Wildflower Bay (31 page)

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 water. 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.

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.

It was done. The last thing she’d ever say to him was there in his hand.

He stood by the rocks, watching the sea crashing against them, his heart aching almost unbearably, tears streaming down his face.

It was surprising how loud Edinburgh seemed after the quiet of Auchenmor. Isla had stepped out, unthinking, into a seemingly quiet road a couple of times, lost in her thoughts,
forgetting until she heard the screaming of a car horn and saw a driver gesticulating wildly that she was back in the city, where noise and chaos ruled.

She smoothed down the grey dress she’d chosen. It was expensively cut, and the red heels she wore were the perfect pop of colour. She spread her fingers, looking at her nails, which
matched beautifully. She closed the car door and pressed the button on the keys, hearing the locks slide into place.

Her mobile buzzed – who on earth would be ringing her this early in the morning? Her dad had already texted to wish her luck, and she’d spoken to Helen on the phone the previous
night. She looked down at the screen, reeling back with surprise when she saw the name that was flashing up.

‘Kat?’ Isla tried to disguise the surprise in her voice. What the hell was she after, now?

‘Isla. Just wanted to wish you luck.’ She actually sounded like she meant it. ‘I know you’re seeing Shirley this morning, and I’m sure you’ll walk it. To be
honest, I don’t think she’s even seeing anyone else for the position.’

Isla saw her face reflected in the car window, confusion written across it. ‘How did you –’

‘I recommended you.’ Kat sounded quite pleased with herself. ‘Shirley was coming back north after her divorce, she’s got a fantastic new salon opening – I have to
admit, it’s to die for – and you were a total shoo-in.’

‘But the –’ Isla wasn’t quite sure if Kat had
forgotten
she’d sacked her, or what.

‘You needed to get out and get some perspective. I’ve seen it so many times. You were making mistakes, and I could see you hitting burnout. That’s why I let you go. And
that’s why I knew – after a bit of time away – you’d be hungry for this.’

Isla swallowed. The red shoes were already biting into her heels. It was going to be a long morning.

‘Didn’t take you long to dust yourself off, mind you,’ Kat said, sounding pleased. ‘I saw your picture in
Hello!
Good going. Trained you well.’

Isla shook her head, amazed. ‘Kat, thank you
so
much. I’d better get going. Speak to you soon.’