“And she believed you?” As I asked the question, I gave myself the answer: of course she would! Lara was forever looking for magic in the world around her; she was the one whose imagination coloured everything.
“Yes. I mean, she’d just seen one herself.”
“Oh my God,” I said, and took my face in my hands. Maybe my daughter was like them. How would I know? I never met her biological family. Maybe they were all like that. Or maybe it was a one-off.
Oh, let it be a one-off.
“Don’t worry. It might not happen again. Or she might have a very interesting time ahead of her . . . Anyway, there’s something else I need to tell you.” He fixed his eyes on mine and we felt closer than ever.
“What else, now? There’s a monster in the loch?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there is. But what I had to tell you is that I’m in love with you.”
Later, much later, we stood on the doorstep of Ramsay Hall. I was about to walk back to my mum’s house and to my children. I was so happy that the bliss turned to fear around its edges. Maybe now I knew what Lara meant when she said she was afraid of happiness.
And still, there I was, and my heart was alive like it hadn’t been in years.
“So when did you say you were going to move in with me?”
“What? Not today anyway,” I said with a smile.
“No, that’s right. It’s too soon. Next week?”
I laughed, and my laughter resounded through the grounds of Ramsay Hall in a sudden silence and a strange echo. It was like the whole house breathed, an immense, all-encompassing breath of relief.
Thank you, I whispered silently, though I wasn’t sure who exactly I was thanking.
Epilogue
Days of the dancing
Margherita
When I walked from the purple dusk into the light and music, the ballroom was glimmering and twirling with dancers and lights. It seemed impossible that Ramsay Hall had begun to emerge from its decay and that this ball was just the beginning. There was a long way to go before we could open properly to the public, and it would take time – but it would happen. Finally, Torcuil had started to believe in Ramsay Hall and its potential again, and he had contacted the National Trust for Scotland for support; with their help, we were on our way. A representative from the Trust was there tonight, Anne – she was standing beside Torcuil with a glass in her hand and a smile on her face. She had fallen for Ramsay Hall’s charm and she would help us bring it back to life. I felt so proud that all my hard work had contributed to making this happen – that I had been a part of this.
Our eyes met, and she lifted the glass in my direction; I smiled back, and then my eyes went to Torcuil beside her, as if in spite of all that light, everything was dim to my eyes but his face. He glanced at me from across the floor; then he turned to Anne and murmured something, and walked towards me, his eyes never leaving mine, like we were drawn towards each other by an invisible ribbon tied to our wrists.
“Come,” he whispered into my ear and led me away, through the busy hall and outside, back into the summer twilight. I knew that more than a few people would notice we’d made our way out, but neither of us cared.
Torcuil took me across the garden and onto the grass, wet with the evening dew, and, finally, under the trees and away from curious glances. We stopped and wrapped our arms around each other seamlessly, as if of one mind, and for a moment the whole situation seemed so surreal, so thoroughly impossible, that I felt disconnected from myself. It was like I was watching myself from above, this woman who made changes and took brave decisions and followed her heart. Two months ago I had been standing in my bedroom in a London suburb, wondering how my life could have tumbled away from me the way it had, and turned into something I didn’t recognise and didn’t feel mine. And now I was somewhere in Scotland, in the arms of a man who wasn’t my husband and still seemed to know me and understand me so much better than Ash ever had.
I remembered what Torcuil had said to me only a few weeks ago – a lifetime ago, it seems – about life being like a film or a novel, minus the happy ending. But our happy ending was just there, ready for us to grab and make it ours.
“You set me free,” he whispered in my hair.
I pulled back just a bit to look into his face. I was going to say, “You set me free too.” But it didn’t sound right.
Because it wasn’t true.
He hadn’t set me free – I’d set myself free.
So I didn’t say anything. I just kissed him, and in that kiss there was something I hadn’t felt in a long time. The possibility of more love in my life, and a different one from that of my children. The chance to love again – to let this feeling bloom and grow in my heart. The chance that everything might be well.
His hand pressed the small of my back and his kiss was tender and slow – from Ramsay Hall came the distant sound of music – the fresh, pine-scented breeze blew in my hair and on my bare shoulders – everything came together in my heart like a symphony of happiness.
Yes, I’d set myself free, and there was a new life in store for me.
We slipped inside, my cheeks tingly from the evening chill. From the windows in the ballroom I could see night slowly falling after an endless summer evening. The music was in full swing and the girls and women looked like dancing roses in their evening gowns: and there she was, my daughter, chatting with Inary. She wore the dress we’d chosen together, shimmery and off-the-shoulder and showing off her long legs. Her hair fell in rich, golden waves and her skin glowed – her young beauty was a joy to behold – but what made me so happy was what emanated from her, a sense of joy, of confidence that I’d never seen in her before. Our eyes met across the room and she smiled at me, a smile that was a woman’s and a child’s at the same time – blooming with promise, but also somehow innocent, enchanted.
My Lara.
A small crowd of people surrounded her all of a sudden. Two boys and two girls, dressed in kilts and evening gowns. One of the girls had braces and the boys looked awkward, both of them tomato-red as they approached Lara. Inary made her excuses and left Lara with her new friends – our eyes met across the hall, and she nodded slightly, smiling.
My mum was at my side – she saw me watching Lara, and she took my arm to attract my attention. “That’s Madison . . . oh, and Rebecca Paterson. I know their parents. The boys are Davy and Calum Munro. They all go to Kinnear High School. They will be in the same class as Lara.”
The schools had already reopened in Scotland, but Lara would only be a week late and the head teacher of Kinnear High had reassured me that it wasn’t going to be a problem.
I watched Madison and Rebecca smile and chat to Lara, with the boys grinning and looking on, and my heart warmed. After a while, Lara made her way to me. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were shining.
“I’m going to hang out with them next weekend,” she said.
“That’s great.”
“I have a good feeling about my new school.”
“Yes. I have a good feeling too,” I said as the band, with Angus among them, jumped into a joyful, crazy reel. The music made my heart sing. It wasn’t long before Torcuil made his way back to me and wrapped an arm around my waist, without caring who saw.
My butterfly summer had drawn to an end, and my whole life had changed. The days of looking at myself in the mirror and not recognising the woman I saw were over, as my head and my heart aligned again, and I felt I was where I was meant to be, with the people I loved.
I recalled something I’d thought when I first arrived in Glen Avich: that I was hoping for a new Margherita to come to life. But now I realised that what I’d been looking for wasn’t a new me, it was the real me.
All I had to do now was live my life.
COPYRIGHT
First published 2015
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
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This ele
ctronic edition published in 2015
ISBN: 978 1 84502 768 1 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 746 9 in paperback format
Copyright © Daniela Sacerdoti 2015
The right of Daniela Sacerdoti to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Set Me Free Page 24
