‘I hope so, too.’ She measured out hot water and added stock cubes. The potatoes had boiled so she turned down the heat and then gave the fish a last toss in the crushed pepper and flour mixture before adding it to the frying pan.
The hot oil hissed a fierce welcome and he retreated a step. ‘I can see why Mum wants to be here. It’s beautiful and restful. I could live here myself. Tell Larsson Fiskeri to appoint a new finance officer and open a restaurant selling dishes made from the local catch.’ He nodded at her frying pan, now sizzling gently, its aromas swirling around the room. Her heart skipped at the idea of him living on Skye.
But it was only a second before he added, ‘It’s an impractical plan, of course. Inger and I must share Astrid and Alvin. The children love both their parents and need that love to be returned.’
She nodded, put a steamer full of broccoli on top of the potato pan, flipped the fish and then turned the heat up to thicken the sauce while she stirred, snatching a moment to check his expression. The corners of his mouth had turned down and, his gaze distant, sadness and regret lingered in the lines around his eyes. ‘Do you wish you hadn’t needed to get divorced?’ she asked softly.
Instantly, his gaze snapped back into focus. ‘Hell, no.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Andreas is much more Inger’s type – rich. I just want to make everything as easy as I can on thechildren.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I was uncharacteristically dazzled by her. By the time my sanity returned, we were married. It was a big lesson in “don’t follow lust – follow logic”. We were married for five years. She was young, gorgeous and vivacious, and hated me working so much. I should have seen trouble coming. She didn’t respect my parents for having made their own money, though that’s exactly why I admire them. She wanted me to be “more aspirational” but I never knew to what I was meant to aspire. Sitting on a yacht with nothing to do isn’t my idea of fun.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘Apart from this year, I generally get four or five weeks’ holiday a year. Her ideal is four or five weeks a month.’
Ezz nodded to show she was listening, lowering the heat beneath the sauce and warming the plates while she deftly slid the fish onto kitchen towel to blot the excess oil.
He stepped out of her way while she plated their meals then, as if they were used to sharing a kitchen, reached around her to stir the sauce while her hands were busy. She paused to remove her red apron from over a dark green jersey dress before placing the steaming plates on the table while he took their drinks. ‘This food looks fantastic. Let’s not mention Inger or divorce again tonight. Esmerelda Wynter, a beautiful, intelligent woman, has just cooked me a restaurant-worthy meal, and I want to enjoy every crumb.Tack för maten. That means thank you for the meal.’ His eyes smiled.
She took her seat and picked up her cutlery, happy at the change of subject. ‘What do you say before a meal? Likebon appetit, but Swedish.’
‘Smaklig måltid.’ He raised his zero beer in a toast, and she clinked with her mocktail.
They ate slowly while the snow whispered at thewindowpanes. ‘Do you know the Norwegians came to Skye?’ he asked, cutting through the crispy coating of the fish, his knees touching hers beneath the table.
She paused to look at him askance. ‘Did they?’
He nodded. ‘Mum told me. In the thirteenth century, King Haakon moored his fleet in Loch Alsh. He had a dust-up with Scotland’s King Alexander and then died. Under a treaty I don’t remember the name of, Scotland was given the Hebrides and Isle of Man, and Norway got Shetland and Orkney. Kyleakin was named after King Haakon. At some other time, there was a Norwegian princess who stretched a chain across the Kyle Akin strait to extract a toll from boats.’
That rang a bell in Ezz’s mind. ‘Is that the legend of Saucy Mary? I have heard about that. Her castle’s a ruin now – Caisteal Maol – and she’s supposed to be buried on top of Beinn na Caillich near Broadford. And surely the Vikings came earlier than that from what later became Norway. There was a huge Viking presence on all these islands and the west coast.’
‘I hadn’t thought about that.’ Unexpectedly, he added, ‘You’re so relaxing to be with, Ezzie.’
She laughed as she cut up her potato. ‘Now you’re trying to make me blush. Tell me about Gothenburg.’
Eagerly, he began. ‘It’s close to the Norwegian border, which is why Mum was in Gothenburg with her friends, visiting the market, and fell in love with the boy with the fish stall.’ His fair hair shone under the kitchen light, and his silver eyes looked stunning. ‘It’s a seaport, of course, with big canals. Some of the buildings are colourful. Copper roofs have turned green, others are bright red. It’s a good city, with parks and cafés, bridges and museums. My apartment is in Stampen, which is a regenerated areaand a bit trendy. I rented it when …’ He paused, and Ezzie remembered him saying he didn’t want to talk further about Inger or the divorce. He changed tack. ‘But soon I’ll find a house with a garden for the kids.’
She listened as she enjoyed the silky sauce that contrasted with the crunchy coating of the fish, trying to absorb the sound of Swedish place names that fell from his lips. Johanneberg. Götaplatsen. Näckros Park. Lorensbergs Villastad. He took out his phone and showed her images of gothic churches and boatyards filled with cranes and gantries. Consulting Google, they discovered that Gothenburg covered just less than one-third of the area of the Isle of Skye.
‘So, Gothenburg’s bigger than Rothach,’ she commented, straight-faced. They’d finished their meal and he’d stacked their plates and taken both of her hands across the table. She enjoyed the feeling of his big hands warming hers.
‘Rothach is just as beautiful as anything in Gothenburg,’ he said seriously. ‘The village is charming, with its coloured cottages and slate roofs, and the rocky beach with the gentle sea.’
‘Not always gentle, but it’s sheltered in the sound. I could show you the cottage Valentina’s bought, right on the Quays, if you fancy a walk in the dark and the snow. It’s a mess now, but I think it will be spectacular after she’s spent a small fortune on it.’
‘Is she moving here?’ His thumbs caressed the backs of her hands.
She grinned. ‘Valentina and Gary are lawyers. She works in corporations and he’s in local government. They’ve moved closer now, and live in Inverness rather than Edinburgh, but it’s still a city. That’s their thing. She wants a weekend cottage here as a get-away-from-it-all place.’
‘I’d love that,’ he said.
She snorted. ‘I’ve seen your “weekend cottage”. Rothach Hall is notquitethe same as Overlook Cottage.’
He made a show of looking hurt. ‘Rothach Hall belongs to my parents. Not me. I don’t even own an old fisherman’s cottage.’
‘Yeah, I’d forgotten how poor you are,’ she said ironically. ‘I’ll clear things ready for dessert. It’s already made and in the fridge.’
‘You made dinner, so I’ll wash up,’ he said. ‘How about we have dessert after that, with coffee?’
She agreed, scraping plates and handing things to him to wash, cheerfully elbow-deep in white suds while he asked her about Maxie and Vince.
‘Lovely parents.’ She was swept by the rush of mixed pleasure and pain that came whenever she thought of them. ‘I have a playlist of things they worked on. I’ll put it on.’ She located it on her phone and played it through the speaker on the window recess. ‘That’s Dad playing guitar. It’s the theme music for a film and the soundtrack got into the album chart.’ She giggled, her hands slowing as she gathered up the tablecloth. ‘As a child, I remember him singing what I thought were silly songs. Have you ever heard “Walking My Baby Back Home”? I had no idea it was about adults, especially the line about getting powder all over a vest. I thought it must be a children’s bath-time song about talcum powder. Mum and Dad nearly cried laughing. That’s how I remember them. Hanging on to each other and howling with laughter.’
Her birth parents must have those kinds of memories with Julia and Iona, she thought, a hollow opening below her ribs. The next song began and she shoved that thought away. ‘Mum’s a backing singer on this track. Amazing thatI once had that voice singing lullabies to me.’ Needing to rinse her wiping cloth, she eased in beside him at the sink and plunged her hands into the water.
