Set Me Free (19 page)

Margherita

The days after were a blur. I took Leo to the play park, I baked for La Piazza, I tried to keep myself busy. So much had happened, I had to digest it all.

I kept thinking of Torcuil.

And of the mistaken phone call.

For once the play park was empty, so I decided I could chance a whispered call with Anna. I looked at the watch – it was early morning in Colorado, so maybe she had a moment.

“Anna? It's me,” I said, as I always did.

“Hello, sweetheart. How are things up there?”

“All good. Yes. All good,” I lied.

“Something happened. Tell me.”

“You're getting worse than Mum! Honestly!”

“Yeah, well. Shoot.”

“I sort of . . . I don't know how to put it.”

“You slept with Torcuil? Oh my God!”

“I
what
? No!
No way!
How . . . What . . .
Anna
!” I was outraged.

“Well, you are separated! And you have been for a long time!”

“Six months is not a long time! Not in my book anyway.”

“Yeah, well. So tell me what happened.”

“We didn't sleep together. You have a sick imagination, honestly.”

“Okay, okay, bloody Jane Austen. Your glove dropped onto the ground and he picked it up and your fingers touched and now you're all in a flurry!”

“Stop teasing me. We kissed.”

“That is so romantic!”

“Anna. I'm married. And a mother of two.”

“You are separated. And you might be a mother of two, but you're also thirty-eight, which makes you too young to never have a relationship again.”

“It's not a relationship! It's a kiss!”

“
It started with a kiiisss . . . it started with a kiiisss . . .
” she began singing. I could have strangled her.

“Anna!”

“Sorry, Margherita, I have to get the boys up; we're going on a hike. I swear my feet are falling off, Paul's family here are mental. They take us hunting in the mountains every day – it's like I'm training for the SAS. I'm going to call you back as soon as I can and you can tell me the rest.”

“There's nothing more to say, I think.”

“You are joking? I want to know about the kiss! Was it wonderful? Was it? Or was it meh? Or was it whatever, not that good but not that bad either?”

“It was . . . it was wonderful.”

“Oh my God! Oh my God! When do I meet him? Okay, I know it's too soon, but—”

“It definitely
is
too soon. He said he doesn't want anything more to happen anyway.”

“Oh. Why? That is . . . that is . . . oh! How can he be not interested? Is he
blind
?”

I smiled at my sister's loyalty.

“No, it's not like that. It's that he wants to be sure my heart is really in it before he commits.”

“But it was just a kiss . . . I mean, is he talking about commitment? Is it not a bit intense?”

“He doesn't see it like that. He's been hurt in the past and he doesn't want to go back there. He wants to be able to trust me.”

“So he put an end to it? Unless you can commit?”

“Well . . . he kissed me, and then . . . he kissed me again. So I don't know what's going on, really. He's very . . . he's very kind. I can't explain.” My heart softened as I thought of him. “It's like he doesn't open his heart easily and if he does . . . Well, he doesn't want to be hurt again.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Well, I told him I can't make promises right now. And I can't. I'm confused and . . . I don't know. I don't know.”

At that moment, a local mum sat beside me on the bench, while her two toddlers spilled out into the play park. “I have to go too. Speak soon.”

“Bye Margherita. And congratulations,” she added absurdly.
Congratulations for what, you crazy woman?
I texted her at once. My phone chirped in reply and I was ready to see what Anna was saying . . . but it was Torcuil. It was hard to hide my confusion as I felt the colour rising to my cheeks – I stood up and wandered off, away from the bench.

Are you okay?

Yes. A bit confused, but okay. You?

I want to get into the car and come see you and talk things through, but I can't, I'm in Edinburgh.

This comforted me a little. That he still wanted to see me.

But I wasn't supposed to see him.

Oh, I was getting all worked up again.

It's okay
. I'll see you on Friday,
I texted back, and my phone chirped once more.

I said congratulations because you started living again. Anna.

Had I? Really?

Because it felt like I was just messing everything up. I waited a bit for a text from Torcuil and I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or desolated that there were no more.

Torcuil

What I said to her makes no sense.

About needing a promise, and that without that promise, I couldn't let myself fall.

Because I've fallen already.

Because love doesn't come with conditions. To say
I'll only love you if you won't leave me
means it's not love in the first place.

The only way to love is
no matter what
.

It's forgetting every fear.

It's a leap of faith.

How could I have deluded myself to this extent? How could I have deluded myself that I needed a promise before I let myself burn, when I was ablaze already?

Margherita

I was relieved when finally night fell. I'd spent the whole evening making
nocciolini
and
paste di meliga
to serve at La Piazza, Leo was drifting off to sleep, and Lara was reading in her room. I'd said to Mum and Michael that I was tired and I'd have an early night. My mum had been studying my face, of course, and several times through the day I saw her looking at me when she thought I couldn't see her. She suspected that something was going on, but I wondered if she was aware that Torcuil was involved. I wasn't ready to talk about it. I dreaded what she would say if she knew I'd got so close to Torcuil.

I was lying on my bed with Leo beside me, trying to read but really lost in thought, when Lara tiptoed in, careful not to wake her brother up. There was something in her face that made me do a double take. She was worried about something, I realised at once. As always with anything regarding Lara, anxiety swept through me. I worried about her so much more than I did about Leo, though I loved them just the same.

“Fancy some chamomile tea?” she whispered.

“That would be lovely,” I murmured back, stroking Leo's hair.

Lara went to make some tea in my mum's kitchen and came back with two steaming mugs and a little plate of the
paste
we'd made that afternoon. I followed her into her room. We sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching our warm cups. It felt good to have our little ritual again – like a lighthouse in the storm of my thoughts.

“This is lovely,” I said in a low voice.

“I put honey in our tea,” she said. We were dancing around what was to come; I could feel it. I knew she was getting ready to speak to me.

“Mum?”

Here we go. “Yes?”

“He wasn't there again today.”

“Mal?”

She nodded. “Yes. I haven't seen him for days now. We've been meeting almost every day, and—”

“Every day, Lara?” I asked, slightly alarmed. I hadn't realised things were so serious. I silently berated myself for not probing her more about Mal.

“I said
almost
every day.”

“Right.” I stopped myself from saying more. She needed my support, not the third degree. “Look, he'll be there tomorrow, I'm sure . . .”

“I hope so.”

“. . . and I'd like to meet this boy.”

“Mum!” The colour rose in her cheeks and she put her cup down on her bedside table.

“Well, when you're ready, okay? If you're seeing each other every day and he's so important to you . . . You're only fourteen, Lara. I need to at least see him once.”

“Fine! I'll ask him if he can come and get me at the house one day so you can say hello, okay?”

“Okay.”

Pause.

“Is he from Glen Avich? Or is he here just for the summer, like us?”

So much for not giving her the third degree. But I couldn't help myself.

She grabbed her mug again and she leaned back on her pillows.

“He lives here,” she said.

I was holding my breath, hoping my request hadn't made her clam up. We sipped our tea in silence until, finally, she spoke.

“You see, last time we met, he said something.”

“What did he say?”

“That he didn't know how long he'd be able to stay for. At the time I thought he just meant he had to get home soon, but now I'm not so sure.”

“Did he elaborate on that?”

She shook her head.

“Maybe they're moving away?”

“Maybe.”

“Can't you just ask him?” I said, gesturing at her mobile phone on the desk beside me.

“He doesn't have a phone. Can you believe it?” Lara replied, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

“Seriously? He must be the only person left on the planet.”

“Yeah . . . he's not into modern things much. He didn't know what an iPod was when I showed him mine.”

“Well, Glen Avich is a little bit backwards compared to London, but not
that
backwards. It seems to me that your friend is a bit of a technophobe.”

“He loves books,” she said, and her face brightened up.

“Oh, that's good.”

Lara nodded. “Yes. He's a lot like me. He doesn't have many friends.”

Her throwaway comment squeezed my heart. “You just haven't found the right people, yet.”

“I don't even know if the right people for me actually exist,” she replied, biting a
pasta
. “Nonna wants to introduce me to a couple of kids from Kinnear High, but I don't know. Mmmm. This is heavenly . . . Anyway. I just hope Mal will be there tomorrow.”

“I'm sure you'll see him again soon. You meet at the bridge, don't you?” I said casually. I needed to know she wasn't going somewhere isolated with this guy. I knew she was streetwise and not likely to do anything silly or dangerous, but I wanted to make sure.

“Yes. And around the loch.”

“Lara—”

“I know what you're thinking. And you
really
don't need to worry. Mum, I'm going to do a bit of writing before I go to sleep.”

The time for confidences was over. But I had one last question.

“Lara, I was wondering . . . do you know his second name?”

“So you can do your research?” A smile was dancing on her lips.

“Not at all. What makes you think that?” I laughed, gathering the cups and the plates back on the tray.

“I don't know his second name. I never asked him.”

“Nothing like a man of mystery,” I teased. I resolved to ask my mum and Michael if they knew something about this enigmatic boy.

“Mum, stop it!”

“Sorry. Anyway, I'll be off watching TV with Nonna and Michael.” I'd given up on an early night; my mind was too agitated. “Just come through if you want some company,” I said, and gently swept away a tiny crumb from her cheek, letting my fingers linger for a moment on her beloved face.

Her school would open again in three weeks' time. Soon our butterfly summer would be over. But I couldn't bring myself to mention that aloud, because it would upset Lara and it would upset me.

None of us was looking forward to going back.

We sat in my mum's house until late, but Lara didn't join us. From the window I saw the light in her room shine for a little while, and then it was all dark. She'd gone to sleep.

“Mum, you know the way I told you that Lara made a friend? Well, they're meeting nearly every day, apparently,” I said.

“Yes, you mentioned it.”

“Is he really just a friend, though?” Michael pondered. “Are you sure?”

Mum laughed. “Don't fret, Michael.”

“I'm not fretting. I'm just saying, when my daughter was fifteen I had to fend them off with my rolling pin.”

“I'm sure they were terrified.” Mum laughed again and I couldn't help joining in. “Did you throw biscuits at them?”

“A biscuit can hurt, if aimed correctly,” he quipped. Once again, I saw how much my mum and Michael were in harmony with each other, how deeply comfortable in each other's company. And once again, together with the joy I felt for Mum, a vague heartache filled me, to see what I had wanted to build with Ash and somehow failed to.

“She told me he's just a friend,” I said. “But I'm sure they're sweet on each other.”

“Well, that's good. I'm happy for Lara,” my mum said.

“So am I, but I really want to meet him. I don't feel comfortable not knowing who he is. I mean, if we were in London I'd never let her meet someone I don't have a clue about . . .”

“Of course, but here is different. Everybody knows each other and there are ties with the villages around as well. Young people here don't have much chance to do anything secretly,” said my mum. “Is Mal is short for Malcolm?”

“Probably. Lara says he definitely lives here in Glen Avich.”

“I don't know any boys by that name personally . . . Do you, Michael?” He shook his head. “But I'm bound to know somebody who does. I'll ask Peggy. She knows every single soul around here.”

“Including pets, guardian angels and everybody's ancestry,” Michael chimed in. “She's like a human Google for the Aberdeenshire area.”

“That's a good idea. I need to get a few things at her shop anyway, tomorrow. I'll ask her myself.”

As I got myself ready for bed, I realised that I hadn't thought about what happened with Torcuil for a few hours, after having obsessed about it since the day before. It was a blessed relief, but I ended up replaying our kiss in my mind over and over again as I drifted off to sleep, in spite of the guilt. I found myself counting the hours to when I'd see him again – wishing the days away until he came back to Glen Avich. But nobody, nobody ever needed to know. It would be a secret for me to keep.

The next morning Leo and I went out with the excuse of running errands, but I was hunting for some more information about Mal. It was a beautiful day and Leo skipped happily by my side. We dropped by Peggy's shop, which was, fortunately, empty – no curious ears to hear what I was asking. I didn't want to tell her the real reason for my curiosity in case any gossip about Lara started, so I kept it vague.

“I was wondering . . .” I began as I helped Peggy slip my groceries into a canvas bag. “I've met a few people since I arrived, but I can't quite place this boy . . . His name is Mal. Maybe short for Malcolm.” I didn't specify how I'd met him, and Peggy didn't ask.

“Oh, yes. It could be Mal MacLennan,” she said, and I smiled inwardly, remembering Michael calling her Google for the Aberdeenshire area. “A lovely lad. He's doesn't live here, though. He lives in Glasgow. They come back to the village every summer. They stay with the lad's grandmother, Morag MacLennan, two houses down from me. You know the wee lassie, Ruby, the one with the head of curls?”

“Oh, yes. Leo played with her a few times.”

“Well, Ruby is Morag's youngest granddaughter, so Mal is actually her uncle.”

“Right.” My head spun a bit at the intricacies of Glen Avich family ties. “Do you know if he's still down for the summer or if he's gone back to Glasgow?”

“No, the McLennans didn't come at all this summer . . .”

Oh. Dead lead.

“. . . Morag told me they'd gone to visit their eldest daughter in Arizona and stayed there all summer. It's a shame. She misses them this year. I suppose there's always the October week . . .” Peggy kept chatting as my mind wandered.

“You don't happen to know any other Mal? Or Malcolm?”

“A few, but they're all my age. Malcolm is an old-fashioned name, isn't it? They don't tend to call little ones ‘Malcolm' any more. My friend's granddaughter called her son Wingo. Seriously! That poor wee mite having to live with that for the rest of his life.”

“Maybe he's a tourist?” I tried to steer the conversation away from Wingo and on to Mal.

“Maybe. I'll ask around, if you like? Tourists always end up at the Welly anyway – you know the outdoor shop? Inary's brother owns it. That'd be Logan. I'm his grand-aunt, you know . . .” She'd lost me. She could see it on my face, and she laughed. “Never mind, dear! Maybe Logan knows your Mal. I'll ask Eilidh, anyway.”

“Thank you, Peggy,” and I went to go before she tried to explain to me any more genealogical trees.

“No bother, dear.” Her eyes wrinkled all around as she smiled warmly. For a second I thought she'd ask me where I'd met Mal, but she didn't. I was grateful for that. Maybe she'd guessed, who knows. One thing was sure: if she didn't find out for me, nobody could, and this Mal was a figment of Lara's rich imagination. Or he went by a false name, I joked to myself, and I was immediately freaked out by my own joke. I hoped with all my heart to meet him soon and dispel all my fears.

On my way back to La Piazza, I debated whether to speak to Inary about this. Maybe she knew something and she could ask her brother. But I wasn't sure it was right to do that. After all, in spite of the age difference she and Lara were friends, and it really felt disloyal, like going behind Lara's back.

“Would you like to go to the play park?” I asked Leo. How easy to please he was, a three-year-old puppy who just needed cuddles and fresh air. A universe away from the complications and complexities of a nearly fifteen-year-old girl. And of a thirty-eight-year-old woman, for that matter.

“Yes!” Leo jumped up and down, and pulled on my hand.

As I sat on one of the play-park benches in the morning sun, feeling a gentle breeze on my skin, I decided to wait and see, and keep close tabs on Lara in the meantime. I didn't want my beautiful, sensitive daughter to ever get hurt. Though I knew that all women do, sooner or later, and her turn would come. I just hoped it wouldn't happen too soon, before she knew how to protect her heart at least a little.

As for me, I was lost. I couldn't make any decisions, because I didn't trust my confused heart to make the right one.