‘Will you be coming to the pub this evening?’ Avril asked.
Giselle didn’t really feel like it, but neither did she feel like sitting at home on her own. ‘Who started this silly Friday-night tradition, anyway? Don’t we see enough of each other during the day?’ she grumbled.
‘We hardly see you at all,’ Avril retorted. ‘You only emerge from your studio when you’re hungry, or you need more sea glass.’
‘Speaking of sea glass, I’d better get back to work, and so had you,’ Giselle advised. ‘The cat might be away, but Cal won’t let things slack.’
‘I know. Cal and Rocco were in the parlour having a tête-à-tête before Rocco left. I bet he’s given him a list of instructions.’
Giselle took her half-drunk coffee to the studio with her, trying not to think of Rocco, and sat at the worn, wooden table to work.
Sometimes an idea for a picture would come to her and she would source the pieces of sea glass in order to make it. Other times, the glass itself would spark the inspiration. Today was one of those times. The fragment of costume jewellery she’d found yesterday had been playing on her mind. It comprised of three small blue stones, with another five oval stones down one side, and suddenly it came to her what she wanted to do with it.
Selecting a piece of card, she placed it on the table, then opened the drawers one by one, sifting through the colours and sizes of glass until she found suitable fragments. The predominant colour was green, with a few pieces of pale blue, brown and white, and she also selected a small shell with a shimmer of pink on its shiny surface. She wouldn’t use all the pieces of glass that she’d removed from the drawers, and she may well have to revisit them to find a different shape, size or colour, but the selection spread across the table was a good starting point.
Concentrating hard, she began with the scrap of costume jewellery, placing it towards the top of the card, making sure it was centred. This would form the bodice of the mermaid she was about to make, then she began arranging the brown pieces so that they looked like hanks of flowing hair. An oval of milky white formed a face, a more cylindrical one was the neck, others became a shoulder and an outstretched arm, and gradually the top part of a female form emerged.
With practised ease, Giselle sensed where a fragment of glass needed to be placed, where it would work best for maximum effect. It was as though she was putting together a jigsaw puzzle only she could see. Working deftly, mostly oblivious to the customers who wandered in to watch, she created a body and a tail, flamboyant fins echoing the mermaid’s flowing hair. The finishing touch was the small shell on the outstretched hand.
Giselle sat up, straightening her spine, careful not to dislodge any of the pieces. She still had to glue them in place, but for all intents and purposes the picture was done, although she might tweak it a little later. The secret was knowing when to stop.
Now that her mind was no longer on her work, her thoughts turned to Rocco.
In her heart, she knew she probably wouldn’t see him again. He’d told her he’d arranged to have everything sent to him, so she guessed he’d have no reason to return now that he’d seen the place.
With her spirits heavier than ever, she looked at the rest of the sea glass she’d collected yesterday morning. It was sitting on the draining board, ready to be put away, but she was oddly reluctant to do that. It was silly, but it reminded her of him.
Yes, itwassilly, she acknowledged irritably, especially since she had the red heart he’d given her all those years ago.
Feeling ridiculous, she scooped up the sea glass and put it into the relevant drawers where it immediately blended in with all the other fragments of glass of similar size and colour. She had enough memories of Rocco; she didn’t need any more. In fact, now that she’d met him again, she almost wished she hadn’t encountered him the first time, because the pedestal she’d put him on had been smashed to smithereens. What was that saying about never meeting your heroes because you’ll be disappointed?
Giselle was disappointed all right, despite still being more attracted to him than was good for her.
Feeling even more depressed than she’d been on the day of Mhairi’s funeral and needing some advice but not wanting to worry her mum and dad, Giselle rang her sister.
‘Buongiorno, Zelle,’ Izzy chirped. ‘Actually, is it still morning? I’ve lost track of time.’
‘Just about.’
‘Is everything all right? You sound glum.’
‘I’m exceptionally glum,’ Giselle confirmed, and she took a deep breath. ‘I think I might have to sell the bothy.’
‘No!Why?’
‘Because if the craft centre closes, I won’t be able to pay the mortgage,’ she said, and went on to explain her worries.
‘Come live with me,’ Izzy suggested immediately.
‘Milan is miles away from the sea,’ Giselle pointed out. ‘But thank you, anyway.’
‘Do you have to live by the sea? Can’t you just visit it a couple of times a month?’
She could, but she didn’t want to. And neither did she want to live by any old seaside – she wanted to live bythisone. Skye and Duncoorie were her home; it was where she belonged. This was where her heart was. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Rocco that she didn’t want to live anywhere else.
There was only one thing for it: she’d have to start looking for a job.
Chapter 12
