Page 64 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘Agreed,’ he says, holding out another barrel, and I take it from him and put it on the bank, feeling like a contestant in the final ofI’m a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here!Only I’m not a celebrity, and weirdly, right now, getting out of here feels like the last thing on my mind. Getting this gin made is what matters and meeting the crowdfunding target.
He hands me the last barrel, full of cold, clear, mountain-fresh rock-filtered water, then turns to make his way back to the bank before stopping and bending down.
‘Here,’ he says, and scoops up a handful of what must be freezing water and offers it to me. ‘Quick!’ he laughs as I hesitate and the water trickles through his fingers. I quickly step forward and take his hands in mine, and sip. I don’t know what’s more invigorating, holding his hands, or the water itself. Whatever, I feel myself feeling excited and very much alive. I can feel my eyes sparkling and my body tingling.
‘Right, let’s get this gin made!’ he beams.
I put the back of my hand to my lips and brush away any moisture left there, then roll my bottom lip in, still feeling the taste of the water.
‘Hector, open the back door of the Land Rover,’ I call out as we head down the slope to the track, both of us with a barrel in each hand.
Hector does as he’s asked, with a big smile on his face.
The three of us get in the car with the dogs, although Douglas insists on sitting up front with me, and we head back, via the village, the pub and the shop.
‘I’ll go to the pub; you see who’s in the café,’ I tell Lachlan. We need as many hands as we can find to get this batch made in time for the tea party.
Everyone I speak to is happy to come and help out, by way of a thank you for the night of the storm, and our journey back to the house is cheerful and excited, singing along to the crackly radio. As we reach the end of the drive, we all stop singing when we see a car waiting outside the front door.
‘Anyone expecting visitors?’ asks Lachlan, glancing at me, and I shake my head.
‘Someone’s beaten us here,’ I say, but I find it hard to believe.
‘It’ll be Campbell and the baby!’ says Hector.
Lachlan and I look at each other and smile sadly.
Chapter Thirty-nine
‘Ah, good, just the person.’ It’s Fraser, the solicitor. Suddenly our good mood evaporates.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask. ‘We’re not due to meet, are we? We’re hoping to have everything ready for the house to go on the market after our crowdfunding event.’
‘Yes, indeed...and looking forward to the tea party we are too, as investors!’ He smiles.
‘Well that’s fantastic, we’ll see you then.’ I pick up one of the barrels of water Lachlan has unloaded.
‘Hector!’ says Fraser. ‘Good to see you!’ He shakes Hector’s hand.
‘Good to see you too,’ says Hector. He turns and walks towards the door. ‘Who’s that?’ I hear him asking Lachlan loudly. ‘Must get on,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘My son and grandchild are coming home!’
I watch his back as he disappears into the house. He’s looking tired. Yet I can’t help but wonder: did my dad mean to come home before he died? Was that ever a plan? Did they make it up with each other?
Fraser smiles. ‘He’s looking better than I’ve seen him in a long time. Your stay here must have done him some good.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, ‘but actually, I really have to get on. We have a batch of gin to get made for the tea party.’
‘Actually, about that...’
‘What, the tea party?’
‘Uh huh. I’ve brought someone with me,’ he says.
‘Oh?’ I look at him quizzically.
‘I’m going to the distillery,’ says Lachlan, watching as several battered trucks come down the drive. ‘Unless you need me?’ He raises an eyebrow.
‘No, no, you go on. I’ll catch you up. Just follow Lachlan, everyone,’ I say as the locals pour out of the trucks.
