Page 73 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘I’m just saying. Then you could come into business with me. We could set up a yoga retreat in Spain. Work together. Mother and daughter. What do you think?’
‘I think you’d probably get bored of the idea and want to move on after about six months!’ I smile affectionately at her. ‘Besides, this house isn’t mine and isn’t ever going to be. It needs to be sold,’ I swallow, ‘to pay for Hector’s care home. And soon.’ I look over at Flora, who is cutting up a scone for one of the old ladies, her napkin tucked into her front.
‘We’re neither of us getting any younger, and the music industry is so brutal these days,’ my mum says.
‘Excuse me, I’m just going to put on a different record,’ I say, glad of the excuse to get away as the speaker begins to crackle. I look around for Lachlan. I should do my singing spot really. He did promise them. We need to crack on before it’s time for the ferry to leave.
‘Lachlan, I think I should sing now,’ I tell him.
‘Soon, soon,’ he says, and I have no idea why he’s suddenly so reluctant. He moves away, offering refills of gin to the guests and passing on the information he’s learnt from Hector. ‘Gin and tonic was developed to prevent malaria,’ I hear him saying. Let’s hope that by the end of the tea party we’ve got a few more orders to meet our crowdfunding target, and can get the bottles sent out to those who have pledged money. Not that I’ll be here by then, I think with a pang.
I take the record off and slide another one from its sleeve, lining up the needle. The crackle begins again and then the music starts to play, and as it does, there’s another noise, a strange whooshing and dipping sound. I look at the disc revolving on the turntable and wonder if it’s warped. But it doesn’t look warped. The noise seems to be getting louder, and the chatter in the room seems to be growing too. But the room’s getting darker, very quickly. Is it thunder? Another storm rolling in without warning? A snowstorm? The days have been so calm and cold, with fiery red skies in the morning, purple sunsets, and a sugar frosting covering the fields, sand dunes, heathland and forests like a Christmas card. A storm now would certainly be out of nowhere, but nothing is impossible here, I’ve come to learn. I’ve come to learn a lot about this place since I’ve been here, I think suddenly with a twist in my heart.
I look round, and everyone seems to be standing at the windows, staring out. Lachlan is standing next to Isla and smiling. My heart gives a further wrench. The sky is getting much darker and the rumbling is almost deafening. What on earth is going on?
Chapter Forty-five
I push up against the window in between my mother and Jess, and follow their gaze upwards. The record player is all but drowned out now by the noise and the light practically obliterated by the helicopter descending from the sky, landing on the lawn. My mouth drops a bit.
‘You look like you’re catching flies, darling,’ says my mother.
‘Who’s that?’ says Jess.
‘I have no idea,’ I reply.
‘You must have some idea; it’s got to be one of your crowdfunders,’ Jess says, not taking her eyes off the settling helicopter and its swirling blades.
But as I look around, everyone I was expecting is here. Even Jack Drummond, who is looking very interested in the new arrival.
‘Maybe it’s landed here by mistake,’ I say, ‘what with the snow.’ But the snow is only just starting to settle. I turn and see Lachlan and Isla grinning at each other and high-fiving, and I can’t help but feel totally bewildered.
‘Who is it?’
Everyone shrugs. Lachlan finally walks over to me, grinning. Oh God, what if this is how he and Isla are leaving, making a dramatic exit like my mum and dad did. His work here practically done. But not quite.
‘We haven’t reached our target, not yet,’ I blurt out, and he looks momentarily confused. Then he smiles again as the door of the helicopter opens.
‘What, did you think I was off the moment we hit the crowdfunding target?’ he laughs.
‘Well, aren’t you?’
He looks at me. ‘That was the deal. But not by helicopter.’ He nods as a pair of legs emerges from the door and a man in sunglasses gets out, followed by...I catch my breath.
‘The A&R woman! What’s she doing here?!’
And Jess squeals.
I stare up at Lachlan and can’t even manage the words to ask how this has happened.
‘The video,’ he says. ‘It just got shared and shared. You saw what happened to the crowdfunding after I put it up.’
He looks out at the two figures ducking under the blades and making their way to the French doors.
‘They messaged the page. Asked if you’d be singing here today.’
‘I didn’t see that,’ I say, trying to recall it.
‘That’s because I replied. I knew that if you knew about it, you’d worry. As it is, you just have a room full of old people, locals, friends and family to entertain.’ He shrugs and smiles. ‘And a passing A&R person and record producer.’
