Chapter 27
Dress to impress and pack your swimmers and a towel in case the mood takes you. Cocktails from 7.30 p.m. That had been the invitation to the party.
The sun was glaring, but there was something in the air which told Paolo that the weather was about to change. The breeze carried more salt than usual, there was a tang to it.
It was just as well that he’d brought a number of cotton throws and old mats though, because for now it was one hot day, and they’d be flopping on the sand. There were some wicker hampers containing most of the food and wine. The carrier bags and cool box were stowed away where they couldn’t spoil the image. The vibe he was going for was Picnic at Hanging Rock meets The Talented Mr Ripley , the filmic versions, Riviera chic plus Edwardian frills. Everyone would lounge dreamily and sip cocktails, which he had bought some pre-mixed in a flask, a necessary thus excusable cheat.
It had been a lot to heft down, but Greg and Angus, the latter of whom was the definition of muscly, had helped. Angus had brought it all down the path in a box lashed on the back of a quad — the land belonged to Hamish, who had given them permission to drive up. The end result was a vision.
Having taken his own dress-code diktat seriously, Paolo was wearing neat canvas shorts, and an azure blue linen shirt, his curls tamed back. He could have passed for Dickie Greenleaf, the Jude Law character in Ripley , although maybe that was wishful thinking. He had wanted to look his best, though, to impress Hamish, despite knowing full well that if there was one thing Hamish was less interested in than Paolo, it was fashion.
Chloe was the first to arrive, with a freshened-up Angus. Seeing as over half of her wardrobe was vintage, Paolo wasn’t surprised she had taken the brief and completely succeeded in meeting it. Angus, rarely out of overalls, looked smart too.
‘This is so beautiful, Paolo. A triumph,’ Chloe said, eyes sparkling at the scene in front of her. ‘Is it all for Holly, or for you?’
‘For Holly. I wanted to do something nice for her. Partly for me too,’ he confessed.
‘To keep your mind busy,’ Chloe whispered, though Angus had gone to start working on the fire and was well out of earshot.
‘And thanks for the cake, by the way.’
Chloe had provided a beautiful lemon and lavender sponge, decorated with buttercream and sugared lavender sprigs.
‘Och, no worries. I’ve wanted to make that one for ages.’
Holly tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Bravo! I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had. Certainly the most beautiful.’
Greg, at her side, gave Paolo a mock frown. ‘You’ve shown me up though. How am I ever going to live up to this? I’ll have to do something spectacular next year.’
Paolo grinned. ‘Don’t make me blush. It’s merely an outlet for my creative tendencies. Shall I pour out some cocktails?’
They wandered over to the mats and quilts, and sat down. Paolo was handing out the drinks when he spotted Hamish and Skye walking through the grasses towards them. He heard himself take a sharp breath.
Hamish, normally never out of his waterproofs, even in the hottest of summer months, was in a kilt — the family tartan — and a coordinating knitted jumper in a light teal. He had brushed his hair off his face, and shaved off his usual stubble.
Paolo then took in Skye, with her long flowing dress, a bewitching white maxi, which gave off midsummer vibes. His eyes flicked back to Hamish, who hadn’t looked so good since he had been in a kilt at the Glenalmond Ball the previous year. Then a thought struck him. Not that Paolo wanted to throw shade on Hamish’s fashion choices, but this was out of character.
It must have been Skye. He was dressing for her.
Paolo closed his eyes for a second. He couldn’t go down this route. He mustn’t.
‘Well, this is fabulous,’ came Hamish’s voice. Hamish sat down next to him on one of the mats. ‘Not that I’d expect anything else from Paolo Rossini. You’ve got the best taste of anyone I know. We ought to hire you to deck the halls at Glenalmond.’
Paolo turned slightly to face Hamish. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Holly, raising her eyebrows at him.
He cast around for words, surprised by the compliment. ‘You like it?’
‘Yeah. In fact, Skye had bumped into Chloe, and Chloe said I should make an effort. Skye helped me find this in that knitwear pop-up that’s appeared at the old pottery shop.’
‘You’ve been in there? I thought you hated clothes shopping.’
Hamish had once told him that he only ever bought clothes from the Donaldson’s in Beauly, and that he went once a year to replace anything in his wardrobe that was beyond repair. Paolo admired the sentiment, even if he didn’t share it himself.
‘Aye. You know me well. But I want to support local businesses, and the father and son who are running it intend to stay here. It’s all made with the softest cashmere. Go on, touch it.’
If Paolo didn’t have his major suspicions about Skye and Hamish, not to mention Beauly Man, he would have immediately filed that invitation under ‘come-ons, innuendo-led’. He reached out and gave Hamish’s arm a stroke. ‘God, it’s like it was knitted by adorable bunny rabbits.’
‘You’d really like it. They had a few things in a forest green colour I think would suit you.’
‘Oh,’ Paolo managed. Honestly, since when did Hamish have an opinion on clothing suiting him? Hamish’s only requirement when choosing clothes was that they suited the activity they were designed for. ‘How’s Skye been doing?’
‘She’s a wee marvel, I’ll tell you. The office looks fantastic. Shame it’s her last week, and frankly, I’m a little disappointed that she’s coming to join you lot all of Friday, but she wanted to muck in. Feels she owes you all. How are things, by the way? We barely caught up last week when you popped over.’
‘At the surgery? All right. Holly’s coping with the workload, I think, as are we. But there seems to be a lot happening at the moment.’
‘And you? I meant with you. What have you been up to? Have you been dating? Any good ones recently?’
Paolo gulped. It was as he feared. Hamish was softening the blow. He was about to break the news about Skye. And or Beauly Man. It was time to save face.
‘Aye. Well, a few.’
Hamish raised his eyebrows. ‘And how are you getting on?’
Paolo sighed. Why lie? ‘Peaks and troughs, if you want the truth.’ He curled one side of his lip. ‘There’s been nobody I wanted to pursue. Even if they look anything like their photo — and I’m not saying it’s all about looks, but nobody wants to be catfished — none of them seem to be looking for anything long term.’
‘Who’ve you been going out with?’
‘Anyone, to be honest. Do they have a face? I’ll date them.’ That said, he still hadn’t contacted Patrick. He had decided to park that one for the time being.
Paolo’s inner insecurities were brimming over. The cocktails had been sweet but strong, and he had downed two of them already, and they had definitely kicked in. The honesty switch had been flicked.
Why had they all been such whopping duds? Was there something wrong with him? Was he so un-dateable? He did, like everyone he’d met through dating apps, have a face. And while he wasn’t a matinee idol, he was all right to look at.
The weight of previous misfires pushed down on his shoulders, practically squeezing the anxiety out of him. People probably sensed it wafting through the air like a bad smell and decided not to call back.
‘You’re still looking around, then?’ asked Hamish.
Paolo shrugged. If he didn’t think that Hamish had hit the dating scene hard, this would have been the point at which he said “No. Because it’s you, it’s always been you.” But it would have required a bucket-load of confidence which Paolo couldn’t summon.
He was rescued from dwelling on it further as Bear appeared beside them.
‘Thanks for inviting me,’ he said, holding a small bag in one hand. ‘I brought a present, but I see Holly’s all the way down there.’
While Paolo and Hamish had been talking, the rest of the group had made their way down to the sea and had lost no time in hitching up skirts or rolling up trousers. Holly was in up to her knees, and Chloe had tucked her skirt up into her belt and was taking tentative steps, Skye next to her. They were engrossed in conversation, their laughs occasionally turning to shrieks as they got splashed by Angus and Greg, who appeared to be in competition as to who could drench the other brother more.
‘Oh shite, I didn’t get her anything,’ said Paolo. He looked to Hamish. ‘Did you?’
‘I mean, I got her some game terrine,’ said Hamish. ‘Which I found in the pantry.’
‘But what with arranging all this, I completely forgot to bring her a present,’ said Paolo.
Bear looked puzzled. ‘Isn’t this your present?’
‘I guess so,’ said Paolo. ‘But not bringing a tiny offering, wrapped up neatly with a ribbon or two. I feel like that’s a major fail.’
‘Yeah, you’re so thoughtless,’ chuckled Hamish. He put a hand on Paolo’s arm. ‘If you arranged something like this for me, I’d be blown away.’
Bear said he was going to wander down to the sea, and Hamish and Paolo nodded, Hamish adding that he’d come for a wade shortly.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Hamish, once Bear was out of earshot. ‘You’re not your usual self.’
Paolo looked at the scene in front of him. Perhaps he was still wound up from arranging it all, pulling the pieces together like a theatre production, until the beach looked like the most wonderfully dressed set. Or, most likely, it was sitting so close to Hamish, and feeling so very far away.
‘I’m fine,’ he fudged.