Chapter 11
ELEVEN
brODY
By the end of the day, I’m regretting ever suggesting this. In fact I’m regretting a lot of things, including being born.
Kate and I work our asses off. She scrubs and clears, and I use the tools from the cottage to start on the many small jobs that have built up since Moira took her enforced leave of absence. Rosie was right – these older buildings do take a lot of maintenance.
She sends her teenaged daughter Laurel over with more coffees, and later on in the afternoon, Xander arrives with two other fellas, both of whom were at the music night.
They greet Kate like she’s already part of the inner circle, and Betty the spaniel greets me in the traditional way – by humping my leg.
It takes Xander way too long to pull her off me.
I think the man enjoys watching me squirm.
After a trip up a ladder by all men involved, we find a patch of tiles has come off at some point, and slid down to dislodge the drainpipe, making it a double whammy of damage.
Neither is too difficult to fix though, which is good news.
One of the guys, Jimmy, face like he’s run into a wall, tells me he has some spare tiles at home, along with some other ‘wee bits and bobs’.
No idea what that means, but I guess I’ll find out.
The roof is a task for another day – as is everything.
By the time we finally leave, Kate looks physically exhausted, just like me – her eyes, though… man, her eyes tell a different story. They’re glittering with happiness, and she seems more alive than she has since I met her.
She’s not the only one. Moira has fully embraced our plan, saying that if we can restore the place into some semblance of normal while we’re here, then she’ll move heaven and earth to keep the place going for the summer season.
She sounded determined and upbeat and strong, and that’s a damn fine thing.
Kate also now has a ‘one last summer’ budget from Moira, and she’s already bubbling with ideas, all of which she described out loud as we worked.
Fairy lights, lamps, cushions, a reading corner for children, dog treats, a weekly book-related playlist…
you name it, she’s thought of it. My part of the equation will be the brawn, she’ll be adding the brain and the beauty.
We walk down to the harbour, and she finally goes quiet as we sit and watch the sunset.
It’s beautiful, the kind of sunset people write poems about.
I get a kick from watching the kittiwakes, and she amuses us by dolphin spotting – except every one she spots turns out to be driftwood or a rock.
She’s so disappointed every time, and it’s unbearably cute.
‘We’ll go out on a boat trip,’ I tell her. ‘Look for dolphins. Maybe even puffins.’
‘You promise?’ she asks, eyes still scanning the horizon in hope.
‘Absolutely. Now, we need to think about food…’
‘Oh! I forgot to tell you. We’ve been invited to the Kestrel for tea. On the house apparently, because we’re such tremendous and wonderful people.’
I sigh a little. Truthfully, I was thinking a stroll to loosen my back up, then a long soak in the tub.
I do need to eat though, and there’s not much in the cottage.
Maybe tomorrow we can look at borrowing a car, getting in some supplies.
I realise this feels like I’m playing house with Kate, and it freaks me out how much I like it.
I was even flirting with her a little earlier, and I liked that too.
I’ve spent a long time not liking many things about my life, and I’m still not entirely sure I think I deserve to.
‘Okay,’ I say, not exactly sounding enthusiastic.
‘Oh, come on, it’ll be fun – you remember what that is, don’t you?
’ she replies, standing up from our spot near the harbour wall and offering her hands.
I take them, and she tugs, pretending to be out of breath as she pulls me upright.
I keep hold of those hands for a few seconds too long – for comfort, for warmth, for the simple pleasure of human touch.
She looks up at me, head tilted to one side, maybe a little confused but certainly not unhappy. What the hell am I doing?
I drop her hands, and she gives me a small smile. One that seems to say ‘it’s okay, I kind of liked it too’. I walk briskly in the direction of the pub. I need a pint of Guinness, and possibly a lobotomy.
The place is busy tonight, a singer on a makeshift stage strumming a guitar and preparing for a set. Good. It’ll be loud, and bustling, and we won’t be alone together.
‘All hail the conquering heroes!’ Shirley announces as we approach the bar. This is a very different reception than the one I got last night for sure. ‘Guinness, wine, and two bowls of cullen skink coming right up!’
I look at Kate and whisper: ‘What’s cullen skink?’
‘No clue,’ she whispers back. ‘It sounds terrible!’
It turns out to be a creamy fish soup, served up with warm crusty bread and butter, and it is delicious.
Kate chats to the locals, and I inhale the food.
Shirley gives me a look, takes the bowl, and comes back with seconds.
She pats me on the back and says: ‘We all appreciate what you’re doing for Moira.
There’ll be no paying for a thing while you’re here now, you hear me? ’
I mutter a quick ‘Yes ma’am’, because she has that tone you don’t mess with.
Kate is barely eating, as usual, but seems happy.
The singer does covers of gentle songs, and it’s a pleasant backdrop to a nice atmosphere.
Even Betty gives up on humping me, and instead settles by my feet, gazing up at me in hopes of a crust of bread.
I oblige, and sit for a few moments enjoying the mood.
I watch Kate as she circulates, keeping an eye on her as she laughs and smiles and enjoys herself.
She’s changing before my eyes, shedding some of her nervousness.
I don’t feel as heavy as usual myself, and make the most of the moment to send Shannon an update.
I tell her about the bookstore, about the locals, and send her the photos from earlier in the day.
You’ve got a project! she replies straight away. You always feel better when you have a project. How’s Kate?
I snap a photo of her as she stands at the bar. Shannon answers with some flame emojis, which I guess is her way of saying she thinks Kate is hot.
Kate is hot, I have to admit. Not in a glamorous, in-your-face kind of way.
It’s quieter than that. Sneakier. Her hair.
Her eyes. Her smile. The softness of her skin.
The kindness she exudes. Damn… I’m getting carried away here.
That part of my life died with Sandy, and although I have had offers since, I’ve just never been interested.
Even Shannon’s tried to set me up on dates, and I’ve always resisted.
So why now? Why here, and why Kate? Why am I suddenly noticing a woman again?
And what the hell do I do about it? Ignore it, I think, as she throws back her head and laughs at something Xander has said. Ignore it, and hope it goes away.
I decide I’ve had enough for tonight. Enough drink, enough music, enough company.
I’m never going to be the kind of guy who fits into all of this – who relaxes into a community.
I’m always looking for the risks, always have one eye on the exits.
In this case, it’s simple – there’s a door right in front of me.
I’m hoping to get away without anybody noticing, but Kate runs out after me, into the dusk of the evening.
The air smells of salt and seaweed, the cliffs glimmering shapes behind us.
There’s a strong wind blowing, whipping up the waves to a surfer-level frenzy.
The sound of the water crashing into land mixes with the singing from inside the pub, and it’s like an assault on all my senses. Mainly from her.
‘Brody!’ she says, grabbing hold of my shoulder. ‘Are you going home?’
‘I’m going back to the cottage, yeah. I’m whacked. You stay out. Enjoy yourself.’
‘No, I’ll come back too. It was great, but I met a lot of people, and I’m really not used to it. It’s good, not being invisible, but my social battery is almost flat.’
‘Invisible?’ I echo. ‘Kate, you are one of the least invisible people I’ve ever known!’
She smiles a little, looking unsure. ‘Oh. Well. That’s nice. Shirley gave me a bottle of brandy to take home with us. That’s nice too, isn’t it? Fancy a nightcap?’
I’m picking up on those danger signals again, and know I’ve been sending out a few of my own as well.
I make a noncommittal noise, and we walk along to the little house.
I’m smug when the door opens on the first try this time, and go to light the logs on the fire.
It isn’t especially cold, but it just feels right.
As I’m straightening again, my back reminds me that it’s still there. That it still hates me. I try to hide the pain, but she notices of course.
‘I’m going to run you a bath,’ she tells me, looking concerned.
‘And you’re going to soak in it for a while.
Then you’re going to let me give you a massage.
I went on a course once. You’re in safe hands.
’ She holds them up, as if to show me she isn’t holding a weapon.
Hell no, I think. That would end badly. The tub, though? That I can live with.
‘I’m capable of running water myself,’ I tell her.
‘I realise that, Brody. But every now and then, isn’t it nice to just let somebody look after you a little? You were kind to me last night, and you’ve really made a difference to Moira. Let me help you, please?’