Sealed With a Kiss

by Rachael Lucas

  ‘He’s no working you too hard, is he then?’ asked Billy sideways, through a mouthful of nails.

  ‘Not at all.’ Kate looked over at Roderick, who was smoothing the fresh plaster with his hand, admiring Billy’s handiwork.

  ‘Lady Muck here doesn’t lift a finger,’ he teased. ‘I’ll tell you what, if I’d known she was going to spend all her time reading House Beautiful, I’d have given the job to someone else.’

  After more than a month of working with Roderick, Kate still wasn’t certain if he was serious, or if it was his strange sense of humour at play. He was impossible to read.

  ‘Did ye no tell me there was only one applicant for the job?’

  Always up for a bit of sport, Billy looked at Kate and winked.

  ‘Yes. Well,’ Roderick said, deadpan. ‘She didn’t know that.’

  ‘I’ve already managed to secure two months of bookings for next summer, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘You have. In fact you’ve been doing far too much: the deal was three days of work a week, and the cottage in exchange.’

  Kate didn’t mind. Her plan for discovering herself and learning to paint had fallen by the wayside. Susan had brought her an easel and some acrylics, suggesting that she start with a landscape of the view from the rock-strewn beach below the cottage. She had tried to be encouraging. ‘Look, it’s just a case of feeling what you can see, and translating it onto canvas.’

  Kate had looked at her painting with a snort of laughter. ‘I can see – through the eyes of a seven-year-old. Seriously, Susan, this looks like something Jamie would do at pre-school. I don’t think I’ve got the art gene.’

  ‘It’s not that bad . . . ’

  Picking up the brush, Kate had daubed a childish boat onto the seascape.

  ‘Okay, you’re right. Love you, but it’s dreadful. Forget it! Your talents lie elsewhere. Let’s go and get a coffee.’

  And so art was forgotten. As for self-discovery – well, it was more fun spending time getting to know the islanders, with their dry sense of humour and quiet manner. The self-help books she’d ordered online lay neglected on the bookshelf.

  ‘Don’t worry, Billy. I’m having fun. I love it here.’

  ‘You’re no working her hard enough then.’ Billy straightened, stretching his back with an audible crack and reaching in his pockets for a packet of cigarettes. ‘I’ll be done with this by the morn, Roddy.’

  ‘We’ll leave you to it then, Billy. I’ll get this one home before it starts getting dark.’

  Roderick reached out to guide Kate’s elbow as they clambered out through the low cottage door into the yard. The cold hit instantly. Kate pulled her hands inside her sleeves, trying to hide them from the biting wind. At this time of year the winds from the Atlantic whipped in, sneaking through layers of clothing. The temperature on the uninhabited west side of the island could be lower than the east by a few degrees in winter. Kate felt sorry for the students who would be stuck out here for a week at a time. Even watching seals wasn’t so much fun when your whole body was numb with cold.

  Willow, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Released from the back of the car, she was dashing back and forth, nose questing the air. She paused for a moment, then scampered across the farmyard.

  ‘Look at her searching. She’d have made a good hunting dog.’

  ‘She’s lovely. I still can’t believe how far she can go without getting tired. Her energy is never-ending.’ Kate whistled, bringing Willow hurtling back to heel.

  ‘What a clever girl.’ The puppy squirmed with pleasure as Roderick leaned down to stroke her soft coat. She looked moth-eaten with her baby fluff half-gone and her adult coat still growing. ‘Good exercise for you, though, all this dog-walking.’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  ‘Are you saying I need it?’ Kate bristled slightly.

  ‘No, but it’ll not do your townie legs any harm to do a bit of walking.’ Roderick cast a glance at Kate, wrapped up in her thick coat, jeans and walking boots.

  ‘Sod off, you!’ She pulled a face at him. When he was in this mood, with no sign of the aloof manner that could set her teeth on edge, it was easy to forget he was her boss.

  ‘That’s no way to talk to your employer.’ He pulled the car keys out of his pocket and together they walked down to the coast road where the Land Rover was parked.

  It was only half-past three, but already the sun blazed low in the sky – deep orange reflected onto an indigo sea. Kate looked down at the beach, unaware that Roderick was watching her as she stood enraptured by the beauty of the island sunset. She waited in silence, watching as the sun slipped below the sea after a final, dazzling burst of light.

  ‘How could anyone want to live anywhere but here?’ Eyes shining, she turned to Roderick, who was looking at her with a curious expression on his face.

  ‘Are you looking forward to the bonfire tonight?’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ Kate shivered. ‘Though I’m worried I’ll freeze. I’ve asked Emma to bring me up some jumpers when she comes next month.’

  ‘You’ll be acclimatised by then,’ said Roderick. ‘Let’s get back to the house. I don’t know about you, but I think my toes are frozen solid.’

  Kate lifted Willow into the back seat and climbed into the front.

  ‘There’s one more thing we have to do. And I need you as backup,’ Roderick told her, as he started the car. His mood had changed suddenly, and his silence was forbidding. His jaw was set hard, the amiable atmosphere between them lost. He frowned as he drove, thumbs drumming at the steering wheel. Shooting him the occasional covert glance, Kate sat in awkward silence. Were she to speak, she’d be shut down with monosyllabic answers – she’d learned that much. Perhaps she’d gone too far with the teasing comments, and he felt it inappropriate. It was two steps forward, one step back, getting to know Roderick. She’d seen him laughing and joking with Susan and Tom – in fact, with them he was always relaxed and comfortable. It must have been something she’d said. She swallowed uncomfortably. It was a long five-mile drive across the top of the island and down towards Kilmannan. They drove through the dusk in silence.

  ‘Right. We’re here.’ He turned off the ignition and sat in the darkened car for a moment, eyes closed. ‘And . . . ’ said Roderick, tapping out a count of three on the steering wheel.

  ‘Roddy! Where have you been hiding yourself?’

  The car door was wrenched open. Pink lips were kissing him on the cheek, and he was being propelled up the stairs and through the half-glazed doors of the Bayview Hotel. He turned back and looked at Kate, eyes wide in mock-horror. Ah. Maybe it wasn’t something she’d said, after all.

  Clipping on Willow’s lead, she trailed in behind, feeling like a spare part.

  ‘So you’re the lassie that’s been taking our Roddy away from us?’ The Glaswegian accent was shrill; the cerise lips set in a disapproving line. The woman had clearly been a real beauty in her youth, and was clinging onto the style she’d known and loved in the 1980s. She patted her expensive-looking blonde highlights.

  That’s not been done on the island. Kate found herself thinking of Sophisticutz, the salon on the High Street.

  ‘Will you come inside?’ Pausing with a proprietorial hand on the interior door, the woman eyed Kate coolly, the words belying her invitation.

  ‘Now, Sandra, they can’t hang about. Roderick’s got an estate to look after,’ said a gentle voice. Turning around gratefully, Kate caught the eye of a short, balding man in a golf sweater. He climbed up the stone steps of the hotel and gave her the ghost of a wink. He held out his hand.

  ‘You’ll be Kate?’ he smiled. ‘Murdo Gilfillan. Owner of the Bayview, husband of the lovely Sandra.’

  The lovely Sandra collected herself visibly, exhaling through disapproving nostrils.

  ‘Very nice to meet you,’ she said in clipped tones, which implied the opposite. She flicked an invisible speck of dust from her cream satin blouse. Her nails, Kate noticed, matched her lipst
ick.

  ‘I just wanted to have a quick word about the fireworks tonight,’ said Roderick.

  ‘Everything’s under control,’ replied Murdo. ‘We’ve got the cake, and Finn’s going to bring his bagpipes, so all you have to do is make sure she’s here on time.’

  Kate turned to Roderick, wondering what was going on. Her head was spinning. For every moment that she felt she was getting a handle on island life, another came along when she realized she hadn’t a clue what was going on and she was lost again. It was a never-ending game of catch-up, like trying to keep up with EastEnders now that she didn’t have Sky Plus – only there were no summaries in the weekend edition of the local paper. More’s the pity, thought Kate.

  ‘It’s Jean’s birthday tomorrow – she’s sixty. I thought as we’d all be gathered for Bonfire Night, we’d have a little celebration,’ Roderick explained.

  ‘Her birthday? You’re joking!’ Kate screwed up her face in impatience, throwing her hands in the air. ‘It’s four o’clock on an island with about three shops, and you didn’t think to mention it?’ She blurted out the words before she could stop herself.

  ‘You never asked,’ said Roderick mildly. ‘I was quite impressed with myself for sorting out a party.’

  Men! She couldn’t even look to Sandra for commiseration. Head cocked slightly to one side, pink-lipsticked mouth pursed in an expression of prim satisfaction, Sandra made a little ‘hmm’ of smugness. So much for the sisterhood.

  Roderick scratched his head in puzzlement.

  Murdo chortled, giving him a nudge. ‘You’ll never please them, man, believe me. I’ve tried and failed for many a year.’

  Roderick shrugged, his expression helpless. ‘I didn’t even think about a present. I’m sure you can find something in town.’

  Kate gave a gusty sigh of exasperation.

  Unable to resist the opportunity for a boast, Sandra ushered them into the hotel. ‘We’ve got a lovely present for Jean. Come away through and I’ll show you the spread we’ve put on.’

  She took Kate’s elbow and led her, with an unwilling Willow trailing behind, into the lounge bar. The walls were papered with dark-green paper, the carpet was tartan and, in celebration of Jean’s birthday, there were huge tartan ribbons festooned above the polished mahogany bar.

  ‘Murdo has this place gleaming like a new pin.’ Sandra preened, like a smug hen. ‘And I’ve made my Coronation Chicken – I know how much you love it, Roddy.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ His tone gave nothing away, but Kate had a suspicion he was trying not to laugh.

  ‘You can see the mainland from here on a clear day,’ said Murdo, slipping behind the bar. ‘It’s a fine spot. Now, will you join me in a wee something?’

  ‘I’m driving,’ said Roderick. ‘But our Kate’s developed a bit of a taste for whisky since she’s been here. When she’s not on the wine, that is.’

  She shot him a glance. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether or not he was joking.

  ‘It’s a bit early for that, don’t you think?’ Sandra’s expression was disapproving. ‘I don’t like to drink much, myself, as you know, Roddy. All those empty calories.’

  Kate sucked in her stomach, without thinking. She could feel Sandra’s eyes upon her.

  ‘A girl after my own heart.’ Murdo reached up to the shelf, moving a photograph of a blonde girl in traditional Highland dress to reach behind it for something. Kate sneaked a closer look. The girl would have been quite beautiful, were it not for a slight curl to the nostril, which gave the impression she’d recently smelled something quite unpleasant. She had to be related to Sandra. Kate covered her smile with a hand, disguising it as a cough.

  Murdo opened a bottle and poured a hefty measure of whisky into a crystal glass. ‘Slàinte.’ He raised his glass to her and took a sip, eyes closed in appreciation.

  Kate followed suit, feeling the liquid warmth travel through her body. Despite the baking heat in the bar, her fingers and toes were still frozen.

  ‘Will you have another?’

  ‘Thank you, but we ought to be getting back.’ She looked down, realizing that the tension on Willow’s lead had slackened. The puppy had slipped her new, too-big collar and was squatting in a corner with an expression of relief, which rapidly changed to guilt.

  Sandra, who had been straightening the serried ranks of glasses on a table in front of the bar, shrieked with horror.

  ‘Get that creature out of here. My new carpet!’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Kate scooped up the cringing Willow and rushed out into the freezing air.

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Roderick’s amused voice in her ear. ‘Extra treats for you tonight, Willow. What a good girl!’

  ‘We’ll see you at seven.’ Murdo stood silhouetted in the hotel doorway, whisky glass in hand.

  Looking through the window as the Land Rover crunched down the drive, Kate could see Sandra beetling through the bar, bucket and cleaning liquid in hand, looking furious.

  ‘She didn’t seem all that friendly, for a landlady.’

  ‘Ah. It’s a long story. And we’ve got a firework display to get to.’

  Having soaked for far too long in a boiling hot bath, Kate was scarlet in the face and had no time left to straighten her hair. She swiped green eyeshadow over her lids and smudged on some eyeliner. Her mother had sent her some thermal underwear, and she pulled it on, looking at herself in the ancient, freckled mirror. The vest and long johns clung to her, giving her the appearance of an overstuffed sausage. The woman on the packaging – long blonde hair tumbling carelessly – managed to look effortlessly sexy and radiate an aura of ski-chalet chic. Kate looked more like a draught-excluder cushion. She laughed at her reflection. Willow barked excitedly at the sound.

  ‘Sorry, darling, you’re going back to Susan tonight. I don’t want you to be frightened by all that noise.’

  She picked up her jeans from the tangle of clothes at the end of her bed. An old, long-sleeved T-shirt, a sweatshirt and a thick fleece completed the outfit. She caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair had a kink in it from her ponytail band. She was definitely putting on weight – it was all those cakes Morag kept feeding her. Combined with the Michelin Man layers, Kate reflected that it was just as well she was off men.

  ‘I’m not exactly chic, am I?’

  Willow didn’t reply. Kate popped on her coat and wellington boots, twisted her hair up into a woolly hat and they set off for Susan and Tom’s cottage.

  ‘Fireworts, fireworts, fireworts,’ Jamie crowed, opening the door.

  ‘Oh God, he’s going into orbit himself,’ laughed Susan, welcoming Kate and Willow into the chaos.

  ‘Willow will be fine in there tonight. Mum’s going to stay here with Mhairi, because she’s too wee. And, even better still, Dad’s going to take Jamie back afterwards, so we can stay and have a dance.’

  ‘Dance?’ Kate looked blank.

  ‘The party at the Bayview afterwards. I thought you said on the phone you were there this afternoon?’

  ‘I did,’ said Kate, horror suddenly dawning on her. ‘I was so busy thinking of what to wear to keep warm, I sort of forgot that bit.’

  ‘Ah.’ Susan nodded. ‘So you haven’t gone for anything like this?’ She lifted up her fleece to reveal a tight black, sparkly vest, which clung to her flat stomach and stopped short of her slim hips.

  ‘Er, no.’ Kate unzipped her coat. ‘More this.’ She lifted up her sweatshirt, showing off her deeply unbeautiful cotton thermals.

  ‘Oops!’ Susan laughed. ‘Nip down and grab something. I’ll shove Jamie in the car and drag Tom away from the computer.’

  ‘Aha, my fellow whisky-lover. Let me get you a wee dram to warm you up.’ Murdo spotted Kate as she climbed down from Tom’s huge four-wheel drive. He was carrying a tray full of steaming mugs.

  ‘Mulled wine, yum. Thank you!’ Susan lifted Jamie out of the car and grabbed a drink.

  ‘I’m going to find Dad, make sure we’ve got a g
ood spot at the front to watch the fireworks. I’ll save you a space,’ Susan said.

  The grounds of the hotel were packed. Most of the island’s population was there, laughing, stamping their feet and waiting for the fireworks to begin. Jamie’s eyes were huge, and he was so excited that he appeared to have lost the power of speech.

  ‘Come away in with me, Kate.’ Murdo was in good spirits, probably because Sandra was nowhere to be seen, thought Kate.

  He pushed at a well-disguised panelled door in the hall. Inside she found Roderick sitting opposite Bruno, long legs in jeans, stretched out in front of a log fire. He was wearing a checked shirt and thick woollen sweater, freshly shaved, his cheekbones deeply shadowed by the firelight. He raised his glass to her in greeting.

  ‘You found our hiding place.’ He moved over on the sofa, patting the space beside him.

  ‘Kate,’ Bruno took her coat. ‘Sit yersel down and get warm.’

  She felt as if she’d sneaked into a corner of a gentlemen’s club. The little room was tiny, with two sofas facing each other. The walls were panelled with dark wood, and a stag’s head leered down at her. It seemed picky to point out that she was already more than warm, having dressed for freezing temperatures, but having ended up in a centrally heated room with a blazing open fire.

  ‘I’ll join you for a quick top-up.’ Murdo reappeared, bearing a bottle of Jura. ‘Sandra’s got her knickers in a twist about everything being perfect. If I stay still too long, she’ll be tying a tartan ribbon round my head.’

  Feeling outnumbered by the men and ignoring Roderick’s invitation to sit down, Kate perched on the arm of the sofa. The room was small and hot, and she could feel herself beginning to melt under her many layers. Sitting in uncomfortably close proximity to her somewhat temperamental boss was the last thing she needed. She sipped her drink, the peaty warmth of the malt burning her throat and making her cough.