Authors: Catherine Czerkawska
‘I know. You always got what you wanted, didn’t you, Nicolas? Even me.’
‘I thought you were just playing hard to get. And then when your mother got so ill and you seemed so vulnerable...’
‘I was confused. And I was so worried about him. He had nothing at that time.’
‘He had you.’
She didn’t contradict him.
‘I think he should have had the guts to come down and face me himself.’
‘He wanted to. I wouldn’t let him. This has nothing to do with him.’
‘How can you say that?’
‘I mean this is my decision. My fault. Mine. Nobody else’s. He didn’t persuade me or seduce me. You must believe that. And he would have come. But I said I had to speak to you alone. I owed you that at least.’
‘Yes. You owed me that at least.’
She closed one case and opened another.
‘What about the girls?’ he said as though the thought had just occurred to him. ‘So what’s going to happen about my girls? Will I tell them that their mother has bolted? Gone off with her fancy man?’
‘I’ll tell them. Or we could tell them together. I’m only going up the road.’
‘Well I can tell you right now, they won’t be visiting you. Not at Dunshee.’
‘Of course they will.’
‘I won’t let that man near them!’
‘You may have to.’
‘Try me!’
She could see that they were spiralling inexorably towards custody issues and that this was neither the time nor the place.
‘I think we should talk about all this later, Nicolas. When they come home. Maybe by then we can be civilized, convince them that we don’t hate each other.’
‘Don’t we?’
‘I don’t hate you, Nicolas.’
‘You just don’t love me the way you love him.’
‘No.’
‘Well don’t expect me to be quite so civilized as all that, Christine. I feel fairly murderous right now.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t think you do.’
‘Let’s talk about it later.’
She moved about the room, opening drawers, taking out folded clothes, the simple, commonplace actions soothing her. He watched her and poured himself another large whisky.
‘You won’t come to London?’ he asked, as though still unable to bring himself to believe it.
‘I never did want to go to London, you know. It would have driven me mad. I can’t leave the island. Everything I love is here. All my inspiration is here.’
‘Your inspiration!’ he said scornfully.
‘Yes. Inspiration. Everything that makes me the person I am. The person you’re supposed to love!’
‘How can you be so cold? So cruel?’
‘I’m sorry. But it matters to me, and you can’t see that. I don’t think you ever saw that, not really. You just paid lip service to it. I’m not one of those artists who can switch focus. I realise that now. This is my canvas. This place. This is where I belong.’
‘How do you know if you’ve never even tried? London might be just what you need.’
‘But it isn’t. I know it isn’t. In here and here.’ She tapped her hand on forehead and breast, a strangely religious gesture. ‘I think I’m destined to go on exploring this small piece of the world in greater and greater depths. Two or three lifetimes wouldn’t be enough. But you’ve never really understood that, have you, Nick?’
‘No. I think it’s all arty farty nonsense. You’re using it to justify your infidelity. I think you could have given London a try. For me and the girls.’
She stifled the angry observation that they would have to find somebody else to help nurse Nicolas’s father. What was the point? It would only make things worse.
‘So I’ll go to Dunshee,’ she repeated. He had gone very white and the whisky didn’t seem to be helping at all. ‘And I’ll take the car, if that’s alright. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.’
‘Whatever. But, dear God, there’s so much to sort out. Money for instance.’
If he sold Ealachan and the other island properties she would have a considerable claim on the family finances. She hadn’t even thought about it until this moment.
She said, ‘Oh, you needn’t worry. I don’t want any of your money!’
Nevertheless, it crossed her mind that it would give Finn a certain malevolent satisfaction to fleece him of a large slice of his capital. Well, Finn could have her, but none of Nick’s money. And she needn’t have worried because later on, Finn, pride outweighing malice, would say, ‘Tell him to give his cash to the girls. You need none of it. I have enough for both of us. I don’t want you to be beholden to him in any way.’
‘We’ll just have to sort things out properly, Christine.’
‘We will.’
Your grandfather won’t approve,’ added Nicolas, with a sort of dreary triumph.
‘No he won’t. But he’ll get used to the idea.’
‘Full circle eh?’ he said stiffly. ‘But I still say you’re not taking my girls up there.’
‘Not to live maybe. But India spends half her holidays there. You wouldn’t deny her that pleasure.’
‘Pleasure?
Pleasure
?’
‘They’re at school so much of the time anyway. If you sell Ealachan, I thought maybe they could divide their time between us. Come to Dunshee, go to London... we could work something out, couldn’t we?’
‘Would he allow that?’ Nicolas couldn’t bring himself to say Finn’s name.
‘Of course. He isn’t a monster, however much you hate him!’
‘There’s no ‘of course’ about it. I mean, how would he be with another man’s children?
My
children. How the hell could I ever trust him?’
‘He isn’t a monster,’ she repeated. ‘And they’re my children too.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning whatever I ask him…’
‘He fucking well does.’ The expletive tumbled out of him. He had never sworn at her before. ‘I know. I know. So what do you want
me
to do Christine, since you seem to have this all planned out? Do you want a divorce?’
She said again, ‘Can’t we be civilised about all this?’
‘I think we’re going to have to be, don’t you? Otherwise I’ll just go up there and kill the bastard.’
You and whose army, she thought. But she didn’t say it aloud. Not this time.
As he got up to go out of the room, she said, ‘Kirsty.’
‘What?’ he asked. ‘Kirsty what?’
‘My name is Kirsty, you know, not Christine. It’s Kirsty or Cairistiona. That’s who I am.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I was
never
Christine. I don’t even like the name. It’s not me and it never was. Nobody has ever called me that, except you and your sister. I’m
Kirsty.
’
‘Hell mend you then!’ he said, flinging himself out of the room. ‘Be whatever you like! And don’t worry. I wouldn’t care if I never mentioned your sodding name again!’
She put a couple of suitcases in the car, hauling them down the long flights of stairs all by herself. She would have to come back for the rest later. He was nowhere to be seen. She suspected that he had taken refuge in some remote part of the house with the bottle of whisky. She felt so weary that even the effort of driving up to Dunshee in the rainy dark was quite beyond her. She had to sit there for a few moments, trying to pull herself together, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.
Finn was waiting for her, his face strained and anxious. She got out of the car but although he stretched out his arms to her, she didn’t want to be touched.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Let me get inside. Just let me get inside.’
‘I was afraid he might not let you go.’
‘Of course he let me go. How could he stop me? Don’t dramatise things, Finn. They’re bad enough without that.’
‘You don’t know what was going through my head. I still thought you might not come.’
‘I said I would, didn’t I?’
‘I had to tell your grandfather what was going on.’
‘Oh God, you didn’t.’
‘Well, he was asking questions. I couldn’t lie to him. He had to know.’
‘What did he say?’
‘His main concern was for the girls.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I said we’d sort something out. They could come up here in the holidays.’
She started to cry, tears of strain and relief. ‘We will, won’t we, Finn ? We will sort something out?’
‘I promise you. I’ll do anything. I’ll even go away while the girls are here if you want me to. If Nicolas wants me to.’
‘But I want you to get to know India... to get to know them both better.’
‘They might not want to know me.’
‘So where is he? My grandad? Is he alright?’
‘He’s not happy. He’s gone up to bed. He said he’s getting too old for all this upheaval.’
‘It’s not fair on him. It isn’t fair to do this to him. First Nick. Now Grandad. And the girls. We’re making all of them miserable, just for our own satisfaction.’
‘You know it’s more than that. Give it time. It will be alright you know.’
But she realised that he would say this because he believed it. He had to believe it. Nothing else mattered to Finn. Nothing else would ever matter now, except that they should be together. As for her, she wanted to see her girls, had a great craving to speak to them. Flora was still abroad, so she phoned India in Oxford.
‘Hi mum!’ said her daughter, brightly. ‘We’ve just come in from the theatre.’
‘Are you having a good time?’
‘Yes thanks.’
‘Good. I just wondered. You know? Just wanted to hear your voice really. Just wanted to say hello.’
‘What are you doing, mum?’
‘I’m at Dunshee.’
‘Lucky you. Is grandad OK?’
‘Yes, he’s fine. He’s been ill, but he’s much better now. Everything’s fine.’
‘Listen, must go. We’ve ordered pizzas. See you soon then.’
India made kissing noises and hung up.
‘Can I get you something to eat?’ Finn asked anxiously.
‘No. I’m not hungry.’
‘Well, something to drink then.’
She looked round the kitchen. ‘I wish my mum was here’ she said, involuntarily.
‘I don’t think she’d be very happy either, do you, Kirsty?’ said Finn, drily.
‘She’d have my head on a plate. Yours too. But she’d still make me a cup of tea.’
‘I can make you some tea.’
‘Alright. Yes. Tea would be nice.’
She sat in the warm kitchen, watching him moving about the place with a slight air of clumsiness. His gaze kept swivelling in her direction. He couldn’t help himself. At last he brought a mug over and set it down beside her.
‘Mind. It’s hot.’
‘Thank-you, Finn. ’
‘I’ll bring you tea every morning. I always bring tea to your grandfather.’
‘I’d like that fine.’
He sat on the floor beside her chair. She reached out and touched the top of his head, feeling the sooty softness of his hair beneath her fingers, closing her hand around the darkness.
She drank her tea, and then they went up to bed together, too exhausted to do more than lie in each other’s arms, listening to the rain on the windows, and the sounds of the old house settling around them, waiting for sleep to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
On the longest day of the year, Kirsty and Finn climbed to Hill Top Town together and sat on the westernmost edge of the island, watching the sun dip towards the sea, where it would just sink below the horizon only to rise again. There would be no darkness tonight.
‘Here we sit, on the edge of the world,’ he said.
Many things had changed over the past few months, such sweeping changes that Kirsty would not have believed them possible if somebody had told her about them beforehand. Ealachan, contents and all, had been sold to an American film maker called Charlie McNeill, although he had not yet moved in. He was a plump, untidy man, very proud of his Scottish ancestry. He had brought his Porsche over from the mainland on the ferry and he would sit in the pub, talking to the locals about island history. They were suspicious of him at first, then beguiled by his enthusiasm, touched by his friendliness. Kirsty liked him. He had already visited them at Dunshee. While Finn sat, listening to their conversation, she and her grandfather had chatted to him and he had told them about his plans for the house. He loved Kirsty’s paintings. When he asked her if she would be prepared to keep the gallery going, she agreed.
A couple of weeks previously, Nicolas had finally decamped to London. Later in the summer, he would be going to America. India and Flora would be coming north to stay at Dunshee for a little while. India had been remarkably philosophical about the whole thing and after her initial shock, seemed to be starting to take the separation in her stride. So many of her friends’ parents were divorced that it was more the norm than the exception and she had plenty of people to confide in. Flora, younger and altogether more vulnerable, had been much more distressed, blaming Finn, her mother, and even herself for the whole upheaval. It didn’t help that she felt as though she had lost Ealachan at the same time.