The Endless Beach

by Jenny Colgan

  “I can’t prescribe whisky,” said Saif.

  “That’s all right: I bought a distillery.”

  Saif raised his eyebrows, unsure if Colton was joking. (He wasn’t.)

  “I’ll get my prescriptions filled on the mainland. Don’t need any busybodies around. But you make sure it’s generous.”

  “There are guidelines,” said Saif.

  “Fuck ’em,” said Colton.

  Saif stood up. “Mr. Rogers,” he said. “If you are looking for me to do something I should not do . . . You know where they would send me back to.”

  Colton blinked. He hadn’t thought about it. “Gee,” he said. “Sorry.” For sure he’d find a pharmacist he could bribe somewhere. Things weren’t that hard when you were rich. He stuck out his hand. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s your right to ask,” Saif said. “Believe me, I am sorry to refuse.”

  “Just give me as much as you can.”

  Saif had given him as much as was possible without an alarm being raised. “Done.”

  “And . . . you’ll be here for me, right?”

  Saif nodded. “Any time,” he said. “But please, please get the support of your family. I can’t do a thing without them, you know that.”

  He couldn’t understand the need for secrecy when more than anything, surely, you needed love and support around you. Pretending everything was fine wasn’t going to make this go away.

  Colton grimaced. “Soon,” he said. “Let me just get through my wedding day.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  The wedding day dawned pale and clear. Flora never found out if Colton had used the cloudbuster or not, but it couldn’t have been more perfect. The ceremony was being held in the back garden of the Rock, its green lawn trimmed within an inch of its life. There was a large tent, but it looked like people were going to be able to spend the entire day outside. An orchestra was playing.

  Flora was wearing the green dress Joel had bought her in New York and almost all of the work had been done: Isla and Iona were busying themselves and, to her amazement, Jan and Charlie’s group of boys were making themselves incredibly useful fetching and carrying.

  As well as the Mure spread, there were lobsters in tanks and a special sushi chef flown in from L.A., an edible flower salad and a green juice cocktail bar Colton had insisted on and presumably everybody else was simply going to ignore. There was a cascade of macarons and an ice sculpture—but nothing, Flora thought, looked quite as lovely as the long board of Fintan’s magnificent cheeses, laid out with fresh green grapes, Flora’s best oatcakes, Mrs. Laird’s bread, local apples, and imported white peaches amid chilled pitchers of rosé. It looked like a painting.

  * * *

  Innes and Hamish were both the best men for Fintan. Innes was in charge of the stag night, which had ended with fourteen young farmers jumping off the end of the dock at midnight, thirteen young farmers landing in the water and one young farmer landing on a fishing sloop and breaking his wrist. Saif, who had been invited but was trying to save up his babysitting, tried not to be too disapproving when woken by loud singing outside his window at four o’clock in the morning and instructed to get his first-aid kit out.

  Innes was also in charge of the transport, the rings, the bridesmaid, the speeches, and making sure everyone had the right tartan on. Hamish was just to stand there and look handsome in the photographs, Flora said, patting him on the hand. Colton didn’t want a best man; he said he already had the best one. Flora had mentioned to Joel how odd she found this, but he had been completely uninterested; he didn’t seem to care to hear about the wedding at all. Flora wondered if he was secretly prejudiced, although she hadn’t noticed anything like that about him at all, but in the business of the day had put it to the back of her mind.

  * * *

  The MacKenzies were of course getting dressed at the farmhouse and Flora went up to fetch them.

  She stopped at the farmhouse door, looking in at the scene. Innes was straightening their father’s bow tie. Hamish was trying to smooth down the bit of hair that wouldn’t ever smooth down, and already looking hot and uncomfortable in his tight collar. Fintan was putting on just the tiniest bit of mascara. Agot was standing in a great heap of tulle and flowers and bounced up.

  “ATTI FLOWA!”

  Flora smiled and the boys turned to her, and with the sunlight behind her, suddenly she looked so like the one person missing from the room, and they all knew it. And she stepped forward and they all gathered in a group hug.

  * * *

  Hamish wanted to drive his sports car down, but of course they wouldn’t all fit. Instead, on such a glorious day, Flora swapped out her shoes, and they decided to walk, arm in arm—Agot and Flora in the middle, Fintan and her father at their sides, Innes and Hamish making up the ends—and everyone who saw them marching straight through the center of Mure, the four kilts swishing, waved and honked and sent good wishes and followed them as they walked the full length of the Endless, up to the Rock. The church bells pealed them on their way, and Fintan was nervous and giggly and they told old stories and made old jokes that only siblings could ever understand. They talked about their mum, and it wasn’t until they drew near the Rock, which already was full of cars and people milling about, that Fintan’s nerves really kicked in.

  Flora took him aside, as she had to just check on the food one last time.

  “Amazing,” she said. “You look gorgeous.”

  Fintan shook his head. “You know,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “When Mum was sick . . . it felt like I’d never be happy again.”

  “I know,” said Flora. “Now, give me a hug before you ruin your mascara.”

  * * *

  Innes, hand in hand with Agot, saw Eilidh, Agot’s mother, waiting by the gate. She smiled nervously. Agot pulled Innes over and took her mother’s hand in her free one, joining them.

  She looked good, thought Innes. Really good, in fact. He smiled, and she smiled back, and he asked her if she would like to sit together and she said she would. Lorna, passing by, also smiled when she saw them and resolved to corner Eilidh and drone on about how wonderful her school was. Just in case.

  Hamish darted after one of the new seasonal barmaids he’d had his eye on to ask if she liked sports cars.

  And old Eck, ramrod straight, walked out into the sunny garden behind Agot, who was making a very careful and serious job of throwing rose petals out along the red carpet, and, in front of all his friends and neighbors, walked his youngest son down the aisle.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Flora looked closely at Colton standing at the altar. He didn’t look terribly well; he must have real wedding nerves. Which was strange. Since he’d met Fintan, he hadn’t seemed remotely in any doubt about it. Well, she’d never gotten married and probably never would. She glanced at Joel standing beside her. Oddly, he looked furious, his hands gripping the chair in front of him tightly. She squeezed his hand, but he didn’t respond, so she concentrated on watching the service and lustily joining in the “Hebridean Wedding Song” as Joel squinted at the incomprehensible words on the hymn sheet.

  Finally, the vicar joined Fintan and Colton’s hands together and produced the long white cords for purity, pink for love, blue for faith for the handfast.

  “Will you love and honor and respect one another?” she asked.

  “We will,” Colton and Fintan replied.

  “And so the binding is made,” she said, tying the first cord.

  “Will you protect and comfort one another?”

  “We will.”

  “And so the binding is made. Will you share each other’s pain and seek to ease it?”

  “We will.”

  “And so the binding is made. And will you share each other’s joy and laughter, every day of your lives?”

  “We will.”

  “And so the binding is made.”

  And they kissed, and the congregation erupted, and a full pipe band (Colton
had insisted, much to Fintan’s eye-rolling) suddenly appeared from the depths of the grounds and led the grooms, followed by everyone in the wedding party, back down the aisle to a rousing march, and Mure’s first-ever gay marriage (“That you’ve heard about,” Fintan had sniffed whenever it came up) was ready to be properly celebrated.

  * * *

  Flora was in the kitchen when it happened. She had decided to make up a separate buffet for the boys so they could gorge themselves on sausage rolls and cheese sandwiches and chips in the back of the catering tent. However, plenty of Murian residents had decided they actually preferred this to the sumptuous spread on offer outside and kept sneaking in, muttering about “fancy food” and helping themselves to cheese and pineapple on sticks—and Flora had to keep chasing them out again.

  At first, only catching a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, she thought it was one of the old geezers who haunted the Harbor’s Rest, gray and wheezing. She could certainly spare a few sausage rolls, she was thinking, when she turned around and realized to her absolute horror that it was Colton.

  It was as if he was hiding behind the door, leaning against the wall. His bow tie was looking rather wilted and he had a crumpled-up piece of paper in his hand. He was sweating and looked green and in pain.

  “Colton?” She ran over. “Oh my God! Are you okay? Aren’t you meant to be having your picture taken? Do you need to sit down? Is it the heat?”

  Anything above fifteen degrees counted to Murians as dangerously extreme temperatures.

  He turned to her, momentarily confused, swallowing hard. “Can I get a glass of water?”

  “Sit down.” Flora studied him. He looked awful. She suddenly hoped it wasn’t anything she’d served. Was the seafood all right in the heat? “Are you okay?”

  “Just . . . just . . .”

  Colton was suddenly so desperate to tell her he could have cried.

  “Just the heat.”

  “Well, that’s your fault!”

  Flora whisked round suddenly at the voice to find Joel there behind her, his face grave. Next to him was Saif. They’d both noticed him slipping into the kitchen, and, for the first time, shared a glance of their common knowledge, then run to him.

  “Excuse me,” she said, still thinking little of the situation. “This is a working kitchen, actually.”

  They both ignored her. Saif knelt down and took Colton’s blood pressure.

  “You should be in the hospital,” he said quietly. “Now. It’s done. Come on. Enough.”

  “I’m still doing this,” said Colton. “It’s my day.”

  “You’re nuts,” said Joel. “You’ve signed the paper. Let us take care of it.”

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  Joel glanced at Flora, who turned pink. “Can you give us a minute?” he said.

  “This is my kitchen and this is my brother-in-law, so no, actually, Joel. What’s going on?” said Flora.

  “Please,” said Saif, turning his liquid eyes on her, and after that, Flora could do little but retreat. Joel grabbed her wrist as she left.

  “Everything’s fine,” he said quickly. “But could you waylay Fintan for a moment?”

  “How is everything fine?”

  Flora’s heart was beating fast. Something was obviously terribly wrong. And Joel had that face on again. That closed-up face.

  “Please, Flora, don’t ask me.”

  * * *

  Flora, terrified, peeked out of the door of the tent.

  Fintan was there, looking gently buzzed on champagne in the glorious, ridiculous afternoon sunlight. He was handsome in his kilt, a smile and a word for everyone, as well as happily receiving compliments on the food and the sheer beauty of the day. He was surrounded by the locals, people who’d known him as man and boy, who had seen how troubled he’d been during their mother’s illness and subsequent death and how Colton had brought him back to life. He stood in a pool of golden light. Very close by him, Agot was twirling round and round to make her ridiculous dress ride out, and next to her Flora noticed Ash was doing exactly the same with his little baby kilt someone must have unearthed for him; and they were both hysterical with laughter.

  She stood, watching Fintan for a moment. He was so happy. He glowed with it, in the perfect sunlight, in Colton’s perfect garden.

  She glanced back at Colton—he looked sick, so sick. Why was Joel in there? What did he know? Saif made more sense but it was as if they knew something . . .

  Her heart beat faster still, even as Fintan threw back his head laughing at something Innes was saying. She backed away. Speeches next, then lunch . . . Everything had a schedule, had been planned perfectly. She glanced round. Joel was heading back toward her, a concerned look on his face.

  “What’s the situation?”

  “He’s just overexcited . . . hot,” said Joel.

  “He needed his lawyer to tell him that?”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s coming out to cut the cake. Too much fizz on a hot day.”

  “Well, that’s his fault,” said Flora.

  Joel blinked. “Sure.” He looked at Fintan.

  “He looks so happy,” said Flora. She turned round. “You’d tell me if something was . . .”

  Joel had already vanished back inside the tent though, and Flora signaled to Iona and Isla to start circulating with more canapés.

  * * *

  Back inside the tent, Saif was all but ordering Colton to get to the hospital, and Colton was absolutely refusing. This was his day and he was getting through it, goddammit. He drank another glass of water and asked Saif if he had anything he could give him. Saif had anticipated this moment, and he did. Ten minutes later, Colton was on his feet again, but Saif wasn’t remotely happy about it.

  “It’s my wedding day,” said Colton hoarsely. “Now I’m going out there before the bastards notice I’m not actually there.”

  Saif and Joel both gave him an arm, helped him up, and walked him to the flap of the tent, where he shook them off and walked over to Fintan, putting on a wide and unconvincing smile.

  All eyes turned to Colton as he tinked his glass for attention. Amid the exquisite gardens, the green of the lawn, and the blue backwash of the sea, he looked almost translucent, and as he stood there he shook. Flora glanced at Fintan, who looked confused, suddenly, as if this was just dawning on him too. Then, with a sudden horrible cold feeling in her heart, she went and linked arms with Innes, as Joel was nowhere to be seen.

  “What’s up with . . . ?” Innes began, but Flora shook her head and shushed him. The speech was beginning.

  “I just wanted to say . . . thank you to all of you, those of you who have come a long way and those of you who just wandered round the corner . . . to all of you in this place who have done so much to make me feel welcome, make me feel at home . . .”

  “That’s because you bought us all champagne!” shouted a wag in the crowd and there was a welcome ripple of laughter.

  “I have never . . . I have never been so hap—”

  Colton’s eyes were brimming with tears and he grabbed hold of Fintan, whose eyes were also moistening. Flora frowned. He wasn’t cuddling Fintan. He was leaning against him.

  Fintan realized something was wrong and turned round, just as Colton mouthed “ . . . happy” once more and collapsed onto the ground.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Immediately there was pandemonium. Fintan leaped down straightaway, calling Colton’s name. Saif and Joel ran from the tent straight past Flora, who stood watching them open-mouthed. Saif cleared a way and put Colton in the recovery position, gently persuading him to come round. More water was brought. Joel pulled his phone out and the helicopter, which was there ready to take the boys off to start their honeymoon, was pressed into rather more urgent service to take Colton to the hospital. And all around, people fanned themselves and said, after all, he hadn’t looked well, and hadn’t he gotten thin, and they tutted and tried to shelter themselves from the ridiculous heat and w
orried together.

  Flora went straight to find Joel and wanted to throw a tray at his head. “He’s sick!” she shouted at him.

  “Flora, you know I can’t talk about it. It’s privileged. I can’t say a thing.”

  “So he’s really sick! And you let him marry my brother!”

  “Why? Would your brother have dumped him flat if he thought there was something wrong with him?”

  “No! But don’t you think he has a right to know?”

  Joel was furious. “Of course I do! It’s not my decision to make! If it was me . . .”

  “If it was you, you wouldn’t tell anyone either,” snarled Flora. “You’d keep it all locked up from everyone, just as usual. I thought we’d finished doing this.”

  Joel stared at her, wounded. “But. I. Can’t. Say,” he said through gritted teeth. “You know that, Flora.”

  “But it is something they can cure?” said Flora in anguish. “Can’t they? Oh God. Just tell me! JUST TELL ME!”

  “I. CAN’T. SAY.”

  “You would screw up my entire family so you didn’t lose a job?!” said Flora. “You would literally risk the lives of people I love so that you could keep on making lots of money?”

  “That’s not how it works!”

  “You let this happen,” said Flora. She was so white-hot with rage she couldn’t see straight.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to find out how a sick man is doing,” said Joel furiously, pulling out his phone and heading out of the tent.

  “Don’t forget to NOT TELL ME, ONCE YOU KNOW!” screamed Flora after him in front of half of the guests. She turned round to also leave, but of course she then had to walk past everybody she knew in the gardens, all of them looking to her as if she knew. Innes and Hamish were approaching, and her father—oh Christ, her dad—was looking utterly confused standing next to the vicar. What a mess.

  Joel reached the other end of the tent. The helicopter was still circling overhead, but oddly not landing on the clearly marked “H” over to the side of the orchard. Colton was sitting on a chair, his head nodding a little, an obviously deranged Fintan sitting beside him, pleading with him, but Colton was, of all things, on his phone.