Set Me Free

by Daniela Sacerdoti

  33

  Ablaze

  Torcuil

  What I said to her makes no sense.

  About needing a promise, and that without that promise, I couldn’t let myself fall.

  Because I’ve fallen already.

  Because love doesn’t come with conditions. To say I’ll only love you if you won’t leave me means it’s not love in the first place.

  The only way to love is no matter what.

  It’s forgetting every fear.

  It’s a leap of faith.

  How could I have deluded myself to this extent? How could I have deluded myself that I needed a promise before I let myself burn, when I was ablaze already?

  34

  Lara’s world

  Margherita

  I was relieved when finally night fell. I’d spent the whole evening making nocciolini and paste di meliga to serve at La Piazza, Leo was drifting off to sleep, and Lara was reading in her room. I’d said to Mum and Michael that I was tired and I’d have an early night. My mum had been studying my face, of course, and several times through the day I saw her looking at me when she thought I couldn’t see her. She suspected that something was going on, but I wondered if she was aware that Torcuil was involved. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I dreaded what she would say if she knew I’d got so close to Torcuil.

  I was lying on my bed with Leo beside me, trying to read but really lost in thought, when Lara tiptoed in, careful not to wake her brother up. There was something in her face that made me do a double take. She was worried about something, I realised at once. As always with anything regarding Lara, anxiety swept through me. I worried about her so much more than I did about Leo, though I loved them just the same.

  “Fancy some chamomile tea?” she whispered.

  “That would be lovely,” I murmured back, stroking Leo’s hair.

  Lara went to make some tea in my mum’s kitchen and came back with two steaming mugs and a little plate of the paste we’d made that afternoon. I followed her into her room. We sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching our warm cups. It felt good to have our little ritual again – like a lighthouse in the storm of my thoughts.

  “This is lovely,” I said in a low voice.

  “I put honey in our tea,” she said. We were dancing around what was to come; I could feel it. I knew she was getting ready to speak to me.

  “Mum?”

  Here we go. “Yes?”

  “He wasn’t there again today.”

  “Mal?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I haven’t seen him for days now. We’ve been meeting almost every day, and—”

  “Every day, Lara?” I asked, slightly alarmed. I hadn’t realised things were so serious. I silently berated myself for not probing her more about Mal.

  “I said almost every day.”

  “Right.” I stopped myself from saying more. She needed my support, not the third degree. “Look, he’ll be there tomorrow, I’m sure . . .”

  “I hope so.”

  “. . . and I’d like to meet this boy.”

  “Mum!” The colour rose in her cheeks and she put her cup down on her bedside table.

  “Well, when you’re ready, okay? If you’re seeing each other every day and he’s so important to you . . . You’re only fourteen, Lara. I need to at least see him once.”

  “Fine! I’ll ask him if he can come and get me at the house one day so you can say hello, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Pause.

  “Is he from Glen Avich? Or is he here just for the summer, like us?”

  So much for not giving her the third degree. But I couldn’t help myself.

  She grabbed her mug again and she leaned back on her pillows.

  “He lives here,” she said.

  I was holding my breath, hoping my request hadn’t made her clam up. We sipped our tea in silence until, finally, she spoke.

  “You see, last time we met, he said something.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he didn’t know how long he’d be able to stay for. At the time I thought he just meant he had to get home soon, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Did he elaborate on that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Maybe they’re moving away?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Can’t you just ask him?” I said, gesturing at her mobile phone on the desk beside me.

  “He doesn’t have a phone. Can you believe it?” Lara replied, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

  “Seriously? He must be the only person left on the planet.”

  “Yeah . . . he’s not into modern things much. He didn’t know what an iPod was when I showed him mine.”

  “Well, Glen Avich is a little bit backwards compared to London, but not that backwards. It seems to me that your friend is a bit of a technophobe.”

  “He loves books,” she said, and her face brightened up.

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  Lara nodded. “Yes. He’s a lot like me. He doesn’t have many friends.”

  Her throwaway comment squeezed my heart. “You just haven’t found the right people, yet.”

  “I don’t even know if the right people for me actually exist,” she replied, biting a pasta. “Nonna wants to introduce me to a couple of kids from Kinnear High, but I don’t know. Mmmm. This is heavenly . . . Anyway. I just hope Mal will be there tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure you’ll see him again soon. You meet at the bridge, don’t you?” I said casually. I needed to know she wasn’t going somewhere isolated with this guy. I knew she was streetwise and not likely to do anything silly or dangerous, but I wanted to make sure.

  “Yes. And around the loch.”

  “Lara—”

  “I know what you’re thinking. And you really don’t need to worry. Mum, I’m going to do a bit of writing before I go to sleep.”

  The time for confidences was over. But I had one last question.

  “Lara, I was wondering . . . do you know his second name?”

  “So you can do your research?” A smile was dancing on her lips.

  “Not at all. What makes you think that?” I laughed, gathering the cups and the plates back on the tray.

  “I don’t know his second name. I never asked him.”

  “Nothing like a man of mystery,” I teased. I resolved to ask my mum and Michael if they knew something about this enigmatic boy.

  “Mum, stop it!”

  “Sorry. Anyway, I’ll be off watching TV with Nonna and Michael.” I’d given up on an early night; my mind was too agitated. “Just come through if you want some company,” I said, and gently swept away a tiny crumb from her cheek, letting my fingers linger for a moment on her beloved face.

  Her school would open again in three weeks’ time. Soon our butterfly summer would be over. But I couldn’t bring myself to mention that aloud, because it would upset Lara and it would upset me.

  None of us was looking forward to going back.

  We sat in my mum’s house until late, but Lara didn’t join us. From the window I saw the light in her room shine for a little while, and then it was all dark. She’d gone to sleep.

  “Mum, you know the way I told you that Lara made a friend? Well, they’re meeting nearly every day, apparently,” I said.

  “Yes, you mentioned it.”

  “Is he really just a friend, though?” Michael pondered. “Are you sure?”

  Mum laughed. “Don’t fret, Michael.”

  “I’m not fretting. I’m just saying, when my daughter was fifteen I had to fend them off with my rolling pin.”

  “I’m sure they were terrified.” Mum laughed again and I couldn’t help joining in. “Did you throw biscuits at them?”

  “A biscuit can hurt, if aimed correctly,” he quipped. Once again, I saw how much my mum and Michael were in harmony with each other, how deeply comfortable in each other’s company. And once again, together with the joy I felt for Mum, a vague heartache filled me, to see what I
had wanted to build with Ash and somehow failed to.

  “She told me he’s just a friend,” I said. “But I’m sure they’re sweet on each other.”

  “Well, that’s good. I’m happy for Lara,” my mum said.

  “So am I, but I really want to meet him. I don’t feel comfortable not knowing who he is. I mean, if we were in London I’d never let her meet someone I don’t have a clue about . . .”

  “Of course, but here is different. Everybody knows each other and there are ties with the villages around as well. Young people here don’t have much chance to do anything secretly,” said my mum. “Is Mal is short for Malcolm?”

  “Probably. Lara says he definitely lives here in Glen Avich.”

  “I don’t know any boys by that name personally . . . Do you, Michael?” He shook his head. “But I’m bound to know somebody who does. I’ll ask Peggy. She knows every single soul around here.”

  “Including pets, guardian angels and everybody’s ancestry,” Michael chimed in. “She’s like a human Google for the Aberdeenshire area.”

  “That’s a good idea. I need to get a few things at her shop anyway, tomorrow. I’ll ask her myself.”

  As I got myself ready for bed, I realised that I hadn’t thought about what happened with Torcuil for a few hours, after having obsessed about it since the day before. It was a blessed relief, but I ended up replaying our kiss in my mind over and over again as I drifted off to sleep, in spite of the guilt. I found myself counting the hours to when I’d see him again – wishing the days away until he came back to Glen Avich. But nobody, nobody ever needed to know. It would be a secret for me to keep.

  The next morning Leo and I went out with the excuse of running errands, but I was hunting for some more information about Mal. It was a beautiful day and Leo skipped happily by my side. We dropped by Peggy’s shop, which was, fortunately, empty – no curious ears to hear what I was asking. I didn’t want to tell her the real reason for my curiosity in case any gossip about Lara started, so I kept it vague.

  “I was wondering . . .” I began as I helped Peggy slip my groceries into a canvas bag. “I’ve met a few people since I arrived, but I can’t quite place this boy . . . His name is Mal. Maybe short for Malcolm.” I didn’t specify how I’d met him, and Peggy didn’t ask.

  “Oh, yes. It could be Mal MacLennan,” she said, and I smiled inwardly, remembering Michael calling her Google for the Aberdeenshire area. “A lovely lad. He’s doesn’t live here, though. He lives in Glasgow. They come back to the village every summer. They stay with the lad’s grandmother, Morag MacLennan, two houses down from me. You know the wee lassie, Ruby, the one with the head of curls?”

  “Oh, yes. Leo played with her a few times.”

  “Well, Ruby is Morag’s youngest granddaughter, so Mal is actually her uncle.”

  “Right.” My head spun a bit at the intricacies of Glen Avich family ties. “Do you know if he’s still down for the summer or if he’s gone back to Glasgow?”

  “No, the McLennans didn’t come at all this summer . . .”

  Oh. Dead lead.

  “. . . Morag told me they’d gone to visit their eldest daughter in Arizona and stayed there all summer. It’s a shame. She misses them this year. I suppose there’s always the October week . . .” Peggy kept chatting as my mind wandered.

  “You don’t happen to know any other Mal? Or Malcolm?”

  “A few, but they’re all my age. Malcolm is an old-fashioned name, isn’t it? They don’t tend to call little ones ‘Malcolm’ any more. My friend’s granddaughter called her son Wingo. Seriously! That poor wee mite having to live with that for the rest of his life.”

  “Maybe he’s a tourist?” I tried to steer the conversation away from Wingo and on to Mal.

  “Maybe. I’ll ask around, if you like? Tourists always end up at the Welly anyway – you know the outdoor shop? Inary’s brother owns it. That’d be Logan. I’m his grand-aunt, you know . . .” She’d lost me. She could see it on my face, and she laughed. “Never mind, dear! Maybe Logan knows your Mal. I’ll ask Eilidh, anyway.”

  “Thank you, Peggy,” and I went to go before she tried to explain to me any more genealogical trees.

  “No bother, dear.” Her eyes wrinkled all around as she smiled warmly. For a second I thought she’d ask me where I’d met Mal, but she didn’t. I was grateful for that. Maybe she’d guessed, who knows. One thing was sure: if she didn’t find out for me, nobody could, and this Mal was a figment of Lara’s rich imagination. Or he went by a false name, I joked to myself, and I was immediately freaked out by my own joke. I hoped with all my heart to meet him soon and dispel all my fears.

  On my way back to La Piazza, I debated whether to speak to Inary about this. Maybe she knew something and she could ask her brother. But I wasn’t sure it was right to do that. After all, in spite of the age difference she and Lara were friends, and it really felt disloyal, like going behind Lara’s back.

  “Would you like to go to the play park?” I asked Leo. How easy to please he was, a three-year-old puppy who just needed cuddles and fresh air. A universe away from the complications and complexities of a nearly fifteen-year-old girl. And of a thirty-eight-year-old woman, for that matter.

  “Yes!” Leo jumped up and down, and pulled on my hand.

  As I sat on one of the play-park benches in the morning sun, feeling a gentle breeze on my skin, I decided to wait and see, and keep close tabs on Lara in the meantime. I didn’t want my beautiful, sensitive daughter to ever get hurt. Though I knew that all women do, sooner or later, and her turn would come. I just hoped it wouldn’t happen too soon, before she knew how to protect her heart at least a little.

  As for me, I was lost. I couldn’t make any decisions, because I didn’t trust my confused heart to make the right one.

  35

  Chill

  Lara

  Dear Kitty,

  I’m very worried. I haven’t seen Mal in three days now. I’ve tried everywhere: the loch, the bridge, the tree house, but he’s nowhere. I’ve spoken about him with Mum, even if I was determined to keep everything to myself (by the way – I didn’t tell Mum we go to the tree house sometimes, in case she drops in on us while she’s at Ramsay Hall . . . by complete coincidence of course). This worry is too heavy to bear on my own. She reassured me a little bit, but now she has wants to know more about Mal.

  And I can’t tell her more about him because I know very little too.

  I know nothing at all about him, really. And still if feels like I’ve known him forever, if that makes sense.

  I’m just back from another long, long walk, looking for him. I’m all kind of blue.

  I miss him so much.

  And there’s something else. I don’t want to go back to London.

  The summer is drawing to an end. None of us is mentioning it aloud, but it hangs between us. Yesterday I heard Mum saying to Nonna that when we go back we’ll have to go to John Lewis because my school blazer will probably be too small for me. I felt sick. Just thinking of going back to that school . . . Maybe I should speak to Mum? Maybe she’d like to stay?

  But what about Dad?

  Last night he actually phoned me, for the first time since we arrived. I asked him why he’d never phoned me before – I couldn’t help it, I just had to. He said it was because I always called him first, so he never really had the chance. I’m not sure I believe him, but anyway he did call me in the end. He told me he can’t wait to see me and Leo. It took him a month to realise that, which is a bit strange, but hey, I’ll take it. He said it’s been a long time and he misses us. I asked him why he never calls Mum. He said it’s because Mum doesn’t want to speak to him. If she did, she would have never left in the first place.

  I’m pretty sure he’s rewriting history here. They both agreed to take a break from each other. He forgets that I’m fourteen, not ten, and I see and understand a lot more than he gives me credit for.

  I’m all confused now. I want to see Dad and I d
on’t want him to be upset. But I’m so much happier here. I hate the thought of going back to my old school and facing them. I haven’t checked social media all summer; maybe they put up more stupid cartoons of me. I’m dreading it.

  And Mum seems so happy. Her face shines, if you know what I mean.

  The way she was in London, always rushing and frowning and like there was a big weight of worry on her shoulders, it seems so far away now. She was like . . . dimmed. Yes, like a light that had been dimmed.

  Here she is bright.

  Having said that, in the last few days she’s seemed a bit troubled. I think I know why: it’s the end of the summer, and she’s worried. I told her what Dad had said about missing us, about wanting us back. She didn’t say anything. She just went very pale. I don’t think she wants to go back either.

  It’s all messed up.

  Kitty, the bottom line is: I want to see Mal again.

  For now, that’s the only thing that’s clear in my mind.

  36

  Nowhere

  Lara

  Dear Kitty,

  I’m in my bed, and I don’t want to see anyone.

  He’s gone.

  We went to the tree house, and it was just the two of us in the whole world. The wind was very strong and it was howling outside the little window. The tree house was creaking a bit, but I was too perfectly happy to care about that, or anything else. We sat really close to each other and he held my hands. He always did this thing, Mal – he held my hands. Like he was holding on to me, in case I disappeared.

  “When I was wee, me and my brothers slept in this room with a big window,” he said. “When the wind was blowing strong it made a strange noise around the window, like something hissing. I was frightened, so my mother used to come and sing to me. She sang a song about a bird flying in the wind and then coming home safe.”

  “When I was little my mum wasn’t there. She died,” I blurted out. Just like that.

  I don’t even know how I came out with that. I never speak about my family. I mean, my birth family. It’s too painful. But this time I did. I have no idea why. It’s just that I trust him. I trust him with my secrets.