Ch17: Stolen May 30th part 2

“Did you manage to call my parents?”

We are still in bed, the sheets twisted around our bodies, sweat drying as the breeze comes in the open window.

“Of course I did. They were happy you’re safe. They told you to take your time and come home when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” I say and stroke the side of his face. “I hope you don’t think less of me because of this.”

He laughs softly. “Of course not.” He leans over and kisses me. “I’m surprised you’d allow an old man like me to have his wicked way, but I’m not complaining.”

“You’re not so old.” I stare at him. “How old are you, anyway?”

He laughs louder this time. “Thirty-nine. Can you handle being with someone as ancient as me?”

“I think I can manage.” I can’t remember feeling this happy in a long time. It feels so good.

“So what exactly were your reasons for running away from home?”

I sit up in bed and my eyes flit to the corner where my diary is hidden. “The truth?”

Ian plumps up a pillow and lies on his side, watching me. “What else is there?”

“Shades of what happened,” I say, being deliberately vague.

Ian says nothing.

“I was hurt by something my dad said almost a year ago. I needed to get away so I could find forgiveness.” I let out a humourless laugh. “Sounds stupid saying it out loud. I ran all the way to Shetland to think through something hurtful my dad said months ago.”

“Words can cut deeply, and no doubt that is what your father did to you. Don’t be ashamed of or belittle your needs.” He reaches out and takes one of my hands, giving it a squeeze.

“Right, subject change. Do you need help fixing that turbine?”

The sun has come out just as I predicted it would. Small puffy clouds move at quite a clip, and there’s a gusty breeze on ground level to match. Ian ignores the manual, leaving it on the shelf as he picks up the toolkit. I’m really only there for support.

As he tinkers with the insides of the turbine, I watch the seals and wonder about me and Ian. It’s a holiday romance, a one off. He’ll take me back to Mainland and see me onto a plane to Aberdeen. Maybe we’ll exchange a few emails, and then I’ll realise a few months has gone by since either of us bothered to try and communicate. In the meantime, I’ll be putting my life, post Chris and Gemma, back together.

I’m looking forward to seeing Mum and Dad. They’ll fuss over me when I get there, and I plan on giving Dad a hug – it’ll be the first time since Gemma’s funeral. My heart aches at the thought of her. As soon as the excitement at my homecoming is done, I’ll take some flowers to her and Chris. Maybe visit Jo and see how she’s holding up.

Ian is busy while I sit on a rock, the baby seals playing in the surf mere metres from me. They’re getting big quickly, in the two weeks I’ve been here I can see a huge change in them. One of them stops to regard me with its big black eyes, then lets out a bark before flipping over in the water. The fearlessness of the creatures on Vanir never ceases to amaze me. I’d even got one of the puffins coming to me to be petted.

“All done.” Ian announces. The cover to the mechanics is still off, but the turbine has started up again. It’s whirling around furiously.

“So what was wrong?”

He shrugs. “The usual thing, one of the cogs slips. I should get a technician to fix it properly, but getting one of them out here is quite a challenge.” He screws the cover back into place and puts his tools away. “There’s been a storm recently.” He doesn’t ask, he’s examining the beach.

“Yes, a few days ago. Quite an amazing thing to watch on a little island. Lucky the cottage is weather tight.”

“You didn’t collect the wood like I told you.”

I feel a twinge of guilt. I’d completely forgotten about him asking that. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to leave it. I could collect some now?”  

He waves a hand in a dismissive way, and I get the impression I’ve been told off. “Tell you what, I’ll help you.”

“Thanks,” I say, and frown. I don’t like being made to feel like a naughty school child.

The rest of the afternoon is taken up as we walk the beaches, making numerous trips back to the cottage, our arms full of wood. I realise as my stomach rumbles for dinner that it’s too late for Ian to take me back to Mainland. The disappointment takes me by surprise. I’ve enjoyed my two weeks here, but all I want now is to be on my way home. I want my mum and dad.

We finish up clearing the beaches and make our way back to the cottage. I’m tired and dirty and ready to collapse for the evening.

“I’ve brought a treat for you.” Ian takes a package out of the larder. There are two enormous slabs of red meat inside. “I make a mean steak. You go get washed up. I’ll do the cooking.”

Seems like I’m being ordered, directed, and I don’t like it. But I am filthy from carrying all that driftwood, and there’s a slimy coating from the seaweed that an initial hand wash didn’t remove. Obediently, I go to the shower. It’s obvious we’ll be spending the night, and I’m regretting sleeping with Ian now. He’ll want to share the bed with me – he’ll probably want to screw again. What man his age wouldn’t want to score with a woman half his age?

Jesus, I was so stupid. I should never have let him have his way.

I make it through the evening. The steak was indeed the best steak I’d ever eaten, melting in my mouth and full of flavour. Ian made buttery new potatoes and cut beans to accompany the meat, and after days of living out of tins, the meal really was manna from heaven.

As the time creeps up on eleven, we take to the bed. I allow Ian to have his way with me and then curl up against the wall. I’ll be going home tomorrow, and my time on Vanir will become an eclectic mix of memories, a time to reminisce about, give me stories to tell to anyone who’ll listen.

Then a thought occurs to me as I drift off. Ian brought the steak for our dinner. He had no intention of taking me home today. The idea chills me, and for a long time sleep eludes me.