‘Oh really? That was kind of him.’ I picture the posy of wildflowers resting on my bedside table, their smell filling my room.
‘So,’ she says. ‘Do you mind if I ask what’s happening there? Just tell me if I’m being too nosy.’
I sigh lightly.
‘No, it’s fine. But honestly, I have no idea. I’m not exactly practised at this.’
‘He clearly likes you, though.’
My cheeks flush even warmer.
‘Would it sound mad if I said I’m scared?’ I admit. ‘I mean, I’m forty years old for god’s sake. But I don’t really date, I never have, not since Ella’s dad. I don’t ever want it to get complicated for her.’
‘That’s very admirable, but she’s a teenager now. I’m sure she understands that you deserve to have your own life.’
‘I guess.’ I think about my earlier conversation with Ella. She is growing up. Perhaps Alice is right.
‘And anyway,’ she adds, ‘datingisterrifying. But some of the best things in life are, aren’t they? Opening yourself up to other people isn’t always easy, because there’s always a chance it might not work out or you might lose them. But closing yourself off forever … Is that really living?’
Her words hit me hard. All these years that I’ve lived mostly alone, shutting myself off from others … Have I really been living?
‘What are you waiting for?’ says Alice. ‘Life is short, shorter than we ever realise. Go see him. Take the car.’
She hands me the keys and a smile spreads across my face. But I pause.
‘Are you sure you’re OK though?’
I look at her closely, trying to see any traces of that haunted expression I saw just moments ago.
‘I’m fine,’ she replies. ‘Go on.’
‘OK. Thank you. I’ll see you later, Alice.’
‘Good luck.’
With a skipping in my stomach I climb into the car and set out across the island. Everything looks golden in the sunlight. For a moment I feel like singing. And I never sing.
The front door is open when I arrive at Mallachy’s, a pair of boots resting beneath the porch. I knock on the open door.
‘Lorna!’ I hear him calling from inside. ‘I’m in the studio, come in!’
I follow his voice to the light-filled room at the back of the house. He’s sitting at an easel facing the sea. As I step inside he stands up and turns to me, his green eyes sparkling in the sunshine.
‘How did you know it was me?’ I ask, glancing briefly across at the easel. It’s a nearly blank canvas, just a few sketches drawn on the white expanse. I feel my hands twitching at my side, thinking about filling a canvas like that myself. But then hesmiles at me and the easel fades into the background again. It’s just one of those smiles that makes everything else disappear for a moment.
‘Any of the other islanders would have just walked straight in. Only mainlanders knock.’
The way he says ‘mainlanders’ makes me know he’s teasing me. I rise to it.
‘Excuse me, I think you’ll find I grew up here. You’re the newcomer!’
‘Aye, you’re right. So, you’re better then? I’m so glad.’
‘Yes, I’m fine now. Thank you for the flowers. And for helping us find the girls. Honestly, I don’t know how I can ever thank you for everything you did.’
He shrugs lightly.
‘Anyone would have done the same. I’m just so glad they’re OK.’
