Authors: Rachael Lucas
Isla felt a wave of fondness for Ruth. She loved her dad so much, but she’d grown up without a woman in her life – her gran had died years ago, and Jessie had been out of the picture
for years, until now. And suddenly, here she was on this weird little island, with the girls in the salon making her laugh, and Ruth confiding secrets. ‘Well, I won’t tell another soul
either. I think it’s a beautiful name.’
Ruth gave her hand a squeeze. ‘How about that tea and cake, then?’
The driveway up to Meadowview House was almost two miles of rutted, gravel-strewn unmade road. Isla had read all about the history of the place in the tiny museum that adjoined
the ruined castle in the centre of Kilmannan. It had been built in 1895 by Timothy Lord, a Shakespearean actor, who had retired in disgrace after being sued by the husband of his mistress. There by
the lake, miles from anywhere, he roamed around his land dressed in tartan jacket and plus-fours, pipe and tweed hat in hand, drunk more often than not. The easy-going islanders had been content to
let him get on with it, taking him – as the girls in the salon told her – as they found him. He’d even had busts of Shakespeare, Keats, Johnson and one of himself made, and they
sat atop stone plinths at the entrance to the sprawling grounds.
Isla drove along slowly, trying hard to avoid potholes, weaving her little car from side to side, cringing at the metallic thud of stones pinging up onto her precious red paintwork.
She slowed the car a little at a particularly deep pothole, realizing there was no way around in this case. Something in her rear-view mirror caught her eye. A muddy green Land Rover was
approaching at some speed, and there was nowhere for her to pull over.
She jolted the car through the pothole, trying to speed up to a racy five miles per hour. It was no good. With an ominous
clonk
, the low-slung underside of her car hit an unexpected heap
of gravel. The Land Rover behind her beeped and flashed its lights.
‘Sod off, you impatient git,’ said Isla through gritted teeth.
The horn beeped again. Isla didn’t dare look up into the rear-view mirror in case she caught the driver’s eye. Clearly driving cautiously was some kind of major violation of the
Countryside Code. She saw the lights flash again, three times, and the horn blasted loudly. Oh God, there was no way she could pull over. The verge sloped steeply up towards the trees on one side,
and down into a ditch on the other. She shook her head fruitlessly.
‘What the
hell
do you want me to do?’ she hissed.
The horn sounded again. Isla snapped. Slamming her foot on the brake (which – she realized later – given that she was travelling at five miles an hour, didn’t make a major
statement) she jumped out of the car, leaving the door open and the engine running.
‘What the bloody hell do you expect me to do?’
‘Afternoon.’ Finn MacArthur smiled at her lazily. One hand was on the steering wheel, the other arm draped out of the open window, where his fingers beat out a rhythm on the
mud-encrusted door of the Land Rover.
Isla, heart thumping with fury, glared at him. He was so
infuriatingly
laid-back.
‘I was going as fast as I could. My car isn’t exactly designed for the crappy roads you have in this godforsaken place.’
Finn’s face broke into a wide smile. He was enjoying this, the shit. Isla balled her fists by her side, taking a deep breath to try and calm her temper.
‘That’s why I was trying to get your attention.’ Finn raised one sandy eyebrow at her, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
‘If you see that Douglas fir up there –’ Finn pointed in the direction of a group of identical-looking Christmas-type trees, unhelpfully – ‘there’s a wee
clearing to your left. Pull the car over, I’ll give you a lift.’
‘You don’t know where I’m going,’ said Isla, hearing the frost in her voice. Irritating git.
‘Aye, I do,’ grinned Finn. ‘This is a dead end after Meadowview House. The road was blocked off years ago.’
Oh, bugger
right
off
, thought Isla.
‘I can’t just leave my car there. What if it gets stolen?’
‘By whom?’ Finn’s smile grew even broader, laughter deepening the lines around his eyes.
‘I don’t know,’ said Isla, truculently. ‘God knows who lurks around these woods at this time of day.’
‘A sunny afternoon in the middle of nowhere?’ There was laughter in his tone.
He had a point, but she wasn’t going to concede it. ‘I don’t know what people do for entertainment around here.’
‘The only people you’ll see this far into the woods are drunk teenagers who’ve sloped off to get off with each other on a camping trip. And they’ll be in bed, hungover,
at this time on a weekend.’
‘Fine.’ She turned on her heel and stalked back to the car.
It seemed to take forever to rattle along to the little clearing – Isla was convinced she’d miss it and so was crawling along so slowly that the engine was whirring uncomfortably in
first gear. Eventually she pulled into the grassy space, switching off the ignition and locking the car.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ Finn said, throwing a handful of newspapers onto the back seat. ‘This is my work truck. It ends up being a portable office. I’ve got a load of
orders there to hand in to the estate later.’
‘It’s fine.’ Isla sat primly, both knees pressed together, hands folded on her lap, trying to look disapproving. The Land Rover made short work of the rutted road, squealing
and juddering as it made its way across the uneven surface. She ought to make some attempt at conversation but there was something about Finn that made her clam up. All her usual failsafe starters
had deserted her. If she wasn’t careful she’d end up asking if he was going anywhere nice on holiday.
‘Are you—’
‘So what’s—’
They both stopped at the same moment.
‘Sorry—’
‘You go ahead—’
Isla began again, ‘What’s—’ just as Finn said, ‘I’m—’
They both laughed.
‘Your turn,’ said Finn, as he swung the truck down the little hill, through the pillared stone gateway, and past the old stables.
‘So, do you help Lily out with retreats when you’re not working?’
Finn looked at her sideways with an expression of horror.
‘She’s not my – Jesus, no.’ He shook his head, looking alarmed.
‘I just assumed she—’
‘Jesus Christ Almighty.’ Finn pulled the car to a stop, turning to face Isla, his expression the perfect mixture of horror and amusement. ‘Lily?’
‘You’re not together?’ Isla had assumed that the beautiful Lily would have been his type.
‘Never.’ Finn ran a hand through his hair, leaving a piece standing on end. Isla thought inconsequentially that he could really do with a trim, and wondered who cut his hair.
‘No, I’m just dropping off some carvings I’ve made for the retreat she’s running.’ He motioned to the back seat, where a large cardboard box sat.
‘You?’
Isla felt a bit foolish. ‘I was press-ganged into coming along.’
‘You got roped in by accident, yeah?’
She laughed. ‘Something like that. Yes.’
‘Lily’s got a fairly –’ he paused for a second – ‘er, powerful personality, don’t you agree?’
‘It’s her aura, I reckon.’ Isla gave him a smile, relaxing slightly. Finn started up the engine again.
‘Dunno what it is, but she’s on something. I reckon it’s that herbal tea. She’s non-stop. And as for Lucien the demon offspring . . .’
It was a relief to discover it wasn’t just her (and Jinny and Shannon) who had private – and fairly uncharitable – thoughts about Lucien’s behaviour.
‘He’s a bit high-maintenance, isn’t he?’
‘I think Lucien’s behaviour means his reputation precedes him. My mate Susan’s wee girl goes to the same nursery school and by all accounts he’s just as –
what’s the word?’
‘Creatively physical, Lily called it.’ Isla finished his sentence.
‘If by “creatively physical” we mean “demonic fiend who tries to poison the nursery lunches by putting UHU glue in everyone’s sandwiches” . . .’
‘He did not.’ Isla giggled.
‘Not a word of a lie.’ Finn looked at her deadpan as he pulled the car up outside Meadowview House. Lily approached as they were getting out.
‘Ah, Finn.
And
Isla. That’s funny, I was talking to Melody, my rose quartz crystal, this morning, and she said both your names to me.’
Finn slid Isla a sideways glance, his face completely neutral. Isla concentrated hard. It sounded like Lily had just said –
‘Oh, yes,’ Lily continued airily, picking up on their confused expressions. ‘Yes, my crystals all talk to me, all the time.’ She pulled a lump of something green and
sparkly out of her cardigan pocket. ‘This is Questa.’
‘Hello, Questa,’ said Finn politely. His expression was inscrutable.
‘Oh, she won’t reply,’ said Lily, as if talking to a six-year-old. ‘It’s Sunday, you see. I always give them Sunday off. It’s a day of rest. The
Sabbath.’
‘Absolutely.’ Finn would be bloody good at poker, Isla thought. He nodded in agreement.
‘Now. We’re running a little behind.’ Lily motioned across to the garden beyond the house, where a red-faced woman could be seen digging over a weed-infested vegetable patch.
Two men, meanwhile, were painting the woodwork of the windows that looked down over the lake. ‘We’ve been offering ourselves to Gaia and giving thanks for the splendour of our physical
being.’
Isla found her voice. ‘Oh, and now you’re doing a bit of DIY?’ It seemed like an odd way to spend a retreat week on an island, but each to their own, she supposed.
‘DIY?’ Lily smiled at Isla kindly, again as if talking to someone rather simple. ‘Claire and Sandy have blessed the earth with rue and vervain, and now they’re creating
an offering by clearing the ground ready for it to be blessed with fruitfulness.’
‘And vegetableness,’ added Finn helpfully, pointing with a completely straight face at something green that could have been potato plants.
Isla suppressed a snort of laughter. Finn elbowed her in the side almost imperceptibly.
‘Yes! Yes. Oh Finn, you are just
such
a blessing to this place. Such a joy, isn’t he, Isla?’
‘Mmph.’ Isla bit the inside of her cheek. She could feel a giggle threatening to escape.
‘And lovely Phillip and Stewart are creating beauty, which is part of my desire to rebirth them back to an essential state of balanced masculinity.’
Finn’s eyes widened and Isla’s giggle erupted into a snort, which she turned into a cough.
‘Ah, some clearing, Isla. Do you have unspoken conflict? Some emotional resistance? Coughs and colds are always a sign of blockages in your throat chakra.’ Lily reached into her
pocket, handing over a pale-blue stone. ‘This will help.’ She held it up against Isla’s throat. ‘Hold her there.’
Isla obediently placed her hand over the stone.
‘Now, Finn. Have you brought my lovely totems?’ Lily turned back towards the pickup truck.
‘Yep, all in the back there. I’ll grab them if you let me know where you want them. They’re quite heavy, mind.’
Isla stood waiting, blue stone (apparently female) at her throat. She wasn’t quite sure if she was doing it right, or if she was supposed to move or not. After a couple of moments she
pocketed the stone, hoping Lily wouldn’t notice.
Finn had intended to do a flying drop-off of his slightly unorthodox cargo. He smiled ruefully as he slid the box out of the back seat, feeling his arms tauten against the
strain. As he did so, a sharp pain shot up the side of his torso. Bloody ribs.
He gasped at the unexpected pain, the box slipping slightly from his grasp.
‘You OK?’ Isla had joined him beside the Land Rover, her pale face a picture of concern. She reached across, taking the other side of the box.
‘Yeah.’ It came out more as a gasp than a word. He’d been pushing himself far too hard all week, with a manic week at the forestry office with Roddy, trying to sort out an
audit that was already overdue, and then evenings down at the workshop getting this lot finished in time, with Lily calling regularly to check on his progress.
Isla stepped in front of him. ‘Let me take this side for you. You go forwards, I’ll go back.’
She was a curious one. Assertive, and clearly used to getting her own way, but there was a shyness hidden behind the dark-brown eyes. She was so prickly, and yet here she was jumping to help him
out.
‘Thanks.’
With the strain taken off his aching torso, Finn was able to study Isla as she stepped carefully backwards, head turned over her shoulder so she could see where she was going.
As she’d been every time he saw her, she was immaculately dressed – today in grey jeans and a pale vest and cardigan, a silver locket nestled in the hollow at the base of her neck.
He felt a stab of desire mingled with something else – something he still hadn’t managed to put a name to. There was something about this prickly, defensive girl he liked a lot.
Whatever it was, it was enough that it was stopping him from making a move, where normally he’d have stepped in immediately.
Isla stumbled on a tussock of grass. ‘Shit, sorry.’
Lily stepped aside, making space for them in the wide-open hallway. They deposited the box on an oak table.
‘Right, that’s your lot.’ Stepping back, Finn rubbed at his side. It was bloody painful.
‘Let me have a look at that.’ Lily hovered a hand down his side, not touching his body. Isla watched as Finn opened his eyes wide in an expression of mock terror.
‘You’d really benefit from our healing session this afternoon. It’s a shame you can’t join us.’
Isla looked at him with a slightly hopeful expression, but he was thinking he could make a run for it now, head back to the house, get on with sorting the paperwork for this audit, watch a bit
of crap TV, eat a pizza, check on his ma.
He caught her eye, and gave her the tiniest raise of an eyebrow. Under her carefully neutral expression he caught a glimpse of pleading.
‘Oh, go on then. I could do with getting in touch with my inner hippy.’