Chapter 5
FIVE
‘Sorrel?’ Tam Blackwood walked into the caravan, and Sorrel found that she had temporarily forgotten how to breathe.
Ten years ago, Sorrel had stood with her feet in the ice-cold water of the River Sligachan and looked up at the silvery blanket of stars above, her hands held firmly in Tam’s.
They had repeated their love for each other, giggling and trying not to fall over on the slippery stones that made the uneven bed of the river although in places it seemed more like a stream.
It wasn’t the first time they’d said I love you; they’d been dating for years already.
Grown up going to the same school. At first, Tam was just one of the kids her age on the island: he was shy, quiet, bookish.
He wasn’t one of the kids who’d play down by the broch in the summers, like her and her sisters.
When they were younger teenagers, he didn’t take the bus into town and lark around on the back seats until Mr McKinley, the driver, would threaten to stop the bus and heave them out halfway an’ let the Fair Folk have ye.
She hadn’t ever thought about Tam Blackwood until, aged sixteen, she’d been complaining to her mother that she wanted some more pocket money, and Catriona had drily suggested that she find a way to earn it.
Sorrel had walked down to Mac’s, which was what they called the general store at the end of the lane.
Mac’s had a noticeboard where locals posted items for sale – used prams or vacuum cleaners, or people advertised their services: cleaning, ironing, PC support.
There was a row of HELP WANTED notes, too.
She’d scanned them all under Mac the owner’s watchful eye, but there was only one she was qualified to do. MATHS TUTOR WANTED. GOOD RATES OF PAY. AGGIE BLACKWOOD, then a phone number.
Maths was Sorrel’s best subject; maybe that was something to do with why she’d ended up being so good at managing the accounts for hers and Simon’s business. Numbers just made sense to her.
Of course, as soon as she’d seen the name, she knew who she’d be tutoring.
Aggie Blackwood was a friend of Catriona’s – not a close friend, but good enough to stop and say hello to in the street if they saw each other.
Polite chitchat about the children, the families, while you waited patiently.
Tam had a younger sister, but he was the one who’d be taking his Highers when he was eighteen.
One day, after she’d been tutoring him for two weeks – Aggie said that she’d been the only applicant for the job, and anyway, she knew how good with numbers Sorrel was because Catriona was so proud of her maths whiz, she never stopped talking about her – Tam had asked her, shyly, After this, shall we go for a walk?
I think there’s going to be a meteor shower later.
Okay. As long as you can work out this algebra problem. She’d pointed to the most difficult one in the chapter they were working on.
He’d worked it out.
A deal’s a deal. He’d held out his hand for hers, looking absurdly pleased with himself. She couldn’t help but laugh at the expression.
As they’d walked down the long, empty road from Tam’s house towards the loch in the darkening evening, with Tam pointing out the sudden flashes of the glowing meteors above, she had felt a sense of magic about this tall, slightly diffident boy, with his longish black hair and soft hazel eyes.
They had dated for nine years after that, and he hadn’t once hurt her.
Had never once given her any reason not to adore his kindness, his sweet, generous heart, and the way that he always tried to make her laugh.
She’d been twenty-five when she’d left so suddenly.
That last night, as they’d stood in the stream, laughing, they’d dared each other to lie down and immerse their heads in the icy water of Sligachan.
There was an old fairy story that said the water would give you eternal beauty if you put your whole face or your whole head in it.
Of course, they’d done it as children, like everyone on Skye had.
I’m beautiful enough, Tam had said, shaking his hair like a shampoo advert.
And if you get any more gorgeous, my beloved fairy queen, no one’ll even be able to look at you for fear you’ll scorch their retinas with your luminescence.
The next day, she’d left Skye, and she hadn’t come back.
She’d left Tam, the man she’d loved with her whole heart.
It had torn her soul apart to leave him; for years afterwards, she still felt the pain of separation from him.
But she had to go: she’d had no choice, even though she didn’t know until she got home that night, after the river and the stars, and found her life ripped apart.
Even in her life with Simon, the pain of leaving Tam had always been there. The wound had never really healed.
‘Yes.’ Sorrel watched him in disbelief as he stepped into the caravan.
It was as if there was a strange collapse of time between the last occasion that Sorrel had seen Tam, and now. It had been ten years, but that time seemed to fold itself up and become insignificant.
‘Hello, Sorrel. It’s… wow, it’s good to see you.’
That was it: no preamble, no drama, no mood other than a gleam of pleasure in his eyes on seeing her. Just hello, Sorrel, as if no time had passed.
‘You remember Tam,’ Catriona said, needlessly, but Sorrel knew that she was just saying it to fill in the awkward moment.
‘Of course. Hi.’ Sorrel cleared her throat. She stood up as Tam walked over to the table area. Held out her hand, and felt a sense of disbelief as he shook it.
‘You look well,’ Tam said. Sorrel simply stared at him, not knowing what to say.
The sensation of his skin on hers was electric.
She had always loved his gentle and yet reassuring touch.
She had always loved the smoothness of his skin, the firm muscle of his body.
She had loved how tall he was, how broad in the shoulders, how he was built like an athlete because he’d been on the rowing team all the way through school and then at university, but he never showed it off because he wasn’t that sort of boy.
He had never flirted with other girls. He wasn’t a player.
But with her, he was the most loving and passionate man.
‘Thank you. You too.’ Sorrel cleared her throat again, and wished that she was wearing something other than the ratty old hand-knitted jumper that Aunt Chrissie had made her before she left.
It was loose and had a couple of holes in the sleeve, as well as being bright orange with purple stripes, but the wool was soft, and it was so warm and comforting that Sorrel just couldn’t throw it out.
Tam was clearly being kind by saying she looked great, because she very obviously looked like crap.
‘I didn’t know you were back. It’s been a long time,’ he said, jamming his hands in the pockets of his waterproof mac. He wore jeans and work boots, and was carrying a toolbox.
He looked fantastic, which made Sorrel feel even worse.
He was tall, muscular, dark-haired. His eyes were soft and kind; she’d always teased him about his long eyelashes.
How any girl would envy him. He could have had any girl on the island, because he was kind, and loyal. But he only wanted Sorrel.
‘Just got here,’ she said, hoping he didn’t ask why she was home. Sorrel didn’t think she could cope with explaining her disastrous personal life to Tam. Not right now. Possibly not ever.
‘Oh. Well… um… welcome back,’ he said.
‘Not quite the welcome she might have wished for, dear,’ Catriona interjected, holding up her hands to indicate the shabby interior of the 1980s-era caravan that they were currently inside.
‘I’ll give you the key, and you can get started.
Angus’ll want to have a word with you, I’m sure.
’ She went to a wooden box on the kitchen counter, opened it and took out a key. She handed it to Tam.
‘I thought that you couldn’t afford the repairs,’ Sorrel said, watching Tam. Everything about him – the way he moved, the light in his eyes, even his smell – was so familiar. Seeing him again was disorienting in the extreme.
‘We can’t. But Tam has agreed to come and help out of the kindness of his heart, at first, with the faith that we’ll be able to pay him soon.’ Catriona shot Tam a grateful smile. ‘He really is the kindest young man.’
‘Right. Well, I’ll be getting on with it, then.’ He nodded, and examined the key in his palm for a minute as if it was a rare treasure.
‘Sorrel, I… I, err…’ he trailed off, a frown overcoming his face. ‘I hope we’ll get some time to catch up while you’re back.’
‘Sure.’ Sorrel smiled politely. I don’t think that’s the best idea, she thought, but it would have been rude of her to say it.
‘Why don’t you take Sorrel and show her the damage in the Inn now?’ Catriona asked, as if that was some kind of bizarre treat. ‘You can have a nice catch-up.’ Sorrel glared at her mother, but Tam cleared his throat.
‘Of course. It’s your home, isn’t it? You’re probably worried about it,’ he said, kindly.
‘Um. I mean, I am, but…’
‘Well, it’s settled. Off you go,’ Catriona interrupted, shooing them out of the caravan.
Sorrel suspected that Catriona was also creating a diversion because she wasn’t comfortable talking to her daughter, but Sorrel didn’t want to go.
It felt as awkward as hell: her palms were sweaty and her breath was erratic.
‘Long time,’ Tam said as they walked across the garden towards the Inn.
Sorrel gazed at the old, gnarled apple trees that stood to one side of the garden.
She’d always loved those trees. One of them was leaning at an angle to the right, its roots starting to lift from the earth.
Someone had propped up the trunk with a number of wooden supports.
I could do with some of those, she thought, surreptitiously wiping her palms on her jeans.
‘Um. Yes.’ She looked up shyly at Tam. ‘You look well.’
‘Thank you. You cut your hair a little. It looks nice.’
‘Thank you.’ She put a hand to her hair self-consciously. ‘So… how’s it all been going?’
‘The repairs needed are sizeable. I’m not sure if your mum and dad really understand how much work needs to be done. It’s going to cost a lot.’
They walked into the kitchen of the Inn. It was nothing like she remembered.
All the furniture that could be removed had gone, and the rest – the units, the big fridge, the stove – were covered over.
‘Where’s it all gone?’ She gestured to the room. It was horrible, seeing it so stripped and lifeless.
‘Storage, where it was possible. Your mum put as much food as she could in the deep freeze, plates and cups and what have you are mostly boxed up. Same for the rest of the house. In storage, mostly. They took what they’d need to use in the caravan, but it wasn’t much.’
‘Oh.’ Sorrel felt the awfulness of the day hit her; she was exhausted, she was upset, and now she was standing in the kitchen of her childhood home, which had been stripped bare of every comforting thing she could remember.
The pictures Catriona kept that Bluebell had drawn as a child.
The doilies under Catriona’s porcelain on the dresser.
The kitchen table Sorrel had sat at to do her homework. It was all gone.
‘Oh, no!’ Unable to stop herself, Sorrel started to cry.
She didn’t want to cry in front of Tam Blackwood. They might have been close once, but now they were more or less strangers. But she couldn’t help it. The shock of seeing everything so sad and empty was too much.
She’d thought that she’d escaped the pull of home on her heart, but as she stood in the decimated kitchen at the Balhennie Inn, she knew that she hadn’t.
‘Oh, Sorrel! I’m so sorry. I should have warned you.’ Tam strode over to her and caught her in a firm hug. It was instinctive; as soon as his arms surrounded her, he stood back, awkwardly, letting her go. ‘Oh. I shouldn’t have done that. Old habits, I guess.’
The feel of his body so close to hers, the security and warmth of being in his arms, even momentarily, was destabilising. The smell of him – she’d forgotten all of it, or, at least, had made herself forget. But as soon as he was within such close proximity, it all came flooding back.
‘No… it’s okay…’ Sorrel didn’t quite know what to say. ‘I… Never mind.’
‘What?’
‘No, it’s just… it’s weird, seeing you again,’ she confessed. ‘I didn’t expect to.’
‘It’s weird for me too, Sorrel.’ He looked down at his feet, and then his hazel eyes flickered to hers.
‘Not weird. Like a dream.’ His look was so charged with emotion that it startled her.
She glanced away, not knowing how to hold his gaze.
Not knowing what to do with the emotion that she found there.
Tam stepped backwards, clearing his throat.
‘Well, we should…’ He gestured towards a door to one side of the kitchen that led down to the basement.
‘Yes. Absolutely.’
We are pretending that everything is normal, she thought. We are pretending that this isn’t weird, unsettling, and that there aren’t feelings all over the place.
She followed him as he opened the door and led her down the steps.