Wildflower Bay (25 page)

‘It’s not like that. There’s nothing going on.’

Jean assembled the salad, tossing it in a bowl, looking at Finn shrewdly. She placed it down on the table. ‘Help yourselves. Kate, there’s plenty of celery if you’re still
after it.’

Kate shook her head, pulling a face. ‘Don’t even mention the word – the thought of it makes me want to throw up now. But if we had a watermelon, mind you . . .’

‘You’ll be lucky if you can get one of them at the Co-op. Could you not crave something we can grow outside?’ Roddy put a hand on his wife’s arm. The baby seemed to have
brought them even closer together.

The three of them chatted and laughed their way through the meal, as they’d done many times before. The weddings had been enough of a success that Roddy and Kate had made the decision to
take a break whilst the baby was born, so they could focus on family life and not have to deal with the stress of anxious pre-wedding preparations taking up every moment. They’d still have
the estate to run, but it would take some of the pressure off.

‘And there’s something we wanted to ask you,’ Kate said, curling her feet up underneath her. It was another chilly afternoon, and the fire was lit in the big sitting room. The
dogs lay, panting with the heat, sprawled on the rug in front of the hearth.

‘Go on.’ Finn hoped they weren’t going to ask if he’d take over more admin on the forestry side. Since handing over the reins to Dave, he’d really been enjoying
getting back into working on his woodcarving. It had been years since he’d had the time to do it, and strangely, working on Lily’s unorthodox commission had really got him back in the
creative mood. He’d taken a real pride in making each of her carvings as unique as possible – they mightn’t be the sort of thing he’d sell to a gallery, but since then
he’d started a huge figure of Pan, sculpted from a piece of wood he’d had sitting in the workshop for years. God, maybe Lily was having more of an influence than he realized.

Roddy reappeared from the kitchen, a pot of coffee and biscuits on a tray.

‘We were wondering if, now you’re doing a bit more of the stuff you love – would you make us a cot for the baby?’

‘An heirloom,’ explained Kate. ‘We’d like to have something we can pass down through the generations.’

Finn raised his eyebrows, indicating the vast room of the castle in which they sat.

‘Yeah, all right, smart-arse – besides the castle and all that shit, obviously. Anyway, it would be really lovely if it came from you.’

‘I’d love to.’

‘So, about this hairdresser girl . . .’ Roddy raised an eyebrow.

‘She’s got a name, you know.’ Kate shoved him on the arm. ‘She’s really nice, actually. I like her.’ She shot Finn a look. ‘Don’t go doing your
usual—’

‘Bugger off.’ He threw a piece of bread roll at her head. ‘First, there is absolutely nothing going on – we’re just friends.’

Roddy burst out laughing. ‘Right, I’ve heard that before.’

‘She’s not like that, honestly. She’s quiet. She’s funny, when you get to know her. And she’s kind. She gets on really well with Ma. They’ve been going out
for walks together.’

He caught Roddy and Kate exchanging glances.

‘And is she kind to animals, too?’ Roddy passed him a coffee.

Finn chose to ignore that comment.

Driving home over the moorland road, Finn pulled over and killed the engine, looking out over the hills and to the islands beyond. Everything around him was changing, but this
place remained the same, unmoving. Kate and Roddy were establishing themselves as a family. Even Jean was making noises about retiring, taking some time to travel the world with her husband.
Already the island gossips were out in force: Finn’s reputation preceding him, it would be seen as a done deal that the only reason he’d hung around up at the retreat was in the hope of
getting his leg over. And OK, fair enough – in the past, that might’ve been his intention. But this time, he wasn’t sure it was enough. Isla had made him open up, talk about his
past, think about what had happened with Shona, his – his mum. Maybe it was time to have a proper talk about everything.

‘Oh my
God
.’

Isla looked up from her coffee to see Jinny exploding through the front door of the little hair salon. There was a crash as she knocked over a cardboard display of products, which she dismissed
with a wave of an arm that was brandishing a glossy magazine.

‘We’re in
Hello!
’ Her hair flying, Jinny threw a plastic bag down on the floor – another four copies of the same magazine slid out – and spread herself
across the reception desk, flicking through the pages furiously.

‘What’s going on here?’ Shannon sauntered in behind her, cool and measured as always, sizing up the situation. She smoothed down the long-line vest top she was wearing over a
black miniskirt, peering across to see what her friend was so excited about. Isla smiled to herself. The girls had worked hard at the weekend. Had Jinny known that the photographers who’d
been manoeuvring around them on Saturday were working for
Hello!
she’d have been delirious with excitement – which was precisely why Isla, who’d found out whilst chatting
to Kate, had decided not to breathe a word. Rose, the bride, had enough society clout to guarantee a few pages of coverage. Isla hadn’t expected the feature to appear in the magazine this
week, but Jinny’s delight had made keeping quiet well worth it.

‘Ahhhh!’ Shannon shrieked with excitement, abandoning her usual couldn’t-care-less demeanour. ‘There I am! Look, Isla! Oh my God,
look
, Jinny’s in the corner
of that one, helping you fix Rose’s mum’s hat in place.’

‘I’m famous.’ Jinny did a little twirl on the spot, ending in a curtsy. ‘Autographs are available on request – oh my God, this is so amazing, can you believe it?
Our salon, featured in a proper magazine like real hairstylists?’

Isla shook her head, laughing. She peered over Shannon’s shoulder. They were all in there – and she was mentioned in the caption. Well, that was one in the eye for Kat Black and
Chantelle. She wondered if they’d pick up the magazine over coffee in Edinburgh and notice. And – she gave a shiver of anticipation and nerves – the reunion was two days away.
Well, that would be one in the eye for the mean girls from school. She crossed her fingers behind her back and sent up a little petition to Lily’s goddess of the Clootie Well:
please let
them pick up a copy of this week’s edition
. Maybe she’d sneak up later and tie a wish to the tree, just in case.

‘This is
literally
the absolute best day of my life ever. I can’t believe it. I can die happy.’ Jinny hopped up and down.

Shannon was still peering closely at the picture, as if she couldn’t quite take it in. ‘Can you imagine what Jessie’s going to say to this?’

Isla looked up as the door rattled open and their first client of the day walked in. ‘I’ll give her a call later. Meanwhile, you two, we’ve got hair to do.’

‘You’re sure you don’t want me to put a nice colour in?’ Shannon spoke to Isla’s reflection. It was Saturday morning, they’d finished up
early, and Isla was feeling so sick with nerves that she could barely speak. Her stomach was twisted in a knot.

She shook her head.

Shannon ran her hands through Isla’s wet hair. Jinny, meanwhile, was spinning round on the next chair, dithering over what Isla should wear, a prized copy of
Hello!
still close at
hand. She’d been utterly delirious with glee for the past two days – every single client had been shown a copy, the newsagent had ordered in extras from the mainland, and Jinny was
determined that Isla should take one with her to the reunion.

‘Just stick it in your bag, casual-like. And when they’re all, “So I’m manager of Marks and Spencer, what do
you
do?” you can just pull it out –’
she flicked it in the air, as if brandishing a sword – ‘and be like “Yeah well I’m in
Hello!
magazine actually, so stick that in yer pipe and smoke
it.”’

Isla, who could imagine Jinny turning up to her own school reunion in ten years’ time and doing just that – except, of course, that there wasn’t a soul on the island who
didn’t already know about it – laughed. There was absolutely no way she’d do anything like that. To be honest, she was seriously contemplating backing out. She knew that both
Helen and Amira wouldn’t take much persuading.

‘How about I make it a bit asymmetric?’ Shannon ran her hands down Isla’s hair, thoughtfully. ‘I mean, it’s in gorgeous condition and that, but it’s a wee bit
. . .’

‘Safe?’ Jinny piped up, helpfully.

Shannon pulled an awkward face. ‘Er, yeah.’

Isla, who prided herself on her smooth, gleaming, neatly kept bob, grimaced at them in the mirror. They were probably right. ‘OK. Nothing majorly radical.’

‘Nah,’ said Shannon, picking up the scissors, ‘you’re safe with me.’

Isla closed her eyes. It was true, she did feel confident in Shannon’s abilities. The younger girl had a real talent that had just needed to be brought out, and the last few weeks had done
that. Isla had loved teaching her, and she’d been a brilliant pupil. How she was supposed to go back to being Jessie’s second-in-command, Isla couldn’t imagine – but Shannon
adored island life, and wouldn’t want to move away.

When she’d first arrived here on Auchenmor, the idea that someone would want to stay here voluntarily had been impossible for Isla to comprehend. As time had passed, though, and
she’d grown used to island time – where things got done, but you had to allow at least twice as long as you would in the city, and nothing was in a hurry – the friendliness that
had at first spooked her had come to seem reassuring. Now, when she popped to the florist for armfuls of gorgeous flowers to make the little flat more welcoming, she stood and chatted with Helen
about what she’d brought over from the market. She popped to the greengrocer’s for fresh, locally grown vegetables instead of wilting bags of pre-packed salad from the supermarket, and
pottered around the shops with Ruth, helping her with her shopping and stopping for tea and a bun on the way home.

‘Isla?’ Jinny placed a cup of coffee on the little ledge below the mirror. ‘You asleep?’

‘No.’ She looked up at the girls, who had paused for a moment to admire Shannon’s handiwork. ‘Just thinking.’

‘About the school reunion? I can’t imagine being thirty.’ Jinny scrumpled up her face, looking in the mirror. ‘D’you think I’ll be wrinkly by then?’

Shannon shot her a look. Isla rubbed between her eyes, where frown lines, product of years of concentrating hard as she cut hair, had begun to form.

‘Don’t listen to madam there,’ Shannon said, with uncharacteristic reassurance.

‘Ooh, no,’ said Jinny, backtracking. ‘I didn’t mean
you
are wrinkly, I just . . .’

Isla laughed. ‘It’s fine. I wasn’t really thinking about the reunion – to be honest,’ she found herself confessing, ‘I feel a bit sick thinking about
it.’

Shannon made a couple of final adjustments before standing back with her scissors, head cocked to one side, mouth pursed thoughtfully. ‘Right, let’s dry this off and see what you
think.’

‘You are looking
gorgeous
.’ Shannon sat back on her cutting stool, looking at Isla’s reflection in the mirror. She’d done a beautiful job of her
hair, Isla had to admit. Jinny was desperate to do her make-up, but there was no way that it would survive the journey back to Edinburgh. It would have to wait, and she’d do it in her
dad’s bathroom before Helen arrived to pick her up. She had the two o’clock ferry to catch if she was going to make it back to Edinburgh in time.

With a final smoothing down of her hair, Isla slipped into the back of her dad’s cab.

‘Right then, Cinderella – let’s get you to this ball.’ He turned in his seat to smile at her before starting the taxi with a growl of the diesel engine. Isla strapped
herself into the back seat, smoothing the belt over her black dress. She’d decided to go classic and understated, with her habitual black – a slash-necked dress which, she realized,
looking down, rode up her thighs more than she expected when she was sitting down. She’d have to stay standing up the whole time, or tuck her legs under the table.

She took a breath, trying to calm herself. Despite the perfect hair, the manicured nails, the expensive shoes and bag, she felt like she was ten again, heading off to the primary-school disco in
a dress she thought was gorgeous. Closing her eyes, she remembered the scene. Allison and the gang had rounded on her, laughing and pointing, saying the frilly edge and pretty polka dots made her
look like she’d come in her nightie.

Oh, God. A tidal wave of last-minute panic hit. She looked down at her phone. It still wasn’t too late to pull out, to tell Helen that she couldn’t face it. They could go out for a
girly dinner instead, catch up over a bottle of champagne . . . Isla paused for a moment, shaking her head, remembering the last time she’d mixed an Edinburgh night out with alcohol. No.
There was no going back.

The horn sounded as her dad pulled up outside Helen’s house. Amira, who was meeting them at the reunion, was the brave one. At least Helen and Isla would be walking in together. With a
deep breath, Isla put her phone back in her bag and braced herself for the fray.

‘You look amazing!’ Isla moved her handbag, making space for Helen. She’d highlighted her huge, beautiful eyes with dark shadow and her hair was pinned up loosely, waving
tendrils curling around her neck. Helen put an instinctive hand up, doubt flashing across her face.

‘So do you.’ Helen sat down, and they set off.

They sat in nervous silence, both looking out of the window, the radio playing incongruously cheerful tunes through the speakers. With a groan of the handbrake, the cab pulled up.

‘Right, girls –’ Isla’s dad had hopped out of the front seat and opened the door for them, like a chauffeur – ‘you both look cracking. Go in there and knock
’em dead.’