Chapter 12 #2
‘Not exactly. And I’m not promising anything on her behalf, obviously. But she seemed particularly chuffed that you came and sat with her and Malcolm at breakfast this morning.’
There. She’d said it. She wanted to add how spiky she felt that he’d chosen to do so this morning, when she wasn’t at breakfast. Wanted to tell him how irrationally hurt she’d felt about it – but what would that achieve?
It would make her sound pathetic and childish, when what she actually felt was a deep sense of disappointment, exacerbated by finding out he’d gone up the mountain with Billie, when the previous evening they’d been talking about hiking up here together.
Tad frowned, then shook his head. ‘You make it sound like it was a special thing. But I spent time at everyone’s tables.
Always do on the mornings when there aren’t any lessons.
And today I had some information to pass on to Kathleen about a couple of touristy things I thought she’d enjoy, and Ron and Laura wanted to know which pizzeria I would recommend in Riva.
I showed them on a town map. Oh, and I finally remembered to bring out some sugar crystals to put on Hugh’s table.
I don’t have to do the “tour of the tables” as I call it, but I enjoy it.
Once the food was out, I took an espresso and had a chat with everyone.
That’s when Billie asked if I wanted to accompany them up here.
It didn’t occur to me that you weren’t coming too.
Just thought you wanted a bit of a lie-in first.’
‘Oh. I thought… Billie made it sound as though…’ Amy turned away, staring at the view again. Why had Billie made it sound as though Tad had made a special point of sitting at her table? Or had Amy simply interpreted it in that way?
‘If I’d known you weren’t going to be in the taxi with Billie and Malcolm, I wouldn’t have agreed. I’d have waited. We said we were going to do this together, but once I got to the taxi, I could hardly turn tail then, could I?’
‘I suppose not,’ Amy said, glancing at him. She pulled in a deep breath, suddenly wanting to know more about him. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Aye, of course you can.’
‘What happened to make you feel negative when you’re looking at a view like this?
’ It may have seemed as though her question came out of the blue, but she wanted him to know she’d clocked his comment and, although she hadn’t asked in the moment, that she was interested in the why.
She was interested in him, and what had come before, to make him the person he now was.
‘You don’t have to tell me, it’s just you seem to be so sorted, you know? Balanced and happy.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, that’s good to know.’ He sucked in a deep breath, his gaze scanning the mountaintops on the opposite side of the lake. ‘I lost someone very special, a few years ago now. She was…’ He shook his head. ‘Her name was Honor; I thought we were going to be together forever. And then she died.’
Amy stilled; she hadn’t known what she was expecting him to tell her, but it hadn’t been something as personal that. She waited to see if he wanted to say more.
‘It was a medical oversight, an anomaly.’ He took another prolonged breath. ‘They weren’t expecting someone so young to have the kind of illness Honor had, so they didn’t check for it. Until it was too late.’
‘Oh God. I’m so sorry,’ she said.
Tad’s smile was gentle, but it was there. ‘Thank you. She couldn’t possibly have known how enormous the hole would be that she’d leave behind; she was such a wee lass. I used to tell her she’d get blown away in a strong wind.’
The undercurrent of humour was unexpected, but unmistakable, and Amy allowed herself to smile too. Tad glanced across, his smile broadening. ‘It’s taken a long time to be able to talk about her and smile at the same time.’
‘I can only imagine,’ Amy said. She almost told him how the loss of her nanna – even at the age of seventy-three – had ripped a hole in Amy’s world, but this was Tad’s moment.
‘I used to call her small but mighty, because she was incredibly tough – until she wasn’t.
’ The smile faltered, then he shook off the momentary flicker of sadness.
‘I did my best to be tough myself, afterwards. It didn’t work so well, and I visited some dark places.
But with help I got through the worst of it, and now I can look at views like this and smile again. ’
‘She sounds very special.’
‘She was.’ Tad tapped the side of his head. ‘And although she’ll always be up here, and in here—’ he patted his chest, roughly where his heart lay behind his ribs ‘—it’s also time to move forwards. I realise I am moving forwards, at last.’
Amy swallowed a sudden ball of emotion that had lodged in her throat, doing her best to squash the desire to take his hand. Maybe the way he’d opened up about how much he had valued a past relationship should have Amy backing off, but it was having the opposite effect.
She wanted someone to feel the strength of emotion for her that Tad had felt for Honor. Either Honor had been an exceptional woman, or Tad was willing to offer the right person the kind of love and loyalty Amy hadn’t yet experienced.
‘Shall we go a bit further along this trail?’ Tad asked.
‘That sounds like a plan. Although I suppose we probably shouldn’t leave Hugh for too long.
’ Amy took a breath. ‘Actually, that reminds me – he mentioned something weird when we initially saw you up here. He said it was difficult to spot you amongst all the other Italians. But he’s got that wrong, hasn’t he?
You’re Scottish. You said so. Didn’t you? ’
Tad shrugged. ‘Does it matter where I’m from?’
Amy frowned. Of course it didn’t, but it had seemed as though Hugh had mentioned it on purpose. ‘No. I just wondered.’
‘I consider myself Scottish – that’s where I grew up. But he’s right in a way. My Mum’s Italian. Mie scuse, signora. Io sono Taddeo.’
‘Taddeo?’ Amy repeated the name, without any of the flair Tad had used – his switch from a broad Scottish accent into a full-blown Italian one was scrambling Amy’s head.
‘Mamma named me Taddeo – it got shortened to Tad as soon as I started school – all the other kids took the micky out of my weird name – and then Tad stuck.’
‘I like Taddeo.’
‘Dad wanted to name me Hamish, but he left when I was five, so I guess I’m glad Mamma got her way with my name, at least.’
Amy nodded. ‘My dad left, too.’
‘It leaves the kind of hole you can’t make sense of until you’re older, I think,’ he said.
‘If then.’ Amy frowned, then changed it up before the conversation became any more maudlin. ‘What does Taddeo mean?’
Tad rolled his eyes. ‘Gift from God. It doesn’t get much cornier than that, does it?’
Amy laughed, but it was mostly in order to stop herself from telling him she thought it sounded perfect, that she liked it very much.
Then she scrunched her brows together as she tried to work out which bit of her was misbehaving the most, her wayward thoughts about him or the complicated acrobatics currently taking place in her belly.
Perhaps if they got moving again, she could walk off the fizzing feeling that threatened to envelop her.
‘Shall we walk on until we get to the next ridge, then go back?’
She turned to strike out along the track, only to find herself directly in the flight path of a group of fast-moving mountain bikers.
All she saw was a blur of movement as she felt the shove from the impact – someone’s lowered shoulder, or protruding elbow.
It could have been the edge of a handlebar, she supposed, and it wasn’t hard enough to knock her over, but it was still a shock.
A hand grabbed at her wrist as she spun around, another steadying her shoulder as she stumbled away from the path, a series of loud Scottish sounding swear words ricocheting their way over her head as Tad pulled her close.
She overbalanced again, this time towards him, ending up crushed against his chest.
‘Are you OK?’ His words reverberated through his body to reach her ear, and a reflexive inward breath had her breathing in the mix of washing powder and body spray lingering on his thin fleece top.
The cyclist had caught her on the ribs, low down and behind her elbow; it was already beginning to throb. But there was no pain, not yet anyway.
‘I think so,’ she said, regaining her balance and ready to step back, away from him.
Rather than relinquishing his hold on her, Tad took both her hands in his and even though he took a step away, his focus on her remained total as he looked her up and down.
‘Are you sure you aren’t hurt? Fucking idiots – they came out of nowhere.’
Amy would be lying if she pretended she wasn’t enjoying his outrage on her behalf. It had been a long time since anyone had leapt so swiftly to her defence. It felt good.
‘I suppose I didn’t look, so it was partly my fault.’
Tad shook his head as he gazed at her. ‘No. I stick by my descriptor. Those idiots should never have been travelling so fast, especially with all these people around. They didn’t even stop to check you’re OK.’
Amy glanced about, becoming aware of the tight groups of people chatting as they criss-crossed along the walkways, the single hikers, more determined in their gait, the couples with hands linked, wandering as though they had all the time in the world for one another.
Never mind the cyclists, she hadn’t been aware of any of the other people, she realised, not since she’d stood beside Tad to stare out at the view.
It had been as though they were the only two people standing on the mountain.
Except that was all in her mind, a nonsense her subconscious had dreamt up and, bottom line was, she should have been more aware of her surroundings.
As the adrenalin spike began to dissipate, the dull throb in her ribs began to give way to something more demanding. A pain zeroing in with the ferocity of an arrow at the base of her ribs, where they curved around in protection of her lungs and started the ascent towards her breastbone.
‘Ouch.’ With her left hand still in Tad’s grasp, she leant on him and pulled her right hand free to feel for the source of the pain.
Fingers gingerly edged their way across the thin material of her T-shirt as she searched for what had been the point of impact.
Turning to look, she hooked up the edge of the material, trying to see if the skin was broken, or simply bruised.
An angry red mark was beginning to indicate the point of impact, but as far as Amy could tell, her skin wasn’t broken, or bleeding.
She was going to have a heck of a bruise, though, and as she turned to Tad to tell him as much, the grin spreading across her lips halted its progress as she took in his expression.
He was staring at her ribs, where the fabric was still rucked up under her fingers.
He looked confused, or perplexed, or perhaps it was another emotion she couldn’t identify.
Either way, Amy pulled at the T-shirt, covering up her skin and dampening her smile.
Tad still had hold of her hand, and as he dragged his gaze back to hers it felt like he was going to say something. It felt to Amy as though his gaze had deepened, become more demanding. It felt as though, if she edged forward, he might lean in and kiss her.
Amy remained frozen in place for what felt like an aeon, as she danced with the idea of stepping forward and tipping her face towards his. Taking the initiative and throwing caution to the wind. Seeing where impulse might take her. Not overthinking.
She inched towards him, spurred on when his gaze stayed focused on hers, and their fingers remained enmeshed.
‘Tad, I—’
‘I think you’re going to have a bit of a bruise there…’ he said, talking over the top of her. The over-loudness of his words broke the moment, and when he squeezed her fingers more firmly before he disentangled his hand from hers, Amy took the hint.
‘Perhaps we should head back,’ she said.