Flora slipped out of the side door and walked down the hill, not even turning to say goodbye to her father, who was now happily ensconced in an old chair they’d pulled outside, chatting to his cronies. She wouldn’t be missed, and even if she was, she certainly didn’t want to draw attention to herself leaving, or spoil anyone else’s fun.
The harbour was uncharacteristically quiet. The campers had obviously retired, finding that Sunday trading laws were still very strict on Mure, and that there really was nothing open, particularly in the afternoon. They’d all be on the Endless Beach, Flora assumed, making the most of the glorious day. Or, if local, it seemed that everyone on the entire island was up at her house.
She stared out to sea, desperately looking for the narwhal dancing – anything to lift her spirits. She wondered briefly why Colton had been so emotional. It was sweet really; he’d never seemed like a terribly emotional man.
But seeing Joel again. That’s what had really set her off. When he hadn’t even come to see her.
The realisation was like a wave breaking over her head. He was getting better – it was obvious. And still he didn’t want her. And she couldn’t keep kneeling at the edge of the table for crumbs. She couldn’t survive off closed minds and turned backs and things – so many things – left unsaid. It was like trying to love a rock. No, she thought bitterly to herself. At least rocks were solid and stayed put. Joel was a law unto himself. She felt horrible deep down in her stomach.
The tide was high, lapping against the harbour wall. The Endless Beach had disappeared almost completely; it must be a lea tide, that rare mystical confluence of moon and water that made the world feel entirely enslaved to the gentle deep blue.
She knew now. The Seaside Kitchen was leaking, but summer was coming on strong. She could do it. They were going to make it up, she knew they were. She could keep it together. She could make it on her own, after all these years of yearning so much for Joel. She was still here. And the tide would still come in and go out, and the sun would still rise – well, until the clocks went back, at any rate – and she would persevere. And sustain. She could.
‘Flora!’
She squeezed her eyes tight. She didn’t want to talk to anyone and she certainly didn’t want to talk to him, not here, not now.
‘FLORA!’
Joel couldn’t get her to turn round. She was walking away from him. How many other people had he seen walking away? He couldn’t bear it. He ran ahead of her across the walkway to the harbour, as she kept walking, head down, not looking at him.
‘Go away, Joel,’ she hissed. He dived up in front of her on the wall, and she blindly put her arms out to move him out of the way. He stumbled, surprised for a moment, as Flora looked up, also surprised, and without warning he found himself off balance and slowly, and entirely without ceremony, he fell sideways off the harbour wall into the water.
‘JOEL!’
Flora’s face was a picture as she peered over. The water was shallow but utterly freezing, about knee deep, and he immediately tripped in the rip. He had managed to hurl himself into a forward roll as he fell – and landed rather beautifully, Flora was unsurprised to note – but he was choking and coughing and utterly drenched, and completely shocked by the sheer temperature. He stood up, his brown hair dripping and curling more now it was wet, falling over his glasses.
Flora couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.
‘Why do we live in the Arctic?!’ shouted Joel, and Flora couldn’t help noticing the ‘we’. But she was too helpless to respond. His trousers were utterly ruined.
‘Thank you for your sympathy and kind help,’ said Joel. ‘Oh my God, I’m going to die of hypothermia.’
‘It’s only up to your knees,’ pointed out Flora. ‘Also …’
She pointed to the far end of the Endless, where the sand backed into the dunes and the tide never took over completely. You could just see a family playing there, the children in swimming costumes splashing in the water.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ said Joel. ‘Okay, I get it; you’re all Nanook of the North.’
He waded towards the wall and tried to scale it, but without success. Flora watched him but didn’t follow him, as he waded round to the slip. Her heart was beating incredibly fast.
‘Please,’ he said, hands out as he approached, dripping all the way. ‘Can we talk?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Flora. ‘Can you?’
Chapter Fifty-eight
Feeling distinctly hazy, Lorna clocked somewhere that Saif had left – without saying goodbye; without speaking to her at all. Fine. If that was what he wanted, Innes was looking handsomer and handsomer in the bright early evening; the noise was growing louder and everyone was having an absolute ball; Colton and Fintan were dancing together, completely wrapped up in one another; a few midges were circling, but lazily, as if even they didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the day.
Innes checked that Agot was busy – she was, climbing up Hamish, who happily pretended not to notice she was using him as a climbing frame. Or, possibly, he hadn’t actually noticed …
‘Come for a walk?’ he said to Lorna. Lorna, giggling and none too steady in her heels, agreed and Innes pinched a bottle of fizz from the big bin full of ice and two plastic glasses, and they set off.
Saif had not gone; he had been rounding up the children, amazed that they appeared to have had a good time. He just caught sight of Lorna, still laughing, her gauzy dress floating behind her, following that handsome brother of Flora’s. He shouldn’t feel anything, he knew.
He felt a lot. He refused to admit it to himself, pressed it down. This was ridiculous. He was a married man. He was.
Innes and Lorna headed off, by mutual consent, not down towards the town and the Endless, where partygoers were staggering up and down, but behind the farm, climbing up the stony hill. Lorna abandoned her shoes, which they both decided was quite hilarious, and they clambered up over the grass and the moss, as the view expanded in front of them.
Finally, they came to a rock with an outlook over the top of the farm, tiny below them now, sheep dotted about like cotton buds. You could see for miles, right across, Lorna felt, the top of the world. Innes passed her the bottle and she drank, and they laughed nervously, and then Lorna giggled some more and then Innes laughed too, both of them conscious that they had known each other since childhood. He moved over and tentatively put a hand around her shoulders and she flushed.
‘So,’ said Innes, who, Lorna knew already, was incredibly practised at this kind of thing. She, on the other hand, was definitely a bit rusty.
Innes moved closer.
‘You look pretty in that dress,’ he said.
Lorna realised that he was about to come in for a kiss. And simultaneously she realised that she was sitting here, feeling the pleasant weight of a man’s arm around her and pretending – desperately fantasising, even, as they sat out on a hillside overlooking the most beautiful bay in the world – that he was somebody else. Oh, to hear those words – but from Saif. Innes was great, but …
He moved closer again. She told herself, just go for it. For goodness’ sake, she was a living, breathing woman, wasn’t she? She liked sex, didn’t she? It was a beautiful summer night and there was a handsome man sitting right next to her and she had absolutely no other prospects on the horizon of anyone quite so nice, and she should enjoy it. She should …
Then she turned, and realised again it was Flora’s brother – Flora’s brother, of all people – and she realised she was laughing again and it wasn’t polite and Innes was actually looking a bit wounded.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
‘Oh God. Sorry. Innes, I’m sorry. I’m just remembering that time you came home from Cub camp and you’d got into a fight defending Hamish because he’d eaten all the sausages …’
Innes smiled at that too.
‘Well, he did eat all the sausages. But the other kids weren’t very understanding about it.’
‘You had this bloodied nose and you were so furious!’
Innes smiled. ‘Maybe I’m the patron saint of lost causes.’
He passed over the bottle.