Chapter 39
Were it not for the debris from the storm scattered across the tarmac as she entered Eastercraig, Skye could have been forgiven for thinking it had been another blissful summer’s day at the seaside. The sun was happy in a cloudless sky, as if it had never been away.
Locals were sitting outside the Anchor, or walking up and down the front, catching some rays. Some underage-looking teenagers were on the rocks drinking from bottles that looked suspiciously alcoholic. At least they weren’t chucking bricks through windows, Skye thought, as she pulled into a space on the front.
She jumped out and jogged down the slipway, on to the harbour beach, and made her way towards a couple of large rocks that sprang from the sand, where Holly, Chloe and Paolo were nursing drinks.
‘Got you a gin and tonic,’ said Chloe, holding out a glass. ‘Hope that’s OK. We decided whatever’s going on might call for it.’
Skye took it. ‘Thanks. I’m beginning to wonder what kind of event we’ve turned up for.’
She had called Hamish to warn him of Paolo’s intention to meet Fabien, and to gee him up, and after a few seconds of silent contemplation, Hamish had told Skye to meet him at the beach near the Anchor. He would handle the rest. She was completely in the dark.
She craned her neck round to face Paolo. He was tapping his foot, clutching his glass. He caught Skye’s eye and gave a small smile.
‘He didn’t say? He cancelled our usual lesson at the pool earlier, then he called me and explicitly said I’m not needed in the water this week but to come here. I’m a little anxious,’ he said. ‘He can manage a length of the pool, but this? He said he’s going to swim from here to the Anchor!’
‘It’s not that far,’ said Skye. ‘Three hundred metres?’
‘Not for you, but for Hamish it’s massive,’ said Chloe. She sounded as concerned as she looked. ‘When I say Hamish can’t swim, I mean . . . He’s like a boulder, with arms and legs which he can’t coordinate.’
Holly, who had twisted round to watch out for Hamish, pointed over to the footpath that ran along the front. ‘Look, here he is. He’s got a float, at least. Not that it’s deep when the tide’s half out.’
Hamish, his face set, was walking towards them, in a red-and-black wetsuit, a large orange safety float under one arm. He swung himself over the railings, jumped off the wall and strode over, then jammed the float upright in the sand, and stood with his hands on his hips.
‘I thought you had a tree come down,’ said Paolo. ‘And guests arriving.’
‘Aye. I did, but the tree’s sorted. Even so, I have limited time in which to do this. I have an absurdly large party at the castle, who need serving dinner at the hunting lodge at eight.’ He frowned.
Skye looked at her watch. ‘It’s coming up to six, Hamish! You’re cutting it fine.’
‘But I need to do this. And I need to have a word with you, Paolo if that’s OK. About what’s going to happen.’
Paolo raised an eyebrow, and went over to Hamish. Skye watched the two of them walk down to the water’s edge, then stand side by side, a good foot between them.
‘Why does he have to do this?’ Chloe mused, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Couldn’t he tell Paolo he liked him and be done with it? Why does he have to give this whole display of machismo? Hamish has never been one for peacocking.’
‘When you told me that Paolo was going to meet Fabien, I called Hamish straightaway. I’ve met guys like Fabien,’ Skye replied. ‘They should come with a health warning. And I’ve been trying to get them together but only made things worse. I told Hamish he needed to be honest. To say what he wanted and go for it. This is what he came up with . . . I just wish I’d known how bad his swimming was.’
* * *
Down by the water, Paolo thought that the twelve inches between them was more like a yard, if not two. Hamish had been talking about technique, and whether the float might be held on to if his arms got tired and he had to switch to legs only.
‘I’ve not even thought about cramp,’ Hamish muttered. ‘But I don’t plan on being above shoulder height. It’s not like last year, either. The sea is calm, there are no rainclouds visible, and I left Wolfie at home so he wouldn’t attract any seals.’
Paolo pulled a hand down his face, feeling his cheeks stretch, then turned to Hamish.
‘I’m glad to support you in this, but . . . could you tell me exactly why you’re doing it? Why you think it’s a good idea?’
Hamish dragged his fingers through his unruly mop of hair, and made a small coughing sound. He shifted slightly. Paolo folded his arms.
‘Skye told me you were going to meet up with Fabien this weekend,’ said Hamish, rushing the words. ‘And you’re well within your rights to do so, but I don’t think you should. He’s a real piece of work, Paolo. He might stamp all over you in his Italian leather shoes and think nothing of it.’
‘Aye,’ said Paolo. ‘He might.’
‘And,’ Hamish continued. ‘I think I’d like to be the one you met up with instead. Although I’m working tomorrow, and Sunday’s meant to be mizzling and I have a coach party coming then too. But I’d be free Sunday evening. What I’m saying is . . .’
Paolo felt his jaw drop, as he digested this. ‘Why haven’t you said this before? And why didn’t Skye tell me this the other day, when we were in the pub? She said she thought we’d be a good couple, but not that you actually liked me.’
‘Skye promised me she wouldn’t explicitly say anything. And besides, you two didn’t seem on best terms for a couple of weeks, and then latterly I don’t think she wanted to interfere, especially after spritz-gate.’
‘But what about Beauly Man?’
‘Who’s that ?’
‘The guy I saw you with the other week. On a date?’
‘Och.’ Hamish went cerise. ‘You saw me? It doesn’t sound brilliant, but I was seeing what dating men was like again. To make sure. I didn’t want you to be my test case.’
‘Christ,’ said Paolo.
Hamish looked uncomfortable. ‘Only, when Fabien became a very real prospect, Skye thought she ought to step in again, hence her ringing me earlier. And I realized I didn’t want you to meet up with him, only for Fabien to be serious. He might have decided he wanted to settle down.’
‘Fabien? Unlikely,’ scoffed Paolo. ‘You know, I don’t think I really wanted to meet up with him. I cancelled it.’
Right before Hamish had called, Paolo had decided that if he wanted to be with the right person, he had to act like it. There was no wiggle room, no margin for regrettable errors. As soon as Hamish had hung up, he had called Fabien and told him gently that he didn’t think margs on the beach was a good idea after all.
‘I wanted to come and see you too,’ Paolo added. ‘Ask if you wanted to spend more time together than an hour a week at the leisure centre pool.’
‘I like swimming,’ protested Hamish. ‘And I really want to improve. Not that I could get any worse. But spending more time together sounds great.’
‘In that case . . .’ Paolo paused, pushing his feet into the sand, trying to drive away the incipient nerves that he could feel creeping in. ‘Want to hang out more? Not only at the pool? Not only as friends?’
‘Yeah,’ said Hamish. ‘I’d like that. A lot.’
Paolo laughed, feeling a lightness flood his body. Knowing Hamish wasn’t the kind for public displays of emotion, he leaned over, and gave Hamish a sideways nudge on the shoulder. Hamish returned it immediately.
Then, Hamish leaned in, and gave Paolo a kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t tentative, but firm and confident, and Paolo was momentarily stunned.
‘Oh my!’ he managed.
‘Too much?’ asked Hamish.
‘Not at all,’ said Paolo, blinking slowly as he processed what had just happened. He felt a smile break out across his face as he turned and caught Hamish’s eye. ‘Just right.’
Somehow managing to stop beaming for a second, he kissed Hamish back. Knowing how big a step this public display of affection was for Hamish, he didn’t go for a passionate snog, rather a tender kiss that landed close to his mouth. Close enough to make it clear what Hamish meant to him.
‘Glad we got that cleared up,’ Hamish said, slightly pink in the cheeks but smiling.
Paolo, only just realizing his heart was racing like the clappers, nodded fervently in agreement. ‘Same. Now, are you going in, or what?’