Chapter 27
Giselle kept the smile on her face and waved until Rocco’s car was out of sight. Then her smile faded, and her arm dropped to her side. She was exhausted; whether that was from lack of sleep or lack of food, she couldn’t say.
She’d been too upset to do more than pick at the breakfast Cook had sent up, which was silly really, since she’d be seeing Rocco again before too long. This wasn’t the same as the last time he’d left, when she thought the goodbye was final, but she felt emotional, nevertheless.
Needing to change into fresh clothes and not wanting to face the trek to the bothy, Giselle decided to ask Izzy to come fetch her, before realising she’d left her bag and her phone in Rocco’s room.
Wearily, she trudged inside and up the stairs.
Cook was in the sitting room, clearing away the remains of their breakfast.
‘Forgot my bag,’ she explained, reaching for it.
Cook’s face creased into a smile. ‘No worries, hen. Now, which of you didn’t eat your breakfast?’ She gestured to the plates, and when Giselle caught sight of a half-eaten congealed egg, she blanched.
Oh dear, she was going to be sick!
Scurrying to the bathroom, she made it just in time to lose what little she’d eaten.
Shaken, she emerged to find Cook waiting for her, a concerned look on her face.
‘Och, lovie, are you all right? Come sit down. You look ever so pale. Can I get you anything? A nice cup of tea, maybe?’
Giselle noticed that the breakfast things were no longer in evidence, and she was grateful to Cook for getting rid of them, as even the thought of them made her want to heave.
‘Tea would be nice, thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually such a wimp.’
‘Pregnancy can do that to a lassie. You don’t take sugar, do you?’
Pregnant? Giselle gasped and clamped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. She couldn’t be. They’d taken precautions. That first time had been a bit lax, when they’d got carried away, but even then, Rocco had realised in time and—
Pregnant? No, no way.
‘Here you go, hen. Drink that, then see how you feel. I could fetch you some dry toast to settle your tummy, or some crackers?’
Cook held a cup out to her. Giselle took it, stammering her thanks.
She wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t. Overwrought, that’s what she was.
She hadn’t been right since she’d discovered Mhairi in the parlour.
And after that, there’d been the worry about the craft centre, and the trauma of saying farewell to the man she loved, followed by her subsequent broken heart.
And hot on the heels of that was Rocco’s reappearance and his confession that he loved her.
And if that wee lot wasn’t enough, she now had the prospect of moving seven hundred miles away and starting a new life in a strange place. No wonder she was out of sorts!
Anyway, she couldn’t be pregnant because her period was due any day now. She had all the usual signs and symptoms: sore boobs, tired, moody…
Giselle froze. Those signs and symptoms were the same as the early stages of pregnancy, and she realised with growing dismay that her period should have started two weeks ago.
Oh God, she was pregnant.
Aw, shite.
‘You need to do a test,’ Izzy told her. They were sitting outside the
bothy enjoying the morning sun. Rather, Izzy was enjoying it; Giselle
couldn’t give a fig what the weather was doing.
She’d just finished telling her sister everything that had happened yesterday, from the sale of the castle being back on because of the inheritance tax situation, to her moving to London to live with Rocco. And finally, she’d confided to Izzy that she was pregnant.
‘You can’t be sure until you’ve done one,’ Izzy insisted.
‘I’m sure. My period is late and I’ve got all the signs.’
‘How late is late?’
‘Two weeks.’
Her sister shuffled her chair closer and put an arm around her.
Giselle leant into her awkwardly, her chin wobbling.
‘It’s not the end of the world,’ Izzy said.
It was, though. Her twin didn’t understand. There was no way Giselle was going to move to London now. She didn’t want to bring a child up there.
‘Rocco loves you and you love him,’ Izzy continued. ‘OK, maybe the timing isn’t ideal, but you’ll be fine. And if you need me to stay or come back and help you with the move, I will.’
‘I’m not moving. Not now.’
Izzy gaped at her. ‘You’re not? But why?’
‘I want my baby to grow up here, surrounded by nature, not in a concrete jungle.’
Her sister burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think where Rocco lives is a concrete jungle. I believe it’s quite posh. It’s not called Holland Park for nothing.’
‘It isn’t Skye.’
‘Duh! Obviously. But as parts of London go, it’s one of the nicer ones.’
‘What about wide-open spaces, fresh air…’
‘I’m sure there are parks – lots of them.’
Giselle didn’t want parks. She wanted Skye for her baby. Her and Rocco’s baby. How will he feel when he finds out he’s going to be a father? she wondered. She honestly didn’t know.
‘Where can we get a pregnancy test from?’ Izzy asked. ‘Is there anywhere in Duncoorie?’
‘We’ll go to Portree,’ Giselle said firmly.
Even if there was somewhere in the village that sold them, she wouldn’t buy one; not unless she wanted it spread all around Duncoorie by the end of the day.
She’d had to swear Cook to secrecy as it was.
Giselle also wanted to come to terms with it herself first before sharing the news.
And Rocco should be told before anyone, including her parents.
The journey into the town was a sombre one. Giselle still couldn’t believe it, and Izzy seemed lost in her own thoughts.
‘Do you want me to get it?’ her sister offered as they pulled into a parking space outside the supermarket.
‘Do you mind?’ Giselle thought she might cry if she had to stand in front of a shelf of tests and pick one.
‘Of course I don’t. I won’t be long.’ Izzy rubbed her arm. ‘It’ll be OK, Zelle.’
Izzy could say it as often as she liked, but Giselle wasn’t convinced.
She hated to admit it, but she was scared.
Terrified, in fact. This latest shock was one too many, and she felt totally overwhelmed.
In a few short weeks she’d gone from being completely in control of her life to riding a roller coaster of emotions, uncertainty and indecision.
And when Izzy got back in the car, it all became too much, and Giselle started to cry.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she wailed, sniffing into a tissue that Izzy had retrieved from her bag. ‘I love Rocco with all my heart, but I don’t want to bring up a child anywhere but here.’
‘Let’s get you home and do the test first, shall we?’ Izzy soothed. ‘You might be worrying over nothing. Periods can be late for all kinds of reasons, like if you’re unwell, or stressed, or—’
‘Pregnant,’ Giselle broke in.
Izzy pressed her lips together and didn’t say anything further until they reached the bothy. Taking the test out of the bag, she passed it to Giselle, who took it from her grimly.
Her stomach was in knots and her hands shook as she retreated to the bathroom.
The instructions were clear. Pregnant or Not Pregnant. No faint lines to worry about, no room for misunderstanding. Simply two bald, no-nonsense statements.
Not wanting to hover in the bathroom waiting for the words to appear, Giselle left the test in there and went to sit on the sofa for the requisite length of time.
‘Will you go and look for me?’ Giselle asked, with two minutes left to go. She was brave, but not that brave.
Izzy bit her lip and nodded. She got to her feet.
‘It won’t be ready yet,’ Giselle pointed out.
‘I’ll go check anyway. You never know…’
Twisting her hands in her lap, Giselle waited.
And waited.
Izzy had been in there for ages. What was taking so long?
Finally, her sister emerged, a stunned expression on her face. She was holding the little plastic stick.
‘Pregnant?’ Giselle asked, her voice hitching.
Izzy nodded.
‘Bloody hell! I knew it. I told you I was pregnant, didn’t I?’
Izzy was staring at her, her eyes wide, her face pale. ‘Not you, Zelle. Me. I’m the one who’s having a baby.’
Giselle had tears in her eyes as she waved her sister off. Izzy was
returning to Milan and her plumber fiancé this afternoon, and she had a
plane to catch. As well as a wedding to plan!
Adrift and alone, and not in the right frame of mind to do anything creative, Giselle walked down the hill to the loch, and when she reached the narrow crescent of beach, she removed her sandals and stepped onto the sand, wiggling her toes.
Turning her face to the sky, she closed her eyes. Pink and orange filled her vision, the sun’s rays bathing her skin, and she breathed deeply, drawing the clean salty air into her lungs, holding it there for a moment, then letting it out slowly.
She felt oddly calm, hollowed out, numb, almost. Her brain had seized up, closed down, and flat lined. Not thinking was good. For a while, at least. She’d come to the loch for a reboot, to switch off until she’d calmed enough to think clearly.
The grains of sand shifted as she walked across the beach, her feet sinking into them.
Where the waves lapped the shore, wading birds paddled, poking their long thin bills into the sand, looking for food.
A gull called overhead, answered by another, and in the distance, she could see a cormorant perched on a rock, black wings outstretched as it dried its feathers in the sun.
Beyond the jetty, a seal bobbed in the water, grey and sleek, watching her with liquid puppy-dog eyes.
When she’d walked as far as she could, Giselle perched on a rock, drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She had some serious thinking to do, and where better to do it? But not yet. For a while, she simply needed to be.
Giselle didn’t know how long she sat there, letting her mind drift like a strand of seaweed on the current, but when she came back to herself, she knew what she had to do.