Supper was over, the sun had almost slid completely into the sea and they were silent as they finished the last of their beer. Flora was feeling sleepy and she lifted her face to the diminishing light, trying to catch the last of the day’s warmth on her skin. It seemed so easy and right, sitting here with Mac, and she wished she could cling onto this borrowed time forever. Eating supper together at sunset on a deserted beach seemed far from the professional relationship he had promised her, and she had no idea how the evening would end. She just didn’t want it to end, not yet.
‘I saw your sister’s canvasses in the cottage. I didn’t mean to pry, but they’re beautiful.’ Flora hadn’t been able to resist looking at them when she had noticed the first, a breathtaking oil of a beach and turbulent, stormy sky. ‘She’s very talented. Does she show often?’
‘Occasionally, through a gallery in London. She’s going to America with her partner next month; it seems likely that he’s about to become more collectable. A gallerist from New York spotted his work in Paris and has put together a small exhibition through a museum.’ Mac had moved to stretch out on the sand, and he swivelled around to look up at her. He, too, seemed in no hurry to leave and bring about an end to their evening, and she was content to listen to him talk of his family.
‘How brilliant, they must be so excited.’
Mac reached for a pebble to lob at a couple of gulls picking around the remains of their meal, near the barbeque. ‘I think they are when they’re not rowing.’
Flora laughed, trying to picture Cassie in her mind. ‘It all sounds very volatile; it must be a very expressive household.’
‘It definitely is. He used to make ceramics and Cassie’s reducing his collection every time they fall out, usually over his ex-wife or teenage daughter turning up unannounced and demanding money or shelter, or both.’
‘You don’t sound very alike,’ Flora said thoughtfully. ‘I can’t imagine you throwing things in a temper.’
‘We’re not, really. I’m more like my dad, quieter and quite shy. I’m not usually as impulsive as Cassie; I like to think things through. I guess she wouldn’t paint as beautifully as she does if she didn’t capture the inspiration when it strikes.’
‘Shy?’ Flora quirked a brow, as images from Mel’s wedding sprang to mind. She remembered how much fun they’d had together and how easily he had become part of a special day, even whilst amongst strangers. ‘You’re not at all shy, how can you say that! I saw you dancing at the wedding and then at the ceilidh, remember?’
‘But I am, Flora. I’m quite reserved and my two closest friends are both people I met when I was at school, and you know about Angus. I travel regularly and the practice keeps me busy. I don’t tend to socialise much when I’m free, beyond the people I already know.’
‘But you’re so good with people,’ she blurted out. There was something about the hidden beach that seemed to separate them from reality; for now, Flora could pretend that there was nothing else, as they shared their history with one another. No job in Yorkshire, no girlfriend far away, no heartbroken little girl wanting Flora to stay. ‘With everyone here and my friends, at least.’
‘It doesn’t come naturally with strangers,’ he admitted, scraping a pattern in the sand with his toes. ‘I have to work at it, and I know I can be a bit distant sometimes. And your friends are great, I liked them very much. That part was easy.’
A picture of the bright and lively Chloe shot into Flora’s mind, and she couldn’t help wondering when she and Mac ever managed to meet, and how two such apparently different people maintained a relationship in those circumstances. But then Flora shoved the thought away, changed the subject back to his friend and hoped he would not mind her asking.
‘Did you meet Angus here or at school?’
‘Here, on the island. My parents fell in love with it when we were tiny, and they rented the cottages so we could spend most of our holidays here. They both travelled but usually managed to avoid doing it at the same time, so we would be here for weeks on end in the summer. Angus and I were at different schools, but there was only a year or so between us and we became mates from the start. We both loved mucking about in boats, swimming and camping and stuff. When the island came up for sale, my parents bought the cottages, converted the hotel and moved here to run it for a few years. Then they found another place in Seville and they mostly live there now.’
‘It sounds like you and Angus had a lot of fun together.’
Mac’s fingers were in the sand, idly tracing a pattern, and he picked up a handful of golden grains, watching as they trickled to the ground once again. He raised a shoulder in silent agreement. ‘We really did. I was so angry, after the shock from the accident had worn off. I couldn’t believe he’d gone, that he or Rachael wouldn’t see Tamsin flourish, watch her grow. I took some time off work, and everyone here just came together, closed around us. Food arrived and we had no idea who’d brought it. Animals were fed, shopping fetched, decisions made. I really struggled when I had to go back to Edinburgh. I hated Angus not being here, but I couldn’t stand being anywhere else without him either. At least when I’m here, I can still feel him around me. Everyone on the island understands. He and Rachael are still a part of this place and I want Tamsin to feel that, too, when she’s old enough. To know how much we loved them and that we’ll always remember them.’ Mac paused for a moment before turning to look at her. ‘But you know what it’s like, Flora. I can’t imagine your dad would’ve wanted any of you to be hurt so badly.’
Mac had summed it up perfectly; there was nothing else she could add other than a pursing of her lips that just about passed for a smile. She didn’t quite recognise the sense of community he spoke of. Her own hometown had been small but still too large to completely close around a grieving family.
‘No, I don’t suppose he did. Strangely, Mum eventually met with his other partner and they’ve become friends, sort of. In the end they were the only two people who understood how the other felt. Charlie and I had each other and we’re still close. Mum was adamant that there was another child who had lost his father, too, and he shouldn’t suffer any more than anyone else, because of everything that had happened. So Charlie and I have a half-brother, Liam, who was just as devastated as us. Even though we don’t see a lot of him, we do keep in touch, mainly thanks to Charlie. In my more accepting moments, I can understand that my dad must have loved us all and just didn’t know how to proceed. In the less kind ones, I can’t stand to think of him, because I feel now that half of our childhood was a lie. I was only twelve and Charlie fifteen when Liam was born.’
Flora fell silent. She noticed the stubble on Mac’s skin and the long, fair lashes surrounding the blue-grey eyes that were watching her. He moved, and she felt the shift of his weight, his arm brushing her leg until he settled again, still on the sand just below her.
‘What does your brother do?’ Mac’s tone was lighter and Flora was glad he had changed the subject to something easier. They had both revealed perhaps more than they meant to, and she was happy to talk of other things.
‘He’s a vicar.’ She heard Mac’s laughter and she smiled, wriggling on the sand to get comfortable again, as she stretched her legs. ‘I know. Charlie was a really talented rugby player, and his wife Sam was already a Christian when they met, so he started going to church with her. They’d been together for about a year when Charlie felt certain he’d been called to ministry, which was a big surprise. Eventually he left the club and married Sam, so they could be together whilst she was at university and Charlie was studying, too.’
‘That’s quite a story. Not many people would give up a sporting career, or the prospect of one, for the Church.’
‘No. But Charlie’s amazing with his parishioners and the communities around them, and there’s no doubt whenever I see him that he’s doing exactly what he was meant to do. Their faith has certainly sustained them through difficult times. He and Sam care for and make themselves available to others in ways that not many people can.’
‘You have a gift, too, Flora.’ Mac’s voice was soft, caressing her as night fell, carrying them away somewhere where ordinary life would not find them. ‘Being able to love your work is one thing, but it’s obvious that you put your heart into everything you do and I’m sure the results are amazing because of it. I feel very thankful to have found you.’ Flora stared at him as he hurried on, quickly clarifying his comment. ‘For Róisín, I mean. I’m so glad you decided to come back.’
Thrilled by his words, Flora tipped her head forwards, allowing her long hair to cover her suddenly warm skin. ‘Thank you for asking me,’ she answered gently, still glowing from his compliment. ‘Róisín is incredibly special; I feel so privileged to have had the opportunity to discover its stories and learn about the family.’
‘Do you really think a garden could make a difference to Tamsin?’
She understood the seriousness of his question and could only offer him the truth she believed with all her heart. ‘I do, yes. Obviously, I don’t know Tamsin very well at all, but creating a garden at home or working on the school one could really help her. Her grandparents, too, if they felt able to become involved. I realise it can’t in any way give them back what they’ve lost, but it might give them something special to focus on. I’d love to be able to support them.’
‘But you won’t be here.’
‘No,’ Flora admitted, hoping she had concealed her sadness at his matter of fact comment. ‘But there might be other ways I can help. If Doug and Moira think it would be appropriate, of course, and wouldn’t negatively affect Tamsin.’
Mac sighed, picking up his bottle, only to toss it on the sand again when he realised it was empty. ‘I’m sorry I said what I did last night, Flora, about you upsetting Tamsin. It was very unfair of me and I know everything you’ve done for her is from your heart.’
‘You were only trying to protect her. I understand.’
‘I still shouldn’t have said what I did.’ He looked at her curiously, furrowed brow smoothing. ‘What did you mean last night in the car, when you said that everything was my fault?’
Horrified that he had remembered her half-tipsy confession, Flora tried to distance herself from her real meaning. ‘Nothing!’
‘Really? I think you meant something.’
‘How can you expect me to remember anything from last night, after that damson gin?’ Flora’s tone was light, and she hoped her words would convince him. But just the memory of the look in his eyes when he had been about to touch her, before Tamsin had stirred, ignited that same desire once again. Silence fell over them until Mac nodded, accepting her explanation. He changed the subject, drawing them away from the intimacy of that moment in the bedroom.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said suddenly, jumping to his feet and holding out his hand. ‘Come on, I’ll show you what I plan to do when I’m not working on the house.’
She slid her hand into his and gave him an answering smile as he pulled her upright. Mac led her down the narrow pier towards the boats. When they reached the end, he leapt easily onto the small yacht and Flora followed more cautiously, as he held out his arms to catch her. Once on board, he let go of her and she saw that the yacht was in a poor state, its white paint chipped and dull, and without most of its fenders. A torn and mouldy hood was pushed down to the bottom of a rusty and cracked frame, and he unlocked a wooden door and dropped into the cabin below. She followed him down a couple of steps, this time ignoring his outstretched hand as she reached the bottom, steadying herself on the wall.
It felt damp inside but not as dark as she had expected, her eyes rapidly adjusting to the dim light. Most of the curtains were missing, and the only remaining ones, on the starboard side, were torn and very dirty. They were in a small galley with the main cabin beyond and Flora was surprised by the space inside. A foldaway table that would easily seat six stood in the centre of the cabin, half-tipped towards the port side.
‘What do you think?’
She heard the note of pride in Mac’s voice. He was standing in the galley opposite the navigation station on the port side, casually leaning against an old-fashioned stove. She noticed a fire extinguisher dumped in the sink and, above it, three mismatched plates stacked on a damp shelf.
‘I don’t know anything about boats,’ she confessed, betraying her enthusiasm for his project. ‘But it’s lovely. What is it?’
‘She’s a Westerly Fulmar – quite rare in their day because they’re fast and still easy to handle under sail as well as power. But this poor girl has lost her way; she’d been abandoned in a marina for quite a few years until I brought her up here. I’m hoping to spend a bit of time over the summer restoring her.’
‘And then what will you do with it?’
‘Sail her around the islands, to begin with,’ he replied promptly, swatting at a couple of flies buzzing noisily on the glass behind him. ‘And then maybe around the coast, if time allows.’ He tilted his head to glance outside and then looked at Flora again, an impish smile lighting up his face. ‘It’s the most glorious evening. Let’s go for a swim.’
Flora’s eyes widened in astonishment as he darted past her and back up the steps onto the deck. Alarm was already beating a rapid tattoo through her body, as she realised that he was completely serious. He winked at her, reaching for his T-shirt and pulling it quickly over his head.
‘What are you doing?’ The question was a strangled mutter that she knew sounded ridiculous, as her feet remained planted to the ground inside the galley. Words no longer came when he casually tossed the shirt onto a seat and faced her, ready to drop into the turquoise water below. The sudden glimpse of a muscular, golden chest covered with dark blonde hairs was delightful, and her heart began to race in shocked anticipation, as she wondered frantically how she might escape back to the safety of the cottage. She watched open-mouthed as she saw him dive effortlessly into the water with barely a splash, only to emerge moments later, shaking seawater from his face.
‘Come on,’ he called, treading water as he gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Your turn.’
Flora squirmed nervously as she backed away, glancing around wildly for an escape route. ‘No! You’re crazy, it’s freezing! I’m not going in there.’
‘Oh yes, you are,’ he shouted back, raising his voice above the waves swirling around him. She saw him swimming expertly back to the yacht. ‘It’s not that cold.’
‘No! I haven’t got anything to wear.’ Real panic was beginning to replace silliness, as she recognised his determination.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she heard him say, and then the yacht was swaying in the water as he hauled himself back on board. ‘You don’t need anything. Do I have to come and get you?’
‘No! Don’t you dare!’
‘Are you daring me?’ he asked wickedly, and she drew in a breath as he dropped down the steps into the galley, where she’d retreated. Soaking wet, he was leaving salty water in his wake as he slowly walked towards her. ‘Could be dangerous, Flora. You already know that I don’t like to pass on a dare.’
Flora recognised the implacability in his look and she made a dash for the door, not really expecting him to follow.
‘You wouldn’t,’ she called over her shoulder. But Mac was quicker, and she squealed as he easily caught her, pulling her against his wet body. His arms went around her waist and he tugged her backwards until they were on the deck again and laughing madly.
‘Okay,’ she gasped, every sense shrieking in delight as his damp skin pressed against her, and she reluctantly stepped out of his embrace. ‘You win.’ She climbed carefully over the rail and stared down at the water.
Mac quickly hopped up beside her, grabbing her hand and tugging her into the sea with him. Flora was still screaming as she hit the water and disappeared underneath. Spluttering from the shock of the sudden chill hitting her body, she quickly swam back up to the surface, trying to grab her wet hair and tug it into submission as it fanned out around her.
‘You’re mad, it’s freezing!’ she yelled at him as he emerged once again, shaking his head and still laughing. She scooped water into her hands and flung it into his face as a punishment, and he dived back beneath the water, reaching out to grab her again. But this time she was ready, and she swam away quickly, hoping to warm herself, as well as putting some distance between them. But good swimmer though she was, she was no match for Mac, who powered easily after her.
Flora was too cold and far too aware of him to remain in the water for long. She swam back to the pier, reaching for the ladder submerged in the water and hauled herself up onto the rickety wooden planks. Mac followed and she felt his eyes on her, suddenly very conscious of her wet shorts and white vest top, outlining every curve and concealing almost nothing. She knew that the light-hearted playfulness between them had been replaced by something much more serious.
Water streamed down from her hair onto her back and the sand on the wood was soft beneath her feet. Flora wanted to cling to this moment and never let it go. She wanted always to remember the expression in his eyes as they gazed at each other, and she shivered, entirely aware of every sensation he was arousing. But with every minute that hurried away into tomorrow, the end of the unexpected evening with him drew nearer.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve made you cold.’ Mac closed the distance between them with one small step. ‘Come here.’ His hands were on her shoulders, smoothing her skin until heat was blazing through her body and the trembling was no longer because of the sea. He pulled her against his bare chest, spreading his fingers across her back and lifting her wet hair with his free hand. His chin was against her temple, the imprint of his stubble rough against her soft skin.
She lifted her hand, about to touch his face, when a sudden awareness rose inside her and was enough to banish the perfect pleasure she found in his company. In less than two days she would have to leave the island. She would return to her real job and single life at Middlebrook, not this pretend thing – this foolish attempt at offering advice on a forgotten garden and trying to remain professional as her feelings for him grew day by day. Hovering unseen between them was Chloe, and Flora felt shaky as she tried to understand what all of this meant to Mac. He was not free to play these games and she was determined to take no further part. She stepped back abruptly, and he stared at her as his hands fell away.