Flora was still rattled by Mac’s warning and what she’d almost confessed, but there was no time to dwell on it, as the front door was flung open and Tamsin stood there, ready to receive them. Mac bent down to fold her into a hug with gentle tickles that had Tamsin giggling, and Flora resisted the temptation to copy him, her heart softening as she watched the two of them. Tamsin looked up timidly and then her hand reached for Flora, who found herself being pulled into the living room. She laughed as she clutched the bottle of wine precariously under her arm. Tamsin stopped in the centre of the room and Flora paused in surprise, her eyes widening at the view.
Flora hadn’t realised that the house was perched so close to the headland, making it seem as though they were virtually on the water. A large extension, reaching across the back of the building and made almost entirely of glass, allowed light to flood in, highlighting the Scandinavian feel of the open-plan living room and ultra-modern comfortable kitchen.
‘How beautiful, I wasn’t expecting such a view!’
‘It never fails to take people by surprise. We must have been lucky with our architect, when we decided to extend.’ Doug grinned wryly at Mac, as he crossed the room to greet them, reaching out to grasp Flora’s hand between both of his and shaking firmly. ‘Hello, Flora. Very glad you could make it tonight. Ah, here’s Moira.’
A woman – like Doug, probably in her early sixties and much the same height – had appeared from the corridor behind, glanced at Mac with a loving look and directed her attention to Flora. She hurried over, a smile lighting her face, as Doug stepped back to hug Mac, the obvious ease between the two men speaking of years of familiarity. Slim and elegant, Moira had short, grey hair tucked behind her ears and stylish black glasses framing hazel eyes that, like Doug’s, looked sad.
‘Flora, I’m so pleased to meet you! How lovely of you to come and join us.’
Flora wasn’t sure that Mac would agree. Moira’s accent wasn’t so obviously local as her husband’s, and Flora wondered if she had moved to Alana from the mainland.
‘You’re most welcome in our home. Tamsin has told us all about you, including how beautiful you are, and I can see she was right.’
Flora’s face flamed at the unexpected compliment. ‘That’s very sweet of you,’ she murmured to Tamsin, giving her a grateful smile, which was cautiously returned. Then she remembered the bottle of wine. ‘Oh, this is for you. A small thank you for inviting me tonight.’ Flora retrieved the bottle and proffered it to Doug, standing nearby. ‘I can’t claim any glory for choosing it, but I was assured it would make a suitable aperitif, as I wasn’t sure what we would be eating.’
Doug thanked her, pleased, as he examined the bottle and Moira crossed the room to greet Mac properly. He pulled her into an embrace that had her sniffing as she wriggled away. She joined Doug in the kitchen, taking a salad from the fridge and searching for something to dress it with, as he busied himself collecting plates.
‘Something smells delicious,’ Flora said hungrily, trying to stop her mouth from watering in anticipation of what smelled like a marvellous meal.
‘Well, it’s just a vegetarian lasagne; I hope that’s all right with everyone. I’d already decided to err on the side of caution, and Doug only remembered to tell me you’d had sausages yesterday once the lasagne was in the oven.’
‘I eat anything,’ Flora told her gratefully. ‘I don’t cook very often for myself so a home-made meal like this is an absolute treat.’
‘Shall we open your wine?’ Doug directed the question at Flora, his voice carrying easily across the room. ‘I understand Mac’s driving, so can I pour you a glass?’
‘That sounds perfect, I’d love to try it. Thank you.’
Doug reached for glasses and Mac indicated to Flora the bar stools on the sitting room side of the kitchen. She pulled one out and sat down, checking what Tamsin was doing and wondering if she would join them. She was staring up at Flora, her eyes flicking to the door. Flora tried to guess what the little girl wanted and hopped back down from the stool, as an idea came to her.
‘Shall we go and have a look at your plants? They might need watering.’
Tamsin nodded excitedly and Flora was happy to follow her outside. She had barely looked at Mac since she had almost blurted out the truth to him in the car and she was glad of some time to gather her scrambled emotions.
There wasn’t much of a garden outside, beyond a practical patio stretching around three sides of the house, enclosed by a hedge on two sides and a few scattered pots of evergreens. Tamsin’s precious plants had been carefully positioned in the sunniest spot, attached to bamboo canes and in larger pots. Flora knew that Tamsin was watching as she examined the plants to check if the little girl had done everything right, so she quickly reassured her that they were doing fine. She reminded Tamsin to keep them watered and the canes secure as the plants grew taller. Tamsin visibly relaxed at Flora’s assessment, and she felt her heart melt at the girl’s concern and determination to take care of her plants as best as she could. They returned to the house; Moira was still in the kitchen and Mac had settled on a stool, his fingers wrapped around a bottle of non-alcoholic beer, whilst Doug laid the table.
Flora sat down next to Mac, sipping her wine, and listened to Doug chatting and perhaps trying to make up for Moira’s silence as she put the finishing touches on the meal. Tamsin was on a stool, too, on Flora’s other side, colouring a picture of The Tiger Who Came to Tea. Every so often she paused, waiting for Flora to choose the colour that she should use next. It wasn’t long before Moira declared the lasagne ready and they all moved to the dining table nearby. Doug brought the salad across and Moira asked them to help themselves, lifting a small portion onto a plate for Tamsin.
Flora was surprised to notice that her glass was already empty, and Doug refilled their drinks before he joined them at the table and they began to eat. Tamsin was sitting between Flora and Moira, with Mac and Doug opposite. The lasagne was fabulous and Flora was already beginning to feel the effects of the wine; it usually made her sleepy, but tonight her senses seemed sharper, more aware of her surroundings, and she was finding it difficult to control how her body responded to Mac’s attentiveness whenever their eyes met.
To distract herself, she asked Moira, ‘Mac mentioned that you run a B&B here? It’s an amazing location, I can see why people would want to visit.’ She noticed the look that passed between Moira and Doug, and he replied first, a small sigh escaping as his gaze quickly went to Tamsin.
‘Aye, Flora, we do – or did, anyway, and it kept us busy during the summer months when it’s easier to travel to the island. But since the, er, well you know… what happened,’ he lowered his voice, a flash of grief skittering through his eyes, ‘we decided not to take in guests for the time being. It was just too much to think about. We have a small croft, too, you see, that belonged to Moira’s family. The cottage is rented out, but we farm the land and look after the livestock, and that keeps us occupied enough.’
‘Sorry, Flora, I didn’t make that clear before.’ Mac had softened his voice and Flora sensed him gazing at her. Moira sniffed sharply, and Doug reached across the table to touch her arm.
Flora opened her mouth, not quite sure what she was going to say, but desperate to make amends for inadvertently making the conversation awkward.
‘I like seeing the lambs.’ Tamsin’s voice was a whisper but it carried through the open space around them. Her steady blue gaze was flickering between Flora and Mac, and it was to her she directed her words. ‘Can you come with me and see them?’
Flora’s hand stilled somewhere between the table and her glass as she thought hurriedly of an appropriate response. She saw Mac’s frown opposite her as Doug jumped in.
‘Och, Tamsin, Flora won’t have time for that,’ he told her, softening his words with a kind smile. ‘She has to go home soon, remember? We talked about this.’
Flora wished she didn’t have to refuse Tamsin, but understood it was probably for the best, as Mac had said. ‘Your grandad’s right,’ she told Tamsin gently, seeing the little girl’s eyes fall to her plate and disappointment outlined in the slump of her shoulders. ‘I still have some work to finish in the garden before I leave. I’m so sorry, I wish I could. Maybe if I leave my email address with your nanna and grandad, you could send me some photographs?’
The idea of staying in touch with Tamsin had been taking shape in her mind over the past couple of days. Irrespective of Mac and what their relationship was – or wasn’t – she was dreading never seeing Tamsin again or being able to find out how she was getting on. Doug was already nodding, although she noticed Moira looking more doubtful. ‘And I’ll need to see pictures of the sweet peas, too, when they flower.’
‘Won’t you be coming back?’
Another whisper, a collection of letters brought together and forming words that Flora did not want to consider. She blinked back the sudden tears scratching at her eyes, desperate for Tamsin and Mac not to see. ‘I don’t think so, I’m sorry. I live a long way from here.’
Flora saw the look then which passed between the older couple, a shared glance of concern. Mac had been right after all: this evening was a mistake. She wondered how soon she could escape this dinner, before her inability to remain on the island unsettled Tamsin any further. The talk turned to more general matters, and Flora was relieved to move on and learn more of the island’s history and stories, which she encouraged Tamsin to share. When the lasagne was finished, Tamsin suddenly hopped down from her chair, looking up at Flora earnestly.
‘Please will you come and see my new bedroom, Flora?’
This Flora could do, and she returned her glass to the table with a smile for her hosts, as she excused herself. She followed Tamsin along the hallway past three doors, before they reached her bedroom. Flora saw at once that it was a picture-perfect little girl’s room, with pink walls and a low, white bunk bed, with bookshelves and space to play underneath. Fairies and a unicorn were stencilled onto a wall, and there was a photograph of Tamsin’s parents on a dressing table. Flora tried not to stare but her eyes fell on it anyway, and she immediately saw the kindness and energy that seemed to shine from Rachael’s eyes, so like Tamsin’s. Angus had his arms around Rachael, holding her from behind, and his look above her head was very like Doug’s, their faces so similar. Flora was almost winded by the laughing casualness of the picture, barely able to believe that two such young people could have been lost so suddenly. Tamsin took Flora’s hand again and tugged her over to a squashy lilac beanbag, big enough for two, and pulled her down.
‘Please will you read me a story?’
Flora settled into the beanbag with a smile. ‘Of course. Shall we do this one?’ She reached for a book close by. It was a story of unicorns, magical horses and a princess who rescued them from a cruel master, and she began to read, with Tamsin snuggled into her side. Before long, she noticed that Tamsin’s breathing had changed, and Flora saw that she had fallen asleep. Long, fair lashes swept down onto pale skin, her fringe falling to one side, and Flora’s heart clenched with a sudden sweep of love mingled with sorrow for all that the little girl had lost.
She read on, her voice growing quieter, until she reached the end of the book and placed it on the floor. Unwilling to disturb Tamsin, she sat cuddling her for a few more minutes, until the door opened and Mac appeared. At once his eyes darkened with an unfathomable expression at the sight of Flora snuggling the sleeping child, and she fumbled for an apology as her pulse rocketed.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ she whispered, trying very carefully to disentangle herself. ‘Tamsin wanted a story and then she fell asleep. I didn’t want to disturb her.’
Mac shook his head, stepping quietly into the little pink room. Immediately, he completely filled her view and it seemed as though the walls were contracting around her. He was too big, too masculine, to be contained in such feminine surroundings, and she swallowed nervously, moving her gaze to Tamsin.
‘She looks so peaceful,’ he muttered. ‘Doug’s on the phone, there’s a crisis with a neighbour and a tricky calving, so Moira asked me to see if you were both okay, whilst she shuts up the chickens. Should we lift her onto the bed?’
‘Probably best. Hopefully, she won’t wake up.’ Flora wriggled slowly away from Tamsin, who seemed deeply asleep already. Mac bent down, his head very close to Flora’s, and she felt his breath on her neck as he gently slid his arms beneath Tamsin, carefully lifted her up and settled her onto the bed. He turned to Flora with a light smile and whispered, ‘Think we got away with it.’
Flora was all too aware of Mac watching as she untangled her legs from the beanbag and tried to stand up quietly. She had been leaning with her back against the wall and the pins that were holding her messy bun in place had fallen out. Her long hair, which had dried into uneven waves, spilled down her back and she automatically brought her hands to her neck to gather it back up. Mac spoke, his voice low and hoarse in the quiet of the room, and her heart began to race.
‘Don’t.’
Flora froze, her hands stilled above her shoulders, before letting them slowly fall away. Her eyes flew up to meet his, and she saw the intensity blazing in them, before his gaze dropped to linger on her mouth, and her lips parted in stunned reply. Her body responded immediately: held in check for so long whenever she was around him, and desire raced across her skin, leaving her quivering in anticipation of his touch. He lifted a hand, reaching for her face, and then Tamsin murmured in her sleep, and Mac quickly stepped away. Shock registered in his expression, before he tore his eyes away from Flora’s and they both whirled around to stare at the sleeping girl.
Horrified by the realisation that she had allowed Mac to see how effortlessly he could arouse her, Flora carefully pulled the duvet over Tamsin with trembling fingers, tucking her in as the racing of her pulse began to slow. Mac was hovering behind her and she stepped past him to return to the living room, thankful that her hosts weren’t there. She reached for the glass of wine that Doug had refilled again and gulped it quickly. She was pulling her hair into place, facing the extraordinary view from the huge windows, when Mac soon followed.
‘Flora, I—’
‘Just leave it,’ she said bluntly, refusing to give him her eyes and let him witness any more of her heart revealed in them. ‘Nothing happened.’
Doug reappeared a moment later and he sounded cheerful, unaware of the tension between Flora and Mac. ‘Crisis over! The heifer’s delivered a healthy calf, just in time.’ He looked around the room, only just seeming to notice that Moira and Tamsin weren’t there. ‘Moira must still be outside. Where’s Tamsin?’
‘She’s asleep,’ Flora told him quickly, her hair more or less back in place, and she gave him a bright smile that couldn’t quite ease the strain she still felt. ‘She dozed off whilst I was reading to her so Mac helped me tuck her into bed.’
‘Ah, bless her, it’s been an exciting and tiring day. Thanks, both of you. We’ll pop in and check on her later; she’ll probably need the loo at some point. Well, who’s for the famous lemon meringue pie? I’ll get some coffee going while you decide if you’d like cream or ice cream with it.’
Flora groaned inwardly, torn between being a polite guest to her lovely and generous hosts and her desire to escape Mac’s company as soon as she reasonably could. The highs and lows of this evening had already depleted her, and all she wanted was the impersonal space of her hotel room. ‘Not for me, thanks, Doug. It was so kind of you to invite me, but I ought to head off now. I don’t want to keep you both up.’
‘Och, Flora, don’t be daft, there’s no need to rush off. Moira will think there’s something amiss with her baking!’
There was disappointment in his teasing tone and Flora felt torn. She glanced over at Mac, who was standing beside the bar stools, watching her with a questioning expression she didn’t attempt to decipher.
‘Please stay, if you can. We’d love to get to know you better and hear about your work.’
Flora knew she was trapped by Doug’s almost pleading words. ‘If Mac doesn’t mind?’ There was a pointed tone in her voice she knew he would recognise, as she left it up to him to decide.
‘Of course not,’ he answered blithely, crossing the room to join her near the window overlooking the sea. ‘We can stay for lemon meringue pie and coffee at least, Flora. I’m sure you told me once that it was your favourite dessert.’
Flora could have screamed, as she backed up and sat down on the large, L-shaped sofa and shot Mac a furious look. She reached for her glass again and sipped at the wine to distract her from his gaze. Her body was still buzzing after what had just occurred between them in the bedroom, and the cushions sank when Mac joined her on the sofa, causing another unwelcome spike in her pulse.
Moira had emerged into the kitchen after shutting up the chickens, and Flora and Mac were silent until the older couple joined them, bringing coffee and bowls filled with soft meringue and a creamy yellow filling. Flora was persuaded to copy Mac in having ice cream with her pudding, and it was so good that she laughingly threatened to steal the rest away. Moira looked pleased, and Doug reached across to squeeze her hand encouragingly, before his gaze returned to Flora.
‘So how long are you staying on the island, Flora?’
‘Just until Friday. I have another commitment over the weekend, before I go back to work next week.’
‘Do you think you’ll be coming back to help Mac with the restoration?’
Flora felt her breath catch in her throat at the question from Moira. The air between her and Mac seemed to stretch and bend, its tautness humming in the pause before she answered.
‘No, I don’t think so. There’s a great deal of work to do and I’ll be able to put Mac in touch with organisations that will advise him once I’m finished. I’m sorry, of course, that I won’t be around to see it or help with the school garden but it’s not a practical option, with my own job being so far away.’
Moira nodded, surprising Flora as she reached across the sofa to take her hand, her hazel eyes sincere and kind. ‘Doug and I, well, we just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for Tamsin since she met you.’
Flora began to protest but Moira shook her head firmly, speaking across her insistence that she hadn’t done very much at all.
‘No, Flora, you really have made a difference already, even though you probably can’t tell, as you’ve known her for such a short time. I don’t know how much of it is to do with gardens or just you, or both of those things, but these past few days she has come out of her shell a little and it’s marvellous for us to see. She loves those plants you gave her and if we didn’t stop her, I think she’d watch over them night and day.’
Flora was silent, absorbing the joy that Moira’s words had given her, despite Mac’s bleak warning earlier.
‘Tamsin was always chatty enough at home but since the accident she seems to flee sometimes to a place we can’t always reach, and I do worry that we’ll never properly find her again. I don’t know that you ever get over a thing like losing your parents the way she did. Bad enough to lose a son and the woman who loved him.’ She paused; her eyes laden with grief, and sadness was etched into every line as she gripped Flora’s hand even tighter. ‘She wants us to make a proper garden here. As you can see, it’s hardly been a priority; we’ve always been busy with the B&B and the farming, but she seems to think a garden could make all of us feel better. She told me about you being poorly, Flora, and how gardening helped you. I want to ask you; do you really think it will help her? Truthfully? Because sometimes I just have no idea what will, and we’re prepared to try anything.’
Moira seemed to notice then that she was still clutching Flora’s hand and she let go, leaning back into the sofa and wiping her eyes with a tissue she fished from her sleeve. Flora knew that everyone’s attention was on her now; she could only speak the truth from her own experience and that of others she saw at work every day.
‘I absolutely believe that being in a garden can help to heal people, so my genuine answer to your question is undoubtedly yes. There are lots of studies showing it to be hugely beneficial in many ways, and I would be more than happy to send you links to the information and relevant organisations. I have to tell you, though, that it doesn’t necessarily work for everyone, but from what I’ve seen with Tamsin, I do think that it could be helpful for her.’
‘Well then, we’ll have to try to make a garden here.’ Doug’s tone was light and hopeful. ‘Top tips, please, Flora?’
She was thrilled with their willingness to try, and the offer to help them in any way she could was on the tip of her tongue, until she remembered Mac’s words about her imminent departure from the island. ‘Get to know your soil,’ she told Doug eventually. ‘So that you can learn how to improve it and what plants will do best in a location like this.’ She waved a hand casually towards the view with a wry smile. The landscape was stunning but wind and salt-laden air would not make their task any easier.
‘What does the counsellor say now?’
Doug looked across as Mac spoke, removing their attention from the sea. ‘That she’s making a little progress and to continue not applying any pressure to encourage her to talk when she isn’t able to. It’ll likely come in time; we have to be patient and use the methods we’ve been taught to help her. We all know grief is a terrible thing and we react to it in different ways. Maggie’s great with her at school, and everyone on the island is, too – the community here is a huge source of strength, but then you know that, Mac. It’s one of the reasons why Angus settled back here with Rachael. And we still go across to the mainland every month to meet with the child bereavement group—’
‘It’s so unfair!’ Moira burst out, sorrow easily turning into anger as her eyes darkened in despair. ‘Why should a seven-year-old girl have to meet with a counsellor every month to show them all the ways she misses her mum and dad, and how we are all trying to go on without them? It’s just not right.’ She slumped back on the sofa and Doug reached across to slide his arm around her, trying to replace anguish with love, as the tears slid down Moira’s face and she covered it with her hands.
Doug offered Mac and Flora an apologetic glance. ‘We haven’t really had people over for supper since we stopped having guests to stay, but Moira was adamant she wanted to invite you both before Flora has to leave.’ They clung together and Flora felt her sadness and empathy growing as she looked away, trying not to intrude on their sorrow. Her eyes easily found Mac’s, and the compassion and understanding she read in his expression almost undid her. Slowly, she dragged her gaze back to the sea crashing onto the headland below them.
‘I’m all right,’ Moira sniffed from the depths of the sofa and she smiled weakly at her guests. ‘It always gets us just when you think that every day is getting a bit easier than the last.’ She nodded at Doug, who stood up and headed to the kitchen. Flora heard him gathering glasses and retrieving something from a cupboard. ‘It really worries me, what sort of life we can give her, being the age we are. She should be running around with brothers and sisters, and having a normal life. Nothing about this is normal anymore.’
‘That’s perfectly understandable,’ Flora told her quietly, and she hesitated before carrying on. ‘I lost my dad two years ago in difficult circumstances, and all any of us wanted was to have him back and cling to everyone we loved. I know it’s not the same, as my brother and I were older, but it was still a big shock.’
Moira’s expression changed, as she understood that Flora, too, knew the measure of loss. Flora could feel the solidity of Mac’s stare and she looked down, noticing his hands clasped loosely between his legs. The merest movement would erase the tiny space between them, but she drove the image from her mind, knowing it was pointless to think such things about him.
‘Well, I think it’s time to break open the last of the damson gin, don’t you? Seeing as Flora isn’t going to be with us for very long.’ Everyone looked at Doug as he spoke from the kitchen. He waved a bottle of ruby-coloured liquid and the atmosphere shifted into something easier with his casual gesture. ‘I’ll fill the glasses. Mac, you can have a taste but that’s all, as you’re driving. This has put you on your back before now, laddie, as you well know.’
Flora laughed, as Mac’s hands rose in defeat. The smile died on his lips as their eyes locked and she looked away first, her skin igniting once again at the unguarded ache in his expression. Moira stood up and excused herself to go and check on Tamsin.
Short of sticking her fingers over the glass Doug proffered, Flora was unable to prevent him from pouring her a shot of the home-made gin, served neat with ice, which smelled gorgeous and tasted utterly delicious, sure that it would quickly render her incapable of even standing up should she have too much. The evening was beginning to lengthen into dusk as Moira re-joined them, satisfied that Tamsin was comfortable and still asleep.
They chatted together of simpler things and, as it grew later, Flora relaxed sufficiently to laugh with Mac again. By the time they left, close to midnight, Tamsin still hadn’t woken, and Flora realised that she had drunk much more than she’d intended, as the bottle of damson gin had gradually dwindled to nothing. Doug and Moira hugged them both as they said good night and she walked unsteadily back to the car, shaking off Mac’s hand when he tried to prevent her from stumbling on the grassy path.
‘I’m fine,’ she told him, taking her time as she climbed into his car, sitting down heavily and letting her bag slide to the floor. ‘Perfectly all right.’
‘Sure? You look a bit wobbly to me.’
She heard the grin in his voice as he joined her and started the engine, and she could only laugh huffily at his comment.
‘It’s that blasted hooch of Moira’s! It’s probably illegal to even make that stuff and certainly lethal if you’re mad enough to drink it. Just drive me back, please, to somewhere that serves tea, chocolate and water, not necessarily in that order.’
Flora was relieved that it was only a ten-minute journey before the hotel came into view, and Mac was pulling up on the gravel drive close to the front door. It was quiet at this hour and she knew she would have to knock to gain entry from the night porter before she could reach her room.
‘Are you enjoying the hotel, Flora? Is there anything else you need?’
She hesitated before replying, one hand on the door, ready to escape. ‘Of course. It’s very generous of you to let me stay here.’ She knew she hadn’t disguised the pause quickly enough to prevent his noticing.
‘But?’
She shook her head as she started to laugh and stopped abruptly, the additional movement not helping with her ability to look straight ahead. ‘I don’t want you to think badly of me if I tell you.’
‘Go on,’ Mac said, waiting in the darkness for her answer.
‘The hotel is fabulous but then you know that. It seems so formal and I still haven’t got used to eating such amazing food and not making my own bed. The hotel is perfect for holidays, but this is work and I feel a bit out of place. I’m sorry, I know I’m being very ungrateful, and you can blame it entirely on Doug and the damson gin – it’s like he’s given me some kind of truth serum.’
‘I see. In that case, is there anything else you’d like to tell me?’
‘Nope.’
She glanced at him and saw that he was smiling, his profile outlined by the light above the front door. Eventually, she managed to push open the car door and heard him laugh again as she tried to position both her legs onto the drive to stand up.
‘Stop it,’ she told him crossly, finally managing to extricate herself from the Audi and bending down cautiously to glare at him, her handbag sliding to the gravel. ‘This is all your fault, anyway. Everything’s your fault.’
Slamming the door shut, Flora scooped her handbag up from the ground and strutted away from the car, proud of her suitably dramatic exit, even though she was struggling to identify which of the front doors was actually real through her double vision.