‘Yeah, Shannon. She’s down in Oxford, studying biochemistry.’
‘Ah. Well, I can see why she whupped your ass onUni Challengethen. No other kids?’
He focuses in on me, his blue eyes bright and intense. Crikey. I wouldn’t fancy being a criminal under his watch. I’d confess to anything if he looked at me like that.
‘Has anybody ever told you,’ he says, repeating my earlier words to him, ‘that you’re a very nosy person?’
‘Ha, funnily enough they haven’t… sorry. I, um, I think I’m a bit out of practice at polite conversation.’
‘Why? Have you been living in a convent?’
‘In a way. I live a quiet life, I suppose.’
He looks as though he’s going to ask me more, but something in my expression puts him off. I drink some Guinness, gulping it down fast to try not to taste it. It doesn’t work, and I grimace. He’s smirking, staring at my face.
‘Guinness moustache?’ I ask. He nods, and I wipe it clean.
He looks thoughtful after his own more enthusiastic drink of the black stuff, and says: ‘Do you think there’s a hotel in Bonnie Bay? Somewhere we could spend the night?’
I splutter a little of my Guinness out, as classy as ever. I’m sure he didn’t mean it like it sounded.
‘I don’t think a Snickers bar counts as dinner, and I’m not sure I know you well enough,’ I say, trying to make a joke of my embarrassing reaction.
‘Well, you know my name. You know my age. I’m a Scorpio, and I enjoy long walks on the beach and restoring vintage motorcycles. What else do you need? And by the way, Kate, I wasn’t suggesting we spend the night together – I’m just trying to figure out what we do next. I’m not sure what the hell I expected when I decided to head here, but… well. This ain’t it.’
I nod, because I feel exactly the same. ‘I know. I feel like a complete fool for doing this.’
‘You and me both, lady, you and me both. But we’re here now, so we don’t have many options. We could get another cab back to Finnsburgh, there’s got to be some place to stay there…’
I love the way he says the word Finnsburgh, dragging it out into a million syllables. Finns-bu-rrow. In fact I love his accent in general. It’s a bit like being in a TV show.
I realise I haven’t answered him, mainly because I have no clue what to say. I probably have enough money for a basic hotel, but I’d rather not blow everything I have. I’m wondering if there’s a waiting room at the train station, and if I could spend the night there, maybe wearing every single item of clothing in my case. This is hardly turning out to be the grand escape I’d hoped it would be – one that ‘won’t cost you a penny’ like the card said. In fact, I’ll be leaving sadder than I arrived, because now I know that things didn’t work out well for Moira, the writer of the cards, either.
‘Would you like another drink?’ I ask, seeing that he’s most of his way through the pint glass. I’m approximately three mouthfuls through mine, and it’s likely to stay that way.
‘Sure. I set up a tab.’
I narrow my eyes at him, suddenly feeling prickly. He’s already paid for my cab, carried my case, and bought me a feast of snack products. I hate being seen as a charity case, even if I am planning my first night as a bag lady. ‘There was no need for that. I can pay my own way, thank you!’
He holds his hands up in a placating gesture. ‘Yeah, I’m sure you can – no offence meant, Kate. I just… look, this has been a lot, and also I know I was an asshole to you on the train, okay?’
I sniff slightly. ‘Well, that feels like a long time ago now – but yes, actually. You were.’
‘I’m sorry, all right? I have… I have an injury, and it plays up, and it’s yet another thing about this day that sucks ass. I was in a bad mood, and I behaved like a jerk. It’s kinda my default setting, truthfully. So let me buy you a few drinks to make up for it, will you? It’s no big deal.’
He looks and sounds genuine, and I soften immediately. I remember when my gran was sick towards the end of her life, the way the pain ate away at her. It can change a person.
‘Okay, fine. But I’ll go to the bar.’
He makes a ‘whatever’ gesture with his hands, and I head across the room. A middle-aged woman is serving, chatting to man who is dressed in a real-life, honest-to-goodness sou’wester. The kind that fishermen wear in reality shows about life on coastal islands. He smiles, and I adjust my first assessment: this man would be in a reality TV show about Scotland’s most eligible bachelor. Dark hair, brown eyes, drop-dead gorgeous. A small spaniel sits at his feet, leaping up for some attention. It has the softest ears in the history of ears.
I straighten up, and as the barmaid pulls the pint, they both look at me in interest. ‘Not from around here, hen?’ she asks gently.
‘No, from London,’ I reply. ‘My friend, uh, Brody, and I came here on a mission to find the Edge of the World Bookshop. But, well, we saw Ginny and she told us a bit about what happened.’
The two of them share a look, and the handsome fisherdude makes a sympathetic noise. ‘Aye. Moira’s been living with her sister Joanne for a year or so now. We hoped she’d be back, butshe seems to think it’s time to let it go. You came to visit her, you say?’
‘Well, it’s hard to explain, but she seems to have sent these little cards out into the world, hidden in books, inviting people to come and stay.’
