonna complained loudly about other cars and he didn’t want to give her a heart attack by arguing about it. He was its third owner, and it made suspicious clunking sounds as he flew in and out of potholes down the drive to Glenalmond.

He parked up and walked around the side of the castle, then up the steps to a sprawling terrace round the back of the building, a nineteenth-century addition with a stone balustrade and flower-filled urns. Beyond it the lawn sloped down to the river, and Paolo could hear the faint but calming babble of water.

‘Drinks on the terrace, on a Monday night?’ he asked, spotting Hamish and Skye sitting on a bench beneath a large window. ‘And spritzes?’ They were wrapped in blankets, holding huge cocktail glasses containing neon orange liquid, snuggled up together. Skye was absent-mindedly unknotting Hamish’s hair with her free hand. ‘Or is that iron bru?’

‘Definitely not. It’s aperitivo hour,’ said Skye with a grin. ‘On the terrace.’

‘Crumbs,’ Paolo said. ‘A small one, please. Only I’m driving.’

Hamish reached down to a tray on the floor, and picked up a glass, pouring in a couple of inches of drink.

He got up, and moved over to Paolo, and passed it to him.

‘I’m not sure about these,’ he whispered. ‘But Skye seemed keen. And I wanted to keep her happy.’

Paolo’s stomach dropped a few inches, suspicions returning with force. ‘You did?’

‘Aye. She’s had a rough time of it of late, so we’re trying to enjoy ourselves. Your idea, this, wasn’t it, Skye?’

Skye got up. She was wearing a floaty seventies’ dress, and silver clogs, a mohair blanket around her shoulders. It was a look as glamorous as the negroni in Hamish’s hand. She moved over and put an arm around Hamish’s shoulder. ‘Hamish was keen for a whisky, but I had a real craving for something sunny.’

Hamish nodded in confirmation. ‘You know me. This fancy stuff isn’t my usual bag.’

Paolo smiled. He would be equally happy with a negroni or a whisky, or anything else, if only he could drink it alone with Hamish. ‘Sometimes you’ve got to go with the flow.’

Never was a more true word spoken. He lifted his glass.

‘Cheers,’ said Skye.

They clanked their glasses together.

‘Salute,’ said Hamish.

Paolo smiled at his terrible Italian accent.

‘How’s life as the admin assistant?’ he asked.

He didn’t want to think about the time Skye and Hamish were spending together. He’d prefer to hear about their time apart.

‘Fantastic. So far I’ve spent half of it on the welcome desk, and troubleshooting. And I did all the filing. It was overflowing like a waterfall out of the in-tray,’ she said, taking a sip of her drink.

‘Aye. She’s been a marvel. If I could keep you around for longer than the next two weeks, I would,’ Hamish said, running a hand through his unruly hair. ‘She’s really done some excellent work. Want to move in permanently, Skye?’

‘I’d stay if I could,’ she said. ‘My bedroom here is an absolute dream. Did I tell you there’s a tub in it and everything? I’ve taken to soaking in it after a day’s work, window open, looking out on to the river. It’s so big you could easily fit two people in there.’

Hamish raised an eyebrow. ‘Steady on.’

‘Tubs in the bedroom?’ Paolo managed.

He desperately fought to keep the image of Hamish and Skye frolicking in the bubbles from his mind. Hamish had never struck him as one of life’s natural frolickers, but the unexpectedness of seeing him with a cocktail in hand had thrown Paolo.

‘Aye,’ said Hamish. ‘Mum and Dad had these big claw foot tubs put in several of the guest bedrooms about four or five years ago. It’s totally ridiculous. It’s as if they were testing the water in the literal sense — they had this fleeting idea to turn the place into a countr y hotel.’

‘They wouldn’t, would they?’

‘Nah. I don’t think so. In the end they thought they could manage to eke out a living from the rest of the revenue. Those baths are a big white elephant, if you ask me.’

‘Disagree,’ said Skye, explaining that when she had been at Holly’s, and upstairs looking for the bathroom, she had spied one in Holly’s bedroom. She’d envied it immediately, picturing herself in it, with a Flake for good measure. ‘I’ll happily make sure you get cost per wear out of it. Or cost per bathe. I’d float around in it all day if I could. Talking of baths, I need the bathroom. Back in a mo.’

Skye put her glass back down on the bench, and shed the blanket next to it. Struggling with Skye’s suggestive invitation to Hamish, Paolo took a large slug of spritz.

‘So how’s the week looking for you, Paolo?’ asked Hamish.

‘Och. Off to Gorroway tomorrow morning for a farm visit first thing. I don’t want to stay for too much longer, as it’s a really early start.’

That, and he wanted to get out of this hall of mirrors where everywhere he looked, he was confronted with visions of Skye and Hamish together.

And that other man, where did he fit into all this? Did Skye know? What if there was a menage à trois underfoot? Rhuari’s talk of throuples rang in his ears. She did have a wild reputation, as Chloe had pointed out. Skye didn’t really seem to live up to it now, but she hadn’t dispelled it either when she’d described some of her youthful antics.

‘You seem to be getting on well.’ He was aiming for breezy, but it was coming out blustery. ‘Skye seems very relaxed.’

‘She feels at home here,’ Hamish replied. ‘Sorry — that wasn’t meant to sound rude. I didn’t mean that you failed to provide at your place. More that she knows me and my folks.’

‘Aye,’ said Paolo. ‘She’s a . . . nice lass.’

‘She is. We’ve known each other so long, and you know how great it is when you reconnect with someone special from your past.’

Paolo’s head spun. What if, after his near-death experience, Hamish was trying everything, in an effort to live life to the full? Personality transplants after moments like that were well-documented. Paolo gulped as he swallowed the remains of his spritz in one.

‘I ought to go,’ he said. ‘I only ever planned to pop by to say hi. I’m suddenly aware that if I’m dead to the world tomorrow morning, Holly won’t be impressed.’

Hamish laughed. ‘Is she turning into Hugh?’

Paolo shook his head. ‘Not quite. But she does like everything just so.’

‘Are you not going to wait for Skye? The, um, moon is very bright tonight. Very, erm, low and big. And beautiful.’

‘Erm, I guess so.’ Paolo put his empty glass on the balustrade. ‘Will you say goodbye for me? Send my apologies.’

Hamish scratched his head, and Paolo wondered if his departing with so little warning came across as manic. Although Hamish seemed a bit odd tonight too.

‘Aye,’ said Hamish. ‘I mean, we’ve barely caught up. Perhaps we could do this again. This drinks on the terrasse malarky. With whisky, next time, though. I think I can feel my teeth dissolving.’

That was the Hamish Paolo knew and— he stopped himself before he completed that sentence.

Anyway, he didn’t think he knew Hamish at all, not anymore.

‘Mmm. Sure,’ Paolo said. ‘Sorry, Hamish. I should head off.’

* * *

Skye drifted back on to the warmth of the terrace, spritz in hand. This could be Italy, not the Highlands, with this ornate patio set-up and dayglo drinks. This was exactly the kind of fairy dust she had been talking about. Hopefully Hamish and Paolo would be deep in conversation, and she could exit swiftly and leave them to it.

Looking into the distance, though, it was abundantly clear from the purple heathers of the far-off hills, and the forbidding trees off to one side that this was not the Mediterranean. More importantly, they were also down their only Italian.

‘Where’s Paolo?’ she asked, with a swell of panic. ‘How long was I gone for? Is your loo a time warp or something?’

Hamish turned round from where he was standing up against the balustrade, surveying the lawns. He looked as confused as she felt. And sad.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, giving a small shrug. ‘He made some excuse about getting up early, and went. He couldn’t get back to his car fast enough.’

‘Did you try any of the lines?’

Hamish cringed visibly. ‘I tried the one about the moon. Not brilliantly executed, though.’

‘Oh, Hamish. I don’t think that was the best one. God — it’s my fault for suggesting it. Perhaps practising lines was too contrived, and I should have let you be more yourself.’ It was advice she could take on too, she thought, as she stood there dishing it out. ‘Oh, what a balls-up.’

A surge of disappointment ran through her. She knew how much Paolo meant to Hamish.

Skye came and stood next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, and putting a sympathetic arm around his waist. ‘I’m so sorry, Hame.’

‘Don’t apologize. It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ said Hamish.

Skye screwed up her face. ‘Really? It didn’t exactly go off with a bang.’

‘Of course! It was a solid plan. I know for a fact Paolo likes a good cocktail. There are pictures of him on Instagram where he’s in actual Italy, bellini in hand, gazing out over Venice at sunset.’ Hamish took a sip of his drink. ‘These really aren’t my thing, by the way. I’m trying, but I can’t. I might grab a beer.’

‘Hold the phone, mister. You’re not going anywhere. You’re on Instagram?’

‘For work.’

‘Yeah, right. As if I believe that.’

Hamish sat down on a stone bench and kicked out his legs. ‘You’ve known me long enough to know that social media brings me out in hives. In fact, why don’t you take that over for the next two weeks too? You’re much more tech-savvy than me.’

‘Happy to muck in. Anyway, I reckon Monday’s a dud night for a date. End of a busy day. And if Paolo said himself he had an early start, he wouldn’t have wanted a late one,’ sighed Skye. ‘My bad, Hamish.’

She sat down on the bench next to him, flung an arm around him and took a sip of her spritz. ‘I’m the anti-Midas,’ she continued. ‘I really thought tonight would be a winner. I’m so sorry, Hamish. Everything I touch turns to crap, it always has.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I should stop drinking these actually. Was that just a tad dramatic and quite possibly over the top?’

‘Perhaps you’re being a bit over the top,’ said Hamish. ‘And yet, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Not that we made great gains this evening . . . What if with all my hesitation, Paolo no longer feels anything? What if whatever it was has stalled and it’s like fireworks in a bucket? Fizzle, fizzle, sputter, sputter.’ As he spoke, he began to look almost irreparably downcast.

‘Now who’s being over the top?’ Skye replied. ‘I think it’s salvageable, if you want it to be. You do, don’t you? From where I’m sitting, you really do.’

Hamish stared down the lawn. ‘Aside from the unbearable fear, I do.’

She thought about her own reasons for holding back from Bear. That it was surely too soon to move on, and even if it wasn’t, he would judge her if he knew the full extent of her youthful misdemeanours. She had barely considered the thought of what would happen if it went wrong. She supposed she never need see Bear again. It’s not like she’d bump into him whenever she left the flat to buy milk.

She rolled her shoulders a couple of times, as if warming up for another round in the ring. ‘We didn’t go about it in the best way, is all. A misfire. I’ll get you together if it’s the last thing I do.’

‘Sounds ominous.’ Hamish turned to her, and raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m going to become a victim of your own romantic confusion, aren’t I? How are you feeling about Bear today, by the way? Not that it isn’t obvious, seeing as every time I’ve popped into the office you’ve had a new text from him and insisted on reading it aloud to me.’

And running her response by him too, before hitting send. Most recently, he had sent her a picture of a shell of a house in Inverleith, with the caption Ripe for renovation! Skye could feel his excitement.

‘I shouldn’t let myself get carried away. I know rushing in was a mistake before with Will too. I’m not going to do this right now. No way. I’m intending to remain in romantic stasis.’

It was becoming increasingly clear to Skye though that she had never been in love with Will. Not given how her heart had begun to spin at the very thought of Bear. And this sensation, in turn, made her head spin. How had she got it so wrong with Will? These last few weeks had turned everything she believed she knew to be true upside down.

‘Is that so?’ Hamish looked sceptical.

Skye nodded fervently. ‘Yes. I’ll be experiencing my feelings but not acting on them.’

And it wouldn’t be at all fair to bring someone else into her mess. She had to fix the problems in her life before opening the doors.

‘We’ll see how that goes.’

‘Thanks,’ said Skye, trying to shove the thoughts out, and giving Hamish a gentle elbow in the ribs. ‘But I also feel like Bear and I are friends. Like we’ve been friends forever, and I already know exactly who he is.’

She wondered if he felt the same way, if he thought he knew who she was. How wild a teenager she had been . But, of course he didn’t. That was the point. And a big reveal might put him right off. A tiny quiver run up her spine at the thought.

Hamish eyeballed her with a knowing look. Skye felt her cheeks go pink. ‘Fine. So, I haven’t told him everything about me, not the full extent of the teenage capers, and he’d never guess. But it doesn’t mean to say I can’t like him. Really like him. I’m going to sit on him, that’s all. Sit on it , I mean. God, that’s inarticulate.’

Inarticulate but accurate, and a bit Freudian too.

‘You sound more serious that I thought you would,’ said Hamish.

Skye shook her head, desperate not to spiral. ‘There’s nothing serious about it. I’m in Eastercraig to relax. I’m not here to snog anyone, or — worse — end up in bed with them.’

‘You want to end up in bed with him?’

‘No!’ Skye shouted. ‘Oh, Wolfie, thank God! Please say you’ve come to spare my blushes.’

So huge and hairy he might have been half yeti, Wolfie loped across the terrace from the back door. Had he killer instincts he would have been lethal. Thankfully, he wasn’t, and Skye knew his favourite soft toy was a tiny cat which he needed in his basket every night to go to sleep. He panted heavily and came to lean against Skye, nearly toppling her.

Skye spoke firmly, for her benefit as much as Hamish’s. ‘I need distraction. Which is perfect. I can dedicate myself to fixing you up with Paolo.’

‘God help us all,’ muttered Hamish.