“I can do that on the plane. I just feel I should be there. He called today.”
Rogers had been very keen for him to be there, it was true. But there was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something about the island . . . He didn’t know what it was, but since he’d gotten back, the rush and frenzy of work hadn’t appealed to him quite so much. Another massive heatwave had hit London and everything felt soggy and damp and slow, and he had put it down to lethargy. But when he thought back to that big white beach that went on forever, and the freshness of the air, and the sheer lack of people, the great emptiness, it felt almost like a dream. But an energizing one.
“Rogers was very insistent.”
Margo blinked once more.
“I’ll get it booked.”
“Also, I need an outdoors store.”
“What do you mean?”
“Somewhere you buy outdoors stuff. I don’t know.”
The only personal thing Margo usually spent time on for her boss was rudely deflecting calls from breathy-sounding girls. This was new.
“What kind of outdoors stuff?”
“I don’t know! That’s fine! Off you go! Close the door!”
Margo always knew when to beat a hasty retreat, which was why she’d lasted so long with Joel, who got through staff at the speed of light, generally unable to avoid sleeping with the pretty ones, who then got upset, and taking no interest in the older ones, who then got upset. Margo was both gay and unflappable, which made her more or less perfect for the job, and every time he was rude to her, she put in for another pay raise, which he would always approve without comment. She picked up the phone to the airline.
“Well, it’s settled then,” Mrs. Kennedy was saying.
“Oh, Mrs. Kennedy. Honestly. Anything but that. I haven’t danced in years.”
“What’s settled?”
Charlie had seen her from the other end of the street, and hurried up to say hello.
“Would you still fit in the costume?” said Mrs. Kennedy.
Flora rolled her eyes.
“Yes!” she said crossly.
“Well then, it’s settled,” repeated Mrs. Kennedy.
“I don’t think it’s settled!” said Flora.
“What’s settled?” said Charlie again. “Flora, I need your leftovers.”
“There are none today. Everything’s going to the party.”
“Oh yes.”
“Flora’s going to dance at the party,” said Mrs. Kennedy.
“Are you?” said Charlie.
“No,” said Flora. “I’m out of practice.”
“Can you still get a bun out of that hair?” said Mrs. Kennedy.
“No,” said Flora, who had bad memories of the tightly scraped-back hair she’d always had to have to show off her neck. “So you’ll have to disqualify me.”
“We’ll be doing Ghillie Callum and Seann Triubhas.”
“To a band?” said Charlie.
“Aye.”
“This will be great.”
“Teàrlach, you’re not helping.”
Charlie smiled to himself.
“What?” said Flora.
“Ach, you won’t remember . . . I think I’ve seen you dance before.”
Flora narrowed her eyes at him.
“I don’t think so.”
“We came over from Bute. While back. There was an inter-islands mod.”
Flora blinked. The mod was the Highlands and Islands celebration of traditional music. And also a great opportunity for teenagers to get away from their parents and misbehave.
“I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” he said, his smile crinkling his blue eyes.
“What? Which one were you?” said Flora.
“Oh, just one of the pipers.”
“That doesn’t really narrow it down.”
“No, I know.”
“I don’t want to see the pictures,” said Flora suddenly. “I had a bit of a rough hand with the blush.”
“I had quite a lot more hair then,” said Charlie.
He fell quiet for a moment.
“You were a good dancer,” he said.
“She wasn’t that good,” said Mrs. Kennedy.
“I do remember you,” said Charlie. “Your hair came loose.”
“It always did.”
“It was the palest color I’d ever seen.”
“Imagine you remembering that.”
“I’ll see you at six,” said Mrs. Kennedy.
Flora glanced anxiously at her watch.
“What? But I’ve got to instruct the girls!”
“They’re dancing too,” said Mrs. Kennedy smugly. “Just make sure they know what they’re doing . . .”
“Oh for God’s sake!”
“. . . if you want me to come to Mr. Rogers’s party. And think well of him.”
“I’ll be there,” said Charlie, smiling.
“This is blackmail,” said Flora, looking at Mrs. Kennedy’s stooped back walking away.
Charlie glanced around. Jan was striding purposefully up the street toward them.
“Okay. Duty calls,” he said, and lifted his hand and walked away. Jan immediately started bending his ear about something.
“See you later,” said Flora.
Chapter Thirty-two
The rest of the day was a crazed frenzy. Everyone baked and baked until the windows of the Café by the Sea were completely fogged up. The entire village dropped by because they knew Flora was somehow behind all this and they wanted to know what to wear and who else was going and whether they’d feel strange. There was barely a household that hadn’t received an invitation.
Fintan kept calling, beside himself with nerves as professional caterers and drinks suppliers turned up, but as far as Flora could tell, he seemed to be dealing with it admirably.
Meanwhile, the Café by the Sea carried on, pie after pie, great piles of oatcakes, Innes driving vanloads of food over to the Rock. They were all pink in the face and quite sweaty, but it looked like they’d be done in time. Raspberries, piles of them; frozen batches of last summer’s brambles; plus, mostly, the glorious cloudberries that grew at the very tip of Mure, their sharp, burstingly fresh flavor scenting the kitchen and making Agot, whom Innes had dropped off after she kept being a pain in the neck in the van, and who was now being an utter menace in the kitchen, run round and round in circles and point-blank refuse to take her afternoon nap, which boded very badly indeed for the evening ahead. Even the offer of a hunk of grilled cheese didn’t settle her; she eyed it and declared that she actually needed pie instead.
Flora decorated the top of each pie as carefully as possible, with cutout berries, and leaves, and even a little Mure flag. The radio started playing a Karine Polwart song—“Harder to Walk These Days Than Run”—which they all knew. Flora and Agot sang along very loudly to the fast bits and even did a bit of dancing, and they were both giggling and covered in flour when suddenly, completely out of the blue, Joel walked in carrying an overnight bag.
Flora dropped the sieve right away.
“Ah,” she said, as he stood there framed in the doorway.
With him there, all the excitement of the last few weeks seemed somehow inappropriate; she wasn’t sure if this was the kind of thing he really wanted her to be doing, whatever Colton said.