Page 74 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘So you’re not leaving?’
‘Not yet. I made a promise, didn’t I? Not until the distillery is up and running.’
He smiles at me again, and suddenly I realise that the very last thing I want right now is for him to leave and never to see him again.
‘I...’
I want to tell him, but as I try to speak, the French doors are flung open and a huge blast of cold air comes in, together with a few flakes of snow and the two new arrivals. The man rubs his leather-gloved hands together.
‘I hear there’s some gin to try.’ He beams a very white smile. ‘And as I’m not driving...’
My mother shoots forward and hands them both drinks.
‘Thank you, and you are...?’
‘Stella. Stella Macquarrie,’ she says, using her married name rather than her stage name!
‘Are you part of the band?’ he asks.
‘Oh, er, no, I’m...’
He sips the gin and then looks at it. All his focus now on the glass. ‘This is good,’ he says, ‘really good.’
‘Made here on the island with local botanicals, including seaweed from the beach just over there.’ I find myself going into autopilot. He nods.
‘And you are?’
‘Ruby Mac,’ I reply, my mouth going dry. ‘And this is Jess. She’s our band manager and songwriter.’
Jess is behind me, putting out a hand. ‘If only we’d known you were coming. The band, I’m mean, we’re not set up,’ she says, excited and pained all at the same time.
The man smiles. And then the A&R woman speaks.
‘It’s okay, Jess. It’s Ruby we’ve come to hear. We heard she was going to be singing here this afternoon.’
‘Oh,’ says Jess, and I feel her spirits plummet.
‘Did you...?’ She points at me and at the new guests, her eyes hurt.
‘No, I did,’ says Lachlan, introducing himself to the A&R woman. ‘Local forager and apprentice distiller,’ he adds.
‘Well if you made this, I’d say they’d better make you the head distiller!’ says the record producer, and Jack Drummond steps forward.
‘That’s a conversation we should have,’ he says, and suddenly my heart lifts. What if he wants to take Lachlan on as head distiller? That would be perfect! I smile. Today suddenly got better!
‘I’m not singing what I usually sing with the band,’ I tell Jess quickly. Somehow I feel I want it to be okay with her.
‘Do what you have to do, Ruby,’ she says quietly, and turns away and walks to the other side of the room.
I look at Lachlan, who nods encouragingly. ‘Do what you have to do,’ he repeats, taking the jug of gin and tonic from my hands.
I look round at the piano, next to the record player.
‘They’ve come to hear the Ruby they saw on the video,’ he reminds me, just in case I’m in any doubt. ‘The song you sang at the beach.’
I think about the song, one that has meant so much to him over the years. Will this finally mend the broken pieces of the record between him and Isla?
‘Sing it like you sang it then,’ he says.
