Page 67 of A Scottish Island Summer

Logan’s eyes glittered. ‘There is that slim possibility.’ His eyes grew more earnest as we pulled up at a set of traffic lights. ‘But the most important thing is that I do want to share this sunset with you. Very much.’

* * *

We arrived at Neist Point half an hour later.

I had to admit that the prospect of an old lighthouse wasn’t filling me with excitement.

Logan took one look at my expression and couldn’t stifle a laugh. ‘Just give it time. You’ll soon understand why I brought you here.’

He retrieved the picnic hamper from the back seat, while I took the rolled-up rug, camera and phone, and then he locked up the truck. There was a keen wind hurtling in over the sea and I huddled deeper into my quilted coat to try and escape it.

‘It’s a bit of a walk, but the views across the North Atlantic are worth it.’

We followed a path which carried us downwards towards the cliffs and the lighthouse. ‘If you’re lucky, you might spot the odd minke whale or dolphin.’ Logan bathed me in a mischievous smile. ‘You might even see Flipper again.’

I responded with a dry look. ‘Forgive me if I don’t laugh. I still vividly remember the stress of the experience the last time.’

The lighthouse reminded me of white Lego blocks, perched on the wavy, carved-out cliffs.

‘The lighthouse viewpoint is just a short walk to the left of the car park.’

Logan bumped the picnic basket along in his strong arms. God, I was getting hungry. I couldn’t remember having this ravenous appetite when I was back in London. I would graze on things, not really tasting them or enjoying them. It was as if there was just too much going on to take a breath and savour what I was eating. It was fuel to keep me going when I was firefighting emails, updating my social media accounts, travelling or arranging Zoom calls. Here, I felt able to taste and appreciate, to slow down and enjoy that the creamy cheese was made in the local area or the fact that the bread had been baked five minutes up the road. I assumed it was all the walking, exercising and salty, fresh sea air I was enjoying, which had ramped up my appetite.

Logan located a patch of grass that he said looked good and I spread out the blanket and we flopped down onto it. There was the odd tourist and walker around, but apart from that, the only other company we had was the occasional bird and the lolling waves.

‘It’s a spectacular view,’ I admitted, hoping Logan couldn’t hear my tummy begging for food. Down below, the sea swished and slapped against the cliffs, which were like aqua green frills.

‘You ain’t seen nothing yet,’ hinted Logan, creaking open the picnic basket.

He proceeded to retrieve the delicious food from inside, together with wooden cutlery, napkins that matched the tartan rug we were sitting on and China mugs for the tea.

Logan waggled one of the mugs. ‘I’d been planning to bring a couple of reusable cups, but when I said that to Iona, she was horrified and suggested these instead.’

I accepted a paper plate from him with grateful thanks. ‘So, she’s still talking to you then?’

‘Just about. She still thinks I’m a useless prick, but she didn’t want me looking a skinflint, useless prick where you were concerned.’

I grinned and bit into one of the crab sandwiches. I couldn’t stifle my appreciative sigh as the flavours of the seeded bread and juicy crab meat popped in my mouth.

‘That good, eh?’ asked Logan, savouring one of the haggis and beer mini toasties.

Down below, the waves of the North Atlantic tossed themselves against the rocks and craggy cliff faces. The contrast of the bright light and the dancing shadows would make for some very interesting images for the book so I paused eating and quickly took some photos. I thought of the creative shots I’d taken whilst studying on the photography course, of window blinds and rickety fences under the summer sun, black harbour beams with the light glancing off them. This would be right along those lines, and was the kind of photography I enjoyed most.

Moment captured, I sat down and dived back into the food. My tastebuds were soon exploding with pleasure, as I enjoyed one of the Scottish salmon and cream cheese baps. I gave a considered chew. ‘So, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what happened with Iona and her ex?’

Logan bit into one of the crab sandwiches and considered my question. ‘Their marriage was a disaster waiting to happen. He was a successful Edinburgh architect, sent to Skye on business. Good-looking, flash; you know the type.’

Logan finished off the sandwich and wiped his fingers on one of the napkins. ‘They met four years ago and Iona fell for him hard. They got engaged after only six months and Iona persuaded him that they could live their married life here.’

‘But it didn’t work out?’

‘Nope. They’d been married less than a year when one night, in the early hours, Theo wrote her a note apologising and upped and left to head back to the mainland.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘It was to be expected, I guess, but Iona was broken-hearted. It’s only in the last eighteen months that she seems to have returned to her usual, happy self.’

‘You can’t keep looking back. It gets you nowhere. You have to look to the future.’