Page 32 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘I, er, yes...’ I say.
‘See you’re getting acquainted with the gin!’ He picks up the bottle off the table in front of me and studies it. I watch him with interest. Then he looks down at himself – ‘Will you excuse me a moment?’ – and leaves the room again before I’ve had a chance to ask him what I wanted to.
I sigh, and turn up the volume on the beautifully crackly record player, drinking in Ella’s voice and the peace it brings me, letting it wash over me. I have always loved her singing and I think she definitely influenced my jazzy, bluesy-with-a-hint-of-country style. The track comes to an end and Hector suddenly comes back in...dressed! For the first time since I’ve been here! With a stick instead of his crutch. His buttons are all done up wrong on his cardigan and there’s an egg stain down his front, but he’s dressed. A tie hangs loosely around his neck.
‘There!’ he announces. Ella launches into another song, and he doesn’t seem to mind, so I leave her playing but turn the volume down a little.
‘Um...can I help you with that?’ I point to the tie.
He looks down and I wonder if he’s about to lose it again. But instead he looks at me and smiles.
‘That would be very kind. Can never remember how to tie the damn things! I can see you’re going to be a great asset. Sorry, what did you say your name was?’
‘R...Rubes, everyone calls me Rubes.’
‘Right, Miss Rubes.’ He smiles and lifts his chin for me to tie his tie, just like my dad used to do, and I find myself transported right back there. Dad could never tie a tie properly either, despite insisting on wearing one nearly every day. ‘What would I do without you?’ he used to say. But it was what I was going to do without him that was the real question. I was lost without him, singing and music the only constant in my life once he’d gone. And if I don’t get my voice back, I’ll be lost all over again. I’ll only have Joe left. I’ll message him in a bit. Maybe we shouldn’t wait for me to get my recording contract...maybe, I think, we should get engaged now. Have the party, celebrate being together. That’s what we should do! I think, my spirits lifting as the music fills the room.
‘Thank you,’ Hector says when I’m finished, stepping back and standing in front of the mottled mirror above the fire. He nods approvingly, then turns to the bottle of gin. ‘Ah, I see you’ve been getting acquainted with the product,’ he says.
The track comes to an end, there’s a crackle and then the next one begins.
‘I was just wondering what’s in it,’ I say tentatively, desperate not to let this new, lucid Hector slip away from me. This Hector who could actually sort everything out for us right now! I’m on tenterhooks.
‘Ah, as do my rivals, dear girl, as do they!’ He lets out a deep, hearty laugh. ‘It’s the recipe that makes it so successful. I only hope my son will realise it and stop this foolish talk of leaving the company and the island.’ He frowns and starts to looks stressed. ‘He has all the skills to take over from me one day. He has talent. I hope he comes to appreciate what he has here.’ He taps the bottle.
‘I’m sure he will,’ I say quickly, having no idea what I’m talking about, but wanting to keep him in good spirits. I wonder if Dad knew that his father thought he had talent, and how he felt working as a security guard on the front desk of a big office block all those years. Never took a day off sick. Always smartly turned out and polite. He was known by all the employees and he knew each of them by name. It was a secure and steady job and allowed him to be home in time to meet me from school every day. He was always there. But would he rather have been here?
‘Well, maybe we should toast your first day with a tot,’ Hector says. Leaning on his stick, he makes his way to the kitchen, arriving back with two glasses; clearly he knew exactly where to find them.
‘Um, well, yes...like I say, if I’m to work for you, it would be good to know the recipe,’ I say, growing in confidence. This is it! He can remember! He’s going to tell me! Seeing the gin bottle has brought it all back. It looks like we’re nearly done here after all, and I’ll be in Tenerife way before New Year, back on schedule. And then I intend to tell Joe my new plan...for us not to wait, but to seize the day! Enjoy what we have, not what’s round the corner. I feel elated that coming here has made me realise that that’s the right thing to do, and smile to myself as Hector pours two glasses.
‘Have a seat.’ He points to the chair next to the fire and I sit in it. It’s a lot lower than I was expecting, but once there, it’s like sinking into a marshmallow, and I feel like I could stay there all day. But I mustn’t let myself get too comfortable. I have work to do. I try to shuffle myself to the edge of the seat as I take the glass of gin that Hector hands me.
‘Well, you have all your basic ingredients, which you know,’ he says, putting down the bottle.
‘I’m not sure I do.’
‘That stuff’s simple, but you’ll need to make sure you keep the orders coming in. The dried ingredients from our suppliers. There’s carda—’
‘Wait, I’ll get a pen and paper.’
‘Good idea, you’ll need those at all times. First rule of being a good PA. But I’m sure we’ll soon lick you into shape!’ He laughs deeply again, and I have to shake myself and remind myself it’s not my dad I’m hearing. I wish I had the courage to ask Hector what happened between them. Why he played no part in my dad’s life...or mine, for that matter. ‘As I say,’ he continues, ‘the basics are simple...’ and he reels off a list of spices. ‘Got that?’ he asks, standing in front of the fire, the dogs staring up at him with matching profiles.
‘Yes!’ I say, beaming. ‘Wait! I’ll be right back!’ I need that pen and paper, now! I push myself up out of the sagging seat with anoomphand hurry to the door.
‘It’s the other five that make this special,’ he says as the song comes to an end.
‘Other five?’ I turn and look at him.
‘Yes. The basic ingredients are simple, but it’s the five special ones that make it...well, special. That’s what captures the spirit of the island in the bottle.’ He looks from the glass to me and I’m transfixed for a moment.
‘Just wait there. I’ll get that notepad.’
Hector pours himself another large glass. ‘Just a small one, to celebrate your first day,’ I hear him saying.
‘Lachlan! Lachlan!’ I call, running to the back door. I quickly grab a coat from the rack, step into some wellies, then open the door. The sharp wind, which I’m getting used to expecting, comes at me and bites me on the nose as I set off towards the red outbuilding, feeling and probably looking like a drunk duck in the oversized boots.
‘Lachlan!’ I feel my throat tighten and break again. Bugger!
