Coming Home to Winter Island

by Jo Thomas

  ‘Rubes, if you’re going to put stuff up online, you should realise that everyone is going to see it. That is what you were hoping, isn’t it, that everyone would see it? But I get it, you think Lulu’s doing a great job. You don’t want to come back for the gig. Just let me know by the end of the month what you want to do, whether you still want to be a part of this band.’

  And that’s it: she hangs up and I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face. I look down at my phone, and with shaking hands access my voicemail. Joe’s voice barks in my ear.

  ‘Unless you get back to me immediately and tell me what’s going on and where you are, Rubes, that’s it! I don’t know what’s going on, with you, with you and me, but I can’t believe you’ve made me look such a fool! I mean it. Call me. We need to work out how to sort this mess out! If I don’t hear from you by the end of the day, if you’re not back as soon as you can, it’s over. You’re making an idiot out of me.’

  He knows I’m not in Tenerife. I have no idea how, but he knows. He knows I lied to him. I feel terrible. I need to ring him and explain. But first I need to work out exactly what I’m going to say. I need to tell him how I feel. I have to be honest with him. I also need to know how he found out I’m not in Tenerife.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  ‘You knew, didn’t you! You knew I was trying to keep it quiet about me being here. You knew I was scared about whether I could sing again. You knew . . . everything! And yet you went ahead and did it without asking me!’ I say as I march towards Lachlan.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Mairead. Now there’s no need to go getting all hot and bothered. We’re just going to walk the dogs. Check the stags . . .’ Hector is pointing around with his stick, and then loses his train of thought.

  I look back at Lachlan.

  ‘So you’ve seen it?’ His eyes light up and he smiles one of his rare smiles.

  ‘Seen it?! How could you? How could you do that without asking me?’ I fume. ‘I trusted you! Sing as if no one is listening, you kept saying.’

  ‘Exactly! And it worked!’ Lachlan smiles again, his cheeks ruddy in the cold morning air. He bangs his gloved hands together and swings his arms to keep warm. ‘You’re singing again . . . without any trips to Tenerife and your healing thingy.’

  ‘But that’s not the point, is it?!’

  Lachlan throws his hands up and turns away, clearly not wanting to talk about this. Hector wanders back into the house.

  ‘Ah, good walk,’ he says, taking off his hat and coat.

  ‘No, wait, Hector,’ I say, looking after him. But he’s taken himself off to his chair.

  ‘Now see what you’ve done!’ says Lachlan.

  ‘What I’ve done?! You’re the one who’s done this, not me!’

  ‘I was just trying to help, that’s all.’ He lets out a long exasperated sigh. ‘You wanted to sing again. You wanted to “get back to where you were”.’ He uses two fingers for speech marks. ‘You needed to get back to your band and try and get a record deal.’

  ‘Yes, all those things!’ I say.

  ‘So what’s the problem? Don’t you think you sound good enough?’

  ‘Yes . . .’ I say, grappling to find the words to tell him why I’m right and he isn’t. ‘I think I sound better than I’ve ever sounded, in fact,’ I say reluctantly.

  ‘Well then.’ He throws his hands up in the air again. ‘Now, are we going for this walk or not? I have a trial batch of gin distilling that I need to get back for.’

  ‘Without the final ingredient?’ I ask, distracted.

  He shrugs. ‘I thought I’d try. I’ve already had one go. It’s what I do: try and make things work. They don’t always turn out quite right, though.’ He looks at me, and I feel a buzz of excitement leap up and down my body. ‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to create some interest. I thought you sang beautifully, and I thought it might bring in some more investors.’

  I sigh. ‘We’re not going to make it, are we?’

  ‘I don’t think so, no.’ He shakes his head. And all of a sudden I want to hug him, and for him to hug me back. Everything we’ve worked so hard for . . . ‘We’re just not getting enough investors, and even if we were, we can’t do what we promised. We can’t give them an exclusive bottle of original Teach Mhor gin. We haven’t got all the ingredients!’

  He reaches forward and puts his hand around the back of my neck and draws me to him. I resist at first. I can’t let myself fall for this man. I’m going soon. But where to? Joe clearly feels I’ve betrayed him, and yet . . . I feel I’ve finally been true to myself. I need to speak to him.

  I look up. ‘Where will you go?’ I ask. ‘When you leave here?’

  ‘To the mainland, like I said.’

  ‘But what about a job?’

  ‘I’ll find something. The care home have offered me some gardening work. Might suit me fine. They said there’d be a job for you too if you wanted to spend some time singing with the residents.’

  ‘Ha, I might just take them up on that!’ I try and laugh through the sniffing and the tears that have started to roll. Tears of frustration and sadness. ‘Joe knows I didn’t go to Tenerife. He knows I’ve lied to him. He says I have to go back now, or it’s over.’ Everything I’ve known for the past four years, over. Lachlan pulls me closer, and this time I don’t resist; I let myself fall against his big chest and his soft knitted jumper, breathing in the aroma of woodsmoke and what smells a lot like home right now.

  ‘Come on,’ he says finally, as I stand up straight and he pulls off his gloves and wipes the tears from beneath my eyes. ‘Let’s see if there are any kippers left.’

  We turn towards the house. It’s a magnificent building. Despite its sorry state inside, it is as proud as its owner on the outside. Smart and upright and brave in the face of adversity. We start walking towards it, and Lachlan keeps his arm around my shoulders.

  ‘I’ll take down the video of you singing. Like I say, I just thought it would attract some attention on the crowdfunding page. I thought it did exactly what you said we should do, show off the island at its best.’

  I look up at him. ‘Did you?’

  ‘I did, yes. But I’ll take it down now. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you.’

  ‘It’s got me into a bit of bother. Joe’s given me this ultimatum and I’m in trouble with the band, with Jess.’

  ‘I should’ve thought. I’m sorry. I just saw it and thought how beautiful you looked in it, how beautifully you sang and how you were everything this island is. You’re a part of it as much as any of us. This is your home too.’

  The tears well up again and I drop my head as we walk back into the house and towards the big kitchen, where my old laptop is sitting on the table.

  In the doorway, I turn to Lachlan.

  ‘I’m sorry again,’ he says. ‘I really didn’t mean to cause trouble for you. I just felt . . . well . . . I just thought it was beautiful. I didn’t think.’

  ‘It’s fine, really,’ I say, looking up at him.

  He smiles back, that familiar smile, and just for moment I look at his lips and he looks at mine, and I feel myself drawn to him, but he suddenly turns and goes in to Hector and throws another log on the fire there. I blush. Was I going to kiss him because I feel bad and let down by Joe, or because I’m actually falling for him? I can’t let myself be confused by the two things. Thank goodness he pulled away first, otherwise I could have made a big mistake. I seem to have made a few of those recently.

  I open the computer and click through to the crowdfunding page. There’s the video. Jess must have seen it before me. And now she thinks I’ve lied to her and that it’s over for us as a band as well as for Joe and me. Even if I do go back, will she and the others want me after this? Can you be a band if you don’t have trust? Has all this been for nothing? We’re going to lose the gin, the house, everything. And Hector wil
l end up who knows where. A long way from everything he knows and loves.

  I look at the video and play it. Like I say, I usually hate to watch myself, but somehow, this time, it makes me smile. I’m there with my hair being blown by the wind, collecting firewood on the beach, gazing out across the water. It’s everything I will remember when I leave this place. It’s everything that was there in the gin.

  ‘Here, I’ll take it down,’ says Lachlan, leaning over me, making my nerve endings stand to attention again. He takes hold of the mouse. Hector has wandered into the kitchen, clearly having heard the singing.

  ‘It was back on the beach, that’s where it started . . .’ And he launches once more into the story of the day my father left. ‘. . . But he’ll be back. With the baby . . .’ and I can’t help but smile again, knowing that Hector was here waiting for me. There was always a place for me in the heart of this home, and in his heart too.

  ‘Wait,’ says Lachlan, the cursor hovering over the delete button. ‘I think you should probably see this first.’ And he points to the screen.

  ‘I can’t look!’ I say. I close my eyes and put my hands over my face.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  ‘Take your hands away, look!’ I hear him say, but I can’t. Then I feel his hands on mine, gently guiding them from my face until they’re on the wooden table in front of me. ‘Now open your eyes,’ he tells me. ‘Go on!’ he urges. He’s standing right behind me and I can feel his warm breath next to my ear. Excitement and fear are building in me, and I don’t know if it’s because of what he wants to show me on the screen, or something else.

  Slowly I open my eyes. What if investors have pulled out? Changed their minds? I know we haven’t made the target yet, nowhere near in fact, and the tea party is under a week away. This is my fault, or it feels like it anyway. I sigh deeply, resigning myself to the fact that we’re going to have to cancel. I raise my gaze to the screen, then blink and look again. I turn round to Lachlan, who’s smiling widely, creases forming in his cheeks, his flecked green eyes sparkling.

  ‘Looks like they’re investing in you!’ he says. ‘They love you!’ The smile on his face is mirrored in his voice.

  ‘Oh my God! People are paying! They’re really putting up money!’ I look at the figure on the screen again. ‘Aren’t they?’ He is still beaming and nodding, watching the total, which has just changed and gone up again. ‘Oh!’ My hands shoot to my face. ‘A new investor!’

  Lachlan leans in over my shoulder, making my heart pick up its pace as I smell his now familiar aroma of woodsmoke and pine. ‘Look, it’s the care home. The Island View. It says the residents have had a whip-round and want to be Teach Mhor investors. And they want to know if you’ll come back and visit again soon.’ He points. ‘And there are loads of comments about your singing. Looks like it’s you they’ve fallen in love with. “A slice of island life”, someone’s written.’

  Transported me straight there, can’t wait to taste the gin! I read another comment. Enchanting and magical. Felt like I was there! Who is this woman?! And then many more wanting to know who I am and where they can hear more of my music.

  ‘The number of shares and likes it’s getting is going up and up. People are reposting it all over the place! And look at the total, it’s amazing!’

  I stare at the number in astonishment, not believing it’s the same page we closed the computer lid on last night, thinking this was never going to happen, that we’d blown it.

  I turn to Lachlan once again, tears in my eyes, but this time they are tears of joy at the happiness I seem to have shared by being happy myself. He looks at me, his face close to mine, and I study its now familiar lines and curves, a map of the journey life has taken him on, just like Hector’s well-worn and weathered face.

  ‘Do you still want me to take it down?’ he asks.

  I shake my head. ‘No, leave it there. Thank you. It’s lovely. It’ll be a lovely memento of my time here,’ I say, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘And other people seem to like it too, which is what counts,’ I add quickly. Teach Mhor’s Winter Gin appears to be gathering an expectant audience. ‘Maybe this is how I finally helped!’ I realise I’ve said that last bit out loud, and I feel my cheeks pink.

  ‘Without you and your love of music, we’d never have found the recipe,’ Lachlan gently reminds me.

  ‘But without you, the gin will never be made.’

  ‘Well in that case, as I’ve told you, we make a good team.’ He smiles. ‘Who’d’ve thought it?!’

  I can’t help but smile back. Who indeed?

  I look back at the screen.

  ‘But even if we do make the target, we still haven’t found the final ingredient. We still have to deliver a special edition bottle of Teach Mhor Winter Gin, A Taste of the Wild Side to each of these bidders, or we don’t get our money. We won’t be able to deliver!’

  Lachlan nods thoughtfully. ‘There’s less than a week to go. Even if we start now, we’re pushing it to get the gin ready for the weekend. We’re going to have to go ahead without the final ingredient.’

  ‘But what if someone notices that it’s not the same? That we haven’t brought back Teach Mhor gin? That’s what you promised Hector you’d do. Besides, we’ve said on the crowdfunding page that it has five special ingredients gathered from the island. We’ve shown the first four . . . look, people are waiting to hear what the fifth one is!’ I point to the screen and the comments there.

  Hector wanders into the kitchen with the dogs at his heels.

  ‘Hello, Hector. We’re just watching all the orders come in for Teach Mhor’s Winter Gin.’

  ‘Always was popular!’ He smiles and sits in the rocking chair by the range, the dogs at his feet. And then the younger of the two dogs, Douglas, stands and comes to sit by mine. Rhona stays put. ‘Wish I could find the recipe. Can’t think where I’ve put it. Lovely singing, by the way. Heard it from the other room. Was it Mairead singing?’

  Lachlan and I look at each other and smile.

  ‘I think it was, Hector.’

  ‘Beautiful voice has Mairead. Always did have. She’s probably getting ready to go out. I’ll wait for her here,’ and he rocks back and forth in the chair, humming gently to himself. ‘I think that’s why Campbell fell for a woman who could sing. He loved hearing his mother sing. Loved the house being full of music.’ He closes his eyes. ‘I proposed to her in the pine forest, you know. Where we pick the pine needles for the gin. It’s what gave me the idea. Always loved the smell of pine. That and the smell of the sea. This place runs on water. It’s who we are. We wouldn’t be the island we are without it.’

  ‘You know,’ Lachlan says quietly, ‘they say that in brain function tests, they can’t find where the memories are . . . that they’re not actually stored in the brain.’

  ‘So where are they stored?’ I tip my head and look up at him.

  ‘Some would say in the heart,’ Lachlan says, fetching two glasses and pouring two shots of his tester gin. ‘And when we have nothing else, we’ll still have memories, so we’d better make them good ones.’

  We chink our glasses together and sip. I can see the island, taste it . . . but there is something missing. What is it?!

  ‘I have an idea, if we really want to get more crowdfunders,’ he says.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We offer an intimate gig, with you, at the tea party. They obviously love your voice. You sing, and by the sounds of it, they’ll come.’

  Could I? Could I get back up there and sing again?

  ‘Actually . . .’ he continues, ‘look, don’t be cross at me again, but I’ve already said you will.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  The screen pings again and another investor is added to the list. I know one thing for sure: I can’t go home now. Not yet.

  ‘Excuse me, but I have to make a call,’ I say, and I step
outside to ring Joe. I know exactly what I’m going to say, and why.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Much later that night, or maybe early the following morning, we finally close the computer and wearily but happily make our way upstairs. We guide Hector to his bedroom, where Lachlan helps him into bed. The rain is hammering down outside and the wind is rattling the window frames, just like the first night I arrived here. I look at the fire in my room. It’s dead. Since I agreed to stay on and help find the gin recipe, it’s been lit every night, and a hot-water bottle in my bed too.

  There’s a knock at my door. Lachlan’s head appears.

  ‘I haven’t lit the fire,’ he says, concerned.

  ‘Oh, it’s fine, I’m going straight to bed,’ I say, and wave a hand at it.

  He looks at me for a moment.

  ‘Goodnight, Ruby,’

  ‘Goodnight, Lachlan.’

  He hesitates. ‘You okay? Joe, your boyfriend? Has he forgiven you?’

  I look up at him, seeing the concern on his face. Then I take a deep breath and let it out as I say flatly, ‘We finished.’

  ‘Oh God, Rubes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for—’

  ‘It’s fine. It was the right thing. Ever since I got here, I’ve realised how little we have in common. I mean, we have “the plan”.’ I use my fingers to do inverted commas. ‘Getting the contract, buying the flat, et cetera, et cetera. But actually, what I came to understand is that he’s all about life plans and not about living. I could never have seen him fitting in here. Joe likes his smart shoes and tailored suits. You’d never have got him in a pair of second-hand wellies!’ And we both give a small laugh.

  ‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ says Lachlan.

  ‘I may not be right now, but I’m sure I will be,’ I say, and smile.

  ‘Goodnight then,’ he says.

  ‘Goodnight, Lachlan,’ and I shut the door and listen to his footsteps as they walk slowly away and up the stairs.