‘I know you will. You’re the brave one.’
‘You’re brave, too.’
‘Och, no I’m not,’ Izzy said, sounding the most Scottish Giselle had heard her sound since she’d arrived. ‘I’m the reckless one. I dive in without thinking. You think about things, weigh up the risks, then dive in despite the danger. That’s bravery.’
Giselle didn’t feel brave right now. She felt stupid. She’d fallen in love with a ghost from her past, when there was no hope of him being in her present.
Izzy, sensing that Giselle’s spirits had taken another nose-dive, said, ‘Can we go to the gift shop now, and stop at the cafe on the way? I fancy a coffee and a slice of cake.’
‘You can’t be hungry already!’
‘I’m bloody ravenous,’ Izzy declared. ‘It’s all this fresh air; I’m not used to it.’
Giselle couldn’t eat another bite, but she’d have a cup of tea to keep her sister company.
They made their way back to the crescent of beach, Giselle avoiding looking at the jetty where Rocco had kissed her in the early morning mist, and onto the lane leading from Cal’s cottage and the boathouse to the castle.
Rounding the corner, she waved to Fergus, the glassblower, who was in his oven of a studio (with three furnaces, it was always roasting inside), and lingered for a moment outside Tara’s because Izzy wanted to examine the exquisite doll’s houses in the window.
‘If I ever have kids, I’ll buy them a doll’s house,’ she said, adding with a laugh, ‘I’m not sure I’d let them play with it, though. They’re far too lovely for sticky fingers.’
‘And expensive,’ Giselle told her. ‘You wouldn’t want it to get broken.’
Whatever Izzy was about to say in response was lost when Giselle heard her name being called.
‘Where have you been?’ Avril demanded. ‘Haven’t you seen my message? Hi, Izzy,’ she added absently, her attention on Giselle.
‘What message?’ Giselle asked, realising she’d left her bag containing her phone in Izzy’s car.
Avril bit her lip, her eyes wide. She looked nervous. Then she said, ‘You’ll never guess who’s here.’
Chapter 25
Giselle’s heart leapt. Was it Rocco? Had he returned? ‘Who?’ she squeaked.
‘That Claire woman. And she’s got a guy with her. An estate agent. A posh one. He seems fairly impressed, and I heard him say he’s got someone in mind who is looking for a place exactly like this.’
Staggered, Giselle struggled to remain calm as disappointment swept through her in a flood of misery.
‘They arrived a couple of hours ago. How inconsiderate not letting us know in advance. It was pure luck we had any rooms free,’ Avril said. ‘She insisted on staying in Rocco’s suite, but I put him up in one of the smaller rooms. Bloody ironic that we’re the busiest we’ve ever been, yet the castle is about to be sold. I hope whoever buys it doesn’t turn it into flats or something.’
‘Isn’t it a listed building?’ Izzy asked.
‘It is, but there are ways and means,’ Avril replied darkly. ‘My uncle is on the council, and you ought to hear the stories he can tell. And don’t mention turning it into flats to my dad; he’ll throw a fit.’
Right now, Giselle didn’t care about listed buildings or planning permission, and she’d already resigned herself to having to look for a job soon, but she couldn’t move past the hope she’d felt when she’d thought Rocco was here, which had been swiftly followed by renewed heartache.
He wasn’t coming back. Deep down she’d known this, but a part of her had clung on to a smidgen of hope.
‘Thanks for the heads-up,’ she managed.
‘I didn’t want you to bump into them without some warning, in case you thought—’
‘Rocco was with them?’
‘Yes,’ Avril said with a small sympathetic smile. ‘If I’ve got any more news, I’ll let you know.’ She shot an anxious glance at the castle’s main entrance. ‘I’d better get back before I’m missed.’
‘Do you want to go home?’ Izzy asked Giselle as Avril hurried away.
