Chapter 39
Saturday night came, and the weather turned.
Gabe was standing on the step of the cottage, his broad frame filling the doorway. It was raining, with the wind blowing off the sea in splattering flurries. He was dressed for winter in a thick blue sweater which matched his eyes, his long legs clad in jeans and sturdy dark brown leather boots.
Meg found herself laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.
‘Only in Applemore,’ she said, after a moment, reaching for an umbrella.
‘I don’t think that’ll last long in this wind.’ Gabe stepped out of the doorway in a gentlemanly manner, allowing her to pass through.
No sooner had she opened it than it had blown inside out. A ragged gust of wind almost tugged out of her hands, and she stepped sideways, bashing her arm against the wall with a gasp of surprise.
‘Steady,’ said Gabe, catching her elbow for a moment. She looked up, taking in the strong jaw and the rain-darkened hair falling over his forehead. He pushed a hand through it, sweeping it back as he raised his brows slightly.
‘Is it bad luck if your umbrella turns inside out?’ Meg battled it for a moment longer, then gave up, tossing it back into the hall with a shake of her head. She stood in the doorway, looking out at the rain.
‘Fortunately I don’t believe in bad omens.’ His eyes twinkled as he gave his slow, lopsided smile. ‘But I do think that those nice boots might get wrecked in this weather.’
He tipped a head toward her feet, which were clad in her favourite black suede heels. The path was already shining with puddles of water. By the time she got to his truck they’d be completely soaked.
‘I think you might be right.’ That was annoying. She headed back into the hall, slipping her feet into wellingtons instead. She’d thought her favourite boots would be a nod towards some sort of glamour, paired with a soft black v-neck sweater and a pair of black jeans. Trying to find something that was dressy enough for a meal out but didn’t scream Townie in a seaside village where nobody ever seemed to get dressed up was a bit of a challenge.
They ran to Gabe’s truck, where the engine was still running. He held the door open for her and she climbed inside. It smelled faintly of his aftershave, mixed with an outdoorsy, pine tree scent which must just be an occupational hazard of working in forestry.
‘This is definitely one of the downsides of Highland life,’ he said as they headed into the village. ‘It’s all very well making plans for a stroll to the village along the beach path, but the Scottish summer doesn’t always co-operate.’
Meg brushed some raindrops off the front of her sweater. She looked down, realising that she was still in her wellingtons, which made her smile. All that time agonising over what to wear for a lovely early summer meal sitting outside at the Applemore Hotel watching the fishing boats heading out from the harbour, and now she looked like she was all set for a wander around the vegetable garden.
The tables outside – normally packed in the evenings – were sodden and deserted, with water splashing down on them from a leaky gutter above. Gabe’s phone buzzed as he pulled up on the side of the road nearby.
He picked it up and looked at it, frowning.
‘What was that I said about omens?’ He shook his head with a smile. ‘Give me two moments while I check something.’
He climbed out of the driver’s seat and headed into the hotel. Meg flipped down the visor and checked her make-up quickly. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara – at least she didn’t have any smudges under her lashes. Her hair had turned fuzzy, as it always did in the rain, but there wasn’t much – apart from a vague smoothing with both hands – she could do about that. Thank goodness she hadn’t gone overboard on the blusher, because she somehow looked quite pink-faced. Probably the result of all the blood that was swooshing around her body thanks to her heart, which was thumping as if she was a sixteen-year-old on a first date. She caught a glimpse of movement in the side mirror and closed the visor.
Gabe surprised her by getting back into the car, turning to look at her with a mildly amused expression.
‘The text I had was the restaurant cancelling our booking for a table.’
‘Oh.’ Meg felt her stomach sink.
‘Something to do with a leak in the kitchen, so they’ve had to shut everything down.’
‘Oh well,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘Never mind –’
‘I do mind,’ Gabe said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all week.’
Meg bit her lower lip.
‘I’ve had an idea.’ He fastened his seatbelt. ‘It’s not award-winning cuisine at the Applemore, but it’ll do in the interim.’
He pulled the truck forward and started driving down the deserted street; the wipers working in double time against the downpour.
He pulled into the car park at the far end of the street that overlooked the sea, and looked at her questioningly.
‘Not allergic to anything, are you? Specifically seafood?’
Meg shook her head, looking out at the Airstream caravan where two young girls stood in blue and white striped aprons, looking out at the rain from under their canopy.
‘Quite the opposite,’ she said, realising his plan. ‘I love it.’
‘Excellent.’
Five minutes later he returned with two parcels wrapped in paper, the familiar scent of vinegary chips filling the air.
‘It’s not the most exotic dinner you’ve ever had, I suspect, but hopefully we can get to that another time.’
Meg smiled to herself as she held the warm parcel on her knees. Dinner out at the hotel was all very well, but there was something curiously intimate about sharing fish and chips on a rainy summer evening.
Gabe drove the truck up out of the village, through the dark shade of the tall pine woods and past rocky moorland studded with gorse bushes. They reached the top of the moor, parking at the start of a forestry track which looked down over the harbour. In the distance, the lighthouse and the buildings looked like a toy village.
Gabe turned to look at her, unfastening his seatbelt. He looked down at her feet. ‘Still in wellies, I see.’
‘Oh,’ she laughed. ‘I was going to change when you went into the hotel, but I forgot.’
He looked out through the rain. ‘If that weather does what I think it will, you might need them – if you’re up for a walk, that is?’
Meg nodded, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. ‘I think you might have more faith in the weather than I do. It’s still pouring.’
As if to order, the rain crashed down against the windscreen, and Gabe laughed.
‘I’ve got a bit of a handle on it after working outside. You learn to gauge when a scrap of blue –’ he leaned over towards her side of the window, his shoulder brushing hers as he pointed, ‘– like that one, might just be the herald of some sunshine.’
‘I like your optimism.’ Meg lifted the parcel from her knees. ‘Shall we…’
Gabe took it from her and unwrapped it, tossing the bag and the paper onto the back seat. ‘I must remember to move that before tomorrow morning,’ he said, laughing. ‘Stan would eat the lot. He’s like a dustbin in canine form.’
‘Eliza isn’t much better.’
‘Fish and chips,’ he said, handing her a box, ‘are not the most romantic thing on the planet.’
Meg popped open the lid. Inside was a beautifully presented piece of fish, which had miraculously survived the journey and was still crisp in its batter, and golden chips which smelled absolutely delicious.
‘It’s not quite asparagus and smoked salmon,’ she said, teasing him.
‘Oh hang on, I’ve got some in the back.’ He made to get out of the car, making her laugh.
‘It’s like Valentine’s Day meals, though,’ said Meg, biting into a chip. ‘I always think they look like the most awkwardly uncomfortable thing. Performative romance on the one specific day of the year, versus being nice to each other the rest of the time.’
‘You say that like you’ve got an axe to grind.’ Gabe grinned. ‘Although we’ve both established that we’ve got a past.’
‘It would be a bit weird if we were our age and we didn’t.’
‘Yeah.’ Gabe broke off a piece of the golden batter. ‘All that time spent planting trees gave me a lot of time to process stuff.’
‘I was thinking the same about driving.’
Gabe looked at her, his eyes narrowing in thought, but a smile playing at his lips. ‘And did you come to any profound conclusions?’
‘Funnily enough, I did.’
He raised a brow.
‘It’s not exactly profound.’ Her chest rose and fell as she tried to find the words. ‘It’s more a feeling. I think it’s probably got something to do with turning fifty, and a realisation that we only get once chance at this life.’
‘Ah, yeah.’ Gabe grinned. ‘It’s a bit of an eye opener, that birthday.’
‘It really is.’ Meg looked out of the window, realising that the rain had eased off and over in the distance the purple clouds seemed to be clearing. ‘I guess what I worked out was that if you find out what makes you happy, you should probably do more of it.’
Gabe held her gaze for the briefest moment, his blue eyes looking directly into hers. Then he looked away, cleared his throat and picked up a chip, examining it on all sides with a smile.
‘These are pretty good,’ he said, taking a bite. ‘But I promise you I will take you somewhere much nicer next time.’
She looked at him sideways.
‘That’s assuming there is a next time,’ he added, his mouth tipping up into a half-smile that she felt in her knees.
‘I think there might be.’ Meg popped a chip into her mouth.
‘I don’t like to chance my luck.’ Gabe switched the wipers down to the lowest setting. ‘However, if I did believe in omens, I’d say that the weather improving was a good sign.’
They ate in silence for a few moments, watching the distant sea through the rhythmic swishing of the wipers.
‘So did you get whatever it was sorted down south?’ Meg looked at Gabe.
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry I had to drop you in it. It’s a long story…’ He thought for a moment. ‘Long and short, I guess. I told you about my ex. We had a house together, which was hanging around my neck like an unfortunate reminder of the past I didn’t quite know how to deal with.’
He told her the saga as they finished eating, and then Meg placed the cardboard box on the dashboard in front of her.
‘I think in a funny way we’ve both come to the same point.’
Gabe cocked his head and looked at her. ‘Is this the moment when you suggest I take all my money and buy a campervan?’
She made a face. ‘Quite the opposite.’
‘I get the feeling you haven’t been bitten by the vanlife bug.’
Meg shook her head. ‘Definitely not. But sometimes you have to try something to realise it’s not for you.’
‘That’s a good way of looking at it.’ His voice was thoughtful.
‘Oh look at that!’ Meg turned, catching sight of a rainbow which had appeared in the first rays of sunlight, rising from the rocks and the heather, and reaching across the sky. She leaned forward, gazing out of the windscreen to follow its path.
‘I was going to suggest we went for a drive,’ Gabe said, laughing. ‘But now I’m wondering if we should search for the pot of gold over there beyond your lighthouse.’
‘I don’t need any gold,’ said Meg, without thinking. She felt Gabe’s eyes on her and turned for a moment to see him looking at her with an unreadable expression.
He rubbed the already dark stubble of his jaw.
‘In which case,’ he said, his voice gruff, ‘it’s lucky you wore those waterproof boots after all.’