Fintan took off his kilt, put on that morning with such joy and expectation. He pulled off his shirt, sighing deeply, shaking his head.
‘How could you?’ he whispered. ‘How could you keep it from me for so long?’
‘Because …’ growled Colton. ‘Because every time you mention your mother you tear up. Because every time I think about what you’ve been through – what I’m about to put you through – I feel like the biggest son of a bitch on earth. Because I love to see your smile and I love to hear your laugh and, right now, the biggest fear I have is that I’m never going to see those things again, and I knew it would start right the moment you found out. Because …’
He let out a great sigh.
‘Because as soon as I got the diagnosis I should have broken up with you. I’m a heel. An absolute heel not to do that for you. I should have treated you so badly you hated me and were absolutely delighted when I walked out the door.’
Fintan shook his head. ‘You couldn’t have done that.’
‘Well, if I’d been a half-decent man, I’d have given it a shot.’ Colton covered his face. ‘Man, I am so, so sorry.’
Fintan crawled up on the huge, luxurious bed. It was to have been their marriage bed. No: it was.
‘Is there nothing left to try?’ he said. His voice was a rasp.
‘Let me tell you,’ said Colton. ‘There is nothing you or anyone else could do about this disease. You could hate me or love me or divorce me or whatever you like. Stage four pancreatic cancer gives no shits about what you do at this point, what I do, what anyone does. You got that?’ He put one arm around Fintan. ‘Please?’
Fintan looked up at him. ‘This isn’t fair!’
‘I know, baby, I know.’
Fintan crept under his arm. ‘Other people get everything they want.’
‘I did,’ said Colton.
Fintan blinked.
‘Now, listen. You’re protected,’ said Colton. ‘I’m not leaving you much. It’s all going to Cancer Research. Obviously. But if anyone tries to dispute the will, it’s all on paper and it’s all known: you didn’t coerce me to marry you; you had no idea I was sick; you had no idea what was going on. A hundred witnesses there today. That’s why I did it, you understand? You have no idea what hard-asses my family are.’
‘Well, they produced you,’ said Fintan.
‘Yeah.’
Fintan blinked again.
‘And you will have the Rock, and the Seaside Kitchen, and the Manse. That’s for you. And some years’ running costs – not loads. Not enough so you can lie on that gorgeous little ass of yours. And nobody will ever, ever dispute it or try and take it from you. You got the best lawyer in the world protecting that. And you are well within your rights to storm out, or to break up with me, or hell, I don’t even care what you do.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I’m going to stay here. On my beach. In the most beautiful place on God’s earth. Eating good food. Drinking good whisky. And if you would keep me company I would be very, very happy. But if you can’t, I understand.’
Fintan didn’t say anything.
‘But right now, whatever Saif brought me is making me want to sleep like a baby. God bless that man.’
Colton looked at Fintan. ‘Will you be here when I wake up?’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ said Fintan.
Chapter Seventy-one
The spell of good weather continued right through August. Saif started walking the Endless in the morning again, but now with the boys to give them a bit of a blow before school, and he did what Neda told him to and talked about their mother every day. They looked for the boat, of course, but more as a ritual: more of a chance for them all to be together; more as force of habit.
It was a few weeks before Lorna and Saif ran into each other.
Lorna came down later than usual with Milou that day, and Ash and Ibrahim were there, bouncing up and down delightedly as she appeared. Ash was desperate to know if she’d seen his picture that Mrs Cook had pinned up, and Ibrahim told her shyly, and to her utter delight, that he’d finished the Horrid Henry book she’d given him, and could he possibly have another? She was pleased to see them, but she’d managed to avoid Saif at school pick-up since the new term had started, and had absolutely no wish to see him here. She couldn’t avoid him for ever, after confessing everything – but she wanted to give it a very good try. But here he was, and they were both walking in the same direction.
They stood, looking at one another, as the boys ran far away, playing with Milou, all three kicking happily in the chilly sea.
Lorna couldn’t bear to look at him now. It made her tremble, with hope, with despondency, with such utter desire as she felt the reality of the two of them, alone, no other Murians for miles. It was just the feel of him on the salty air; the huge sky above them; the pale sand. And nothing for her. She opened her mouth to make small talk about Colton – nobody on Mure could talk about anything else – but then he turned round suddenly, stricken, eyes wide with his desire, his overwhelming yearning – and nothing came out.
What would it be like? he thought with a sudden shiver. He had thought of little else since the wedding. What would it be like? That red hair, coiled around his fingers, that had haunted his dreams. To count every freckle on her pale skin. He shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them she was still standing there, and the air between them felt wavy and charged, and time had stopped. Lorna realised she was holding her breath, as if there were no need to move on to the next stop, the next second, the next bit of the universe, when everything in it, everything she was and had ever wanted to be, would be changed by what was going to happen in this moment, in this instant, and after it nothing could be the same. She wanted to hold it, before she slipped and moved and changed, and she needed to bring her eyes up to meet his but she was terrified of what she might see there; the desperate desire she herself felt; the melting sense of recognition, the same wanting.
But what if it were not? Could she bear it? Could she wait? Could she not?
And she did not look into his eyes. Which was a shame because she would have seen all of those things there, and she might have tipped him over the edge, caused him to abandon everything he had planned – everything he believed and ever wanted – had she grabbed him and pulled him to her.
But Lorna was not like that. And there were children on the beach. And she did not raise her head until he started, with great difficulty, to speak.
‘Lorenah …’
She closed her eyes. Trying to work out his tone.
‘There is …’
He stopped. Then he took a deep breath. Because if he could not have what he wanted, he needed to explain why. He was not a man for lengthy speeches, and the phrases swirled in and out of Arabic in his head, in a more ornate and old-fashioned style, and he was reminded of the ancient formal language of the Grimms’ Fairy Tales his mother had read to him as a child.
‘There are …’ he went on stiltedly, his accent making him slow down to be as clear as he could.
‘There are worlds. There are so many worlds and so many times for you and me. If you were born in my village and we had been children there. If my father had moved to Britain, so long ago, and not Damascus. If I had come here to study. If you had travelled and we had met …’
Lorna shook her head. ‘Those things would never have happened.’
‘They could have happened, a million times,’ insisted Saif. ‘And I would have passed you in a marketplace or we would have been laughing in a coffee shop or on a train somewhere.’
Lorna smiled painfully. ‘I don’t think you would just have swung by Mure.’
‘If I had known you would be here, I would have.’
They both stared out to sea.
‘Had we but worlds enough, and time,’ said Lorna ruefully. Saif glanced up.
he said softly.