by Fiona Gibson
‘Not always, no,’ I say. ‘You were just unlucky, especially at this time of year.’ When I offer her water she wafts me away. But a glass of wine is accepted gratefully. It feels so strange to see her here, out of context, what feels like a million miles from her immaculate home, with her usually sleek blow-dry all tousled from being on the deck of the ferry because sitting inside made her feel ill.
She is here for four days – I have relocated to the box room to give her the decent double bed – and I am a little apprehensive about how it’ll be.
We haven’t spent this much time together, solidly, since she left home over thirty years ago. And besides that, Belinda isn’t used to places like Sgadansay. Usually, she and Derek go to Florida or the Maldives and stay in swanky complexes where exotic fruit platters and endless chilled drinks are brought to the poolside. But there are no obliging waiters bringing treats to your lounger on Silver Beach. There aren’t even any loungers.
When we wake up next morning the island is already bathed in bright sunshine. We head out towards the ruined castle, where Belinda insists on taking numerous selfies of us arm in arm, in front of the crumbled remains. I’m quite touched that she wants pictures of us together. ‘Well, we’ve never done this before, have we?’ she asks. ‘Been away together, I mean, just you and me?’
Something seems to twist around my heart as she takes Scout’s photo too. Although she’s not a dog lover really, she’s admitted that he’s ‘sweet’.
‘No, we haven’t,’ I say. ‘But you know you can come here anytime now …’
‘And face that ferry journey again?’ she splutters.
‘It’s not always like that, Bel!’
‘I think I’ll fly,’ she says, grinning, as we make our way back to the coast.
An hour or so later we reach the narrow path that runs along the edge of the cliff. ‘This is stunning,’ Belinda exclaims. ‘My God, it’s like another world!’ She gazes out to sea, taking yet more photos, and turns back to me. ‘Why doesn’t everyone come here? I mean, why isn’t Sgadansay packed with tourists?’
I smile, sensing a rush of pride as if the island is mine. ‘It’s not for everyone, is it? The wildness, I mean? The mad weather—’ The words are no sooner out of my mouth than a fierce gust of wind catches her scarf and tosses it out to sea.
‘Oh, never mind,’ she announces. ‘I’ll get another one. Is there an Oliver Bonas here?’
I look at her, and we laugh like we’ve never laughed before – at least not as far as I can remember – as we step carefully down the steep narrow path, overgrown with ferns, to the secret beach Ricky told me about.
It’s a golden cove, sheltered on both sides by steep cliffs, and with what could be described as a cave at the furthest end; a natural indent in the rocks. I remember Ricky telling me how he, Arthur and Arthur’s mum used to come here and light fires, cook sausages and play pirates.
Belinda and I sit together on a large, flat rock and she links her arm in mine. I know there’s something going on with her; of course I do. But I don’t want to press her on anything. I just want her to see Sgadansay as I do, in all its wild, unpredictable glory. And I know she’ll tell me when she’s ready.
So we pass the days together quite happily, and she meets Cara and we all walk Scout together. One afternoon, Cara mentions that Vicki will be joining us too. I catch her expression; I know their paths will have crossed (everyone’s does on Sgadansay). And I’ve introduced them, when we’ve met around town. But as they chat easily, chuckling at shared jokes as we stride along the beach together, it’s clear that there’s a spark of something between them. Cara seems relaxed and happier than I’ve ever seen her. And I don’t quiz her about it; there’s no need. But it explains Cara’s mysterious evenings out, when I was still living at her place.
On Belinda’s last evening I take her to the island’s poshest hotel, where locally caught seafood is brought to us on a vast oval platter. We have just finished, and are drinking coffee from tiny cups when she looks at me intently. ‘So, you liked him, didn’t you?’ she ventures.
She means Ricky of course. I’ve told her a little more about him since she’s been here; about our short-lived dog share and how he coaxed his father to come back and work with us. ‘Of course I did,’ I reply, not wanting to get into this; at least, not with my sister. I try to push away a niggle of hurt that he hasn’t been in touch since his visit here.
‘Maybe he’ll be back soon,’ she adds.
‘Maybe,’ I say vaguely.
‘Well, as long as he’s not like Paul,’ she remarks with a glint in her eye.
I frown at her. ‘Why d’you say that?’
‘I’m only kidding,’ she says quickly. ‘Don’t be so sensitive. You’re always like this. You take things the wrong—’
‘Belinda,’ I cut in, ‘please don’t tell me what I’m like. Let’s not get into how stupid and irresponsible I’ve been—’
‘Oh, Suze.’ She reaches for my hand across the white tablecloth. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘What did you mean then?’ I’m aware of my heart thumping hard now, and know I’m over-reacting.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says.
‘It’s okay,’ I murmur. ‘I’m sorry too.’
‘It was a stupid thing to say.’ A lull hangs over us until the predictable wrangling over the bill. Belinda finally relents and lets me treat her.
She links her arm in mine as we stroll back to the cottage. It’s new, this linking thing. In fact, I’ve noticed lots of new things about Belinda when she’s far away from her kitchen island and Derek bustling around in the background, popping his vitamins, stretching out his hamstrings. And again, I wonder what’s going on with her, back home. I know she didn’t come here just to admire the beaches and savour the just-caught Hebridean seafood.
I remember Dee telling me how a patient often blurts out the real issue – the ‘Oh, and there’s another thing’ – just as they’re about to leave the surgery. And as my sister is packing up next morning in preparation for catching the ferry, it comes out.
‘There’s a bit of a thing going on with Derek at the moment,’ she says, all in a rush, as I hand her a mug of coffee.
‘What is it?’
‘Oh, it’s just … you know.’ She sits on the bed and pushes back her hair distractedly. ‘His gambling thing.’
‘What gambling thing?’ I move her neatly packed suitcase aside on the bed and sit next to her. ‘I didn’t know he did that,’ I add. ‘D’you mean it’s a problem?’
Belinda nods. ‘It’s been going on for years, but it only came out at the start of this year just how bad a mess we were in.’ She purses her lips. ‘I’m an intelligent woman, aren’t I, Suze?’ Her eyes are wet now. I put an arm around her shoulders.
‘Of course you are! You’re far smarter than I am.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ she says bitterly. ‘God, Suzy. I don’t know how I had the nerve to go on to you about the distillery when I sat back and allowed it to happen. I let him take control of our finances because he was always adamant that he was better at managing them than I was – with his investments and all that.’
I stroke her hair gently. ‘Are there any investments?’ I ask.
‘With the bookies, yes. But I don’t think they’re the kind that a financial adviser would recommend.’
We look at each other and I hug her. ‘I’m so sorry, Bel. I had no idea.’
‘Hmm. Well, no one did. They still don’t. You’re the only one I’ve told – apart from Rosalind, of course …’
‘Rosalind?’ I stare at her. ‘You’ve been seeing her too?’
‘Yeah,’ she says quietly. ‘That’s why I tracked her down, to help me sort out the mess. We’d lost touch since uni but she’s been brilliant, actually.’ My sister musters a faint smile. ‘She’s a bit of a whizz, isn’t she?’
‘God, yes,’ I say. ‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘About Derek?’ She shrugs. �
�I’m not sure. It depends on …’ She breaks off, jumps up and zips up her case. ‘Don’t say anything to Mum, will you?’
‘Of course I won’t!’ I exclaim. ‘But, Bel, is there anything I can do? I mean, even if you just want to talk about things?’
‘Thanks,’ she says briskly. ‘It’ll all work out. I’m sure it will. But hadn’t we better set off? The ferry leaves in—’
‘We have ages yet,’ I cut in. I’ve already reminded her that it’s not like an international flight; we don’t need to show up two hours early. But Belinda is adamant and so we set off, with her making it clear that the matter is closed, she’ll be fine, and it’s been lovely having all this time together; and I have to agree that it has.
I see my sister off onto the ferry. The sea is thankfully calm but I’m still reeling with her news that her husband has squandered all their money. It’s hard to process when I’ve spent a lifetime feeling queasy whenever our two lives have been compared: Belinda and Derek, financially advised to the hilt, and therefore able to enjoy a retirement sipping negronis on loungers whereas I’ll probably spend my dotage boiling up cabbage.
Back home, in the need of a head-clearing walk, I clip on Scout’s lead and we set off. We’re approaching the beach when my phone rings. I’m almost expecting it to be Belinda, even though there’s no signal at sea; but it’s an unknown number.
‘Hi, is that Suzy?’ It’s a man’s voice.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Oskar, from the animal sanctuary. How are you? How’s Scout doing?’
‘He’s fine, thanks,’ I say. ‘He’s settled in so well. He’s a brilliant dog …’ I pause, trying to dismiss a growing sense of unease. He’s probably just checking up how we’re doing, I reassure myself.
‘That’s good,’ he says. ‘Look, um, I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this. It’s a bit of a weird one, actually.’ He clears his throat.
‘What is it?’
‘We’ve had a call,’ Oskar says. ‘A call from a woman who said he’s hers.’
‘What?’ I exclaim. ‘After all this time?’
‘I know. It’s really bizarre. Shalini and I couldn’t believe it.’
I crouch down to stroke Scout, and glance around anxiously as if someone might appear from nowhere and try to snatch him away from me.
‘She called this morning,’ Oskar goes on. ‘She feels terrible about leaving him on the island like that, but her situation was difficult …’
‘Who is she?’ I blurt out.
‘Her name’s Lorraine Sampson. She lives in the Midlands somewhere and they’d been on Sgadansay on holiday—’
‘And she’d just abandoned him? And it’s taken her all this time to even make a phone call—’
‘Yeah, like I said, it sounds like things were difficult.’ For her, maybe, I think angrily. But what about her dog, running about lost and hungry on a cold, wet night? ‘She didn’t go into much detail,’ he adds, ‘but she sent me a picture of him – and she called him Pip.’ Pip? The nerve of it! ‘And as far as I could tell from the photos she sent, and ones I took of him, it’s definitely him. I told her he’s with you but I haven’t passed on your contact details, obviously. We never do that.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, still feeling stunned and faintly nauseous now.
‘Can I send you hers, though? Her mobile number, I mean?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I say. ‘Do send it.’
‘Okay,’ Oskar says, ‘and … look, I’m sorry I can’t do more to help. But will you call her?’
I exhale fiercely as Scout and I make our way briskly towards the beach, as if the sea wind will blow all of this away. ‘I … I’m not sure,’ I start. ‘I just never expected this to happen—’
‘Well, look, Suzy,’ he says, ‘I think Scout is very much yours now. But I’ll leave it to you to decide what you want to do.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Ricky
It feels different this time, even though I’ve been doing it all my adult life – coming back to Sgadansay to see Mum and Dad, and then just Dad. And now – I might as well admit it myself – I’m not just here to see my father. Which is why, after settling in and leaving Arthur and Dad installed in front of a western together, munching crisps, I head straight over to Suzy’s new place.
‘You didn’t tell me you were coming!’ she exclaimed when I called her earlier.
‘We thought we’d surprise you,’ I said, wondering now if I’d done the right thing. Because, I have to say, she didn’t sound delighted. ‘It was Arthur’s idea,’ I added.
‘Oh, right!’
‘Um … is everything okay?’ I asked.
‘Um, yeah. It’s fine.’
‘D’you fancy a drink later?’
‘I’m not really in the mood for going out,’ she replied. ‘I saw Belinda off earlier and—’
‘Shall we just leave it tonight then?’ I tried to sound as if that was fine with me, and it had only been a suggestion. Perhaps she was upset over her sister leaving?
‘No, do come over,’ she said, but even as she told me where she’s living now, I knew something was different.
And now I’m here, and it still feels a little odd, even when she chuckles over the fact that my father knew we were coming, obviously, but had kept it secret. ‘Erm, something’s happened, Ricky,’ she says suddenly, as she hands me a mug of tea.
I study her fine-boned face. It suits her, being here; she has a hint of a tan and her green eyes gleam like sea glass. But I can sense a flicker of something in them; stress or something. I don’t know. ‘Is it do with the distillery?’ I ask. She shakes her head, and my heart lurches; she’s met someone out here, then. She’s fallen in love with someone. I remind myself that nothing’s ever happened between us, and if I thought it had, I must have just imagined it.
She gets up from the armchair and comes to sit next to me on the sofa, stretching out her long legs. ‘Scout’s owner’s been in touch,’ she says flatly. ‘With the rescue centre, I mean. They’ve sent me her number. Lorraine something. And I don’t know what to do, Ricky …’ She looks at me, eyes wide and brimming with tears.
‘Oh, God, Suzy.’ I put my arms around her and pull her close. And then, without thinking, I kiss her gently on the mouth. And she kisses me back. And just then it feels as if there’s nothing else; just me and her, together, with nothing to worry about at all.
We pull apart. She rubs at her eyes and pushes back her long dark hair. ‘Hey,’ she says, smiling. ‘I feel a bit better now.’
I smile too and kiss her again. ‘I’m glad.’
‘I’ve missed you,’ she adds. ‘I thought about getting in touch, but I wasn’t sure—’
‘Yeah, me too,’ I say. ‘I thought about it so many times. I’ve had my phone in my hand, and I’ve scrolled to your number—’
‘Oh, God. I’ve done that too. Your dad almost caught me once, at the distillery—’ She breaks off and laughs, then winds her arms around me. It feels so good, so right to be close to her.
And perhaps that’s why it’s happened now, when it’s never happened before. Why I’ve been overcome by an urge to come back here. I’ve tried to fight it, reminding myself that Arthur’s life and my job are in Glasgow, and it’s our home. But now, I start to tell her, an opening has come up for a music educator on Sgadansay, to set up teaching programmes, courses and events, for the local community but also to attract more visitors out here. The distillery tours have started up again, but we need more going on here; we need new ideas to make the island a vibrant and thriving place for kids, teenagers, adults – for everyone.
‘Will you apply for it?’ she asks.
‘I want to, yes. But I haven’t said anything to Arthur or Dad yet. I mean, I’m not sure how Arthur will feel about it. But he was keen to come back this time. Keener than I can remember, actually – probably because of Scout …’
Her smile seems to light up her face. ‘That’s lovely to hear.’
I
nod. ‘But it’ll probably be hugely competitive. The job, I mean …’
‘You want to do it, though?’
‘Yes, I do. Very much.’ She beams at me and kisses me so passionately my head seems to fill with fireworks. And maybe that’s why I tell her the other thing; because she’s sparked something in me and I know it’ll be okay, and that she won’t judge me. She’s the kind of person you can talk to, I guess. And so I do. As we sit together, sipping tea on her sofa in her tiny cottage, I start to tell her about Arthur’s mum.
‘She was a pharmacist,’ I say. ‘Incredibly bright and driven and so ambitious. We met when we were thirty but I could tell she’d have been a fully formed adult at the age of eighteen. D’you know anyone like that?’
‘Yes, my sister,’ she says. ‘She had a mortgage by the age of twenty-seven – and a cleaner. I was still ironing my clothes dry when I needed them for a night out.’
‘You mean the great clouds of steam thing?’ She nods and smiles, and I go on: ‘And then, gradually, Katy stopped being so driven. She kind of … changed. She seemed up and down emotionally – and secretive too. I should’ve known something was going on.’ I pause, grateful that she’s here, listening to me. Already I can sense the relief at getting it all out there, out of my head. ‘You mightn’t think it’d be possible for a pharmacist to steal drugs from work,’ I add, ‘but that’s what she was doing.’
‘Oh, God,’ Suzy murmurs. ‘And you had no idea?’
‘Not for a long time, no. If I found any, she’d brush it off and say they were a bona fide prescription for anxiety. I knew she pushed herself hard, she was always a high achiever, and for a while I thought it was just about that. But, you know.’ I shrug. ‘I’m not that dumb. At least, I hope I’m not. I’d started to think she had a problem, and eventually she admitted she did. She’d always said she wasn’t ready to be a mother, and the years went on and I started to accept that it probably wasn’t going to happen for us. I mean, I’d always imagined I’d be a dad someday. But Katy didn’t think she’d ever feel ready.’
Suzy takes my hand and squeezes it gently. ‘How old were you when Arthur was born?’