Wildflower Bay

by Rachael Lucas

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  It was a big funeral.

  ‘They always are, here,’ Kate, sitting at a table with a glass of sparkling water, explained to Isla – one island outsider to another. ‘They do this sort of thing in style. Everyone knows everyone here, and they like to give them a good send-off.’

  It was definitely true in Ruth’s case. She’d been a much-loved member of the community, with friends of all ages who wanted to pay their respects.

  Shona had arrived the day before the funeral. Finn, who had thrown himself into organizing everything – Isla suspected it was his method of avoiding the pain he was feeling – had everything under control. He’d collected Shona from the airport and offered her the spare room in his cottage, but Shona, who had Finn’s blue eyes and the same smile, turned it down. Perhaps wisely, Isla reflected, she’d chosen to give Finn some space, opting to stay up on the hill in Murdo Gilfillan’s hotel.

  ‘She’s lost her mum, remember,’ Isla had said to Finn, quietly. It had taken a moment before he’d taken in what she said, and really understood it. He still had his – and a chance to rebuild the bridges. She hoped he would take the chance. Even after all this time, being around funerals reminded her of her own loss; made her think of how her dad had coped for all these years. She was so glad he’d met Estelle.

  ‘That was a lovely ceremony. Ruth would have enjoyed it, do you no’ think?’

  Isla smiled to herself, overhearing two elderly ladies chatting as they washed their hands in the loos of the hotel.

  ‘Aye. She would indeed.’ The taller of the two women turned to Isla, who was brushing her hair. ‘You’ll need to look after that laddie of hers.’

  ‘Aye, right enough,’ said the other lady, reaching into her handbag to find a lipstick. ‘Nice to see him settling down. I think we all thought Finn would be playing the field forever.’

  Isla, who’d heard the same line several times already, just nodded vaguely and smiled.

  ‘Oh, look at that,’ said Kate, raising her eyebrows to direct Isla’s gaze. Over beside the bar, Finn, who had been deep in conversation with Shona for over half an hour, embraced her with a smile.

  He looked more peaceful than she’d seen him in weeks. Roddy returned from the bar with a tray of drinks, setting it down on the table beside Isla, who had somehow been installed with Finn’s closest friends.

  ‘Look, darling.’ Kate put a hand on Roddy’s knee.

  ‘About time, too,’ said Roddy, sounding exasperated. But his eyes were twinkling, and as he passed Isla a drink he toasted her, touching the edge of her glass and raising an eyebrow in complicity. ‘That reunion’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?’

  ‘So, Isla –’ Kate turned back to her – ‘has Finn managed to persuade you that island life isn’t completely awful yet?’

  Isla couldn’t help laughing. Roddy had told her how Kate had arrived in a whirlwind of chaos and fallen in love with the island, its people, the animals (‘Quite a lot of its whisky, too,’ Finn had said, laughing), and embraced the place completely. She, on the other hand, was still suffering major shopping withdrawal symptoms, but . . .

  ‘He’s done a reasonably good job. But Jessie’s back now, so it’s time for me to head back home to Edinburgh, really . . .’ She heard her voice trail off. The truth was that whilst she was fairly sure Shannon could take over the reins if, as looked likely, Jessie decided to take at least part-retirement – and Jinny was delighted to have not one, but two jobs doing the thing she loved best – Isla herself had literally no idea what was going to happen next.

  Her gardening leave was up, and all she had to show on her CV for the last two months’ work was a torn-out page from Hello! magazine.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said Kate, straightening up in her chair. Finn was making his way across the room, Shona by his side.

  She was fair, tanned from years in the Australian sun, and had picked up a slight accent. Finn made the introductions: ‘This is Roddy, who you’ll remember, and his wife Kate . . .’ He turned to Isla, who stood up awkwardly, holding out a hand. ‘And this is my –’ Finn stumbled over his words. Isla felt her heart thud suddenly against her chest. Kate gave Roddy a very definite Look.

  ‘ – This is my friend Isla. She’s been amazing, and Ma absolutely adored her.’

  Isla, her hand still half-extended, was surprised when Shona leaned forward, embracing her in a warm hug.

  ‘Isla, darling.’ Shona took her arms, pushing her back for a moment to get a good look at her. ‘Mum just loved you. She said you were a breath of fresh air.’

  Isla smiled back at Shona, whose blue eyes, an exact match for Finn’s, sparkled back brightly at her, tears beginning to spill over.

  ‘She just loved you, and I have to hug you again,’ Shona squeezed her tightly, ‘for being there for her. Oh, I just wish she could have held on an extra few weeks until I was due to come over.’

  Shona pulled up a stool beside Isla, Roddy handed her a drink, and they sat chatting until Shona was called away to speak to another group of relatives.

  It seemed to Isla that more people in the family were aware of the secret than Finn had at first let on. She’d heard several comments about rebuilding bridges and making the best of things, and it being what Ruth would have wanted.

  ‘Well, you were a bit of a hit,’ Finn teased her. ‘Careful, or she’ll be taking you back off to Australia in her suitcase.’

  ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ Isla hadn’t quite known what to expect – but she could almost hear Ruth laughing, that sing-song island voice saying, ‘What would you expect of a daughter of mine?’

  ‘I feel a bit of an idiot for making it all into such a big deal,’ Finn admitted, shaking his head ruefully.

  ‘It’s done now, anyway.’ Isla waved at a merry-looking Shannon and Jinny, who were hurrying past to the loos together, arm in arm. They both looked slightly unsteady on their feet, having taken advantage of the free drinks on offer. The guests were starting to drift off now, everyone having paid their respects. Shona had disappeared into a huddle of old school friends and had told Finn she’d catch up with him in the morning, blowing Isla a kiss across the room.

  ‘Finn, Isla – we’re going to head off now. Kate’s knackered.’

  Kate, who had blossomed and couldn’t disguise the fact that she was pregnant any longer, was standing by the table, looking pale and worn out. ‘Do you want to come back to the house?’ She smiled, taking a sip from her water bottle. ‘I’ll be fine once I can get these clothes off and put on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt. Everything I wear is so blooming uncomfortable at the moment.’

  Finn thanked her, but shook his head. ‘You two get off. I think I’m going to take a walk down on the beach. Isla – d’you fancy it?’

  It was a beautiful evening. They walked along the promenade and past Ruth’s cottage. Her neighbour had just arrived home and was sitting outside in the warmth of the sun, still dressed in her black dress, feet in thick black tights slipped out of her fancy shoes and back in slippers.

  ‘It’s a shame that the person who’d most enjoy a funeral isn’t there to take part, isn’t it?’

  Isla looked at Finn sideways.

  ‘Ma would have loved today,’ he continued. ‘All her family, all her friends – everyone she loved all gathered together, and a nice buffet meal and a couple of glasses of sherry.’

  Isla laughed. ‘As long as we were finished in time for her to get back and watch Emmerdale.’

  Finn raised an eyebrow, nodding. They walked on in silence for a while longer, following the road round where Isla normally ran in the evenings, the sea lapping peacefully against the shoreline, the air silent but for an outboard motor as a little fishing boat headed out for the evening.

  They’d made it as far as Finn’s place. They stopped by the water, climbing down over the rocks to the water’s edge. Finn stood for a moment, looking thoughtful. He picked up a smooth, flat stone and skimmed it across the wa
ter. It jumped across several times, breaking the mirrored surface with quiet splashes, before disappearing out of sight.

  He turned back to look at Isla, rubbing the stubble on his jawline, looking contemplative.

  ‘Now, I’m going to warn you in advance – I don’t have any Pot Noodles handy.’ He smiled teasingly at her, his hair lit gold by the low evening sun. ‘But I’ve got some whisky. D’you want a drink?’

  He reached into his pocket, pulling out an engraved silver hip flask, turning it over in his hands for a moment before turning to face her. He looked up.

  ‘Very funny.’ Isla reached across, taking it from his hands. ‘This is beautiful.’

  ‘It was my great-grandfather’s – he used to take it out shooting.’

  She held it upright, and he unscrewed the lid.

  ‘You go first.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Isla took a sip as he looked on. It felt like it was catching alight inside her, and with the still-warm sun on her skin, she felt as if she was glowing. The water whispered over the pebbles of the beach.

  ‘I just wanted to say . . .’ There was a catch in Finn’s voice. ‘I can’t tell you how much you helped today. It made it bearable.’

  Isla smiled, looking into his eyes, seeing the sadness there. Unthinking, she reached across, running a hand down his cheek. He caught it, turning it inwards, kissing her wrist.

  ‘Sorry, I –’ He closed his eyes for a moment.

  ‘Don’t be.’ Isla felt herself leaning towards him. He was still holding onto her hand. He opened his eyes again, catching hers for a brief second. She breathed again – ‘Don’t be—’ and then he leaned towards her, drawing her in, wrapping his arms around her. She felt his heart thumping against his chest under his shirt and the heat of his skin, and she looked up into his eyes and they kissed for what felt like forever, sitting there on the rock in the sun of the evening, with the sound of the waves in the background and the birds wheeling overhead.

  Not until the sun had slipped down beneath the mountains on the peninsula did they stop, and only then for long enough to head hand in hand across the road, pausing in the little archway that led to the stone steps, where Isla tangled her hands in his hair and he pushed her back against the cold flat stone of the wall and kissed her again, and again, until eventually they made their way inside.

  Sunlight through the undrawn curtains fell across Finn’s face, waking him. It was early, the sky still streaked pink. He heard a sound. On the other side of the room, Isla was pulling on her top, her movements stealthy. With a lurch in his stomach, Finn recognized the movements of a person trying to make an early-morning getaway. Knowing the sensation of guilt and regret, knowing how much she was dreading him waking up, and having to explain why last night was a bad idea, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He didn’t open them again until he heard the click of the front door closing.

  Isla, walking home along the coast road in yesterday’s clothes, realized that this being the island, someone was bound to see her – even if it was five in the morning. All it would take would be one car passing, and word would be round the island in no time at all; and then she’d be another notch on the bedpost of Finn MacArthur. She’d woken that morning in his arms, and it had felt so deliciously right, and warm, and safe, that she’d immediately slipped out of them and into the bathroom, where she’d splashed her face with ice-cold water and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

  Her eyes were glittering, almost black, her hair completely messed up. She ran a hand through it, raking fingers through the knots that had formed. Her chin was pink with stubble rash from hour upon hour of kissing, which had been . . . she felt her eyes widen. Anyway, the last thing she wanted to be was Finn’s post-funeral one-night-stand. Every tale she’d ever heard about Finn and his behaviour – he’d even, he had admitted last night, had a fling with Kate while he and Roddy were supposedly on a break. Isla rolled her eyes. How many times had she heard that line?

  Finn was an amazing person – kind, funny, thoughtful, sensitive – attributes she could appreciate in a friend, but couldn’t quite trust in a lover. No, she wasn’t going to risk anything. She had slipped back out of the bathroom, and made her escape.

  It was Wednesday afternoon. With the salon closed, Jinny was heading off to Lily’s place to do a Reiki training session with some of the retreat guests.

  ‘She’s getting more like blooming Lily by the day,’ Shannon remarked, rolling her eyes, as Jinny, a long silk scarf dangling around her neck, hopped onto her moped.

  ‘There’s Rab.’ Isla, who couldn’t help wondering how safe it was to be riding a moped with all that stuff flapping around, looked up as she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. Shannon slipped out of the door, waving, a bundle of hair magazines under her arm. Kate, who’d been delighted with her work at the wedding – and the way Shannon had somehow managed to charm the obstreperous Rose into cheerful compliance – had popped in that morning, asking if she could arrange a meeting with Isla, Shannon and Jessie to discuss how they could work together on a more permanent basis. Kate had admitted that despite planning to take some time off, they’d somehow ended up booking in more weddings over the next few months, as there was some major repair work needing doing to the central heating. ‘Nobody tells you this stuff when you sign up to marry a laird,’ Kate had said, laughing and pulling a face.

  Isla was just locking up when her mobile rang.

  ‘Isla Brown?’

  ‘Speaking.’

  Isla had looked at the unfamiliar number for a moment before answering, deciding it was probably a wrong number or a sales call. By the sounds of it, it was the latter.

  ‘Hi, Isla, I’m Shirley Hepworth. I’m looking for a senior stylist for a salon I’m opening in Edinburgh, and you’ve come to me highly recommended. If you’re still available, I’d love to have a chat with you.’

  Isla leaned back against the door of the salon, stunned.

  ‘Finn?’ Shona’s voice echoed through from Ruth’s bedroom to the sitting room, where he was supposed to be sorting through the contents of her sideboard. He stood up, stretching the aching muscles in his back, and headed through. Since the day after the funeral he’d been working every hour he could, just to stop himself from thinking. He’d sent Isla a quick text, deciding that he couldn’t bear losing her as a friend, just saying that he appreciated they’d made a bit of a mess of stuff and he hoped it wasn’t going to be awkward.

  Don’t worry, funerals do weird things to people. Still friends?

  X

  Her reply had come back straight away, decisive and very clear. She didn’t want anything more, and he had to get over it. In the old days, that would have meant heading out on the pull – but he had literally no desire to do that.

  ‘Look at this.’ Shona pulled open a drawer. It was neatly ordered, with the bare minimum of belongings. ‘I think as soon as Doctor Lewis told Mum what was happening with her heart she decided to get herself organized.’

  It certainly looked that way. The sideboard in the sitting room had nothing but a neat pile of books stacked on one side, and inside, every last drawer and cupboard had been sorted out. There wasn’t a piece of rubbish or an old bill anywhere – and when Finn was growing up, Ruth had lived no more than an averagely tidy life. She certainly hadn’t embraced minimalism to this extent.

  He lifted up the lid of the jewellery box. Inside were the old familiar brooches, the string of pearls Ruth had been given as a wedding present . . . and in the section underneath, three envelopes, all addressed in her neat, spidery hand.

  ‘Oh, Mum.’ Shona looked down at them, her voice cracking.

  Finn swallowed hard, holding back tears. He picked up the one with his name on the front, turning it over. There was one addressed to Shona, of course – and one for Isla. He’d have to see her. His heart thumped unsteadily at the thought.

  ‘Do you want to –’ Shona motioned to the letter. He shook his head. Somehow, he felt he
wanted to wait and open it somewhere alone, take the time to have a last moment with his lovely Ma, breathe in her scent from the paper, trace his fingers along the words she’d written. He missed her with a raw ache in his chest that didn’t leave, just subsided from time to time before soaring back, knocking him backwards with grief and regret.

  They decided to leave sorting out the house until the next day.

  Finn took the letter home. He sat it on the coffee table whilst he made himself a drink, putting it off, making himself wait. He made a coffee, and sat watching it go cold.

  Shaking his head, he picked up the car keys, took the envelope, and headed out.

  He drove the long way round the island, not noticing the view, ignoring everything he would normally drink in. He loved everything about this place, but right now he couldn’t think past the envelope that sat beside him on the passenger seat.

  Darling Finn,

  I have to confess that the romantic in me has always rather wanted to write a letter that begins ‘by the time you read this, I will be gone’, but actually, now that I am sitting down to do it, I find it’s not quite as much fun as I expected.

  I’m so proud of the person you have grown into. You are a good man: one I know your grandfather would have loved to meet and – as I am sure you won’t be surprised to hear me say – one I hope your mother will enjoy getting to know. I am so glad that when Shona comes over you’ll be spending some time with her, and I hope I’ll still be around to see it.

  Now, there’s another envelope in the dresser in the hall – something that, if by chance I don’t make it, I had hoped to share with you and Shona. Have a sherry for me if I’m not there.

  And Isla. It’s not for me to say, but if you’re reading this, you can’t laugh and say ‘well, why are you saying it, in that case,’ so I’m going to tell you anyway. She’s a treasure, and I think you know that the old matchmaker in me hopes that you two might get together one day, but . . . in the meantime, I’m leaving her a note, too. But before you give it to her, you need to talk about this with Shona and make sure she’s happy. I’m certain she will be. As you already have your place, I’d like to let Isla have the use of my cottage for a while – a couple of years or so before you sell it, or whatever you and Shona choose to do with it. She needs somewhere to escape to if she’s going back to city life, and that grotty little flat isn’t going to tempt her back over to the island.