by Jenny Harper
She laughed. ‘That beast’s got the right idea. Look the world in the eye and don’t let anything shake you. Cheers, mate.’ She raised the glass to the hairy animal, who stared back imperturbably.
The loch stretched to the horizon, blue as the sky, its stillness turning it into a mirror. Molly grinned. ‘I feel like being a bit bonkers tonight. I’ve escaped! I’m free! For a whole weekend!’ She took a deep draught from her glass and felt the wine course down, its effect as calming as the scenery. ‘You were so right to drag me away, Lex. This is bliss.’
‘Sorry to interrupt.’ A waitress had arrived, unnoticed, beside them. ‘I’m Kenna. Are you eating with us tonight?’
‘You bet,’ Lexie said, reaching for the heavy leather bound menus Kenna was holding. ‘I haven’t been able to think of anything else for the last hour and a half.’
‘We were hoping we wouldn’t be too late,’ Molly said. ‘There was a diversion. The road between Dalmally and Oban is blocked for some reason.’
‘They’re doing major roadworks. I’m really sorry.’ Kenna smiled apologetically, as though the fault was all hers. ‘It’s been going on for weeks. Everyone’s hopping mad – they always seem to start them at the height of the tourist season. Don’t worry about it – we’re still expecting guests; loads of people have been delayed. Kitchen’s all organised. I’ll leave you with these. Give me a shout when you’re ready.’
‘Thanks.’
Molly rummaged in her handbag and extracted her glasses. ‘Yum, this looks amazing. Scallops, black pudding, gravadlax, sole paupiettes. Wow. I didn’t realise how ravenous I was till I started reading!’
Lexie whispered, ‘Molly.’
‘Mmm? What do you think about beef?’
‘Molly.’
Molly looked up at the note of urgency. ‘What?’
Lexie’s face had turned an odd shade, and her brown eyes had a panicky look about them. She was staring over Molly’s shoulder at the doorway.
Molly shoved her glasses onto the top of her head and swung round. A woman was walking into the room. She was Asian – Indian, perhaps? – and classically beautiful. Her hair fell in thick, shiny tresses halfway down her back, her eyes were dark as treacle and dramatically outlined in black. She was wearing scarlet. Afterwards, that was what Molly remembered most – the stunning silky dress, hugging a perfect figure.
For now, the dress and the woman faded improbably into the background because there was a man behind her. Not just any man – Adam Blair.
Molly’s husband.
Chapter Two
Molly leapt up; the menu dropped from her fingers onto the table and sent her wine flying. Half of the contents landed in Lexie’s lap, half on the carpet.
‘Moll!’ Lexie shrieked, staring as the blood-red liquid spread across her vintage cotton dress.
Kenna grabbed a cloth from the bar. ‘I’ll deal with this, don’t worry, there’s no real damage—’
Molly was oblivious to it all. She only had eyes for Adam, whose attention had been attracted by the commotion and who was now staring in her direction with his mouth wide open.
‘Jeez, Moll!’ Lexie hissed.
‘It’s Adam!’
‘That’s what I was trying to tell you.’
‘He’s seen us!’
‘Well, that’s hardly surprising, is it?’
Kenna said, ‘If you’d like to change and give me your dress, I think I can get the stain out.’ Lexie didn’t move. ‘If we deal with it quickly?’
Molly said, ‘We’ve got to go.’
‘Go? Go where?’
‘We’ll have to go home. We can’t stay here.’
‘Don’t be silly, Moll. Let’s be mature about this. Anyway, we were here first.’
‘Who is she? I didn’t know he was seeing anyone. He never said anything about seeing anyone.’
‘Ask him. He’s coming over.’
‘Shit!’
Molly whirled round and made for the only other door, while behind her, Lexie hovered uncertainly, hampered by her pregnancy. She made it up to their bedroom a minute after Molly.
‘We’ve got to get out of here.’ Her friend had begun yanking at her dress frantically.
‘Come on, Moll. It doesn’t matter, does it? I mean, we don’t have to see them or anything.’
‘See them?’ The dress finally yielded to Molly’s tugging and flew up over her head. She seized a pair of jeans off the bed and hauled them on. ‘In a place like this? Of course we’d see them, there’s nowhere to go except the gardens, or out for a walk.’
‘There’s Oban – it’s only a few miles up the road. And from there we can take the big ferry to Mull, or the little one to Kerrera. Or we could go the other way and explore Inveraray.’
‘Then come back here for dinner? Sit a few tables from them? Or even next to them? I couldn’t bear it. And what about breakfast?’
‘What’s really eating you, Moll? It’s hardly the first time you’ve met Adam since you split.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘It’s her, isn’t it? The woman?’
Molly zipped up her jeans and rammed her feet into a pair of trainers.
‘Come on, Lexie. It’s a long drive home, we’ve got to get going.’
Lexie flopped down on the other bed. ‘I’m not moving.’
Molly’s head appeared above the neck of a coral sweater. She pulled her long blonde hair free and flicked it back with her hands.
‘I can’t stay here.’
‘Let’s talk about it.’
‘No. Sorry. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble, but I mean it. I’m not staying here. If you won’t drive me, I’ll call a taxi.’
Lexie sighed. ‘Can’t the two of you behave in a civilised manner? It’s been two years, Molly, surely he’s entitled to a new relationship – or a dirty weekend, if that’s what it is?’ She frowned. ‘You’re not jealous, are you? I mean, to be fair, you did leave him because you were having an affair.’
Molly was stuffing clothes into a case. She swung round, a pair of trainers in her hands. She stared at Lexie. ‘I can’t believe you said that, Alexa Gordon. I was in love. With your brother.’
There was a moment of heavy silence before Lexie crumpled. ‘Sorry, Moll.’
‘No.’ Molly crossed the room and sat down beside Lexie. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry.’
Grief bursts its shackles without warning. Every time they thought they’d come to terms with what had happened, it reared up at them from another angle. Jamie Gordon’s tragic death had nearly destroyed Lexie, her parents, Molly – and its shadow still lay across them.
Lexie, her voice small, said, ‘I’ll pack.’
Molly nodded. ‘I appreciate it.’
They were unnaturally subdued as Molly, driving, turned the car north. ‘We can find a hotel in Oban, it’ll save us driving all the way home tonight. Anyway, I’m ravenous; we’ll need to eat.’
‘Fine.’
‘OK?’
‘Sure. Good thinking.’
‘It doesn’t have to ruin the whole weekend.’
‘No.’
‘We’re going to have a great time.’
‘Yes.’
Two miles up the road, a car flashed its lights at them.
‘What’s up with him?’
‘Maybe there’s a speed trap ahead.’
‘A speed trap? It’s impossible to do more than fifty on this road.’
Another car flashed as they rounded a bend and ran into yet another queue of traffic.
Molly braked sharply. ‘At least we know why they were warning us. I wonder what’s causing it.’
Minutes ticked by. The traffic didn’t move. Ahead, two or three cars performed U-turns and headed south. Lexie opened her door. ‘I’ll ask the car in front if they know.’
While Lexie got out, Molly picked apart her emotions. Lexie was right, there was no reason for her to react so strongly to Adam’s appearance. Their relationship wasn’t exactly cordial, but they’d learned to be polite. It had taken h
er a long time to get over Jamie Gordon’s death, but as the memories of the laughter and passion she’d shared with Lexie’s brother gradually faded, it had begun to dawn on her that she was in no great hurry to legalise the separation from Adam.
Lexie opened the door and poked her head in. ‘Apparently it’s a convoy of wind turbines. They are massive and very, very slow. There were warnings, he says.’
‘So we can get through to Oban?’
‘Probably, if we wait long enough, but they’re going at five miles an hour and they’re too wide for anything to pass on this road – southbound traffic has been pulled off further up. So it could be a few hours before we get there.’
‘Sheesh. What are we going to do?’
Lexie slid in and slammed the door. ‘We can do a U-ey and head for Inveraray. We’ll find somewhere there.’
‘OK.’
An evening mist was rolling in from the sea, engulfing the road. Molly shivered. ‘Wish I’d put my jacket on.’
‘I’ll ramp up the heating.’
Lexie fiddled with a control and a fan blew in some warmth. ‘There’s been nothing coming north for the last ten minutes,’ she observed. ‘People must know about that convoy.’
They neared the turn-off to the hotel.
‘We could—’
‘No.’
Molly drove on in silence. A few miles south of the hotel they rounded another bend.
‘What the—?’
They jerked forward, wrenched against the seat belts, and slammed backwards into their seats as they narrowly avoided hitting the last car in another queue of traffic. Molly’s head hit the headrest with some force.
‘Ouch!’
‘You all right?’ Lexie sounded breathless.
‘I think so. I’ll probably have a bruise right across my body in the morning. Are you? Oh my God, Lexie, the baby!’
‘Kicking like crazy. I guess she’s OK.’
There was no sign of movement at all. Up ahead, several drivers had left their cars and were walking forward, presumably to find out what was going on.
Molly switched off the engine. ‘Let’s see what’s happening.’
A broad-built man with red hair was wandering towards them. ‘Do you know what the problem is?’ Lexie called.
He headed their way. ‘It’s bad news. There’s been a nasty accident. Apparently a lorry has dropped a load of caustic acid. One of the drums trapped someone. And one has burst on the road.’
‘Acid? Oh my God—’ Lexie clamped a hand across her mouth and turned away.
Molly was pale. ‘Someone’s trapped?’
‘Yup. And the worst thing is, they’re not going to be able to get the fire engines or ambulances down from Oban because of the—’
‘—wind turbines—’
‘—and no-one’s going to be able to move until they hose down the road. The caustic acid will eat rubber. You wouldn’t be able to drive more than a mile or two before the tyres go.’
‘What about the poor man—?’
‘They’ve called for a helicopter. It’ll have to come from Glasgow. But I think they’ll have to send some trained firefighters with some equipment up as well. They might send a second helicopter so that they can free him, but to clear the road they’ll need a fire engine with a water tank and hoses. I don’t know if they have any in Inveraray, or Dumbarton. They might have to come from Glasgow. It could take a long time.’
Lexie looked grey. ‘We’re cut off.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘We have to go back to the hotel.’
Molly swallowed hard.
‘We’d be several hours getting to Oban and heaven knows when we’ll be able to move on south. If we get back to the hotel before others begin to think about it, we might just be able to get our room back. We can have supper sent up. We can have breakfast there too, if you want, then we can set off home tomorrow.’
‘I’m not sure—’
‘It’s not a suggestion, Molly. It’s what we’re going to do. I’m shattered after the drive here, I’m starving, the baby’s starving, and if we don’t go right now, we could end up sleeping in the car.’
Molly pursed her lips but gave in as gracefully as she could. ‘You’re right. I’m being selfish. Let’s go.’
Chapter Three
Molly seldom slept well. She’d never told Lexie this, although Adam knew, of course – it’s hard to hide such things from someone you live with.
When she first met Adam, she’d never even thought about sleep – you don’t when you’re eighteen. And you certainly don’t when all you want to do is have sex, sex and more sex till you can’t help sleeping like a god because you’re satisfied through and through. That was what it was like thirteen years ago, when she’d first started at uni.
She’d been with a crowd of girls at the bar – not that she knew any of them. They’d all met for the first time that day, so they were sizing each other up. Was the sporty-looking one really good at sports? Was the one with the pebble glasses a brainiac or was that stereotyping? How did that girl with the bob get her hair to look so sleek? And who would be friends with whom come the end of term, or even come next week?
Then the boys arrived and there’d been a change in atmosphere – still a lot of girly chat, but covert glances too, some not so furtive. One girl honed in on a well-muscled guy with a light dusting of facial hair who turned out to be gay, though she didn’t discover that for two whole years. Another disappeared after an hour with a preppy-looking youth in a pristine Ralph Lauren polo shirt and pink chinos, setting a pattern that was to be repeated over and again for four years while she worked her way through students and staff.
Molly had arrived at uni the survivor of some short, intense experimental relationships, from her first kiss at the back of a cowshed in Switzerland on a school trip to her first tentative shag with a physics geek with spots and thick glasses, but a great sense of humour.
She turned restlessly. What she remembered most of all was the throbbing sexual hunger she’d felt the first time she’d clapped eyes on Adam Blair, that first night in the students’ bar.
‘Who’s that?’
The girl next to her had shrugged. ‘The skinny guy? How would I know?’
He wasn’t skinny. He was lean. His limbs were long, his fingers astonishingly elegant. She examined the way they curled into the handle as he picked up his pint, marvelled at the square line of his jaw and the way the craggy broodiness of his face was transformed when he laughed. No, he was not skinny, though there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. She could almost see the muscles under the T-shirt, narrowing to the waist, all the power in the honed upper body, while the denim-clad thighs were compact and firm. Everything about him was exactly as it should be.
‘Fancy him?’ The girl was laughing. ‘I’ll fetch him over if you like.’
‘No, stop! Don’t!’
Her face reddened as the girl called out and waved a glass towards him in a wild gesture of invitation.
Across the room the youth’s gaze locked with hers for one ecstatic moment – then some girl in skintight jeans and a slinky top appeared at his side, and awkwardness turned to an anguish so acute that she longed for the embarrassment again.
I don’t care, she told herself, he’s just one guy among hundreds. And she made herself carry on chatting to the girls as if nothing had changed.
When she looked again, he had gone, and her disappointment was so sharp she was forced to acknowledge it.
‘Hi. Can I get you a drink?’
The touch on her shoulder was feather light. She whirled round, her insides detonating. Ka-boom! That had been it. Love at first sight.
Molly was getting stiff. She could feel the tension in her shoulder muscles and rolled onto her side to try to get more comfortable. In the other bed, Lexie was snuffling softly, like a spaniel contentedly chasing rabbits in its dreams.
She reached for her iPod and fumbled for the in-ear headphones. Under the covers,
she located the right track of her audio book and set the timer to thirty minutes. If she was still awake, she’d set it again when it turned the player off. And again, if necessary, until sleep finally came.
Adam Blair. Sexy as hell and with a sense of humour so dry you could set light to it. She’d thought she’d be with him for ever. So how had it all gone so badly wrong?
A couple of hours later and three rooms away, the subject of Molly’s reminiscences was alert and restless. Adam slipped soundlessly out of bed and padded across the carpet to the window. He eased one heavy curtain away from the glass so that he could steal a look at the morning world.
Inside his chest, his heart seemed to swell. This was what he had come for!
He inched the curtain back further, slipped between the fabric and the glass and pressed himself against the cold pane, his hands spread above his head, his nose almost touching the window, as if he might absorb the beauty of the scene through every cell.
Already the early sun was glancing off the water. Across the vivid emerald expanse of grass, the loch was a wash of blue framed by the glinting grey of the rocks by the foreshore.
He could feel his breathing deepen. He’d become conditioned to city living. Day after day, he was hemmed in by Edinburgh’s grand Georgian buildings. Day after day his eardrums were assaulted by the ceaseless noise of traffic. Day after day he was forced to thread his way through the crowds on the pavements or force a path for his bike between cars on his way to work or home.
He closed his eyes. He hadn’t realised how much he’d come to loathe it.
Outside a curlew mewed as it flew across the loch and he opened his eyes again. The siren call of this vastness was too much for him. He had to get out into the fresh air, the wide spaces, the hills. He forgot about the curtain and whirled around in his eagerness so that a bright shaft of light fell across Sunita’s slumbering form.
She stirred, threw a hand across her eyes and moaned softly. ‘What are you doing?’
He dropped the curtain back into place. ‘Shhh. It’s all right.’
‘What time is it? Come back to bed.’
He surveyed her curled body, so soft and desirable. There was no denying her beauty, and for a brief moment he was tempted to climb back into bed and wind himself around her. But he could have Sunita in his bed any time, while the opportunity for a climb was rare.
