by Jenny Colgan
“Is he going to be all right?” whispered Lorna. Saif shook his head in a warning that she shouldn’t ask him about it.
“Oh goodness,” said Lorna and she helped him get the sleepy Colton down and undressed and into his pajamas. Saif gave him a shot that should make him feel better and told the maid what to do.
It was fully light by the time they took the cart back across the island, but it didn’t seem like anyone was going to bed anytime soon.
“Well, that’s not how I usually expect weddings to turn out,” said Lorna, making conversation.
Saif was tired and not concentrating and blurted out the first thing that was on his mind. “I thought you’d be with Innes anyway.”
Lorna turned to him in shock. “Of course I’m not with Innes! Why would you think that?”
Saif shrugged. “He’s very popular. Why wouldn’t you be?”
He wished he could keep the infernal tone of jealousy out of his voice. He couldn’t be jealous: it was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” said Lorna. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She clambered down and stood on the beach, the early rays of the sun hitting her bright hair. Saif got down onto the beach beside her.
“Well, one, he’s practically my brother, and two . . .”
He stared at her. “Two? What is two?”
Lorna reached out her hands and said, as if he were a complete idiot, “Saif . . . two . . . is you.”
“ABBA! ABBA!”
And then Ibrahim and Ash found their father and overwhelmed them both. They were overexcited, both of them babbling in a mixture of Arabic and English, had he SEEN it, had he SEEN the huge hawt, had he seen it, Abba? It was huge, it was amazing and it was nighttime and only dark for a little bit, and the water was so cold, and there was a BIG MAGIC WHALE . . .
Lorna melted into the shadows, wishing the ground could swallow her up, but somehow, deep inside, glad. At least she’d said it. At least she didn’t have to go through the rest of her life turning down opportunities—Innes might not be the right thing for her, but it was definitely a start—or wishing for what might have been. Because she knew, she knew one hundred percent, that it absolutely never could have been and never could be, and there was—even as she watched Flora walk up the beach in a daze, hand in hand with Joel—a satisfaction in that, if nothing else.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
You saved her,” said Flora.
“How do you know it was a girl?” said Joel later, as they were warming up in the huge bath at the Rock.
“I just do,” said Flora, but wouldn’t be drawn any more on what had happened.
“You did it,” said Joel. “With your magic powers. That are totally made up and I totally don’t believe in them . . .”
“Good,” said Flora. “Oh Christ. I should call Fintan. Maybe I’ll just go up there.”
Joel put his hand out. “You should probably give them a bit of time.”
Flora shook her head. “I can’t . . . I just can’t . . .”
“There’ll be plenty of time to be with Fintan. In the weeks and the months . . .”
They had gotten into the bath together. Somehow it was the most vulnerable position imaginable: the two of them, back to chest.
“The last time,” said Flora, staring down at the water. “The last time . . . He looked after our mum. When I was . . . well. When I was working for you. But when I was too scared.”
She swallowed.
“This time, I can be there for him. At least.”
He soaped her shoulders gently, marveling once more at their pale shapely perfection, kissing her tenderly, wondering how close he’d come to nearly losing her.
“Very close,” said Flora suddenly.
“What?” said Joel, startled that she’d read his mind.
“I like it,” said Flora. “When we’re very close.”
She in turn couldn’t believe how different it was from the last time he’d been in this bath, at the very lowest ebb.
“I need . . .” She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “I need you to feel for me. And let me feel for you. I need to know you, and I need you to know me. And that is all I have to say.” She took a breath. “Tell me everything about Colton.”
He half smiled. “I can’t,” he said one last time.
Then, slowly but deliberately, he turned her round. She stared into his eyes fearfully.
“But if you like,” he said, “I can tell you everything about me.”
She held his gaze for a long moment.
“I would like that,” she said.
Chapter Seventy
Fintan was standing, silent and brooding, by the window, the dawn light shining in.
Colton stirred.
“Please,” said Colton. “Please come and lie down with me.”
Fintan took off his kilt, put on that morning with such joy and expectation. He pulled off his shirt, sighing deeply, shaking his head.
“How could you?” he whispered. “How could you keep it from me for so long?”
“Because . . .” growled Colton. “Because every time you mention your mother you tear up. Because every time I think about what you’ve been through—what I’m about to put you through—I feel like the biggest son of a bitch on earth. Because I love to see your smile and I love to hear your laugh and, right now, the biggest fear I have is that I’m never going to see those things again, and I knew it would start right the moment you found out. Because . . .”
He let out a great sigh.
“Because as soon as I got the diagnosis I should have broken up with you. I’m a heel. An absolute heel not to do that for you. I should have treated you so badly you hated me and were absolutely delighted when I walked out the door.”
Fintan shook his head. “You couldn’t have done that.”
“Well, if I’d been a half-decent man, I’d have given it a shot.” Colton covered his face. “Man, I am so, so sorry.”
Fintan crawled up on the huge, luxurious bed. It was to have been their marriage bed. No: it was.
“Is there nothing left to try?” he said. His voice was a rasp.
“Let me tell you,” said Colton. “There is nothing you or anyone else could do about this disease. You could hate me or love me or divorce me or whatever you like. Stage four pancreatic cancer gives no shits about what you do at this point, what I do, what anyone does. You got that?” He put one arm around Fintan. “Please?”
Fintan looked up at him. “This isn’t fair!”
“I know, baby, I know.”
Fintan crept under his arm. “Other people get everything they want.”
“I did,” said Colton.
Fintan blinked.
“Now, listen. You’re protected,” said Colton. “I’m not leaving you much. It’s all going to cancer research. Obviously. But if anyone tries to dispute the will, it’s all on paper and it’s all known: you didn’t coerce me to marry you; you had no idea I was sick; you had no idea what was going on. A hundred witnesses there today. That’s why I did it, you understand? You have no idea what hard-asses my family are.”
“Well, they produced you,” said Fintan.
“Yeah.”
Fintan blinked again.
“And you will have the Rock, and the Café by the Sea, and the Manse. That’s for you. And some years’ running costs—not loads. Not enough so you can lie on that gorgeous little ass of yours. And nobody will ever, ever dispute it or try and take it from you. You got the best lawyer in the world protecting that. And you are well within your rights to storm out, or to break up with me, or hell, I don’t even care what you do.”
“What will you do?”
“I’m going to stay here. On my beach. In the most beautiful place on God’s earth. Eating good food. Drinking good whisky. And if you would keep me company I would be very, very happy. But if you can’t, I understand.”
Fintan didn’t say anything.
“But right no
w, whatever Saif brought me is making me want to sleep like a baby. God bless that man.” Colton looked at Fintan. “Will you be here when I wake up?” he said.
“I don’t know,” said Fintan.
Chapter Seventy-One
The spell of good weather continued right through August. Saif started walking the Endless in the morning again, but now with the boys to give them a bit of a blow before school, and he did what Neda told him to and talked about their mother every day. They looked for the boat, of course, but more as a ritual: more of a chance for them all to be together; more as force of habit.
It was a few weeks before Lorna and Saif ran into each other.
Lorna came down later than usual with Milou that day, and Ash and Ibrahim were there, bouncing up and down delightedly as she appeared. Ash was desperate to know if she’d seen his picture that Mrs. Cook had pinned up, and Ibrahim told her shyly, and to her utter delight, that he’d finished the Horrid Henry book she’d given him, and could he possibly have another? She was pleased to see them, but she’d managed to avoid Saif at school pickup since the new term had started, and had absolutely no wish to see him here. She couldn’t avoid him forever, after confessing everything—but she wanted to give it a very good try. But here he was, and they were both walking in the same direction.
They stood, looking at each other, as the boys ran far away, playing with Milou, all three kicking happily in the chilly sea.
Lorna couldn’t bear to look at him now. It made her tremble, with hope, with despondency, with such utter desire as she felt the reality of the two of them, alone, no other Murians for miles. It was just the feel of him on the salty air; the huge sky above them; the pale sand. And nothing for her. She opened her mouth to make small talk about Colton—nobody on Mure could talk about anything else—but then he turned round suddenly, stricken, eyes wide with his desire, his overwhelming yearning—and nothing came out.
What would it be like? he thought with a sudden shiver. He had thought of little else since the wedding. What would it be like? That red hair, coiled around his fingers, that had haunted his dreams. To count every freckle on her pale skin. He shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them she was still standing there, and the air between them felt wavy and charged, and time had stopped. Lorna realized she was holding her breath, as if there were no need to move on to the next stop, the next second, the next bit of the universe, when everything in it, everything she was and had ever wanted to be, would be changed by what was going to happen in this moment, in this instant, and after it nothing could be the same. She wanted to hold it, before she slipped and moved and changed, and she needed to bring her eyes up to meet his but she was terrified of what she might see there; the desperate desire she herself felt; the melting sense of recognition, the same wanting.
But what if it were not? Could she bear it? Could she wait? Could she not?
And she did not look into his eyes. Which was a shame because she would have seen all of those things there, and she might have tipped him over the edge, caused him to abandon everything he had planned—everything he believed and ever wanted—had she grabbed him and pulled him to her.
But Lorna was not like that. And there were children on the beach. And she did not raise her head until he started, with great difficulty, to speak.
“Lorenah . . .”
She closed her eyes. Trying to work out his tone.
“There is . . .”
He stopped. Then he took a deep breath. Because if he could not have what he wanted, he needed to explain why. He was not a man for lengthy speeches, and the phrases swirled in and out of Arabic in his head, in a more ornate and old-fashioned style, and he was reminded of the ancient formal language of the Grimms’ Fairy Tales his mother had read to him as a child.
“There are . . .” he went on stiltedly, his accent making him slow down to be as clear as he could.
“There are worlds. There are so many worlds and so many times for you and me. If you were born in my village and we had been children there. If my father had moved to Britain, so long ago, and not Damascus. If I had come here to study. If you had traveled and we had met . . .”
Lorna shook her head. “Those things would never have happened.”
“They could have happened, a million times,” insisted Saif. “And I would have passed you in a marketplace or we would have been laughing in a coffee shop or on a train somewhere.”
Lorna smiled painfully. “I don’t think you would just have swung by Mure.”
“If I had known you would be here, I would have.”
They both stared out to sea.
“Had we but worlds enough, and time,” said Lorna ruefully. Saif glanced up.
“ . . . ,” he said softly.
“You know it!” said Lorna, the lump in her throat making it difficult to get the words out. Of course he knew it. Of course he knew poetry. Because the perfect man had walked straight into her world, shaken it up, ruined it, she felt sure, for anyone else she could ever possibly meet, especially on the quiet island.
And she had barely ever touched him, couldn’t even look him in the face, had to live side by side with him, in each other’s pockets—she had to look after his children—all the while knowing that they could never be together.
“Of course,” said Saif with what sounded to Lorna like kindness in his voice, although it was not.
It was the deepest of sadness, and an ocean of regret.
She wanted to take his hand, hold him, just once. But when she moved a little closer, he flinched, and she backed away, horrified, her hands at her mouth.
“I need to go,” she said, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.
“Lorenah,” he said, but she had already turned away and it was too late and he could not say to her that he had flinched because he knew the second she put her cool hands on his skin he would not be able to resist, for all his brave words, for all his love and devotion for Amena, for all that he wanted to think of himself as a good man; he would throw all of that away without a second thought; he would have grabbed her and held her and taken her home and never let her go.
Saif had been through many hardships in his life. But to watch for the second time, after first leaving his family, to watch the chance of happiness slip through his fingers, seeing somebody he loved walk away from him once again, was unbearable.
It was as raw as the bitterest of aloes, the deepest of cuts, as her footprints made a larger and larger arc away from him in the sand.
Chapter Seventy-Two
And the young knight climbed and climbed and slashed through many roses that grew up the tower of ice, and broke down the walls and fought his way inside through many hardships and much pain. And he saw the beautiful prince there. And he tried to slay the dragon that circled the tower, flapping its green decayed wings, the flesh tearing off its bones; but each time he thought the dragon must be speared, the dragon screeched once again, through its jaws that smelled of death, and escaped and circled the tower once more until the knight was exhausted.
And the prince said, “You too cannot succeed; none can; you have failed and now you must also leave me.”
And the knight said, “Sire. May we not fail together?”
And as the dragon screeched and roared around the castle, he crept in the slit of the window of the tower of ice from which there is no escaping, and he knelt down by the bed.
“Your mom told you some weird stories,” said Colton.
“Wherever you are I will stay with you.”
And the prince said, “But there is no way out.”
Colton sleepily raised his head. “What happens next?”
“I forget,” said Fintan, leaning his dark head against Colton’s gray one. He entwined his fingers with Colton’s. “I don’t think it matters. Not anymore.”
* * *
“I have something to tell you,” said Joel as Flora burst into the house, happy after the most successful day’s takings the Café by the Sea had ever h
ad. And there was a huge crowd of visitors from London, and they’d all made a point of remarking on how reasonable everything was, which had vindicated her decision even more. Locals made a point of brandishing their loyalty cards so vehemently that tourists, who had fallen in love with the island and Flora’s food, had started asking for one too. Of course she couldn’t bear to refuse, and she’d issued a couple here and there, so the problem was going to raise its thorny head again at some point, but she didn’t want to think about that right now.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Joel frowned. “I can’t believe I’m making a habit of this.”
“I can’t believe you made Mark go home.”
“I know,” said Joel. “I felt guilty about Marsha. I think he’d have stayed here forever.”
“They’ll be back,” said Flora smugly. “So, did the doc say you’re cured?”
“Ha!” said Joel. “Psychiatrists never say that.”
In fact, the bear hug Mark had offered and Joel had accepted at the airport had told him way more than that.
“Well, what is it then?”
“Ah, come down the Endless with me. Grab Bramble.”
“He’ll be snoozing.”
“That’s because he’s far too fat for a dog.”
“Stop calling my dog fat, you . . . doggist. Fattist. Whatever.”
“I’m not the one overfeeding your dog.”
They picked up the lazy creature, who was snoozing at Eck’s feet as usual, and headed down to the beach. Ahead, Joel spied the most ridiculous contraption: a full Bedouin tent. Nobody could remember whose idea it was, but it meant Colton could come and sit out without getting too uncomfortable or chilled, as well as proving quite the draw to people. Rare was the evening, with a fire lit on the sand, that they didn’t gather round, to chat, or chew the fat, or sit with Fintan if Colton was sleeping. When Colton was awake, Fintan did the best he could to smile and look happy and chat.