Page 10 of The Castle in the Bay

Monty

Monty pedalled down the rugged path from the farm, strong gusts threatening to push him off balance. He tightened his grip on the handlebars and squeezed the brakes. The restless energy jumping around inside him matched the wildness of the day. He wanted to scatter his dad’s ashes and get that job done. Then perhaps the pressure in his mind would ease a little.

He sought closure, but equally every sight here opened a new thought or idea. One day he and his dad had planned to come here together. It wasn’t meant to be like this, with Monty roaming free and his dad’s remains in an urn. Poor Dad. Taken too soon and so suddenly. It almost didn’t seem real. Nothing did. Daily life went on, but Dad didn’t, and somehow that was a hard thought to process.

One thing Dad had always enjoyed though was spirit. He admired people who were strong and had a spark about them. This island was like that – and some of its inhabitants. The landscape spread before Monty. Rocky hills and sprawling beaches were a world away from the city confines he was used to. Part of him was already enjoying the wild freedom more than he’d ever imagined possible.

What would Sophie make of it?

‘Is this adventurous enough for you?’ he called. No one would hear him out here, so what did it matter if he’d taken the first step to madness and started talking to himself? It was easier than the first step to adventure anyway. The bike wavered precariously.Jesus. He should slow down. Maybe make a stop and get some pictures.

A rocky outcrop ahead looked like a good place. He laid down the bike, pulled out his phone, and snapped a few shots and short films of the crashing waves. The sea was a churning mass of frothy white caps. Such untamed beauty. His heart raced to see nature like this, so rugged, free, and dangerous. He didn’t want to get close to that raging water. He stood for a moment, just looking as the breakers rolled in, listening to their crashing melody and smelling the salt on the air.

As he continued along the main road around the western coastline, the wind picked up even more, rumbling through the dunes and sending sprays of seawater into the air. Monty paused again to photograph a cluster of seabirds taking flight. Theircalls mingled with the roar of the ocean. Even in dull weather, this place was impressive. No wonder Dad had raved about it. If only Monty had made this journey while Dad was still alive, and they had seen this together.

But he hadn’t. That was why if he wanted to do something about getting Sophie back, he had to do it now. Waiting for nameless dates and times caused regrets and he didn’t want any more of them.

He hopped back on the bike and rode further around the island. The road wound through hillsides of grass dotted with stones and sheep – one almost indistinguishable from the other. The wind had got so strong he was finding it hard to stay upright. Maybe he should turn back and not stray too far from An Grianan. He’d seen a smaller road close to the house; he could go down that and see if it led to a beach. Battling against gusts, he made his way back and turned into the track that led to the farmhouse. Instead of going up to it, he carried on straight ahead, along the winding route. Some distance along, he saw dunes rising ahead. To the right-hand side of the track was an area heavily covered with bracken and deeper into that was what looked like a house hidden beneath bushes and tangled plants. His dad had told him stories about the abandoned villages in the Hebrides, where people had been forced off the land to make way for sheep. But that house didn’t look old enough for that. Just a sad, forgotten little place. He pedalled on by, pushing forward and up to the top of the dunes. He went along the crest, doubling back a little. From up here, he could see the abandoned house a little better. Although it was almost completely covered by bracken, a garden area was just discernible. It seemed to go from the house, skirting the edge of the dune, until it opened onto a beautiful sandy beach.

Monty braked and dismounted, walking the bike to the edge of the dune to take a better look. He inhaled deeply. Waves crashedagainst the shore below, relentless and powerful. The tide looked to be coming in and he guessed when it was out, there was a larger expanse of sand. He took more photos, holding tight to his phone. Even up here, the spray reached him, cool droplets against his skin.

He sat on the tufty grass, letting the wind tousle his hair, and closed his eyes. Dewy rain started to fall, the kind that was like fine mist and soaked you without even trying. He dug in his backpack and pulled out a roll-up waterproof, hastily putting it on and tugging up the hood.

The waves broke and fizzed beneath him. He pulled his waterproof jacket tighter as the misty rain continued to fall. Scanning the horizon, he took in the endless expanse of grey water. Such an utterly terrifying force of nature. He didn’t want to get any closer; this was enough.

His gaze locked onto something in the near distance. On the water, a lone surfer cut through the waves, gliding over the churning sea. Bloody hell. Who would have the nerve? Wasn’t it freezing? He took off his glasses and tried to clear off the water drops on a dry part of his top by lifting the waterproof. When he put them back on, he watched as the surfer rode the waves with a confidence that bordered on recklessness. He gasped as the figure dropped into a swell, then carved back up again.Please don’t let them get into trouble.No way could he rescue them.

Maybe it was time to move on. He didn’t need to see any more. His cycling ‘adventure’ was so lame compared to this.

Oh Christ!The surfer caught a particularly large wave. They rode it all the way in, weaving back and forth, until they finally jumped off the board and into the shallow water. As they stood and shook out a long, soaked ponytail, Monty realised it was Iona.

His mouth fell open slightly.Wow!The sea wasn’t the only untamed beauty out here today. What a display.

He watched as she dragged her board up onto the beach, the wind whipping her ponytail around her face. She didn’t seem to mind the rain or the cold.

He tried to imagine himself out there, but the thought made his stomach twist. Bikes were one thing, but the sea? No chance.

As she reached the edge of the beach, she glanced up, but he stepped back, hopefully far enough to be out of sight. A jolt of something he couldn’t quite place barrelled into him. He edged forward until he could see her again. Even if she saw him, she wouldn’t recognise him, surely. Not in this outfit? From this distance? Buthe’drecognisedher, so it stood to reason she could do the same. He wasn’t a striking young woman however, just an average thirty-something man. Or if you listened to Sophie, a very boring thirty-something man.

He took a few steps back. He needed to get moving, keep cycling, and not linger here. Maybe he should get back in case the weather turned worse.

As he picked up his bike, he felt a slight resistance. Glancing down, he realised the front tire was flat. Seriously? This was what adventure did. It caused problems. Now what? He pulled a face and adjusted his glasses that were misty with rain. A small, sharp rock was lodged in the tyre. Great. He sighed, fumbling with the straps of a little bag attached to the frame. Presumably this would have something he could fix it with, though he wasn’t sure what.

While he searched for the tools, the wind picked up, snatching his hood back and sending a chill down his spine. The drizzle had turned to steady rain, making his hands cold and slippery. How the hell did you patch a puncture? He should look it up before attempting it. His fingers were numb as he pulled out his phone. Would anything stick properly in the damp conditions? Rain dripped from his hair and into his eyes. He took off hisglasses and wiped them again. When he returned them to his face, he caught movement down below.

He blinked away the raindrops clinging to his lashes and adjusted his glasses. Iona was peeling off her wetsuit. He looked away, feeling awkward, but something about her drew his eyes. The rain and wind seemed not to bother her at all.

Focus on fixing the puncture. Yes, that was what he had to do, but his eyes kept drifting back to Iona. She stood with her back to him and dragged a Dryrobe around herself, before kicking off her costume from under it.

Monty held the puncture repair kit suspended in midair as he watched her run a hand through her wet hair, squeezing out the excess water. As if sensing him, she turned around and he almost dropped the kit. Swallowing, he took a step back, but too late. She’d seen him.

Their eyes met. Monty’s heart skipped a beat. So much for him thinking she might not recognise him. She most definitely had. He swallowed, hoping the rain would cool the heat rising in his cheeks. If he could sort this bloody puncture, he could hit the road and get away from her. He pulled open the bag, determined to do it. Hopefully she’d leave the beach by another route. It wasn’t like this was a main path. The beach was vast and could be accessed in all number of places. If he could just work out how to get this bike going again. Maybe he should just push it. It wasn’t that far.

‘Enjoying the view?’ a voice cut through the rain.

Monty spun around. Ok, so Iona had decided to come this way. She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh, um, no – I mean, yes, but – I was just fixing the bike.’ He held up the repair kit like a shield, though it wouldn’t do anything if she got mad. She was wildly beautiful but looked powerful too, and scary, like an ocean warrior princess.

---