Page 38 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘For the right time,’ I say, not expecting the sigh that follows it.
‘Take it from me. Waiting is never advisable. Grabbing a good thing when you have it is by far the better option. Just in case you lose it.’ He takes a slug of whisky. ‘What’s he like, this Joe of yours?’
‘Joe? Like I say, he’s great!’ I smile. ‘He works in PR and marketing, for a big company. But he also puts loads of time into marketing the band and trying to get us noticed.’
I pick up my phone to show him a photograph, and notice the seven missed calls and the text message from Joe telling me to get in touch and let him know that I’ve got things sorted. I swallow and scroll through to my photos.
‘Wow!’ Lachlan says as I show him the screen.
‘Oh, not that one. That’s me getting ready to go on stage,’ I say quickly, and swipe back to one of Joe.
‘Very Jessica Rabbit,’ he says, and I blush, realising that this man has only ever seen me in knitted jumpers and hats and, at our first meeting, with shorts on my head and socks for gloves!
‘And where did you and Joe meet?’
‘At an open mic night,’ I tell him, putting down my phone. ‘He was trying to get a band together, but they realised they didn’t really have what it takes. I think they were trying to relive their childhood dreams of being rock stars. They gave up after that.’
‘And he started promoting you and your band?’ he says, putting more cheese on an oatcake and handing it to me. I bite into the tangy softness and the crumbling oatcake beneath.
‘Yes, he’s really supportive,’ I repeat. ‘Always there, always hoping our big break is just round the corner.’
‘Sounds like he’s hanging off your coat tails,’ says Lachlan matter-of-factly.
‘What? No!’ I exclaim. ‘He just wants me to succeed. I’ve worked hard for this, we all have. That’s why I have to get back there.’
‘You’re right. Sorry. Not my place to comment.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, putting his bluntness down to tiredness and worry. I can excuse it after what he did today. ‘Joe and me are fine. We’ve been together long enough to know what we both want in life.’
‘And what’s that?’ He lets his oatcake crack in his mouth and part of it falls onto the plate. Crumbs cling to his bottom lip before he licks them away, his eyes smiling.
‘Well, we were due to get engaged this Christmas. Once the band had secured the deal with the A&R person who came to see us.’
‘Sorry, but you’re talking gobbledygook now.’
I start again. ‘Basically, we were hoping to settle with a manager, who would sort out a record deal and a producer. Joe and I were waiting for this to happen, and then we planned to get engaged and start looking at a flat together once the contract was sorted. But...then, well, this happened.’ I hold a hand to my throat. ‘My voice went, on stage. No sound came out at all. Years of training and it just...went.’
‘Ouch,’ says Lachlan. ‘That’s gotta hurt.’
‘Not just me, but the band and Joe too. He had all the marketing lined up and our lives planned.’
Lachlan shrugs. ‘Like I say, what’s meant for you won’t pass you by.’ He tops up our mugs again. ‘But also, don’t put off what you can do today. If this Joe guy is the one for you, why wait?’
I nod. He’s right. And I’m going to message Joe and tell him. Tell him it’s time to start celebrating. I look at Lachlan and feel a rush of gratitude and affection and...well, I’m not sure what else, but a real liking for this man. It’s like something inside me has shifted. He’s just trying to fulfil a promise, I think. Doing something for someone else. He’s not thinking about himself in all of this. But why?
I ask the question he’s been avoiding telling me the answer to. ‘Why did you make the promise to Hector?’
He stops chewing and puts his knife down on the wooden board, then looks at me, thinking.
‘Let’s just say Hector was there when I needed somebody. When he thought I might fall, he was there to catch me. Anything I’ve done for him is payback.’
I wait, but I think he’s told me all he’s going to. What I do know is that he’s repaying a kindness, and that whatever Hector did doesn’t sound like the actions of a bully to me. Maybe, just maybe, my dad – and my mum for that matter – had this all wrong. What if there is more to the situation? I need to find out. And the only way I can do that is by helping Lachlan set up the gin still.
‘I don’t know anything about business,’ I tell him, ‘but I do know about needing money to do the thing you love.’
‘And?’ He picks up his knife again.
‘Well, there was this singer. He had a bit of success and then the record label dropped him.’
