Page 45 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘Pine,’ Hector says vaguely again, shaking his head, and the memory is almost out of reach now.
‘You know...’ Lachlan waves one hand, keeping the other on the wheel, ‘Daisy, Daisy...’ He looks at me, urging me to help.
‘What? Oh, I can’t...My...’ I hold my throat.
‘It’s not the effing Albert Hall. I’m just looking for a bit of support here!’ he growls. ‘Do you want to get this distillery up and running so you can go to your healing retreat or not?’
I swallow. He’s right, of course. I open my mouth, but can’t quite seem to take the step to see if I can let out the first few notes.
‘No.’ Hector shakes his head. ‘Can’t remember any pine.’
‘Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do...’ I suddenly blurt out, no idea whether it’s in tune or not, and not even caring. ‘I’m half crazy, all for the love of you...’ I’m nodding, and so is Lachlan, who sings along, roughly but boldly. And then we both smile as Hector joins in merrily.
We look at his beaming face at the end of the song.
‘So the pine forest...where you collect it for the gin?’ Lachlan asks, and we hold our breath.
‘Ah yes, used to go there all the time when I was courting Mairead. Proposed there! Well, proposed lots of times actually, until she finally gave in.’ He chortles. ‘It’s just up the way. Best pine ever. Brilliant idea to put it in the gin. Gives it a real wintry, fresh flavour.’
And as we both breathe a palpable sigh of relief, he points us towards the part of the forest he and Mairead used to come to.
‘Course, gin originated in the Netherlands,’ he says informatively. ‘Known as genever. Was invented as a cure-all; anything from stomach upsets to the plague!’ He laughs heartily. ‘Then of course it was given to English soldiers fighting the Anglo-Dutch wars. That’s why it’s called Dutch courage, didn’t you know?’
When we arrive at the forest, Hector is still humming the tune of ‘Daisy, Daisy’ over and over. We all get out of the Land Rover and walk towards the trees as the sun starts setting across the vast expanse of sky. As we step onto the needle-strewn floor, I breathe in deeply. I can taste the gin on my lips again, the taste of the pine forest.
Hector suddenly stops walking and humming.
‘You okay, Hector? Is this it? Is this where you come for the pine?’ I ask.
He’s looking straight ahead, then he holds out a hand and steps forward to a tree trunk. We both look to where he’s reaching. There in the trunk is a heart, with two initials gouged into it.
‘This is the place,’ he says quietly. ‘This is where she said yes!’ His eyes fill with watery tears, and the most contented smile I have ever seen sits on his lips as his fingers trace the heart carved into the trunk. That, I think, is enduring love. Will that be me and Joe one day? Will there be somewhere that reminds us of the moment our lives became intertwined? Tears spring to my eyes. What will be the memory I will hold on to? But to my frustration, I can’t think of anything. I can’t think of a time when our lives together haven’t been about the band and my career. Will they be the only memories I have of us being together? Isn’t there anything else to our relationship?
I try and think of one thing we’ve done together, one romantic gesture that hasn’t been about the success of the band. And suddenly I feel very empty inside. I love that Joe is so supportive, that he wants me to succeed. And then, just for a moment, I wonder...Is it me he loves, or is it my career? Is it so he can hold his own with his family, his successful parents and brother? What would happen if my voice never came back? Would he leave me? Is that why he’s so keen for me to go to Tenerife?
I shake my head to try and dispel the nagging voice of doubt, and find myself looking over at Lachlan, who seems to be brushing something from his eyes too. And I wonder who his tears are for.
‘We’ll gather the pine from here, Hector,’ he says with a catch in his throat, and pats the tree as if reassuring it that a little bit of the love that Hector and Mairead shared will be in there in the special edition gin. ‘Best we come back in the morning,’ he adds. ‘Looks like a two-man job. Pine can be tricky to get at.’ He points up to the treetops. ‘We’d better get you kitted out properly!’ He nods to me and I go to protest, but close my mouth, suddenly finding myself wanting to be part of the pine picking, and to be here, close to the family I’ve never known. ‘We’ll bring a ladder!’
‘Come on, Hector, let’s get you home. Soup, bread and cheese do you for supper?’
‘Hmm, lovely,’ Hector says, and lets Lachlan lead him back to the Land Rover.
As we drive back to the house, dusk draws in, and the huge expanse of sky turns purple and pink with the setting sun. Something in me shifts. These are memories I will take with me forever. These are things I want to remember when I’m old.
There’s a smell of peat smoke in the air as we climb out of the Land Rover. We guide Hector to the wooden front door.
‘Looks like we’d better launch that crowdfunding page,’ Lachlan says with a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘Teach Mhor gin is going to be back in action. The recipe was in the house all along...in Hector’s head. Now that we have the key, we just have to unlock it.’
And I can’t help but feel that something inside me has been unlocked too; an empty box that is now filling with memories.
Chapter Twenty-five
‘Well, if you’re going to come collecting pine needles, we’d better find you something more suitable to wear!’ Lachlan says with a smile the next morning.
Last night we uploaded photographs old and new to the crowdfunding page. ‘We can give the history of the place.’ I pointed to the screen. ‘You’d better do that. I have no idea about it.’ I listened in fascination as he told me all about Winter Island, the people, the local legends, the flora and fauna.
Afterwards, we toasted the project with another tot of whisky, after hot soup, fresh bread and more of the creamy goat’s cheese beside the huge fire in the living room, with Hector in his favourite chair and the dogs on the floor beside him.
