Scarlett - Cathy Cassidy [43]
I’m so angry I’d like to slap his face, thump my fists against his skinny chest, spit on his shoes. Instead, I take a big breath in and count to ten, but that doesn’t even start to cut it, and I’m at eighty-seven before I feel his hand snake round mine in the dark.
‘I thought you’d understand,’ I whisper.
‘I do understand,’ he says. ‘I know that running away is a bad idea. It’s the worst, OK? Look, Scarlett, something happened – something I just can’t talk about. It’s been eating me up, and I ran away, came here, trying to get my head straight. I know how much I’ve hurt my family, worried them. And I know I have to go back.’
‘Go back?’ I panic. ‘You can’t!’
‘Scarlett, I wouldn’t have stayed this long if it hadn’t been for you,’ Kian says.
We sit in the dark for a long time in silence, holding hands, until the fire dies down to softly glowing embers.
‘We have to do this, even though it’s tough,’ Kian says. ‘I have to go back, and you have to stay here, face up to what you did, make your family see that you’re sorry.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can, Scarlett,’ Kian tells me. ‘You’re strong. You’ve made mistakes, sure, but running away would be the biggest one of all, I promise.’
Later, we ride back through the woods and along the lane, Kian’s arms round me, our hands muddled up together in Midnight’s mane.
‘I don’t want you to go,’ I whisper. ‘Please don’t.’
‘I have to,’ Kian sighs.
‘Just a few more days? Please?’ I beg. ‘You haven’t finished the hayricks, yet, you said…’
‘I dunno,’ he says. ‘I really need to find my dad and uncle. It’s important.’
‘I know, of course,’ I tell him. ‘But just a day or two? To say goodbye?’
Kian is silent for a long time, and then he speaks softly, quietly, into my hair. ‘Just a day or two then. OK?’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
We’ve reached the cottage gate with Holly’s handpainted sign advertizing eggs and strawberries and lettuce. I slip down from Midnight’s back and turn towards the house. The curtain in Holly’s room twitches slightly.
‘I’ll do the hayricks first thing,’ he tells me. ‘Meet you at the lough at one o’clock? At least we can say goodbye.’
I nod in the darkness, glad he can’t see my stricken face, then turn away quickly as he turns Midnight round, back towards the lough. I sneak round the side of the cottage, slip in through the back door, creep up the stairs. As I cross the landing, I hear Holly’s door shut softly, see the light click off from inside.
I knock softly on her door, turn the handle, go inside. She’s pretending to sleep, her face pale against the gloom, the quilt drawn up to her chin. I bend down to touch her cheek and she sits up, throwing her arms round me, hugging me so tightly I can hardly breathe.
‘Oh, Scarlett,’ she says. ‘I thought you’d gone.’
In the morning, Dad takes Holly into Galway to the dentist. There’s some dispute over whether she’s well enough, but I get the feeling Dad wants to keep her out of my way. The heat is already stifling outside, but things are feeling distinctly frosty between Dad, Clare and me.
‘Sorry,’ I say again.
‘S’OK.’ Holly grins. ‘I’ve changed my mind, anyhow. I don’t want a piercing any more.’
‘Bit late for that,’ Dad huffs. ‘Thanks to Scarlett.’
I am sorry, though. Sorry enough to take Kian’s advice and come back, sorry enough to hang around and watch the icicles form around me as Dad flashes me a reproachful look and Clare eyes me warily, as though I might start hacking the kitchen to bits with the bread knife at any moment.
Dad and Holly head off in the Morris Traveller. They’re making soap deliveries to craft shops in Galway too, and Dad has a meeting with a business that makes rag dolls from organic wool and cotton, and wants a handknitted website to match. They’ll be away all day.
‘I’ll be in the workshop if you need me,’ Clare says curtly. There’s no warmth, no sympathy in her voice, just a quiver of hurt, confusion. I know I put that there, and it makes me feel bad.
There’s more than one way to say sorry, though. I get out the mixing bowl and make a batch of fairy cakes, icing the tops with buttercream