Page 26 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘Was...Did you know my grandmother? Was she a good cook?’
He nods once more. ‘She taught me a lot of what I know.’
‘You grew up here?’
‘I did,’ he says shortly. ‘And you?’
I laugh. ‘City girl. Can’t get used to all this great outdoors!’ We both laugh, and then he holds up the bottle again.
‘Another?’
I’m undecided.
‘It is Christmas,’ he says, ‘and look, just like the Germans and the Brits in World War One when they played football on Christmas Day, we’ve managed that truce!’
‘You’re right.’ I find myself smiling. Maybe it’s the gin, or maybe it’s that mischievous grin, which is actually quite infectious now I know he’s genuinely trying to help. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I may have misjudged you. And...well, I suppose I should say thank you, for looking after Hector.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says, and tops up our oyster shells.
‘Here’s to new beginnings and safe travels,’ I say, feeling happy and warm now that my time here is coming to an end.
‘And where’s home for you?’ he asks.
‘Bristol. I live on my own at the moment, but I’m looking at buying a flat with my boyfriend, Joe.’
‘Your boyfriend? It’s serious, then?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Planning your life and who you spend it with is about as serious as it gets.’
‘And what does he think about you celebrating Christmas here on the island with a bunch of strangers?’
What would Joe say if he knew I was sitting on a beach drinking gin instead of going to get my voice fixed in Tenerife? ‘He’s...’ I nod, a lot, ‘he’s fine with it.’
‘He’s an understanding man,’ says Lachlan with a raised eyebrow. Joeisunderstanding, I think. He understands how important my career and singing is to me. He supports me all the way.
‘What can you taste?’ Lachlan asks, looking at my face and nodding at my oyster shell.
‘Well, um...gin. And salt...Well, it tastes just like here.’
‘Go on,’ he says, and tops me up.
Buoyed up by the gin, I relax a little and smile. ‘Well, it tastes of the wind in my face, clean, crisp... like Christmas morning on the beach with a warmth in the background from the fire.’ I smile.
‘Any particular flavours?’
I put my head down and smell the gin. ‘Hmm, not really.’ I lift the shell again ‘To you; to pastures new,’ I say, feeling my spirits lifting.
He raises his own shell, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles.
‘Oh, I’m not going anywhere.’
‘What?’ I cough.
‘I’m helping Hector. I promised him. I’m not going anywhere until we’ve found what he’s looking for.’
Chapter Twelve
I’m dumbfounded, my dreams of getting on that plane tomorrow suddenly evaporating in front of my eyes.
