Izzy insisted on trawling through the limited selection of fresh fruit and vegetables, saying that she wanted to cook something from scratch. And she also bought smoked salmon, shortbread, a bottle of wine and the sweet and creamy tablet that was similar to fudge and which she claimed she’d been craving for ages.
‘You can’t beat a piece of tablet,’ she stated, unpacking the groceries in Giselle’s tiny but perfectly serviceable kitchen, and popping some in her mouth. ‘Mmm.’ She closed her eyes in bliss.
‘You should have said,’ Giselle told her. ‘I could have sent some in the post. Surely it doesn’t beatcantucciorpanettone?’
‘It reminds me of home,’ Izzy replied simply. She ran a critical eye over Giselle, who squirmed uncomfortably. ‘You could do with getting some tablet inside you. It’ll put a bit of colour in your cheeks.’ Her voice softened. ‘Would you like to talk about it?’
Wordlessly, Giselle nodded, not wanting to speak for a moment in case she broke down. She’d cried so much lately she was surprised she had any tears left in her, but they leaked out of her eyes every time she thought of him, which was more times a day than she could count.
And as Izzy washed and chopped a load of tomatoes, Giselle began, ‘I met Rocco in Venice.’
‘Venice?That was years ago, or have you been back there since and not told me?’
‘I only went the once.’
‘And you met himthere? You stayed overnight, if I remem—’ Izzy gasped. ‘You didn’t?’
‘I did.’
‘Ithoughtthere was something different about you, but when you showed me the sea glass you’d found and said you knew what you wanted to do with your life, I assumed that’s what had made you all sparkly eyed.’
‘It was Rocco who found the red heart.’
Izzy’s eyes widened. ‘Were you in love with him?’
‘No, but that time in Venice was special. Romantic. Prophetic, almost. I never told you about Rocco because…’ She floundered, unable to verbalise exactlywhyshe hadn’t confided in her sister.
‘It’s OK. I understand; I haven’t told you everything, either. A girl’s got to have some secrets.’
‘Like what?’ Giselle was intrigued.
‘You first; I want to hear the rest of this story.’
Giselle continued, ‘No one was more surprised than me when I discovered it was Rocco who’d inherited Coorie Castle. I never expected to see him again, but there he was, telling me he was going to sell up.’ She fell silent for several seconds. Then she said, ‘I hated him at first. Well, nothatedexactly, but I had trouble reconciling the man I’d met in Venice with the man who didn’t give a rat’s arse about the castle or the craft centre. Then I spoke to you, and you made me realise I would do the same thing if I’d inherited a property in London. He didn’t seem so bad after that, especially when he asked me to show him around Skye. And that’s when I realised I really liked him. Unfortunately, I hadn’t stopped fancying him, and as you know we ended up sleeping together.’
Izzy had ceased chopping, engrossed in the story, her face full of sympathy. ‘And you fell in love,’ she said quietly.
‘And I fell in love,’ Giselle confirmed.
‘Does Rocco know how you feel?’
‘God, no!’
‘How does he feel about you, do you think?’
She shrugged and pulled a face. ‘That it was fun while it lasted.’
‘What happens now?’
‘The castle will be sold, and I’ll never set eyes on him again.’
‘Do you still think the craft centre will close?’
‘Probably.’
‘What will you do if it does?’
‘I don’t know. Get a job or three, I suppose.’ She’d done it in the past, before the craft centre had become established, and before selling her art in the gift shop had provided her with enough income to live on. Therefore, she could do it again.
