‘Women.’ Raff looks at me with a resigned expression. ‘A mystery to me.’
I highly doubt that’s held him back. He has ‘lovable rogue’ pretty much written on his forehead.
Cleo smiles and reaches for her drink at the same time as I do, brushing my hand. I pull it away quickly, too fast, spilling the last of my beer on the table by mistake. It’s no big deal, it’s mopped up and quickly refilled, but I sense Cleo has picked up on my unease. God, I wish we were back at the lodge. I’m starving and short-tempered from stress. Cleo catches my eye across the table as the conversation flows around us, and beneath the table she lays her hand on my knee. I can’t help it; I move my leg away and shoot her an apologetic half-smile, half-grimace.
She sits back on the bench and looks at me, her head slightly to one side, then drains what’s left of her wine without taking her eyes off me.
‘I’m really sorry, I think I’m going to have to leave you guys to it,’ she says, gathering her jacket up as she gets to her feet. ‘I’m feeling a bit rough, might be the start of a migraine.’
Raff jumps out of his chair. ‘It’s that fire and all these people, I said not to light it. I’ll douse it, will I, and you can stay?’
She smiles and rubs his arm. ‘Honestly, it’s not the fire, it’s me,’ she says. ‘I’ll be right as rain after a couple of pills and a snooze.’
I pick up my fresh beer and down half of it. ‘Hang on, I’ll come,’ I say.
‘No, you stay,’ she says, avoiding my eyes. ‘I’ll be better on my own.’
No way am I letting her cross the island alone, it’s a different beast in the dark. I manage to get most of the Guinness down as she bends to kiss Delta goodbye.
She doesn’t glance back as she picks her way quickly across the pub, disappearing even as someone waylays me and shakes my hand. I love the easy conversational skills most of the islanders seem to have been born with, but they don’t make for a quick escape when you need one. By the time I’m outside with my coat in my hands, Cleo is almost at the far end of the road. I catch up with her beneath the last lamp post before the road becomes an unlit path.
‘Cleo,’ I say, putting my hand on her shoulder. ‘Wait up.’
She pauses and turns to look at me. ‘What was going on back there, Mack?’
I take the coward’s way out and pretend I don’t understand. ‘What do you mean?’
She stares at me for a couple of seconds, waiting for my honesty.
‘Look, I’m sorry, okay?’ I try.
The pale light from the wrought-iron street lamp illuminates her face.
‘You were ashamed,’ she says.
It’s not the word I’d choose. ‘Not of you,’ I say, struggling to put my feelings into words.
‘Of us, then,’ she says.
I rub my hand over my face. ‘Cleo, please. I’m not ashamed of us. It’s more … when it’s just you and me, it’s easy. I know people here won’t judge us but –’
‘Judge us for what, exactly?’ She cuts me off, scathing. ‘This island might be off the beaten track but it’s not stuck in the eighteen hundreds, Mack. I don’t think anyone here really gives a damn whether we’re having a holiday fling or not.’
‘I give a damn,’ I say, defensive. ‘I’m still a married man.’
She raises her eyes to the sky, her breath leaving her body in a slow huff that hangs in the cold night air. ‘You know what, Mack? Have it your way. You carry on being a married man, even though you separated from your wife more than a year ago and she’s clearly moved on. You carry on being a married man until you have a piece of paper that tells you different. And you know what? You’ll probably still feel like a married man even after then because splitting up wasn’t your choice. And you know where that will leave you? Bitter and lonely, watching life happen from the sidelines.’
We stare at each other. She’s breathing hard and I’m torn up inside by the unexpected harshness of her words.
‘You know something, Cleo? Maybe you should save your rookie romance advice for your readers because I’m a fucking grown-up.’
‘Bloody act like one then,’ she throws back, her chin rising.
We stare each other down, her eyes brimming with dark, swirling fury, her chest heaving, and Christ, I want her with a suddenness I can’t control. I see it happen to her too – the overflow of anger into something else – and I reach out and drag her into my arms, her mouth searching for mine, gasping, clashing, our kissing fierce, our breath ragged.