Chapter 18
The small dining table was nothing like the desk Angus was used to working on but he’d figured out how to position his laptop and his phone and the various files he needed in order to work efficiently.
His working day had almost vanished with astonishing speed in the wake of an early, urgent request for his expertise.
A drug company in Switzerland had completed several years of the preclinical phase for a very promising medication for mood disorders, for people resistant to standard antidepressants, and had finally moved into the first phase of a clinical trial in humans.
One of the first people to be enrolled was currently unwell enough to have been admitted to hospital for observation in England, where the trial was based. Angus had been contacted by the chief risk officer of Novaryn Pharmaceuticals.
‘This is precautionary,’ she’d told Angus on his first video call of the morning.
‘And we think this patient might simply be showing the first symptoms of a viral illness, with headache and nausea, but I want to keep ahead of it and that means we need someone like you on board just to be on the safe side.’
Angus had got his bearings through more conversations with the clinical program lead and the chief medical officer.
He’d requested, downloaded and reviewed all the relevant documents, including the trial protocol, inclusion and exclusion criteria, consent forms, ethical committee approval and adverse event reports from the extensive animal trials.
It was an interesting situation and Angus had been engrossed for hours. Another meeting had discounted the need to stop the trial immediately, but Angus made it clear he wanted to be informed of any new developments the moment they happened.
He was overdue for a break from his screen so he stood up, laced his fingers behind his head and lifted his ribs to stretch out his back.
Then he turned his head from side to side to get rid of the slight kink in his neck.
In one direction, he was looking through the small kitchen to the open French doors and the small paved terrace beyond.
He could see dappled sunshine and hear the sound of cicadas.
To the other side he could see the inviting shape of the old leather sofa, the fireplace it faced and the big picture on the wall of flowers and an old stone building.
The subject of the painting was familiar.
There were ruined stone buildings on farmland all over Scotland, and country fields had more than their fair share of daisies.
Poppies might be less prolific but that wasn’t why this painting couldn’t be anywhere other than Provence.
It just looked different. Softer. As if the painful aspects of being alive were somehow a bit smudged – like this style of painting.
Angus been in the cottage called La Maisonette for nearly a week now and was yet to regret the impulsive decision to extend his stay in this extraordinary part of the world.
He hadn’t cancelled that flight back to Edinburgh, on the morning after he’d spoken to Ellie and she’d agreed to let him rent the little stone house, but he’d spent less than twenty-four hours in his home country.
Just long enough to pack some more clothes, collect everything he needed to deal with a waiting list of potential new clients and follow-ups with existing ones, and explain to a rather shocked Moira that he had no idea when he’d return for good.
And, to be honest, he rather relished that shock. He’d proved one thing on his time away, at least. He wasn’t a boring, predictable man.
‘I like it there,’ was all he’d said by way of an explanation. ‘And why not? As someone pointed out to me recently, I can do my job anywhere and, as they say, a change is as good as a holiday.’
‘It’s just not something I would have expected you to do.
’ Moira had shaken her head in amazement.
‘But it certainly seems to be agreeing with you. You look…’ Her gaze had dropped again, to the jeans and leather sneakers he was wearing, and when it lifted to meet his he could see more admiration in her eyes than she’d ever bestowed on him before.
‘Look at you, Angus McLeod,’ she said, smiling broadly. ‘It’s about time you had an adventure. Don’t stop now.’
He hadn’t.
He could if he’d wanted to, mind you. He just wasn’t ready to stop quite yet.
Because he hadn’t convincingly achieved the second goal that had propelled him into taking that solo holiday in Provence: to prove that romance and its inescapable association with the all-consuming state of being ‘in love’ was superfluous. A red herring on the path to a successful and secure life.
Tilly believed in it with her whole heart and soul. His father had believed in its ability to cast a spell. Even Moira had succumbed to its allure.
Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe he’d been wrong for his entire life and he was only just beginning to discover what he’d been missing.
And the taste he’d already had of what he’d been missing was the real reason he’d made the impulsive decision to move himself to Provence for an unspecified length of time.
For the first time ever, Angus had let himself be ruled by his heart rather than his head.
He’d spent his life’s work assessing probabilities, mitigating adverse consequences and avoiding emotional bias at all times.
He was taking the biggest risk of his life by extending what was supposed to be nothing more than a holiday fling, but that hadn’t been enough to make him change his mind.
He’d told himself too many times to count that falling in love was the road to disaster, but staying close to Tilly was simply too compelling to dismiss.
And he needed to find out what could happen. If it ended in disaster, he’d know he’d been right all along. Whether the experience was worth the emotional fallout remained to be analysed, but no matter how wrenching it had the potential to be, it wasn’t going to kill him, was it?
And, if it didn’t end in disaster…?
Well, that was also unknown – and it was possibly the most exciting prospect Angus might ever face.
His time in Scotland might have brief but it had served to create an anticipation of seeing Tilly again that had a level of intensity he hadn’t felt since he was a child.
The kind that went with waking up before dawn and realising that it was Christmas Day.
Or setting out with his beloved dog and a packed lunch and a whole summer’s day of adventure.
He had to thank Moira for a good part of that.
Because that short interaction in his office hadn’t really been awkward at all.
His secretary had been delighted to see him and relieved that her absence had not ruined a wonderful holiday.
Any anger towards her that Angus had taken as extra baggage was, unexpectedly, nowhere to be found now and, with the benefit of everything that had happened in the last week, he could see that Moira had been right in ending a relationship that could never have been more than a friendship with the additional benefit of sex.
He had still been prepared to make a lifetime commitment to her, however, and if she’d felt the same way, it might have been a perfectly acceptable life.
But it would have been the life of a man who wasn’t being entirely true to who he was, and it wasn’t lost on Angus that it would have been as much of a performance as trying to make himself appear to be a genuinely romantic man.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of making it convincing.
It hadn’t even been difficult when he thought he was enjoying the last hours he would ever have in Tilly’s company.
He’d been delighted to buy her that lovely red dress.
He’d enjoyed the champagne and the glorious sunset.
He’d found a song for her. Admittedly, he hadn’t remembered quite how romantic the lyrics of ‘Lady in Red’ were and it did feel as if he was playing a game when he wasn’t quite sure of the rules.
There was still that reassuring little voice in the back of his head reminding him that this wasn’t real.
Even if it felt real in the moment, he knew he was simply choosing to temporarily buy into something unrealistic in order to stay emotionally engaged with it.
Judging by the misty expression on Tilly’s face, however, she hadn’t had to make a deliberate choice at all. She had been enchanted.
Aye… the problem was not that he wasn’t capable of delivering the romance.
He was just unable to believe in it like Tilly did and he knew that she was totally aware of that.
How could she not be after he’d given her that rant at the airport, within minutes of meeting her, about the romantic nonsense she was such an expert in?
It was a wonder she’d even agreed to go with him as a guide for his holiday. He could still hear that finality in her tone when she’d told him that she would never consider choosing an unromantic man as a partner.
Did it count that he wanted to be able to believe? That part of why he was here again was to challenge his own beliefs so that he could know for sure?
That the yearning for his doubts to disperse and that barrier to vanish was even stronger than his desire to prove that he wasn’t a boring man had been?
It might take time, but perhaps Angus would find it was possible to embrace something he’d spent his whole life refusing to believe in.
He might even become someone that Tilly might consider choosing.
She might have been the antithesis of any woman he’d had on his radar as a life partner but she was also the only person whose company had ever made him feel this alive.
This happy.
At least he was confident that she was pleased he’d chosen to extend his time in Provence.