Page 43 of A Scottish Lighthouse Escape

This afternoon, I would make a start on tidying up my grandma’s desk.

Little wins, Rosie. Little wins.

Reece shrugged on his winter coat and lingered in the hallway with his painting beside him. ‘I hope my presence here today hasn’t upset you, Rosie. I’d hoped to see where Tilda lived, but you’ve given me so much more.’

‘It’s fine. I mean, it did all come as a bit of a shock. I’m just sorry you weren’t able to see my grandmother before she…’ I didn’t finish the sentence.

Reece gave an understanding nod and picked up his portrait. ‘Me too. How long are you intending on staying here for?’

A sliver of panic raced through me. Sooner or later, I would have to take decisive action and decide what I was going to do.

I forced a smile. ‘I’m not sure yet. Just playing things by ear at the moment.’

I gestured to his portrait in his arms. ‘I know the weather is alright at the minute, but let me see if I can find something to cover your painting with, to protect it from the elements.’

I darted back down to the art studio and after a bit of rooting around in my grandma’s cupboard, I came across a couple of sheets of canvas rolled up and stuffed in the far corner. One of these would be big enough to cover the portrait of Reece.

I returned back up the hallway with it rolled up and tucked under one arm. ‘Here. Let me help you.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Rosie. Thank you.’

I assisted Reece with the painting and held it, while he draped the canvas down and over the top of it. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but would you like to give me your contact details?’ I asked him, jerking my head down the hallway, indicating the art studio and its door now ajar. ‘I’m intending on making a start on tidying it up this afternoon, now that I’ve managed to step inside the place. If I find anything else that might relate to you, I could pass it on?’

Reece’s face blossomed with gratitude. ‘Would you? Oh, thank you so much. I’d appreciate that.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t deserve your kindness. Not after how I treated your grandmother.’

‘That was over sixty years ago.’

‘It still only feels like last week to me.’ His eyes clouded. ‘Believe me, I regret it. I never stopped loving her, you know.’

I took in the pain wavering in his eyes. ‘I can see that.’

I dashed into the kitchen, located an old envelope and pen and asked Reece to scribble down his contact details for me.

‘I’m staying in one of those Airbnb places a bit further up the coastal road. It’s an apartment and very nice. I was planning on staying here a few more days and then heading back to Edinburgh.’ He handed the envelope back to me, containing his temporary address and mobile phone number. His writing was all loops.

‘Thank you.’

Reece looked like he wanted to say something else. He fidgeted on the spot in his winter boots.

Bronte circled us both.

‘Tilda’s granddaughter,’ he sighed at me, as though reluctant to leave. ‘I can scarcely believe it. Could I visit again before I leave?’

‘I’d like that,’ I reassured him. I helped him out of the cottage door with the painting, even though he insisted he could manage, and angled it down the garden path and out of the gate to Reece’s car.

He clicked open the expansive boot and was lowering it in with reverence when a flicker of movement to my left caught my attention.

It was Mitch and Kane, who looked as if they’d just returned from a walk. They were up by the lighthouse.

I raised one hand and gave a brief wave. I found myself noticing the way the wind was rifling through his dark curls, before checking myself.

Mitch did the same before burying his face into the upturned collar of his coat.

Kane followed obediently.