And, as it happened, to Cherry waiting on the sand with a face so distressed that he wondered if someone had died. Was it him? Had he drowned out there and waswatching all this from the afterlife? Watching her grieving his loss?
He slapped his face.
Cherry, shivering in the rain in a Butler’s Whisky cagoule she must have got from the distillery shop, shot him an expression that said, ‘Have you lost the plot?’
Okay, he was alive. He didn’t bother to explain, didn’t owe her anything.
‘Sean, what’re you doing out there? There’s a mad-arse storm.’
Ah, shewasworried about him.
‘Aye, I know. I’ve been surfing it. Fucking incredible. Why aren’t you in the helicopter?’ He motioned to the sky with his chin.
She ignored the question. ‘I didn’t know where you’d gone. We were worried about you.’
‘We?’ Surely not her and Campbell fucking Duff.
‘Yes, me and Jamie. And the others.’ She glanced back up the beach to where Jamie was standing, giving them space but no doubt wondering if everything was okay. Sean gave his brother a salute that told him he was good to leave, before Cherry drew him back.
‘Jamie said you’re fucking mental to go out there in weather like this.’
Sean shrugged. ‘Jamie’s right.’ He considered for a moment. How honest did he want to be with Cherry? How much more of his energy should he give her? Hadn’t she already stolen enough?
‘So Jamie’s right, but you do it anyway?’
‘Aye, of course. I thought you, of all people, would get that. The high. Dopamine hit. Whatever. All the good chemicals shooting around in your veins. Today’s been a wee bit of a fucker, andout thereis the only place where Idon’t think about you all the time, where my brain stops the storm and focuses on the waves.’
These words seemed to reach her, to strike somewhere within. ‘And here?’ she asked, eyes glassy, voice raised to compete with the rush of the rain and roar of the sea. ‘On shore? What happens?’
‘Here, on shore, you’re all I think about. It’s relentless. It’s incessant. It’s killing me, Cher.’ Now that he was face to face with her, all he could do was hit her with honesty. It seemed to be the way they worked. She brought out the least dilute version of him.
‘I’m sorry, Sean.’ She took a step closer, lips bearing a mild stain of peachy lipstick now, eyes smudged with remnants of smoky make-up only accentuating her beauty. She was fucking radiant like this, rainwater dampening her face. ‘You know, I have no escape at all. Poker isn’t even cutting it. I can’t think straight; my body is a cocktail of hormones and insanity for you all the time.’
‘Really? Even when you’re having dinner with Duff?’
‘I’m not having dinner with Duff. How could I after today?’
‘You’re missing out. The Balmoral is the finest dining in Edinburgh.’
Cherry shrugged. ‘My husband is the finest dining in Scotland.’
‘That doesn’t even make sense.’
‘The taste of you is always on my tongue.’
Fuck.
‘Anyway, I’m sorry, Sean. I know you think I’ve been spilling my guts to him about babies and stuff, but I haven’t. The truth is, when I dated him, I had what may have been a very early miscarriage, and I was trying to get out of him about whether that had happened with him and anyoneelse. To see if the problem was him. He read between the lines. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have put you in that position.’
Sean dug the tail of his board into the sand. ‘Jesus, okay. It might have helped to know all this before we went in today.’
‘I know. Sorry. He is still donating to charity, though.’
‘He is? The £150k?’
‘No, the number you quoted him.’
‘Fuck!’
