‘Family,’ I repeat and the line is quiet for a moment.
‘Birdy?’
‘I’ll tell you everything when I see you. I don’t want to talk about it right this second,’ I say. ‘Look, don’t feel shit about Cristian. You took a chance. It’s better than never taking a chance, isn’t it?’
‘Well, it wasn’t really about him. I ran away.’
‘With him.’
‘No, I mean I ran away from more than that.’
‘Look, chalk it up to a long holiday. Heather, get on a plane. Get back to London. I’ll come down to your place as soon as I can.’
‘Up.’
‘Yes, I mean up. And we can get you ready for Paris. Who knows, maybe I’ll come too?’ I say, tossing the idea out there.
Heather lets out a big sigh and repeats herself, ‘It’s more than that, though, Birdy.’
‘What is it? You fell for the wrong guy. It’s okay, we’ve all been there. And you didn’t want to go and take that summer job, did you? So, you went to Italy instead. Relax. It’s not that big a deal. Any of it.’
I gulp. That sounded far harsher than it was meant to.
‘Sorry, I don’t want you to spiral. It’ll be okay. Book a Ryanair flight and get yourself home as soon as you can.’
‘You’re right,’ she says and then she starts crying. ‘I’m just so embarrassed. And I’m angry with myself. I should have gone to Scotland.’
‘I’m sure that wasn’t the career move you really needed.’
‘My career wasn’t the whole reason for going.’
What does she mean?
I stop as the river widens and the loch comes into view, taking my breath away as it always does, though this time it is tinged with sadness. If Heather is coming home, I have to go back too. Sooner than I want to.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, picking up a stone for skimming, and balancing the phone between my chin and shoulder.
‘I wanted that job for other reasons.’
‘Like what?’ I say. ‘Visiting your Scottish roots?’
‘Ah, it’s too much to get into over the phone. I’ll tell you over a wine, okay?’
‘Sounds like we both need a big chat in person as soon as possible. With whisky. Are you okay tonight?’
‘Cristian is at his girlfriend’s. For talks. But he has been for the last few nights, and he stays there, so …’
‘See, Heather, relationships always start with these giddy highs and inevitably let you down. Andthisis why Tim is the perfect guy. Completely, dependably …’
‘Crap,’ she finishes and we both burst into laughter.
I hear a sound behind me on the pebbly shore. I turn round to discover James; wind-swept hair, beautiful eyes staring at me.
‘Fuck! I have to go,’ I say to Heather. ‘Let’s catch up again later today or tomorrow?’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
