“Did you see him pull into the road? Which way did he go?” I’m heading for the door, grabbing the Range Rover keys off the hall table as I go.
“Turned right towards the village,” Morag calls after me, which I barely hear, as I start the engine and race up the drive. I have to catch him. Have to tell him I love him.
I put my foot down as soon as I’m out of the drive. But I know the dangers of taking the corners of these narrow country roads too fast and force myself to slow down. And as I come out of the first hairpin bend, there’s Nick’s car, in the middle of the road, surrounded by a herd of Mr Gordon’s prizedHeilan’ coos.
I skid to a stop, narrowly missing a couple of the shaggy beasts, and fling myself out of the car. Despite how distraught I am, the ridiculousness of the situation almost makes me laugh.
“Nick. Can you hear me?” The window slides down and Nick’s head emerges.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” he replies as his shoulders follow his head out the window. Good Lord. He’s climbing out.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting out. Obviously. I can’t drive through them. I might hit one of them.”
“Don’t get out. They have horns.”
“I can see those myself, thank you.” But he continues to climb, unable to open the door with the cows pressed against the side of the car. There’s no sign of Mr Gordon, who will be furious if one of his cows gets hurt.
“Be careful. They’re very gentle. But can be quite bolshy when spooked,” I call, trying to keep my voice calm to avoid a stampede.
Finally, Nick has managed to slide onto the roof of his rental and is clearly looking for the least crowded place to get down.
“Please stay on the roof. I’ll try and get them moving.” I gently pat the nearest cows on the rump, hoping they’ll shift. As a rule, they’re docile creatures, but they can be stubborn when they want. And I have some things I want to get off my chest, so I realise having him as a captive audience, albeit on the roof of his car, is perfect.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.” I have to shout over the mooing that’s started up.
“Something else? Let me guess. It’s twins?” From this distance, I can’t tell whether Nick is bitter or making a joke. I can only hope it’s the latter.
“Well, no. Although, at one point, there was a school of thought … No. Sorry. Don’t distract me. Let me get this out.”
“Please. Be my guest. I’m all ears.” Looks like it’s bitter.
I fear I’ll only get one chance at this, so I take a deep breath. “I love you. I should have told you sooner, but I was scared. Scared of loving you. Scared you didn’t love me back. So, I ran. And I shouldn’t have. I should have stayed. And been honest. But I’m being honest now. I love you. I know you have no reason to believe me … except I bought a ticket. I bought a ticket to Sydney. I was leaving tomorrow to come and tell you. About the baby. About loving you.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so back at the castle?” He has his lawyer mask on, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“You didn’t give me the chance,” I answer. And up goes his eyebrow.
He’s quiet for a long moment. If I was sitting down, my leg would be jiggling with nerves. All at once, even from this distance, I can see his face morphing from closed off to the Nick I fell in love with. Thank God. He starts sliding towards the back of his small hatchback, looking for a space to get down.
“Ow. Jesus. Fuck,” he mutters, as he lands on his feet, narrowly missing a horn. The cows start to shift nervously, and Nick yelps before letting out a belly laugh, hopping on one foot. “It stamped on my foot. My boot is ruined.”
“Oh. What a shame. I hope they weren’t your favourites.” And we both crack up laughing, remembering our first meeting. The sound of our laughter echoes in the narrow space between the dry stone walls.
“Don’t move,” I gasp as the cows start to part, spooked by the noise.
“I don’t think so. I’ve spent a month wanting to hold you. I’m not waiting another minute.”
But just as Nick starts to edge his way slowly through the shaggy beasts, one swings its head. It all happens in slow motion. The enormous horn catches Nick right in the chest and he stumbles into another cow, cartwheeling his arms to regain his balance. His injured foot lands smack bang in the middle of a fresh cowpat. Cows scatter as Nick’s legs fly up and he hurtles backwards. Even over the panicked mooing I can hear the crack as Nick’s head connects with the asphalt.
It’s not until I’m racing across the wet road, careless of the cowpats myself, I realise I never even stopped to put boots on.
“Oh my god. Are you alright?” But even as I say it, I can see he’s not. He’s unconscious, the front of his shirt is torn, and there’s a gash in the top of his very smart leather hiking boots.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. Teddy, the local paramedic, answers on the first ring. “Teddy. It’s Lulu MacLeod. There’s been an accident. On the sharp bend at Gordon’s. Hiscooswere on the road again. He’s unconscious but breathing. No Teddy. The man, not thecoo.”
