Then it happened, Alice. We paused at the steps to go back up to the hotel. Don was planning on walking to the village for a night cap in the pub. Maybe he thought like me that we’d be better off not being seen together for fear of what people would say.
Neither of us seemed to know what to say, standing there, looking at each other. Then he put both his hands on my arms and bent down, pressing a kiss on my forehead.
“Sorry.” He apologised straight away. “I shouldn’t have. It’s totally inappropriate of me. I’m married. I just wish I’d met you first.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “It’s okay. Maybe we shouldn’t talk so much.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t. Goodnight Marcy.”
We parted.When I reached the cliff top I watched him and at one point I saw him turn around and look for me.
What do I do,Alice? I’m not sure I want to stop talking to him.
Love,
Marcy
I had foundthe picture that was taken, the one mentioned in one of her earlier letters. It was tatty around the edges and faded, the shades of sepia dulled with age. My great aunthad clearly discovered chemistry and by the sounds of it, so had Donald.
Reading more was an option, but I had no idea what I was going to find out – if anything. When the last page was read, the final story my aunt could tell would be over.
“You’re up early.” Gabe’s voice was lazy. He stood at the doorway wearing grey sweatpants and smile, the material far too thin to conceal much. I had no complaints.
“You need an ensuite.”
He laughed. “I can plan that in. Maybe it’ll encourage you to stay when you come home from London in the holidays.”
I sat up straighter, the words waking me up more than any coffee would do. “I don’t fancy traipsing from the barn to here in December when it’s blowing a gale and freezing cold.” We were talking about five months’ time. Last night this was a summer romance. Had there been a shift or were we having a jokey conversation and it was too early to think of what it suggested.
“What are you reading?” He sat down opposite me.
“My aunt left these letters in her belongings. I’ve started reading it. It feels weird, because she was a really private person about when she was younger and I don’t really know what to make of it.” I laid the book down on the table, my eyes remaining on the leather cover rather than Gabe.
“Tell me what you’ve found out. I spent a little time with her before…”
He didn’t want to say the words.
“Before she died. It’s okay. I won’t break. Her not being here is like having an open wound, but there’s peace in it too. She’d been ill for some time. And she was old. Her friends had died years ago and I know she missed them.”
He nodded. “I spent some time with her. She talked about the island and what it was like but it was like listening to a really interesting history book. I didn’t learn a lot about her.”
I laughed, nervously. I hadn’t really spoken to anyone about what I’d found out, and what I was working out. “I think she had an affair with a married man. One who moved here and owned some of the boats. His wife died and I don’t know how. I don’t even know if what she wrote was true or a fantasy or an embellishment of the truth.”
“Have you asked your nan?”
“A little. She gives me that knowing look and leaves it at that. I’m just a bit stunned. I didn’t think Marcy had… relations.”
He laughed, far too loudly for this time in the morning. “Relations? Anya, is that what we had last night? Maybe have again if I can get you back into my barn?”
I grinned, feeling a little shy. My hand rested on the leather cover. I pushed it over to him, not second guessing what I was doing. “Do you want to read it while I make coffee? I’ve read up to the photograph.”
“If you don’t mind. I won’t read past where you are.”
“I know.” Because he got it. He knew I needed that piece of her.
Gabe read while I brewed,his face serious. I watched him when I could and felt something inside me warm at the sight of him, his studious expression, mussed hair and arms full of tattoos. Arms that moved me and held me.
I wasn’tsure if I could keep this to just one season.
