Wildflower Bay

by Rachael Lucas

  ‘Ooh, snooker,’ said Isla. ‘I’m rubbish at – oh hello, Finn.’

  Dave, just leaving, gave him a knowing look. ‘Oh, aye?’ Finn shook his head. Bloody hell, had she been on the hair-curling liquid or something? She was plastered.

  ‘Isla.’ He pulled out a chair and she flopped into it, elbows on the table, chin in her hands, gazing at him with slightly unfocused eyes.

  ‘I’m getting her a Coke.’

  ‘Coffee and water would be better, I reckon,’ Finn called out to Shannon, who was heading to the bar.

  ‘I don’t drink,’ explained Isla, helpfully.

  ‘Right,’ nodded Finn. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘You’ve got nice eyes. Mind you, so did Jamie Duncan.’

  Jinny, sitting on the other side of Isla, shook her head at a questioning Finn. ‘Don’t ask. Long story.’

  Shannon returned with an espresso and a pint of water. She turned back to the bar to order drinks for herself and Jinny. ‘Want anything?’ she asked Finn.

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  They sat in silence for a moment. Isla swayed gently on the chair.

  ‘God, I really want a Pot Noodle.’

  Shannon returned with drinks, sizing up the situation in an expert manner. ‘Jinny, do you want to wait here, and I’ll get Isla home? Isla, I reckon you need a bit of a sleep and a couple of painkillers for the morning.’

  ‘I could just have a snooze here. S’quite comfy.’ Isla’s head nodded forward.

  ‘I’ll walk you home.’ Finn stood up. ‘You got the keys to the flat?’ Isla nodded. He caught a brief look between Shannon and Jinny. ‘I’ll come back and let you know she’s in safely. Deal?’

  Isla tucked her arm into his quite happily. She was a fairly lightweight drunk compared to some of the lumpen buggers he’d had to help haul home from the pub on a Friday night over the years. There’d been one memorable occasion when Paul MacEwan, a dairy farmer from the far side of the island, had been so plastered and was so enormous that they’d had to roll him into the back of a pickup truck and wheelbarrow him through the farmhouse door. In comparison Isla was floating along by his side, quite cheerfully.

  She stopped suddenly, pulling him round. ‘You’re nice, Finn.’

  ‘Thanks. You are too, Isla. Now, let’s get you home.’ He started walking again.

  ‘No.’ She stopped dead. ‘I mean I like you.’ Her eyes were wide. She was gorgeous, completely plastered, and had no idea what she was saying. Unfortunately. Finn realized with a jolt that he wished desperately that they were having this conversation on a beach in the rain, and completely sober.

  And then it was too late, and Isla had reached forward – she was tall enough that she didn’t even stand on tiptoe, just snaked her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him.

  ‘Woooah!’ shouted a group of boys cycling past on BMX bikes.

  ‘No,’ said Finn, pulling back, holding Isla at arm’s length. ‘You’re going back to Edinburgh in a few weeks.’

  Isla looked at him for a moment, cocking her head to one side. ‘I suppose I am.’

  He nodded. God, this was hard.

  ‘Ooh, I really want a Pot Noodle.’

  ‘Let’s get you home.’

  ‘She’s in the flat, quite happy, off to bed with a bottle of water and two ibuprofen.’

  Finn stood over Jinny and Shannon, who had been deep in conversation with their arms waving animatedly.

  ‘Aye, she’s going to need them in the morning.’ Shannon shook her head, mouth pursed in mock disapproval. ‘D’you want to join us for a drink?’

  It was the last thing he wanted. Looking up at the light glowing from the salon flat, he sighed and set off for home.

  It took Isla a moment to remember why there was a half-drunk bottle of water and a packet of ibuprofen by her bed. Oh, God. She headed for the kitchen to make coffee, realizing when she opened the fridge that the milk was out of date. Pulling on a pair of leggings and a hoody, she ran down the stairs to the salon fridge.

  As she turned back to make her way upstairs, something outside the door of the salon caught her eye. It was too early for deliveries – the first ferry hadn’t even made it into the harbour.

  Isla pulled open the door, bending down to discover a gift bag. Inside was a Pot Noodle with a pink Post-it note stuck to its top.

  ‘Friends?’ it said.

  ‘Love me tender . . .’

  The sound of Bruno’s deep voice as he sang along to his favourite Elvis track made Ruth smile. She’d decided on a whim that morning to hop on the bus along to town, and, pleasing herself, had hopped straight off and in for a plate of scrambled eggs on toast and a pot of tea. Surprisingly the cafe, which was usually packed at this time of year, was almost deserted.

  ‘There you are, my darling,’ Bruno beamed at her. He’d been on the island for donkey’s years, but the Glasgow accent still bore a hint of his native Italy. He’d kept a teenage Finn out of trouble, giving both him and his best friend Roddy part-time jobs working there in the holidays – Finn washing dishes behind the scenes, Roddy out front making coffees for the tourists who came in off the boat in droves back then, oblivious to the fact they were being served cappuccinos by the future Laird of Duntarvie. Ruth smiled to herself, remembering. She sat back on the red leather seat of the old-fashioned booth and relaxed. This was the life.

  ‘Ruth!’

  Talk of the devil – Kate, Roddy’s wife, came through the door, smiling as always. She was a lovely girl, a real breath of fresh air. Smelling of roses and carrying an armful of flowers wrapped in paper, Kate leaned across the table, kissing her on the cheek.

  ‘How are you?’ She put the flowers down on the empty table opposite. ‘I’ve just nipped in for a sneaky bit of Bruno’s chocolate cake.’ She looked down at her stomach.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Ruth smiled, motioning to the empty space beside her. ‘Are you staying here, or taking it back up to the big house?’

  Kate sat down with an exhalation of breath. She looked from side to side in a jokily conspiratorial manner, lowering her voice. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but Jean’s up there making mushroom quiche for dinner, and the smell –’ Kate pulled a face, making Ruth giggle. ‘And she’s got it into her head that I’m eating too much rubbish, so between her and Mum they’ve cleared out all the things that taste nice in the house, and I am desperate for cake.’

  ‘I won’t tell a soul. Let me get it – my treat. Bruno,’ Ruth called across, ‘can I have a nice big slice of that chocolate cake, please?’

  Jean was a lovely woman, but fairly set in her ways. Poor Kate; Ruth could remember being dreadfully sick when she’d been expecting Shona.

  ‘Here you go.’ Bruno frowned slightly as Kate reached across and took it gratefully.

  ‘Ohhh,’ she sighed, blissfully.

  ‘That solves the problem. If any of the food police come in, we can tell them you’re just having a wee taste of my cake.’

  ‘You are an angel,’ Kate beamed, her mouth full.

  Later that afternoon, with the salon closed as usual for the Wednesday half-day, Isla was just pottering around when she heard a knock on the glass. Looking up, she felt her cheeks flush scarlet.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about last night.’ There, it was done.

  ‘It’s fine. It was nothing.’

  Oh good, thought Isla, we can just pretend it didn’t happen. She brushed away a slightly miffed feeling that she’d hoped it might be slightly more than nothing to Finn; but then, with his reputation he probably dealt with people making passes at him three times before he’d even made it to work in the morning.

  ‘I wondered – as you’re closed this afternoon – if you fancied a trip over to the other side of the island? See the seals?’

  ‘I’d love to. Give me five minutes.’

  They parked in a lay-by overlooking the bay. In the distance, purple against the sky, was the huge sleeping giant of Eilean Mòr, the island that
stood several miles across the sea beyond Auchenmor. The air was still, and filled with the sweet, coconut scent of the yellow gorse bushes.

  ‘If we walk through this field,’ Finn explained, ‘we can take a shortcut down to the rocks where the seals hang out. I’m not the expert – Roddy’s the one who knows all the marine biology stuff – but it sort of rubs off on you when you grow up with someone like him.’

  ‘You two seem really close.’ Isla clambered over the stile that led into the field.

  ‘Yeah, we are. Neither of us had any siblings – well,’ he looked at Isla, his face clouding for a second, ‘I didn’t know I had any, let’s put it that way.’

  ‘Have you thought about what you’re going to do about Shona?’

  Finn shook his head. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it, and Isla was happy to enjoy the peace and not push it.

  ‘You’re lucky to have Ruth, anyway. I love spending time with her.’

  ‘She loves you.’ Finn gave her a nudge. ‘I think I’ve been replaced in her affections, actually.’

  ‘Hardly. You’re her blue-eyed boy.’ Ruth had chatted away about how proud she was to see Finn back in the workshop, doing the creative work he loved. Isla had promised to call round after the reunion and let Ruth know how it had gone. It was an unlikely friendship, but they enjoyed each other’s company enormously.

  Finn and Isla walked down towards the beach together in a comfortable silence, the sea birds swooping overhead. As they stepped onto the rugged black stones, Finn pointed out the first of many seals basking in the sunshine. It was amazing that just hours away the city was gearing up for Festival time – and she’d soon be back there, with all this just a distant memory. Until recently the idea of wanting to come back to Auchenmor ever again had horrified her, but of late, as her friendship with Shannon and Jinny – and, Isla admitted to herself, with Finn – had grown, she’d realized that once Jessie was back, she could see herself coming over for the occasional weekend. The bustle of city life was in her blood, but the island had an unexpected charm that she’d grown to love.

  She and Finn sat down on a couple of rocks and he produced some chocolate, which tasted delicious in the salty air. They sat together for a while, looking out to sea, before he spoke.

  ‘So, not long now. What are your plans for when you get back to Edinburgh?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know.’ Isla shook her head. ‘Maybe I’ll open a meditation retreat like Lily, get a load of guests in to redecorate the place, charge them a fortune.’

  Finn laughed. He scooped up a handful of tiny pebbles, letting them run through his fingers and down into the rock pool at their feet.

  ‘Well, you’ve transformed Jessie’s place for her. Maybe that could be your thing. You could set off around the Highlands, create a chain of high-fashion salons and scare all the old ladies out of their blue rinses and perms.’

  Isla frowned. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘What did you want to be when you grew up?’ Finn shifted around to look at her, his gaze open and direct.

  ‘Me?’ Isla looked at him, thoughtfully. He was a good listener, Finn. He looked you right in the eye, made you feel like he was really interested in what you had to say. It was part of his charm – she winced slightly, remembering the other night. ‘Um, actually, when I was younger, I wanted to be an English teacher.’

  ‘Interesting choice of career, then, hairdressing.’ Finn’s eyes crinkled as he laughed.

  ‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t really a choice. It just sort of happened.’

  ‘You’ve done a brilliant job with Shannon. Ma was telling me you’ve taught her loads.’

  ‘I like teaching the girls far more than anything else,’ she admitted.

  ‘So go back to college. Train as a teacher. It’s not too late, y’know.’

  Isla looked at him with surprise. She’d shelved that plan a long time back.

  He raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Just a thought.’

  Isla fell back into silence, watching as a tiny crab made its way from one edge of the rock pool to the other. Overhead the gulls wheeled, their calls rising and falling on the wind. Eventually, they set off for home, Isla still lost in thought.

  It had been a quiet afternoon, but a lovely one. When Finn reached across to give her a kiss on the cheek, Isla surprised herself by turning it into a hug of thanks.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Finn drove back over the hill to Kilmannan, Isla by his side. He was going to drop her off in town and nip back for a chat with Ma – talking to Isla, he’d realized that there was no point putting it off any longer. Flicking on the indicators, he turned across the junction, catching sight of a rainbow-coloured flash of tattoos and brightly dyed hair climbing out of a beaten-up old Corsa.

  ‘That’s Shannon,’ said Isla, leaning across to wave. ‘What’s she doing at Ruth’s place?’

  Finn let down the window, slowing the car to a stop. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah, Ruth left her purse on the counter when she nipped in earlier.’

  Finn switched off the ignition, suddenly feeling the need to check on Ruth. ‘D’you mind if I just pop in? Shannon, I’ll take it – thanks.’

  ‘No probs,’ said Shannon cheerfully. She handed the purse over and clambered back into the Corsa. It roared off, leaving a black cloud of exhaust fumes in its wake.

  ‘I’ll come in with you,’ said Isla, ‘say hello. We’re meant to be getting together tomorrow evening – I’ll just make sure she’s still OK for meeting after work.’

  Finn smiled at her as he pushed the door open. She genuinely loved spending time with Ruth – maybe it was growing up without her own mum around, but they’d formed a bond that was really sweet.

  ‘Ah, hello, you two.’

  Finn frowned down at the sofa where Ruth was sprawled, half-lying, half-sitting, still wearing her coat.

  ‘Are you OK, Ma? What’s going on? I’ve got your purse here – Shannon said you left it in the hairdresser’s.’ He placed it on the mantelpiece and squatted down to Ruth’s level. She looked paler than usual, the wheeze on her breath evident.

  ‘Vertigo,’ she said, hefting herself upwards, ‘that’s all. I think I had a little spell when I got home, so I just sat myself down for a moment. Nothing to worry about.’

  Isla sat down beside her, smiling. ‘Shall I take your coat?’

  ‘Och, yes, go on then.’

  Watching Isla as she tenderly helped his ma back into place, Finn found himself asking, almost without thinking, ‘Ma, I was about to take Isla back into town before I came back – would you mind if she –’ Isla looked up at him, dark eyes on his – ‘I mean, Isla, d’you fancy staying for a bit of early supper?’

  ‘That would be very nice.’ Ruth smiled up at him. She looked tired.

  The little kitchen in the cottage hadn’t changed in years. He filled the kettle and discovered that she’d made a pot of his favourite Scotch broth. Switching on the gas ring, he turned back to the fridge and started with surprise at finding Isla just behind him.

  ‘Sorry.’ She flushed slightly. ‘I thought maybe I could give you a hand?’

  He shook his head. If Roddy and Kate could see him now, they’d be teasing him mercilessly. He was as jumpy as a bloody kitten with Isla around.

  ‘That’d be lovely. If I cut this bread, d’you want to butter it for me?’

  They worked side by side, Isla’s arm brushing his from time to time. She was ridiculously beautiful and beyond distracting. He felt a pang every time her remembered that she was only going to be here for another few weeks. Maybe he could try just staying friends with her, make sure she was looked after . . . He snorted with sudden laughter.

  ‘What is it?’ Isla turned to him, pushing her hair back from her face.

  ‘Sorry, just thinking about something funny that happened the other day,’ he lied. He couldn’t tell her he’d laughed because the idea of Isla – feisty, sharp-edged, no-nonsense – needing someone to look
after her was completely preposterous.

  ‘Finn,’ Isla lowered her voice to a whisper, putting down the butter knife for a moment, ‘d’you think Ruth’s OK? She looks a bit pale to me.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He’d hoped he was being paranoid in thinking that. He sighed. ‘I dunno; you know what she’s like. She’ll say it’s nothing.’

  ‘I’ve never met anyone with such an aversion to doctors. Seriously, you’d think they were all trying to kill her off.’

  ‘I’ll maybe try and persuade her to pop in to the surgery tomorrow.’ Even as he spoke, he knew it was highly unlikely to happen. He tipped the soup into three deep bowls.

  ‘I can hear you two whispering away in there,’ came a voice from next door, ‘and you’d better not be gossiping about me, or I’ll come in there and skelp your backsides.’ There was a cackle of laughter.

  Ruth, sitting on the sofa, was quietly pleased that she’d been caught out having a small nap in her raincoat. At Bruno’s earlier she’d had a lovely chat with Kate, who’d agreed that Isla was the best thing that had happened to Finn in a long time and that it was a pity the two of them couldn’t blooming well see it.

  It was lovely to hear those two pottering about in the kitchen together, and she was fairly sure she’d managed to fob them off with the excuse that she’d suffered a bit of vertigo – she had her friend Ethel to thank for that one, Ethel having recently been laid low with dizzy spells that had kept her at home for a few days. Ruth had finished her chat with Kate and decided that that was enough for one day, and had been very grateful to accept a lift back home in Kate’s car.

  Taking her flower-sprigged walking stick in one hand, she pushed herself up out of the sofa – it was too damned close to the ground, that thing, which was precisely why she never usually used it. Straightening the embroidered tablecloth, she laid the table neatly before sitting down at her place.

  Finn dropped Isla back in town after they’d eaten.

  ‘Will you pop in and make sure Ruth’s OK on your way back?’