The Flight of Gemma Hardy_ A Novel - Margot Livesey [180]
“I don’t think you can imagine, Gemma, how I felt when I discovered you were gone. I’d been up all night thinking about what I could say to you.”
He had caught a plane to Inverness and followed me as far as Pitlochry, then lost the trail. He had telephoned police stations, churches, and libraries. He had checked hospitals and—his grip on my hand tightened—morgues. People had reported seeing me in Glasgow, Dunblane, Perth, Aberdeen. Each time he had travelled north, only to find some other young woman. As the weeks passed he had tried to persuade himself that I was fine, but he knew that I had little money, few friends, no family, no—
“How is Nell?” I interrupted.
“Nell,” he said. “She’s flourishing. Thanks to you, she’s doing well at the village school, and she’s made friends. She asks about you every time we speak.”
Involuntarily my free hand moved to the place below my ribs where her fist had landed. “I thought she hated me.”
“No. She was sure it was all her fault you’d left. I told her it was mine.”
I was still smiling as I asked how he had found me in seat 9A.
“I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news”—his voice fell and again his hand tightened around mine—“but your aunt has died.”
My gasp was more of amazement than sorrow. After all my failures at telepathy, I had, it seemed, inherited a small portion of Kristjana’s gifts. But there was no time to consider that now. Mr. Sinclair was already explaining that her death had set off a chain of phone calls. A woman named Mrs. Marshall had called Aberfeldy and, when she learned I was in Iceland, had—he didn’t know why but was eternally grateful—called Blackbird Hall.
“Mrs. Marsden,” I corrected. So even as we both endured Louise’s conversation, she had sensed some of what I couldn’t say.
“I knew how you felt about Iceland,” he went on, “and I couldn’t help hoping that meeting you here would be a second chance.” He had flown to Reykjavik the day before and, like me, had asked people at the airport if they could help him: Did anyone remember the arrival of a Scottish girl, travelling alone, in the last week? After questioning him closely, Nanna had agreed to arrange our meeting. “Thanks to her and her aunt, I have nearly three hours to persuade you not to run away again.”
I pulled my hand free of his and kept it, firmly, in my lap while I asked about Mrs. MacGillvary. Was she angry with me? As Mr. Sinclair said that he didn’t know—he hadn’t spoken to her directly—the air hostess set down trays of neat sandwiches. I couldn’t help reaching for one.
“That’s the easy part,” said Mr. Sinclair. “How we both got here. The hard part is can we get to a different place from the one in which you left me. I’ve had nearly a year to think about how I might make amends.”
I ate a delicious sandwich and then another while he told me that he was having the croft beyond the meadow rebuilt for Seamus. Maybe if he wasn’t living in Alison’s old home he’d be able to imagine a life without her. And Vicky was advertising for a couple to live in the house and help look after Nell.
“Can you afford all this?” I asked between bites. “Houses and jobs are expensive.”
“They are,” he said, sounding amused. “But when I haven’t been looking for you, I’ve had my shoulder to the wheel. And this is still much cheaper than sending Nell to boarding school, which, you may recall, I promised not to do.”
His emphasis on “promised” made me eager to change the subject. I announced that I had got into Edinburgh University. “At least I’m pretty sure I did. The exams results aren’t out until August.”
“That’s terrific, Gemma. You must have worked very hard. If it weren’t ten in the morning I’d ask the air hostess for champagne.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that one could drink champagne on an aeroplane. “I did work hard. Studying was the only way I could imagine my life getting