Page 50 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘Slowly, but we’re getting there,’ I say.
‘I’ve seen the crowdfunding page.’
‘Good.’ I find myself smiling.
She stops what she’s doing and then seems to soften a little.
‘I hope it works for you. For you and Lachlan,’ she says. ‘I hope you’ll be happy.’
‘Oh, I, we’re...’ She’s doesn’t know I’m Hector’s granddaughter. She hasn’t guessed who I am after all. I thought she might have been suspicious, but she’s giving us her blessing. Me and Lachlan. Oh God! I have no idea what to say.
‘He’s a good man, and he deserves some happiness in his life. Island life isn’t for everyone, but I’m glad you’re staying,’ she says with a smile, and I’m worried she’s going to hug me, despite my sweaty, damp state.
‘Thank you, Isla. That means a lot,’ and then with a smile, I turn and carry on running. I run past the café and shop. I see Lachlan there, probably exchanging goods in return for supplies, or maybe sorting out rotas and shifts. He and the Cruickshank siblings watch me as I run past. I raise a hand and smile, as does he.
‘She’s still here then?’ I hear one of the sisters say.
‘Aye,’ replies Lachlan.
‘It must be true love then,’ says the other, and I hear Lachlan cough.
‘Taking each day as it comes,’ he says, and I’m grateful he hasn’t told them who I really am, and find myself smiling even more, feeling a strange connection that I’ve never felt before. Maybe it’s the song running round my head. Maybe it’s the gin starting to come together. Maybe it’s that I’m enjoying myself. But I’m just passing through, I remind myself, and carry on running back to the house, tears smarting at my eyes, mingling with the salty sea air and the rain.
I try to have a bath, but end up with a cold splash-about in the huge tub, which nevertheless makes me feel surprisingly invigorated after my run. Afterwards, I scoop up my hair and dash down the stairs, adjusting another bit of the worn curtains as I go, humming the tune playing over and over in my head.
I make my way into the living room with my pad and pen. The fire is roaring and Hector is looking through the cupboards.
‘Must be here somewhere...’
I’m still humming the tune when Lachlan comes in behind me. Hector looks up at me.
‘Ah, Miss Rubes.’ He smiles, then looks down at his dressing gown. ‘One moment, you seem to have caught me unprepared. I’ll just get dressed.’ And with Lachlan’s help he gets to his feet and leaves the room. I raise my eyebrows and smile, delighted that music has made the connection for him once again. I start flicking through the box of records, trying to decide which one we should start with to try and get Hector talking about the other ingredients for the gin. I’m still humming when Lachlan comes back into the room.
‘What’s that?’
‘What?’ I turn.
‘That song you’re humming.’ He stands stock still, holding a tray of tea.
‘Oh, just a song I’ve remembered,’ I say, wondering whether to tell him about the croft. ‘One my dad used to sing to me. Why?’
‘It’s just...I just don’t care for it, that’s all,’ he says gruffly, putting down the tray. ‘Not a fan of that old folk stuff.’
‘Oh...okay,’ I say. ‘Well, how about this one?’ and I pull a record from its sleeve and put it on the record player. ‘Better?’ I ask, as Billie Holiday starts singing.
He nods, the moment past. ‘Much better.’
‘Okay, let’s see if Hector likes your choice too.’
We smile at each other, and I get that same feeling as I had when running. A feeling of contentment. Could it be a feeling of belonging?
Chapter Twenty-eight
We spend the afternoon in front of the big open fire, the rain sliding down the window panes, the dogs dozing, us drinking tea and playing records and talking to Hector about island life.
‘I remember taking Mairead to the pine forest where I proposed. Lots of times. Until she said yes,’ he smiles, repeating the story. ‘And the day our son was born and the gorse was out in flower everywhere.’
He’s talking about my dad, I think. Born in February.
