After they’d finished their picnic, Rocco stood up, wiped his hands on his black jeans and peered down at the water.
‘Fish!’ he cried, and Giselle leant forward to look.
They were small and lithe, darting and diving.
Rocco clambered down onto the rocks, and as she heard the crunch and skitter of pebbles under his feet, she wondered if he was allowed to be there, so near to the clear water. Feeling content and replete, she propped her back against the lighthouse and turned her face to the sun. Pink, red and orange flared across her eyelids, a rainbow of warmth.
‘Look what I’ve found,’ he said.
She opened her eyes, squinting up at him.
He was holding out a red-coloured stone in the shape of a heart.
No, notstone. Frosted glass? Then she realised what she was looking at – sea glass! She’d seen similar when they’d lived on Skye, before the family had moved to East Kilbride. She’d loved Skye and had been desolate to leave it. Izzy had been overjoyed.
Rocco handed the piece of sea glass to her. ‘There’s more,’ he said, bending to sift through the pebbles, and she watched him indulgently.
He reminded her of her sister – bubbling with life and enthusiasm, a foil for her own quieter and more reserved nature.
Scattering a selection of sea glass on the hot stone step, he sank down beside her, and Giselle picked up each piece to examine it one by one.
‘Beautiful,’ she murmured. Each was different in shape, size and colour, and as she rearranged them, a picture began to form.
Suddenly, a flame ignited within her, and she stared at Rocco in wonder.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘For what?’
‘For today.’ And possibly for the rest of her life. Because she now knew what she wanted to do. She might never see Rocco again, but as her palm closed around the little red heart, she knew she would never forget him.
Chapter 1
Ten years later
The sun had dipped below the mountains on the opposite shore of the loch, bathing the sky in apricot, sienna and dove grey. Giselle tilted her head back to scan the heavens, a deep sense of peace settling over her.
With the light fading, sunset wasn’t the best time of day to scour the shoreline for sea glass, but it was her favourite. The visitors were long gone from the craft centre, and she should have left for home too, but this evening she hadn’t been able to resist coming down to the water’s edge. She was tired, but it was a weariness born of a productive and busy day, and she was pleasantly contented. A walk would do her good, and while she wouldn’t actively be looking for sea glass, if she happened to find any little gems, she’d be happy. There were always treasures to be found after each high tide.
The air was redolent with the base-note scents of seaweed and salt, overlain by pine needles and damp earth, and if she concentrated hard, she could detect the faintest aromatic perfume of the heather flowering on the hillsides above.
Giselle wandered over to a rock and sat, her back to the shadowed castle behind, which was partially hidden by the trees, and gazed out across the water. The loch at Duncoorie was a sea water loch, sheltered from the open ocean by the mountains and a small island at its mouth. But ‘sheltered’ was a relative term, because in the winter, when storms raged, it became wild and rough, with white-topped waves and dark, angry water. Tonight, it was calm and quiet, a sleeping sea serpent, whose gentle breaths barely stirred the surface. When she managed to find enough of the right coloured glass, Giselle would create a picture of that mystical creature.
That’s what she did, painted pictures with glass and shell, driftwood and pebbles, and she was good at it. She wouldn’t have been invited to occupy a studio in the castle’s craft centre if she wasn’t. Mhairi Gray, the castle’s elderly owner and founder of the craft centre, had high standards, and Giselle wouldn’t want it any other way.
She should make a move. Dusk would soon fade to night, and Giselle had to walk home. Her bothy wasn’t far – a thirty-minute walk – but the road was unlit, and although darkness didn’t bother her, twisting an ankle on the uneven path would. Originally a basic farmer’s hut, the bothy was now a home, and even though it was small, it washers.
As the gloaming gathered, lights from the village twinkled in the distance and a glow emanated from the cottage near the boathouse. Cal, the castle’s estate manager, lived there with Tara, one of the crafters. Giselle envisaged them settling down for the evening, and she looked away, not wanting to intrude on their privacy as she picked her way carefully along the shoreline.
Despite the encroaching dusk, she decided to stay out a while longer because it was such a lovely evening and she had no reason to hurry home. No one would be waiting for her – she lived alone – and she wasn’t overly hungry yet, having availed herself of a decent lunch from the craft centre’s rather nice cafe. She ate there most days, so she didn’t have to cook. The kitchen wasn’t her favourite place.
She’d wandered quite a distance when she realised the breeze had picked up, the light had almost faded from the sky and stars were putting in an appearance. The surrounding mountains were black tumps and the water glittered darkly.
The walk had grounded her, book-ending her day as she’d also strolled along the banks of the loch first thing this morning looking for sea glass, shells and interesting pebbles: the tools of her trade.
Relaxed and pleasantly tired, she made her way home.
A few more minutes won’t hurt, Giselle decided, perched asusual on her favourite rock. Morning came early to Skye at this time ofyear, and she’d been drifting along the shoreline for the past hour orso, but there was still time enough to linger and enjoy her solitude fora while longer before heading to the studio with her bounty. She’d sortthrough her finds, grab a quick breakfast of poached eggs and ham onsourdough from the cafe before it opened to the public, then go seeMhairi. The old lady was in her eighties (no one knew for certain howold she was, not even Cal) but she still took a very keen interest ineverything that went on in the castle and the craft centre.
