Christmas on the Island Read online

  * * *

  Colton was still propped up, Fintan noticed with some relief. Low winter sun was pouring through the vast old windows, from across the bouncing sea. It was very warm in the room.

  ‘Do you want a window opened?’ said Fintan, and Colton shook his head, which he couldn’t move without difficulty. Tripp on some level realised this, and walked around the foot of the bed until he was in Colt’s eyeline.

  There was a long silence while the two brothers looked at one another. Fintan stayed by the window. He would have liked to get some fresh air in the room. He would have liked Tripp not to be there. But. But.

  ‘Hey,’ said Colton eventually. His voice wasn’t much more than a croak.

  ‘Hey,’ said Tripp.

  ‘What, you come to laugh, or what?’

  Everyone paused. Fintan had never heard such a bitter tone in Colton’s voice – never.

  ‘What? NO,’ said Tripp. ‘I didn’t . . . we didn’t . . . we didn’t know you were ill.’

  ‘Right,’ said Colton. ‘So . . . just the money then.’

  ‘Mom was . . . Mom and Pop were wondering where you were. And I volunteered to come see you.’

  Colton nodded.

  ‘Out of the kindness of your hearts?’

  ‘You’re still their son.’

  ‘Yeah, well, lucky me,’ said Colton.

  ‘You never came back. Even once.’

  ‘To what? To you kicking me up and down the football field and laughing with your buddies? To Dad screaming at me to be a man in front of the whole neighbourhood? I mean, tell me more of what I’d be missing in that one-horse shithole. Vote for Trump, did ya?’

  ‘Don’t upset yourself,’ said Fintan, feeling like a fussy old woman.

  ‘So, how much?’ said Colton. ‘How much do you want to go away, huh? Christ, I never imagined your face being the last thing I see.’

  Tripp felt a hot flush steal over that face.

  ‘It’s not . . .’

  ‘No?’

  He irritably tried to move his position, but couldn’t. He winced, and Fintan was on the bed instantly, trying to cushion him a little. Colton was breathing heavily as he leaned against his husband’s shoulder.

  ‘Well then,’ he said. ‘What is it?’ He turned to Fintan. ‘Aw shit, we’re going to need Joel for this. Is he back?’

  ‘Today, I think. Flora will know. I’ll fetch him.’

  * * *

  Tripp had in fact felt, when he walked in, incredible pity for the emaciated figure on the bed. For someone younger than him to be so very ill was horrible to look upon. And this was his only brother, after all.

  But then Colton was still being exactly the kind of dismissive snob who had so enraged Tripp all those years ago, always having to be cleverer, always treating Tripp like a subnormal Neanderthal. And now he was being practically dismissed.

  ‘My lawyer will talk you through it,’ said Colton. ‘I’m warning you, there’s not as much in it as I’m sure your grubby hands were hoping for.’

  And he fell back in the pillows, effectively dismissing his brother. In fact, it had taken every ounce of Colton’s strength to talk for so long, and all he could think about was his next dose of morphine and how quickly the nurse could get in there. But unwittingly he had hardened Tripp’s heart without giving it a second thought.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘YOU FAT, ATTI FLOWA.’

  Flora had popped by to grab the Land Rover to go pick up Joel from the airport. She was nervous. This was an understatement.

  Agot was there, staring at her curiously.

  ‘Haven’t you got some sticks to be singing about?’

  ‘DOAN BE SILLY,’ scoffed Agot. She stood up. ‘I COME TO AIRPORT FOR UNCLE JOE.’

  ‘He’s not your uncle,’ said Flora. ‘And no, you can’t.’

  ‘BECAUSE OF KISSING?’

  Hamish looked up from the corner.

  ‘No,’ said Flora.

  ‘AWW,’ said Agot. ‘FLOWA SAD.’

  ‘I’m fine! I’ll see you later!’

  ‘Flora sad?’ said Hamish worriedly as Flora grabbed the keys and hurried out to the car.

  * * *

  Joel was jet-lagged when he got down from the plane. Flora picked him up from the shed which acted as the airport, which wasn’t exactly a hardship, as it was four minutes’ drive from the farmhouse, and took him back to the Rock. He was tired and zonked out enough that he didn’t notice how oddly she was behaving.

  Joel had a room in one of the cottages in the grounds. It was beautiful: the ancient stone exterior, smooth wooden panelling inside, heated floors and a huge claw-foot bathtub in the black and white bathroom. Flora adored it; it was the loveliest hotel imaginable. She wasn’t looking forward to the day it filled up with noisy tourists marching about playing golf and complaining about the wind and scaring away the birds. For now, it felt like their own little private universe.

  It was only a room, though. Not a home. They needed a home.

  Joel was frowning at his phone even as he kissed her. She stiffened, wondering if he’d noticed anything, but he wasn’t looking at her.

  ‘Colton wants to see me. Immediately.’ He looked up.

  ‘Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? I haven’t been able to talk to him for weeks. I thought it was looking very grave. Saif wasn’t saying much, but . . .’

  Flora explained about Tripp.

  Joel’s face closed up.

  ‘So, you know. He should probably try and have a last connection with his family.’

  ‘Should he?’ said Joel.

  ‘Yes,’ said Flora. ‘You know. If he can.’

  Joel looked unconvinced. ‘More likely they’re after his money . . . Oh yeah, Fintan just texted. Colton wants me to go and lay the situation out.’

  ‘Well, be nice,’ said Flora. ‘I think he’s going to be pretty upset. He seemed a pretty traditional kind of guy.’

  ‘Did you like him?’

  ‘Well, no . . . not exactly . . . but I felt for him a bit.’

  ‘You like everyone. If you don’t like someone that means they’re pure evil. Come here,’ Joel said as if noticing her for the first time. ‘Oh my God, your breasts look amazing in that top.’ He reached his arms around her waist, bent down and kissed her, and Flora couldn’t help it, at this little promise of normality, of the chance to bask in his love. She sighed happily, reached up and took off his glasses.

  ‘But I want to see you,’ said Joel, whose eyesight was absolutely shocking.

  ‘Yes, well, we tried that before, and then I found out how expensive your glasses are and nearly had a heart attack,’ said Flora, putting them down carefully on the bedside table. Also, she figured the less he noticed at this point, the better – particularly a blue vein that appeared to be throbbing through the white of one of her breasts rather alarmingly.

  Much as she hated Joel going away, she was never ever happier than when he came home, pulled off the expensive suits and ties he wore as armour against a world he found combative, and revealed himself.

  Oh, she was due back at the café, but she didn’t care. There had to be some upsides to running your own business. Slowly, she started undoing Joel’s buttons, as he groaned in the absolute happiness of a man utterly content with who he is and what he is doing; and even as she did so she thought, Truly? Am I going to upset everything?

  Afterwards, the jet lag looked like it was going to get to Joel; he was on the point of dozing off as Flora reluctantly got up to hop in the shower.

  ‘Oh,’ she said as if it was something she’d just thought of casually. ‘You know, Lorna is thinking of moving back to the farmhouse in the new year. Tarting it up.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Joel, half asleep. ‘Why are you telling me?’

  ‘Well, it’s just . . . her place might be up for rent.’

  Joel half-opened one eye.

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  Now he was awake.

  ‘It was just a thought,
’ said Flora. ‘If redevelopment does start here . . .’

  They didn’t say the unspoken: after Colton died. It was always there, underneath everything.

  ‘Huh,’ said Joel. ‘Because I really like it here.’

  ‘I do too!’ said Flora, which was true – she did. ‘But it’s only one room.’

  Joel looked at her.

  ‘How many do you think we need?’

  ‘Well, Lorna has three.’

  ‘But even put together they’re smaller than this one,’ said Joel, which was undeniably true.

  ‘Okay,’ said Flora. ‘Sorry to bring it up.’

  Joel was wide awake now, and sat on the side of the bed.

  ‘I have to get to Colton’s anyway,’ he said, looking for fresh clothes. ‘You know . . . I mean. Sorry. It’s just. I’ve never lived with anyone before.’ He thought about it and looked at her, trying to smile. He looked very young suddenly. ‘Anyone nice, I mean.’

  Flora’s heart wanted to split in two. She loved him so much, but that damaged child inside him . . . would it mend? Could it adjust?

  She sat beside him.

  ‘I realise that,’ she said soothingly, and rubbed his back.

  ‘It’s . . . I mean, you’ve always lived with about nine million people. And some cows.’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what farm life is like, well done,’ said Flora.

  ‘But. Things are a bit more difficult for me. I just . . . if things are moving too fast . . .’

  Flora shut her eyes. Things were about to get a lot faster. A lot.

  ‘That’s okay,’ she said.

  He turned to her.

  ‘You are happy, aren’t you?’ he said anxiously.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes. You make me very happy. When you’re here. I just like to be near you.’

  Joel blinked, cheered the conversation was over.

  ‘We’ll get there,’ he said, trying to be conciliatory. ‘We will. You know how I feel about you . . . It’s more how I feel about inflicting myself on you.’

  Flora kissed him. ‘Is Mark happy?’

  ‘About moving in with someone? You just brought it up.’

  ‘No! About them coming.’

  ‘Yes. They’re delighted. I think it means they’re going to want you to cook a lot.’

  Flora wondered if Mark could talk some sense into him. But on the other hand, it wasn’t sense that was needed. Joel had been perfectly honest and perfectly clear. He didn’t want to be rushed. That was entirely fair. But, she thought mutinously, if he would come charging off every flight he’d ever taken and demand to take her to bed immediately, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

  On the other hand, if she hadn’t assured him that she was on completely reliable contraception . . .

  Something rang at the back of her mind. Joel trusted her completely. To love him and keep him safe, possibly for the first time ever. She felt like she’d betrayed him on some ridiculous level; or rather, her body had let her down. Was he going to be strong enough to take it?

  ‘Oh, baby,’ she found herself whispering in the shower as she soaped herself down. ‘Oh, baby. I am so sorry about all of this.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Fintan showed Tripp downstairs, both of them walking in silence, Tripp bright red in the face and furious.

  ‘Well, good to meet you,’ said Fintan in drawlingly sarcastic tones. Tripp grunted.

  Joel had just arrived and popped his head around the kitchen door.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, pleased to see Fintan. ‘How are things? I have a sheaf of stuff if . . .’

  Fintan just nodded.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ said Tripp. ‘You look like a lawyer. Are you a lawyer?’

  ‘I am,’ said Joel suspiciously.

  ‘Are you my brother’s lawyer?’

  Joel cast a look at Fintan, who nodded wearily.

  Honestly, Joel had been expecting something like this. He’d dealt with a lot of family-owned firms in his corporate career which were often bought up, broken up or swallowed whole by conglomerates. There was generally dissent between those who wanted to sell and other family members who had different views. It was never straightforward in his experience. Nothing involving money ever was.

  And sure enough, so close to the end, here came the galloping cavalry – family pretending to be ‘concerned’ and worried about the fate of its richest member.

  ‘Did you want to plan a meeting?’ he asked politely.

  ‘Will it cost me a fortune?’ grunted Tripp. ‘I’ll get my own lawyer, thanks.’

  ‘Is that something you’re considering doing?’ asked Joel as lightly as he could manage. Tripp sniffed.

  ‘Oh, I imagine you’ve got this stitched up pretty neatly between you all,’ he said. ‘I imagine you’ve been cooking this up for a year or so, just to make sure his blood family doesn’t benefit in any way.’

  Joel didn’t react, as Tripp was speaking the absolute truth.

  ‘We simply followed our client’s wishes,’ he said quietly, and stared Tripp out through his glasses. He’d met plenty of men like this – all bluster and noise – and usually just waited for it to blow itself over so they could work something out.

  Tripp halted.

  ‘Well, as long as he’s happy,’ he said. ‘I’ll see myself out.’

  The door banged behind him as he went back out into the freezing day. Joel and Fintan looked at each other.

  ‘That guy,’ said Fintan, ‘is an absolute—’

  ‘Colton upstairs?’ said Joel quickly. ‘Is he awake? Did he even recognise that guy?’

  Fintan sighed.

  ‘That’s the problem.’

  ‘What?’ asked Joel. And Fintan explained about how Trip had energised his husband; woken him up. Was keeping him in the world at such great cost.

  ‘God,’ said Joel eventually. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Fintan.

  ‘So yeah,’ he said. ‘It’s probably a good time to see him. Especially if Colton wants to hand over some money.’

  * * *

  Upstairs, Joel knocked quietly and let himself in. He was, as Fintan had been before, entirely surprised to see Colton alert, his head up, unsupported, his neck turning around. He was still ghastly thin, obviously ill. But, in a very important sense, he was there; present.

  ‘Hey,’ said Joel.

  ‘Hey,’ croaked Colton, and Joel fetched him some water and sat by him to help him drink. ‘Did you meet my brother?’

  ‘I did,’ said Joel tactfully.

  ‘That fat fuck,’ said Colton gloomily.

  ‘Did he want money?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do you want to give him some? There’s provision for that.’

  Colton coughed, a horrible long hacking sound, and Joel found a pile of freshly laundered handkerchiefs and handed him one, then the water again.

  ‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘If I give him a bit, will they want a bunch? Will that open us up?’

  Joel folded his arms.

  ‘It’s certainly possible. If you make it very clear that there’s nothing, that’s harder to contest than you leaving something and them not feeling it’s a fair slice of a pie.’

  ‘When did I become a fucking pie?’ said Colton.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Joel.

  ‘No, you’re right. Might as well be straight about it. Rather than Captain Fantastic downstairs, who thinks I’m going to live for ever.’

  Joel didn’t answer that. He made some notes on his legal pad then glanced up, thinking about what Flora had said.

  ‘I’m only going to ask this once,’ he said.

  Colton cocked an eyebrow.

  ‘Is this one of these questions that isn’t really a lawyer question?’

  Joel shrugged. ’I don’t have a mom . . .’

  Colton raised a cadaverous hand.

  ‘Stop right there,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

  Joel nodded, and
noticing how tired Colton looked, got up to leave.

  ‘It’s great to see you . . . more awake,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not giving that prick the satisfaction of dying while he’s in the country,’ said Coltan. ‘That fuck.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Joel. ‘Look, I’d better go. Do you want me to draw up a couple of alternatives?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Colton, his eyes losing focus. ‘Cool. Bye.’

  As Joel reached the door, Colton cleared his throat.

  ‘Oh, and congrats on the baby.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was a freezing day despite the sunshine. It had to be five degrees below zero, easily, with winds sweeping in off the Arctic, snow lying all around and more on the way. During the day this had been beautiful: dawn, shortly after nine-thirty, had been a frosted haze of pinks and golds, the geese flying low, the world on fire.

  Now that it was cloudy and already dusk – apart from Colton’s house, which was lit up cheerily – all the way around the headland to the Rock was utterly dense with darkness. The stars looked like huge chips of ice in the sky overhead, the half-moon sharp as a pin, but not casting any cold light.

  Joel knew he should have taken the car back. But, speechless, he had headed back down the stairs, banged through the front door without saying goodbye to Fintan and had found himself outside in the biting cold needing to walk.

  The snow was thick in front of his face as Joel stumbled out of Colton’s house and down the path. It wasn’t far to the Rock, just around the headland, but in this weather it was downright dangerous. Joel had never lived more than a block or so from an available cab in his adult life: if Fintan had been less distracted, he’d never have let him leave.

  But Joel was so furious that he barely noticed the weather – the great flurries being thrown in his face as if from a vast hand, the ice stinging his long eyelashes, his glasses steaming up. He would have taken them off, but his eyesight was worse than even Flora realised: a legacy from long nights of reading secretly under the blankets and a succession of foster families that didn’t prioritise eye examinations for the state-sponsored charges in their care.

  His mind wasn’t on the weather though. It was bursting with upset and confusion. How could she? How could she throw this on him? he thought. This was the problem. He had thought she knew him. That for the first time, he could draw back the curtain, let someone peep through, let himself become comfortable with someone . . . and they go and throw this at him.