‘Thank you for this. I really mean it,’ Peaches said as she stepped back, taking away the sensation of her brisk touches.
‘My pleasure,’ he tried to say, but no sound carried on his out breath.
For a moment they only looked at one another, before Carenza shattered the frozen seconds by yelling that they’d passed the three-minute mark and what on earth were they dawdling over?
When the rehearsal was all done, Roz and the McDowells (McIntyre had never come back after that phone call) gathered at the open doors of the shed to wave him off.
Euan was content to climb aboard the bike and turn her over with a kick of his boot.
He was achingly aware of Peaches watching him astride the machine in his leathers, biker boots and black helmet. He fastened the leather gloves at his wrists thinking how much they felt like the fabric strips Peaches had pulled tight around his torso, the memory of that sensation still making a hard flame glow within him. He snapped down his visor.
From behind the protective polycarbonate shade, and with the engine sending vibrations thrumming through his body, he couldn’t hear what Carenza McDowell was saying into her daughter’s ear, but he hoped it was some remark about what a nice young man he was, how heroic he’d been, stepping into the breach like that.
He revved the engine, feeling ten feet tall, and finger-saluted from his visor, moving off and out of the driveway, hoping he looked as dangerous and intriguing as Jimmy Dean or Marlon Brando in the old movies his grandad made him watch.
The truth was, he had to concentrate to stop himself falling, and he didn’t dare risk a glimpse in his mirror to see if Peaches was watching after him, but as he hit Cairn Dhu high street and the moonlight revealed only a dark suggestion of the granite mass of Mount Cairn Dhu against a starry sky, he found himself burning with gladness that he’d moved back here.
Maybe now, finally, he was getting started on his new life in the town, and maybe next Saturday, he’d see Peaches again.
5
That night, Peaches lay on the white day bed beneath the skylight window of her pristine white studio in the attics of the home which she had shared alone with her mum ever since her father had taken away his half of the parental property expertise, disappearing down south to make a killing on the Cotswolds’ buy-to-let market. He had barely ever bothered to make the trip back, unless it was to do some point scoring with expensive surprises or gifts.
Through the glass, she gazed up at the moon, waning now, but still almost full, and she tried to take comfort in its serene presence. Tonight, however, nothing about her felt calm.
Willie had been all apologies in his messages to her, and he’d been keen to find out how she’d got on without him. She tried to reassure him with her reply.
Don’t worry, honestly. Somebody was there to step in. Luckily they were about your size and build so it worked out pretty well. Just concentrate on getting better x
Willie however, had jumped on this information like an intern on comped Fashion Week tickets.
Which somebody was this? And shaped just like me? Unlikely!
Her upside-down face emoji wasn’t enough to allay his curiosity; she could still feel him awaiting a proper response.
You know Mr Forte from the community garden project? It was his grandson. He’s called Euan.
He just happened to be there to step in? Is he our age?
Guess he probably is. Tiny bit older maybe.
There was no way Willie was jealous; he was too sweet, and too exhausted with glandular fever for that, but he was definitely getting at something.
Was he cute? What about single?
There it was.
I didn’t ask. But yes, he is quite nice
Your mum was OK with him helping?
Peaches took her time replying. She knew too well what her friend was getting at. Carenza wasn’t keen on Peaches wasting her time with men. She tolerated Willie because he’d been seeing the same guy since their second year and didn’t represent a threat to Peaches’ future career; in fact, he was her greatest supporter, after Carenza. Plus, Peaches relied on Willie’s friendship so much she would never allow her mother to come between them. But dating? That was another matter entirely.
Peaches didn’t dwell too much upon it these days, but she’d been heartsore as an eighteen-year-old when Carenza had talked her into breaking things off with her boyfriend in order to concentrate on university success. She could hear her mother now, standing over her revision textbooks on the kitchen table. ‘You can have a boyfriend any old time, they’re ten a penny, especially spotty herberts like Hamish Skelton. But exams are a one-off opportunity!’
Carenza hadn’t shouted. She hadn’t had to say much at all, in fact, but by a slow application of pressure and cold-shouldered disapproval all summer long, the soft and sensitive teen had felt obliged to tell Hamish she was sorry, but she had to concentrate on her undergraduate programme at fashion school. Peaches had done it so convincingly you’d have thought being a single girl was all her idea.
She’d often wondered what kind of person she would be now if she had been allowed to experience the natural cycles of young love and heartache. What would she have learned about herself and the world around her had she experienced the full blossoming of love and desire into contentment. Even if it had ended in a mutually agreed break up, or getting dumped. She’d have learned what everyone else her age had gone through. She’d have been in control of her destiny, and who knows, maybe she’d still be with Hamish today if their relationship hadn’t been cut off by Carenza?
