Chapter 29
Holly came and threw an arm around Paolo, and Chloe skipped over, putting one of hers round his other side.
‘Bravo, Paolo. This was fantastic,’ said Holly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ve never been to such a gorgeous party. And it was for me!’
Chloe, who Paolo knew couldn’t resist the allure of a cocktail, rested her head on his shoulder. ‘She’s right,’ Chloe slurred. ‘And . . . I don’t think Hamish is with Skye.’
‘How would you know? You’re totally plastered.’ Chloe poked her tongue out, and Paolo turned to Holly. ‘Talking of which. If you’re here, who’s on call?’
‘Me!’ grinned Holly. ‘Don’t worry, I had a mere sip of cocktail.’
Paolo frowned at her. ‘I totally forgot you couldn’t drink. I’m such an idiot.’
‘No, you’re not,’ said Holly, firmly. ‘You’re far from it. You’re amazing. Besides, I ate about half the canapes.’
‘Seriously amazing.’ Chloe beamed. ‘I think I need Angus to take me home. ANGUS!’
Paolo and Holly stared after her as she meandered along the sand towards Angus, who held out his arms. She tripped before she got there, only to stand up and announce to everyone, ‘I’m OK! Nothing to see here.’
‘Have you taken some pictures?’ asked Holly. ‘I’m not the social media type, but isn’t this a hashtag no filter scenario? Hang on, Greg’s calling me over.’
‘I’ve already posted them,’ said Paolo. ‘See you in a sec.’
He had taken a few before they arrived, of the perfect mise-en-scene, then more at the bonfire, plus some close-ups of the cocktails and canapes he’d made. It was a good thing he had, seeing as the sky was now a charcoal grey, the remaining blue patches disappearing fast. As Holly walked over to Greg, Paolo looked at his phone again. There was a single bar of reception, but enough to let his account register a number of likes to his earlier posts. His sister, Francesca, his mum, some uni friends and . . . Fabien.
Paolo clapped his hand over his mouth. He scrolled down to the comments section.
Fabien: Is this a mirage, or is this beauty for real? Shame I only hit town this weekend — looks like I’ve missed a lush evening.
Paolo’s stomach jolted.
Fabien was back. Because nobody had known they had ever gone out, save for Chloe, Holly, Hamish and a few others who had guessed, there would be no passionate moment where they might reunite on the front. Heck! Where had that thought come from.
He was spared further rumination by a drop of rain falling on his nose, then another two. He started to gather the mats and chuck them into giant carrier bags to heft back up to the quad.
* * *
It was incredible, the speed at which the weather could change. Only yesterday, Eastercraig had basked in sunshine, the line of pastel-coloured cottages on the front appearing a shade stronger than normal in the fierce light. Now, the clouds were tumbling over one another like waves. In the distance, Skye heard a faint rumble of thunder. She let the first few drops of rain fall on her face, and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, Bear was next to her. ‘What is it they say in the shipping forecast? “Thundery showers. Good, occasionally poor later”. Makes me glad I’m not a fisherman.’
He was toting a massive bag in one hand, a cool box in the other.
‘Is there more to come up?’ Skye asked. ‘Angus was going to bring them, but he’s having to carry Chloe.’
Behind them, Holly laughed. ‘A few more things, yeah. Wow — you don’t often see Chloe like this. I wonder if the stress of working and managing everything at the farm is getting to her more than she admits. Aren’t you coming in tomorrow for a handover?’
Skye nodded. ‘Yes. Dipping in for an hour to see how the bookings system works.’
‘I really appreciate it, Skye. You didn’t need to,’ said Holly. ‘Oh, shoot. I’m getting a call.’
Skye knew how it was working long hours, but at least when she got home, she was home. Poor Holly didn’t seem to be able to catch a break at the moment; sick animals didn’t work to a timetable and didn’t break for birthdays either. Skye made a plan to buy some bath salts she had seen at the counter in the knitwear pop-up, and drop them to Holly tomorrow with a bar of chocolate.
‘You go,’ said Skye. ‘We’ll finish up here.’
Holly tried to smile through her sigh. ‘Thanks. I have to go and tend to a dog with breathing difficulties. Think that’s nearly everything.’
Holly plonked what she had been carrying into a crate that had been lashed to the back of the quad bike. She threw her arms around Greg and kissed him goodbye, waved to the rest and jogged down the hill to the town.
Paolo had already gone home, dispatched by the others who thought he shouldn’t have to tidy, and Hamish had gone to the pub to ask Mhairi about having a group visit the Anchor later in the week.
Bear dropped his bags in the crate too. ‘I’ll go back and get the last few bits,’ he said.
‘Keep you company?’ asked Skye.
She’d barely spent enough time with him that evening. Nowhere near as much as she would have liked, which was, she realized, a lot.
‘Sure.’ Bear smiled.
They retraced their steps back down the path, passing Angus — who was piggybacking Chloe — on the way. At the top of the dunes, they pulled off their sandals to walk back through the grasses on the beach. The sand had darkened with the rain and was sticky beneath their feet. The bonfire, which less than thirty minutes ago had blazed like a beacon, was now letting off the occasional twisting whorl of smoke, the once-glowing embers all but dead.
‘I’ll double-check there’s nothing left,’ said Bear.
He paced around the bonfire, scooping up the last of the mats, making sure they left Finnen the way they found it. Hamish had promised to come in the morning and deal with the remains of charred wood. As Bear did so, Skye took the other side, scanning for even the smallest bit of rubbish, before meeting him in front of the sea, the rain now coming down in big drops.
‘Looks to be all of it,’ he said. ‘Come on, you’ll catch your death.’
‘The midsummer night’s dream is over,’ said Skye sadly, taking a couple of the mats from him, and tucking them under her arm.
She was stood right in front of him now, barely an inch between them. The rain pattered on loudly, leaving droplets on Skye’s bare shoulders and arms. Neither of them moved, and Skye tried to slow her breathing, aware her heart was beginning to race.
‘It needn’t be,’ said Bear, his voice dipping. ‘If you don’t want it to be. We could go to the pub for a warmer. Or . . .’ He leant in further, and she could feel his breath on her neck. ‘There’s an honesty bar at the B&B. If you want to come back for a nightcap. I could lend you a shirt or something.’
She thought about how she had secretly been wearing Bear’s jumper all last week, ever since their night by the burn. She pondered the idea of hurling herself into whatever this was that was happening between them.
‘You don’t have to,’ said Bear, still close. ‘But the night is young.’
How would she get back afterwards? The taxi service in Eastercraig consisted of Fred Kilbright, who Skye knew from experience preferred to be booked a week in advance, and Terry, who didn’t have a surname or a valid MOT.
She wouldn’t get back. Was that the point? He might have been imagining a nightcap and nothing further. But this was the twenty-first century, and in Skye’s experience, being invited back to someone’s place — a permanent abode or no — meant the full works.
‘That sounds really nice,’ she said, stepping towards him.
Bear took her free hand, and Skye, feeling like her entire body was being flooded by an unabashed heat, took it. She squeezed it tightly, and he gripped it back.
They began walking back towards the dunes in silence. Skye looked down, noticing that the rain was turning her dress transparent. They moved slowly at first but then faster and faster, as if they couldn’t get back to the B&B fast enough. She had a sense that Bear was feeling the same way she was. It wasn’t only a nightcap on the menu after all.
He would make her tea in the morning, want to spend the day together. But then . . . ?
She was probably never going to see Bear again after this month. Sure, they both lived in Edinburgh, and while it wasn’t a sprawling metropolis like London or New York, where you could go for years without ever bumping into someone you knew, it was still a big city. A city where they had their own lives to return to.
Halfway up the path, Skye ground to a halt completely. She turned to face Bear, let her hand slip from his, and swept her wet fringe out of her eyes, and wiped raindrops from her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone.
Bear looked at her. ‘Are you OK? It’s like you’ve run out of petrol. Want me to carry you the rest of the way or . . . Oh. You’re thinking this might not be such a good idea.’
Skye shook her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go back, but she didn’t want to start whatever this was, only for it to fizzle out in a matter of days. She wanted more than just one night.
When she failed to answer, Bear continued. ‘If you don’t want to come back, I totally understand. It’s completely up to you. If you’d rather keep things to daylight hours, we could do something Saturday.’
‘I do want to come back,’ she said, shooting him a look. It was always risky, being straight with someone. You could put your heart on the line only to get it smashed to pieces. But it needed to be done. ‘Only I leave for Edinburgh at the end of the week.’
The implication that she didn’t want a brief fling hung in the air. She looked to Bear, hoping he’d understood her.
‘I’ll be back in Edinburgh too, once I’ve finished at Auchintraid,’ said Bear, his eyes dancing.
Skye began to feel her heart drumming in her chest, the rhythm quickening. She shot him a shy smile at the realization that they were on the same page. Bear gave a soft laugh which Skye felt travel through her whole body.
They began walking again, next to each other, moving quickly over the lumpy slabs that forged a path through the khaki grass. Bear placed his hand on the small of her back, and Skye felt electricity race through her body.
Almost at the brow of the hill, in her haste, she stumbled slightly, and Bear reached out and grabbed her hand. She realized she was holding it more tightly than before. This was it, she thought. This was a shot at true happiness.
She sped her pace up, Bear following suit, and Eastercraig came into view, as did the quad, which was perched on top of the hill.
Angus was making a call, and Chloe was sitting side-saddle on the seat, although she was looking far from her usual presentable self. Her head was resting in her hands. She spied Skye and Bear, an impish grin on her face.
‘Well! If it isn’t Hurricane Skye,’ Chloe cried.
Bear turned to Skye, an amused look on his face. ‘An old nickname?’
‘Not really,’ lied Skye, letting go of Bear’s hand.
‘Oh yes, it is. It’s what she used to be called when she was up to all sorts of mischief when she was a youngster. She was a dreadful cheeky wee sprite. Not . . .’ said Chloe, backtracking like a true drunk who’s realized they might be saying the wrong thing. ‘Not that she is any more, mind. She’s going to be a top-flight lawyer. You mark my words. She’s a reformed woman.’
Skye felt her stomach lurch, winded by Chloe’s words. If only they were true. For all her efforts, she had made bad choices — Will, her career, and then running away from it all — mirroring all the blunders of her past. Either history was repeating itself, or Skye had never truly changed in the first place. She snuck a glance at Bear, who looked back at her, puzzled.
Angus hung up the phone and dragged a wet hand through his hair. ‘I’ve had to ring Hamish to come up and drive the quad back,’ he explained. ‘There’s nobody else sober enough to do it. I can’t let Chloe hold on to the back, even with a helmet. She’ll be off in a second.’
‘He’s being seriously overprotective. I’d be fine,’ said Chloe, sounding like she would be anything but.
‘Can we help?’ asked Bear. ‘We could walk Chloe back down to town.’
Skye was glad the focus had shifted from her for the moment. In an ideal world, Bear would forget everything Chloe had said. She prayed for localized amnesia that would wipe Chloe’s words from his mind.
‘That’s kind of you, but Hamish is coming back up now,’ Angus replied. ‘He’d only got as far as the harbourmaster’s so it’s no trouble. In fact, here he is.’
Hamish came striding back up the hillside with a mac on, his Land Rover awaiting at the bottom, the rain beating down with increasing force. Angus gently pulled Chloe up and held her to him.
Skye placed the mats she’d been carrying in the box, and helped cover it all with a tarpaulin.
‘Chloe, what happened?’ Hamish asked. ‘You’re going to need a couple of paracetamol when you get home. I’ll drop the box at Holly’s and then when you and Angus get to the bottom of the hill I’ll drive you back. Then you and I can come back and get the quad, Angus.’
‘Thanks, mate,’ said Angus. ‘We owe you one. Don’t we, Chloe.’
Chloe smiled in a squinty sort of way. ‘Thanks, darling Hamish.’
‘And you, Skye?’ Hamish looked at Skye and Bear, and hastily added, ‘Call me if you need a lift back later, or something.’
There was a brief, awkward silence, before Chloe broke it with a yawn. Angus rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, Chlo. Let’s get you home. I’ll run you a bath.’
Angus might have sounded wearied by the prospect of having to get Chloe home, but it was sweet seeing the love with which he pulled her to his side, helping her to navigate the hill back down to the town. It was obviously a relationship with strong foundations. None of which could be said for any of hers. She glanced up at Bear, who was still looking at her curiously.
Oh God, what was she thinking? Moments ago, they had acknowledged that going back to the B&B wasn’t a one off, but a beginning. But Bear deserved more than to be dragged into her confusion. After all he had been through with his ex-wife, he didn’t need anything or anyone else holding him back. And that’s what she would do.
At once she felt guilty she hadn’t told him more beforehand, and simultaneously paralysed by the fear that if she did, he might change his mind. That perhaps he should change his mind.
There was a great clap of thunder, closer now than it had been before. The rain was coming down in sheets. Hamish said his goodbyes, and drove the quad away, leaving her and Bear alone at the top of the hill.
‘We ought to go back,’ she said to Bear, shouting to make herself heard over the noise of the weather. She wiped her wet hair off her forehead. ‘Come on.’
She started at a run, overtaking Chloe and Angus, who were not far from the bottom. Bear followed close behind her.
At the bottom, she took temporary refuge in the bus shelter. It smelled faintly of smoke, and Skye imagined some of the town kids had been smoking there before they realized the rain was more than a passing shower.
Sitting down, she tried to catch her breath, and order her thoughts at the same time. Chloe’s words had shattered the happy illusion she’d formed of her and Bear’s future back at the beach and she saw it for what it was — a rash move on her part.
There was no logic to it, no real thought process where she had tallied up the pros and cons of going back home with Bear. Whatever her reasons for going with him, it was a mistake.
‘What’s going on, Skye?’ asked Bear. He came and sat down on the bench next to Skye.
She had to tell him the truth.
‘I’m not really the person you think I am,’ she said, wondering if she would regret this.
Her palms felt sticky, and her breath caught. She closed her eyes to focus, to try and push all the panic away.
‘You’re not Skye Edmonds?’ Bear asked. ‘Who are you then? And don’t break my heart by telling me you’re not into cruck frames.’
Skye turned to face him. ‘If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I’d probably had told you I wasn’t. But as luck would have it, I find them fascinating. Your enthusiasm is infectious.’
‘But what I really enjoyed about the trip was hanging out with you. There, at the burn, over the phone. I really like you, Skye. I think you’re great.’
Which was where he was wrong. Her heart should have leapt at his words. Instead, it was thudding in her throat, making her nauseous.
Holding back on him had not been in the spirit of honesty, and wasn’t honesty the keystone of a good relationship? How could she be that person, knowing how she had been floored by Will’s dishonesty, only a few weeks ago.
‘I’ve not been entirely truthful about why I’m here. Why I’m here this time.’
‘Do you want to tell me now?’
‘No,’ said Skye. She had to stave off the panic, and a bus shelter confessional wasn’t going to help. ‘Not especially.’
‘Is it about the guy you were seeing? Too soon?’
Skye held her lips tight. She didn’t want to tell him about the past, about Hurricane Skye, and how it had turned her parents lives inside out, how it had somehow led her into this corner she didn’t know how to get out of. She didn’t want to tell him that she was still lost, even at this age. She couldn’t share these fears, even as they made her dizzy.
‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’
Bear took a breath. ‘Do you want to change your mind about things?’
Skye didn’t. She really, really didn’t. In fact, she would give anything to be at the B&B, sipping a nice glass of wine, or a whisky, warming up in one of Bear’s sweaters, taking it off. But it wasn’t the right thing to do. She felt tainted with the shame of pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
Seemed Hurricane Skye could wreak as much havoc as ever.
‘I’m not sure.’ She could hardly look at Bear. ‘Maybe it’s not such a great idea after all.’
Despite best-laid plans, she had let him get close. So much for arm’s length. She didn’t want to go further without him knowing everything about her, but right now she still didn’t think she knew her own mind enough to tell him.
Bear suddenly became very interested in a tanker drifting across the horizon, little more than a shadowy outline, almost completely hidden by the curtain of rain.
‘That’s OK. You do what you need to do.’
If only she knew what that was. Skye fought back a sob which rose in her throat.
‘I reckon I ought to go back to Glenalmond,’ she said, hoping to keep the waver in her voice to a minimum. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on.’
Bear shook his head. She could see the muscles in his jaw tightening. ‘You didn’t. I’m not sure what’s just happened, though. Do you want to tell me?’
He wouldn’t like it. Not the long and short of it. Not the truth of it. Skye didn’t, so why would anybody else?
She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’
Bear got up, and nodded, his face set. He looked her in the eye, his expression unreadable. ‘I’ll see you around, Skye.’
He headed down the front, and Skye watched his back as he walked away from her. She hoped he would look back over his shoulder, but he didn’t. She shivered, her body feeling empty all of a sudden.
June had been so warm, and now she could see her breath in the air in front of her. It was like watching her hopes escape.
* * *
Paolo looked out of his window at the rain. Aside from the weather, he’d managed a good party, and — he reminded himself — he wasn’t responsible for the downpour.
From where he sat, in the small armchair, he had seen Bear going back to the B&B alone, running through the rain. And then, coming back a second time, Hamish’s Land Rover. He could make out Hamish, now in his big waterproof, as he hopped out of the car, and disappeared into the bus shelter. Paolo lifted his binoculars off the table by the window, and twizzled the knob until he could focus it where he wanted. It made him feel a little voyeuristic, but he couldn’t help it.
Paolo watched as Hamish came out of the bus shelter, an arm around Skye, who was now wearing the waterproof. Hamish opened the car door for her, then ran to the driver’s side.
He sat back. Skye had spent most of the night talking to Bear. She probably knew that he didn’t know anyone and was being kind. And maybe Hamish had warned her away for the evening, not wanting anyone to know what was happening between them, fearing gossip.
Paolo sunk back into the chair and closed his eyes. Whichever way you looked at it, Hamish was taken.
Paolo pulled out his phone to call Chloe or Holly, then remembered that Holly was on a call and Chloe was likely passed out on the sofa. Instead, open his social media and found Fabien.
Paolo: You’re coming to town? I’m sure I can rustle up some more of my dangerous margs if you wanted one. Can’t promise the weather tho x
The response was almost immediate.
Fabien: I’ll call you when I arrive. Saturday some time. WLTM (retro acronym, I know) x
Paolo thought his heart had stopped for a second, and he paused, only exhaling when he realized it was still beating. What if Fabien still liked him? He had been forced to go to Geneva with work, and the stress of long-distance did have a habit of breaking up the strongest of partnerships. They’d had some fun times. They had been a great couple.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.