Chapter 40
Skye whooped as Hamish ran into the water. She, Holly and Chloe left their seats on the rock, and ran the short distance to Paolo at the shore, all squealing and hugging him tightly in celebration of the moment they had just witnessed.
After the excitement died down a bit, Holly looked concerned. ‘Is this a sensible idea? Could you not have just left it with the kiss?’
‘Nope,’ said Paolo. ‘There was no stopping him.’
‘I have a lifeguarding qualification,’ said Skye. ‘Well, had, from when I was nineteen. So while it’s not valid any more, I can remember most of it.’
She dragged her eyes away from the sight of Hamish floundering into the bay. He was getting deeper, the water past his torso.
Holly raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s better than nothing, isn’t it.’
There were many romantic places in the world — Paris, New York and even Finnen Beach — but the harbour, while wondering if your friend was about to drown himself attempting an ill-advised, if well-intentioned athletic feat wasn’t necessarily one of them. She turned back to the water. Hamish appeared to have stalled.
‘Oh gosh,’ Skye said, wishing he could chivvy himself along a bit.
Hamish disappeared beneath the surface. His head emerged for a second, and then went back again.
‘Hamish!’ Chloe squealed. ‘He’s tangled up in the bloody float rope.’
‘I’m fine,’ Hamish yelled, his arms flailing as he attempted to tread water.
There was a brief pause, while they all watched Hamish bob up and down. It was no good. Skye couldn’t watch him flap about. What if something serious happened? The whole reason for this swimming malarkey was that he’d nearly died the previous year.
Skye pulled off her trainers. ‘I’ll get him, I think.’
‘No, it should be me,’ said Paolo, quickly. ‘Knight in shining armour and all that.’
Skye watched as Paolo took off his shoes and trousers, then ran into the water in his T-shirt and boxers.
‘Crikey’, said Chloe. ‘This is more nail-biting than any box set I’ve watched all year.’
‘I’ll say,’ said Holly, chewing her lip.
Paolo was chest height in water when he got to Hamish, by which point Hamish had righted himself.
Hamish spat out a mouthful of water. ‘I’m OK,’ he shouted, so that everyone on the shore could hear him. He blinked salt from his eyes, and pulled his hair from his face.
Skye watched as Paolo offered Hamish an arm for balance, which Hamish took as he wriggled his legs free from the float. Together they walked back through the water to the beach.
‘You looked like you were struggling,’ Skye said, when they got closer. ‘Why’s the cord on this float so long? They’re meant to bob next to your waist.’
Hamish looked sheepish. ‘I didn’t have one, so I borrowed the one from the bottom of the lawns. We’ve always kept one there in case anyone fell into the river.’
‘Good grief, Hamish,’ Skye looked at him. ‘Seriously?’
Hamish set his jaw. ‘Right. You hold this. I’ll continue. Paolo, maybe you could come in too. Follow at a slight distance in case?’
Hamish thrust the float Skye’s way and, once in water that was only up to his hips, he started off again. Paolo waded along, five metres behind. In the end, Hamish swam about a hundred metres, with confidence, if not finesse. And the odd pause.
Eventually, he came to a full halt and stood up, his skin blotched with red spots of cold.
‘Voila! I’m done! I think I’ve proved my point.’ Hamish shouted.
Skye watched as Paolo went over and took Hamish’s hand, gripped it, and raised it into the air in victory. It wasn’t just a win for Hamish’s sporting ability, she thought. It was one for love, too. Along with Holly and Chloe, she joined in with a round of applause.
All wide smiles, talking quietly to one another, Paolo and Hamish walked back towards the beach to a flurry of cheers from the group. As they reached the shallows, Paolo jogged over to the rocks and picked up a towel for Hamish.
‘Well, Hame? How do you feel?’ asked Holly.
Hamish stood in a power stance, the water lapping at his ankles. ‘I feel like a champ,’ he announced.
‘You are,’ said Skye, going and giving him a hug.
‘He’s a bloody idiot,’ Paolo said fondly, and Skye stepped aside as he wrapped the towel around Hamish’s shoulders.
‘Drinks at the Anchor?’ suggested Chloe. ‘We ought to raise a glass to this momentous moment.’
‘Och, it took longer than I’d planned, and I really ought to get back to Glenalmond,’ Hamish said, looking disappointed at the thought. ‘I’ve got that group there. And I still need to sort out the lodge for this dinner.’
‘Why don’t I come with you?’ said Paolo. ‘If you’re behind, I can muck in. Come back and dry off in my flat quickly first?’
‘And I can spare a couple of hours before Angus gets back. Supper’s in the fridge and only needs reheating,’ Chloe piped up. ‘I’ll come and help set up too.’
‘Same,’ said Holly. ‘Assuming nobody calls. Hot drinks all round?’
‘I’m in too,’ said Skye, pulling her trainers back on. ‘Let’s do this.’
* * *
Five minutes later, Skye jogged over to Paolo who was walking towards her carrying a caddy of take-out cups from the café.
He handed a cup to Skye. ‘Latte, wasn’t it?’
Skye thanked him, and they walked the remaining distance to Paolo’s flat together. A flock of razorbills squabbled through the air, landing in a cluster on the sea. You would never have guessed that the placid scene before them had, barely ten minutes ago, been the location of an absurd romantic gesture.
‘I still can’t believe he did that,’ said Paolo, another laugh escaping him.
‘The swim or the kiss?’ asked Skye.
‘Both,’ Paolo smiled.
‘Well, you know what they say,’ said Skye. ‘The course of true love never did run smooth. But now you’ve got a happy ever after to enjoy.’
‘Aye,’ said Paolo. ‘But Hamish. Honestly, that man. Still can’t barely swim, and off he goes into the sea. What a twazzock.’
Skye snorted. ‘Well, goes to show that you can’t help who you fall for. And that when it happens, instead of performing a high-risk stunt, you could simply tell the person how you feel.’
Skye halted, the coffee sloshing over the top of the cup. Paolo, a couple of steps ahead, realized she was no longer next to him and turned around.
‘Forgotten how to walk, is it?’
Rooted to the spot, Skye shook her head. ‘No. What I just said, about not being able to help who you fall for and telling them. I went down to Edinburgh with Bear, and . . . I thought he might come back up here with me, but he didn’t. Paolo, I need to talk to him. I need to go.’
It had been a day of facing up to everything in her life which terrified her. She couldn’t not tell Bear how she felt about him, even if the idea of doing so scared her to death.
Paolo tilted his head. ‘Could you not call him?’
Skye shook her head. ‘I have to see him in person.’
Paolo looked from one of his hands to the other, and let out a dismayed huff. ‘If I wasn’t holding my own coffee in one hand and this wretched, flimsy caddy in the other, I’d shake you. Haven’t we just established that it’s far simpler to use words than deeds?’
Skye took his point. ‘OK, OK. I’ll ring him.’
Juggling her bag and her coffee, she located her mobile, and dialled Bear’s number. It went straight to voicemail. It was with a pang of yearning that she listened to his voice.
‘No answer. And this is a sign,’ she said. That habit was proving one which refused to budge. ‘I have to go back.’
Skye had to. She had spent the entire day facing up to fears, settling scores, taking her life back into her own hands. Her sense of what was right and wrong might have landed her in trouble when she was younger, but perhaps, too, it had been her superpower. She had been fearless, and strong, and determined. And Bear had been the first person to see that.
Paolo rolled his eyes. ‘For crying out loud.’