Page 60 of Under A Sicilian Sky
Ruby glanced at Mitch for some kind of direction, but he was too busy raiding a tin of home-made cakes, so she chose honesty. ‘I work in the movie business.’ She glanced over to Mitch, but he was busy munching on something that looked like a roll of dough with cream inside. Whatever it was, it looked delicious.
‘Movies? That must be stressful.’ Mrs Adair frowned. ‘Do you see your mamma? Papà?’
Ruby shook her head. ‘Not as much as I would like. They still live in England.’
‘This is so sad. But you speak on the phone, sì?’
Ruby nodded. ‘As often as I can.’
Mrs Adair whacked her son’s arm. ‘See! Ruby, she calls her mamma.’ She turned to look at Ruby and gave a small wink that made her giggle.
Mitch rubbed his arm. ‘Mamma! Non è giusto!’ For a moment, he looked like a sulking teenager.
A man walked into the room; a white-haired, older version of Mitch. ‘Hi there, son! I thought I could hear your dulcet tones. How long are you home for?’ he asked as he pulled Mitch into a bear hug.
‘A few weeks maybe,’ Mitch replied with a slap to his father’s back. ‘Dad, this is my friend, Ruby. Ruby, this is Cullen Adair.’
Ruby held out her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Adair.’
‘Och, come ’ere,’ Mr Adair said as he grappled her into a hug. ‘And it’s Cullen. Mr Adair makes me sound old. So, how do you two know each other?’
Mrs Adair interjected, hands out in front of her to emphasise her words. ‘Ruby works in the movie business in New York.’
‘Fancy that,’ Mr Adair said with raised eyebrows. ‘But that can’t be how you met. Mitch can’t act his way out of a paper bag. I’ve seen his school plays.’ He nudged his son playfully.
‘Cheers, Papa,’ Mitch said with an eye roll and a smirk. ‘We met when she needed a holiday. A mutual friend put us in contact, and she stayed at the house in Palermo for a wee while.’
Mrs Adair smiled widely and raised her hands. ‘But now she is here. What can I make you to drink? Tea? Coffee?’
‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’
‘Have some cake. If my son hasn’t eaten it already.’
Once the tea was made, they were invited through to the living room to sit. The large picture window looked out over the front elevation and to the water in the distance.
‘Wow, what a view,’ Ruby said, gazing out.
Cullen joined her by the window. ‘Aye, it’s not bad, is it? It’s like a living painting that changes every day. Mitch found us the place. He had the changes made too, to make the house suit us oldies.’ The pride for his son shone through in his words and the look in his eyes as he spoke.
‘You have a beautiful home.’ Ruby glanced around at the myriad framed photos adorning the walls. It was like a timeline of Mitch’s life. His sister was there too; bright eyed and smiling. She felt a pang of sadness that Alessia’s life had been snuffed out so young. There were photos of a young Mitch in swimming trunks, a towel flung over his shoulder, proudly holding up medals and trophies. There was a shot of Mitch and his sister with a black Labrador, photos of them in a garden on a swing set in a place that looked distinctly like Glentorrin House, and photos of them in the garden she recognised as the one in Palermo. They were clearly a very close family and seeing the photos made her miss her parents even more. It also gave her more insight into the protective nature of the man who was hosting her.
24
When they were ready to leave the Adairs’ home, Rosa and Cullen were generous with hugs and repeats of, ‘Please come back soon,’ and, ‘Visit us any time!’ Ruby sincerely believed they meant it too.
All too soon they were ready to return to Glentorrin via the scenic route Mitch had promised. Mitch took a small detour to the centre of Portree where there was an array of shops and cafés and Ruby felt sad that she hadn’t had a chance to wander around at her leisure. Although she made sure she didn’t show it. There was nothing worse than a privileged person filled with envy for something simple.
At the centre of the town was a war memorial in a kind of town square, remnants of poppy wreaths still lay on the steps, defying the winter weather just passed. A stone-built hotel sat on the corner of the street opposite and several grand-looking houses surrounded the rest of the precinct. People wandered around with bags of shopping, stopping to chat with friends. Smiles lit up the faces of everyone she saw and in turn it made Ruby smile.
‘I’ll just take you down Quay Street,’ Mitch announced as he indicated to take a left-hand turn. ‘I think you’ll like it.’
He was right. The houses, each painted a different, sunny pastel colour, looked out over the water. The sky overhead was heavy with rain clouds and the breeze had picked up, causing the small, moored boats to bob around on the swell, clanking and clinking as they did. In the distance, two hills bowed down towards the sea and beyond that another island was just visible.
‘You’re looking towards Raasay over Loch Portree. It’s prettier on a sunny day but worth a look anyway.’
‘Definitely. Thank you, Mitch,’ Ruby replied as she gazed out at the view.
The journey home took them a different route that cut across the island, through dramatic mountains and patches of snow, proof that winter wasn’t yet ready to leave the place completely either. Eventually the road opened up onto what Mitch told them was Loch Harport. Further along the road, they got a clearer view of the Black Cuillin. From this angle, Ruby thought the mountains appeared almost otherworldly. Perhaps like the surface of some uninhabited planet, or a filmset from an outer-space movie. She was mesmerised. Even when it started to rain heavily, it looked beautiful. The sky darkened to the grey of freshly poured concrete and the tops of the Cuillin became shrouded in an eerie hanging mist. She pitied anyone who may have been caught out up there.
