Page 80 of A Summer of New Beginnings
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After the completion of what felt like a gazillion documents, Zara stood in the reception area of the car-rental place waiting for a set of keys. Her stomach was swooshing like a washing machine and she wasn’t sure if it was the over-indulgence on pastries or the fear for what she was about to do. It could all go drastically wrong. He could turn her away. Maybe she should call first? But thenshe ran the risk of him hanging up. At least if she turned up unannounced on his doorstep he was somewhat of a captive audience.
A man appeared and dangled a key chain in front of her. ‘There you go, madam. Car’s ready. It’s the little silver compact round the corner and on the left.’
Another silver dickhead, eh? Is this a sign?She thanked the man and took the keys before walking round theoutside of the building to the car.
It was tiny.
‘God, it might as well be a bloody pushbike,’ she grumbled to no one in particular. But reminded herself this had all been very last minute and it couldn’t be helped that the matchbox car was the only one they had left.
She folded herself behind the steering wheel and grabbed her phone from her bag. She programmed the details into the satnavapp to find the fastest route. She should be at the croft in just under two and a half hours. She plugged in her little portable speaker and rifled through her music to find the one song that would give her the courage to go. And as Florence and the Machine sang about Delilah, she pushed the button to start the engine and it purred to life like a little, feisty, silver-haired kitty.
Driving throughthe scenery in the afternoon sunlight was strange but wonderful. Just as she had anticipated the colours of autumn were visible and the leaves still remaining on the trees were every conceivable shade of burnt umber, sienna and ochre with a little crimson thrown in for good measure. Every so often a draught caused by her car whipped up the leaves in a kind of Mexican wave of colour, only forthem to float gently down to the ground again.
The sun was beginning its descent and she was desperate to get to the croft before nightfall. The last thing she needed was to be stranded again. Especially if her arrival was unwelcome.
By the time she arrived at the croft the moon was up and the sky was a combination of light grey and orange. There was no sign of Lachy’s car or the quad. She climbedout of Silver Dickhead Mark Two and walked to the door. With a little trepidation she knocked and waited but no one came. She could try the door and no doubt find it open, but that would be overstepping a mark. She wondered if perhaps Lachy had stayed in Inverness or something. She knew he had friends there from his law-firm days. Or maybe he was with Saskia, trying to calm her down. Her mooddescended rapidly at that thought and her lip trembled as she tried to eradicate the awful images of the two of them that her mind had conjured up.
She climbed back into the car and tugged up the collar of her thin jacket and wrapped it round herself as best she could as the temperature plummeted further. She would have to leave soon or she ran the risk of dying of hypothermia. And that wouldn’tbe the best thing for Lachy to come home to. She began to sing to keep herself awake and focused in case he returned, but she must have dozed off as bright lights startled her awake and she twisted round in her seat to see headlights. She squinted and shielded her eyes but couldn’t see who it was. Remembering how isolated she was, she gingerly climbed from the car, her limbs numb with cold, andhoped that whoever the driver of the car was he would take pity on her.
‘Zara? Zara Bailey?’ a confused voice asked.
‘L-Lachy? Yes, it’s m-me,’ she said through chattering teeth as her body juddered.
Bess leapt from the car and ran towards her, making delighted little yipping noises. Zara bent to sink her face into the dog’s fur. ‘Hey, Bess, hey, girl. Hello… hello,’ she repeated as the dogtried to get closer.
Lachy stomped towards her, breaking the beams of light with his silhouette. ‘What onearthare you doing out here in the freezing cold in bloody stiletto shoes and a flimsy jacket, for goodness’ sake?’
She stood and her lip trembled as she saw his face in the shafts of white light; his expression was one creased with anger.
She stammered, ‘I h-had to come. I couldn’t justl-leave things. I’m so s-sorry. If you let me get a warm or m-maybe lend me a jumper I’ll leave again. I shouldn’t have come, sorry.’
‘Your bloody face is blue. Jeez, woman, this is the Highlands, not one of your damned beach resorts. Come on inside.’
Tears escaped but thankfully he had gone to turn off the lights and engine, meaning he couldn’t see her sadness. He shoved the front door openand she was reminded again that he never locked it. Considering his reaction, she should have waited inside all along.
He grabbed a hoody from the hook by the door and tugged her arm. ‘Here, put this on. Go sit by the fire and I’ll light it.’ His tone was sharp and terse. There was no forgiveness there. More tears came.
She did as instructed and suddenly felt a blanket wrapped round her. Hethen lowered himself to his knees and built a fire in the grate. ‘Now stay there and I’ll make some coffee,’ he said before wandering over to the range.
Bess snuggled up to her and she buried her face in the dog’s fur again. ‘I’ve missed you, Bess. I’ve really missed you.’ The dog licked the tears from her face and put her paw on her arm.Such a sensitive soul.
A few moments later Lachy returnedand handed her a steaming mug. He sat down beside her as she wrapped her icy-cold fingers round the cup and felt the warmth seeping into her skin.
‘Now, are you going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here?’ Lachy asked. Remembering their last encounter at the awards ceremony, she thought there was no wonder he was being so cold.
‘I… I just wanted to see you. To talk to you. To explain.When you didn’t respond to my text I decided I needed to come and demand that you listen to me.’ Her voice trembled and more tears spilled over.
Lachy sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Text? What text?Whendid you text me?’
‘Earlier today, I texted to apologise for my awful behaviour.’
He heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Right… I see. The thing is my phone got… erm… killed by Saskia after theawards ceremony. I delivered some unwelcome news to her and she snatched it from me and proceeded to stamp on it with her designer stiletto. It’s wrecked. I’ve never seen your text, Zara. I’m sorry.’
Relief flooded her veins. ‘So you don’t know what happened, then?’ He shook his head, his eyes now filled with sadness. With renewed hope she pointed at the entrance. ‘Could you pass me my bag? Ithink I dropped it just inside the door. I’ll show you the messages. I don’t think I’m capable of saying it all out loud just now.’
He walked over to where she had dropped her bag and retrieved it. With one hand she fumbled around and pulled out her phone. She flicked through the messages and handed it to him.
He took it and stared at the screen. He smiled as he read the first line and glancedup at her with a shake of his head. But as he continued to read the long string of texts his eyes became glassy and he wiped at them, twisting away a little so she couldn’t see.
