‘I know it’s early, but do you want a lift to the studio?’ His eyes were on hers and she looked away.
‘I think it’s best if we say goodbye here.’ She even managed to say it without her voice breaking.
‘Come here.’ He opened his arms wide, and she stepped into them.
Sliding her hands around his waist, she held him tight, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him one last time.
Giselle pulled away first. She had to. She needed him to leavenow, before she broke down completely. She was barely managing to hold it together.
‘I’ll—’ he started.
‘Shh.’ She put a finger to her lips, and when he opened his mouth to speak again, she pushed him towards the door. ‘Go,’ she urged.
His eyes boring into hers, he nodded, gave her a small smile, then was gone.
Giselle heard him walk towards his car, hesitate, then carry on. The engine fired, idled for a moment, and then he drove off.
She strained to listen as the sound grew fainter and fainter, until it faded completely. Then she sank onto the sofa, put her face in her hands and let the tears come. Sobbing, she rocked back and forth, sharp talons savaging her heart with a pain that was physical. It hurt so much she couldn’t breathe, and she gasped as wave after wave of desolation engulfed her. She wished he’d never come back into her life. She wished Mhairi had left the castle to anyone other than him. She wished, she wished,she wished…
Giselle leapt to her feet. The walls were closing in. She had to get out of here.
Her instinct to head to the loch was out of the question. Not today. She couldn’t take the risk of bumping into him.
Instead, she headed away from Duncoorie, its castle and Rocco.
There was a standing stone high on the mountain above the bothy. Grey, weathered and ancient, she craved its promise of solitude. She’d not taken Rocco there, and few people knew of it, which was what she loved about it. She’d been planning on showing it to him, but…
Oh God, he was gone.Really gone. And she didn’t know how she was going to go on without him. In a far too short a time, he’d stolen her heart and left her empty and bereft. Apart from the pain.
The steep gradient levelled off, and the stone came into view. As monoliths went, it wasn’t large, but it was old, and it might seem silly, but she could sense its power. Why it had been driven deep into the mountain to stand sentry wasn’t known, and right now Giselle didn’t care as she sat, breathless, at its base.
Her fingers dug into the springy grass, and she could feel the warmth of the rough rock against her back. Automatically, her gaze sought her little bothy, then travelled over the landscape, picking out the kirk where darling Mhairi lay, then moved across the waters of the loch before coming to rest on the castle.
Her heart squeezed and she suddenly felt incredibly weary with a tiredness she’d never experienced before. It was more than bone deep – it wassouldeep.
What was the time?
Giselle wished she’d thought to bring her phone with her, but she’d rushed out of the house so fast she’d forgotten it.
Would he have left yet?
She tried to guesstimate the time and concluded that it was unlikely to be more than seven thirty, but she wasn’t sure how long she’d been lost in her misery. It already felt like days.
She would stay here a while longer, then she supposed she’d have to return to her house and later to her studio, when she was sure he’d left, and begin to live the rest of her life without him.
Rocco’s car wasn’t in its customary place in the castle’s car park,but Giselle didn’t expect it to be. He had long gone by the time shehesitantly slipped into the studio, locking the door behind her. Shedidn’t switch the lights on because she couldn’t face talking to anyoneright now. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she was here; she certainlywasn’t in the mood to do any work. But she felt she had to try to returnto some semblance of normality, and being in her studio was a start.
Feeling shaky and weak, she perched on a stool and massaged her temples. She really should try to eat, having had nothing more than the coffee she’d half-drunk with Rocco this morning, but the thought of food turned her stomach.
A hot drink, then. She had a kettle in the studio, so she made a coffee with plenty of milk. At least she’d have something in her tummy, and the caffeine might perk her up a bit.
It kind of did, because after she’d swallowed the last mouthful, she felt jittery and restless, unable to settle, so she did what she always did when she was crabby – she went to the beach to search for sea glass. Even if she failed to find any (and there were times she didn’t), the very act of scouring the seashore would be soothing.
Hoping no one would see her and want to speak to her – Avril and Jinny in particular, because she didn’t want to have to answer any questions or see their sympathy – Giselle took the longer route to the loch around the rear of the craft centre. Skirting the cafe’s outside seating area, she scooted past the duck pond and took a lesser-known path to the beach.
The tide was still quite high, but was receding, the waves sucking at the bank of pebbles, the familiar music filling her ears and the smell of brine filling her nose. The wind had picked up, clouds scudding across the sky, obscuring the sun. Rain was on its way, she guessed. It would be another damp walk home, but she kept a foldable rain jacket in her bag, so hopefully she wouldn’t get totally soaked. But even if she did, she didn’t care. It would be a fitting end to a shitty day and would reflect her mood perfectly. Anyway, she was used to hunting for sea glass in all weathers, so a bit of rain didn’t bother her.
She wasn’t doing much foraging now, though. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself.
