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He pulled back and looked at her, amazed. ‘Wow, that sounds...incredible.’ He reached forward and brushed back a strand of hair from her face. ‘Can I read it?’
She looked surprised. ‘Do you want to?’
‘Of course. Now. Do you have it?’
A smile danced across her lips as she stood up and crossed the room, picking up her laptop. ‘It’s still in the early stages. There might be spelling mistakes—grammatical errors.’
He shook his head and held out his hands. ‘I don’t care. Just give it to me.’
He bent over the bright screen and started reading as she settled beside him.
* * *
Three hours later it was the early hours of the morning. Kristie’s manuscript. It was beautiful, touching and from the heart. And it smacked of Kristie. Every word, every nuance had her unique stamp on it. He brushed a tear from his eye and nudged her. She’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.
‘Kristie, wake up.’ He gave her a shake and she rubbed her tired eyes.
‘You’ve finished?’
He nodded and she bit her bottom lip. ‘What did you think?’
He held out his hand. ‘I think it’s brilliant. It’s heartbreaking. It’s real. You have to finish this. This is what you should be doing, Kristie. This is so important. I felt for every one of the people in this story. You have to get this out there.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘You think so? Really?’
He nodded. ‘Without a doubt. You have a gift as a writer. Do it. I believe in you. Once an agent sees this, they’ll snatch it up with both hands.’
A smile danced across her lips. He could see the impact his words were having. The fact he believed in her ability to tell this story. It felt like pieces of their puzzle were just slotting into place.
He couldn’t believe that Zoe had shown up today. He’d never seen someone look so much like a fish out of water. But it was almost as if a shadow had been lifted off his shoulders. She’d always intimated that Arran was less, and he was less for being here. He’d compromised his career and his life. And for a time those thoughts had drip-dripped into his self-conscious.
But tonight was like shining a bright light on his life. Everything was clear for him. He was exactly where he wanted to be, and with the person he wanted to be with. Zoe’s visit—instead of unsettling him—had actually clarified things for him. He didn’t care about the distance between him and Kristie. He had no idea how things would play out. All he knew was that he wanted to think about the here and now. With her.
It was almost as if their brains were in accord. Kristie lifted her head and gave him a twinkling smile. ‘I just remembered something you said tonight.’
‘What?’
‘Girlfriend, hey?’ she said as she slid her arms around his neck.
His voice was low as his hands settled on her waist. ‘I just remembered something you said too. I heard you tell her the cottage wasn’t big enough for three,’ he said as his lips danced across the skin on her neck. ‘You made it sound like you were staying here.’
‘Oh, I am.’ She smiled as she pulled him down onto the sofa and made sure he knew exactly how things were.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
March
Don’t get too comfortable. Miss LA will get just as sick of the place as any normal human would. How can smoggy hills compare to the glamour of Hollywood? Your success is just your fifteen minutes of fame. You should be asking yourself where your career will be in five years’ time. That’s what’s important.
RHUARIDH SHOOK HIS head and deleted the email. It was sad, really. Zoe was trying to provoke a reaction from him and the truth was he felt nothing. He wasn’t interested in her or in anything she had to say.
He looked out the window towards the hills. Were they smoggy? Maybe. Goatfell was covered at the top by some clouds. But Kristie had already said she wanted to climb it with him. Every time she visited she seemed a little more fascinated by Arran and wanted to see more. Her attitude was the complete opposite of Zoe’s and that made him feel warm inside. She didn’t see Arran as the last place on earth she wanted to visit—she might not want to ever stay here but when she was here, she made it seem like an adventure. And he’d take that.
He picked up the case he had ready to go to the high school. The immunisation team would be setting up right now and he’d arranged to meet Kristie and Thea there as they came straight off the first morning ferry. Chances were they’d be tired—they’d been travelling all night, but a delayed flight had caused them a few problems.
The local school was only a few minutes away. The whole place was buzzing. The immunisation team never failed to amaze him by how scarily organised they were. One of the nurses met him just as Thea burst through the door with her camera at the ready. ‘Wait for me,’ she shouted.
He shook his head and looked down at the list of children the nurse wanted him to give a quick review. Nothing much to worry about. Kristie stepped in behind Thea. Her cheeks flushed pink and her skin glowing. Every pair of eyes in the room turned towards them.
‘Hey,’ she said self-consciously, tugging at a strand of her hair.
‘Hey,’ he replied.
What he wanted to do was kiss her. But he didn’t want to do it in front of an audience. As soon as the thought crossed his brain the irony struck him. Thanks to Gerry, the whole world had already seen them kiss.
Kristie slipped into professional mode. Interviewing a few of the nurses, watching the kids come in for their vaccinations and capturing a few of them on camera too.
Everything was going smoothly until one of the teachers came in, white-faced. ‘Dr Gillespie. I need some help.’ Rhuaridh didn’t recognise him. He must be one of the supply teachers.
Rhuaridh looked up from where he was finishing talking to a child with a complicated medical history. ‘Can it wait?’
The teacher shook his head. ‘No, it definitely can’t.’ He was wringing his hands together and the worry lines across his forehead were deep.
Rhuaridh was on his feet in a few seconds. Thea was still filming on the other side of the room, so Kristie followed Rhuaridh and the teacher up some stairs to the second floor of the school.
The teacher had started tugging at his shirtsleeve. ‘I don’t know what to do. She’s been up and down. Apparently her father died last year and the sch
ool has been worried about her. Sometimes she just walks out of class. But today—she’s barricaded herself into one of the rooms. Her friend told us that she said she wanted to kill herself. To join her dad.’
Rhuaridh heard Kristie’s footsteps falter behind him. He turned around and raised his hand. ‘Maybe you should let me handle this.’
He could see the strain on her face, but didn’t get a chance to say anything further as the teacher stopped in front of one of the rooms. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ve tried everything.’
‘Is it Jill Masterton?’ Rhuaridh asked. He knew everyone on the island—so unless someone new had just moved over, the only teenager he knew who had lost her father in the last year was Jill.
The teacher nodded. ‘I’ve been talking to her for the last half-hour. I didn’t think she was serious. I just thought it was attention-seeking. But...but then she said some other stuff, and I realised...’ he shook his head ‘...whatever it was I was saying just wasn’t helping.’
Rhuaridh could see the stress on the teacher’s face. ‘Have you contacted her mum?’
He nodded. ‘She’s on the mainland, waiting to catch the first ferry back.’
Rhuaridh took a deep breath. He didn’t know this girl well. He hadn’t seen much of her in the surgery. He turned to the teacher. ‘Do you have any guidance teachers or counsellors attached to the school?’
The teacher shook his head. ‘I’m only temporary. I came to cover sick leave. The guidance teacher—you probably know her, Mary McInnes—had surgery on her ankle. She’s not expected back for a few months.’
Of course. He should have remembered that. He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Has she told you anything at all?’
The teacher now tugged at his tie. It was clear he was feeling out of his depth. ‘She won’t speak to me at all. But she doesn’t know me. And the teachers that she does know haven’t had any reply. Last time someone tried to speak to her she said if anyone else came she would jump out of the window.’
