The following afternoon, Maisie was released with a list of dos and don’ts, and collected by her parents. She couldn’t help her heart soaring when she saw Patrick waiting for her on the jetty at Gull. He, Ray and Hazel walked with her to the pub and, after a cuppa, her parents made their excuses and left.
The room was filled with the scent of flowers. Bright narcissi and spring blooms filled half a dozen vases and a pile of unopened cards waited on the bar. She felt wrung out and knackered but the sight of the bright blossoms and her own home gave her energy. She still had a new life inside her, and Patrick was by her side.
He pulled out a chair for her and then sat down next to her.
‘The flowers are beautiful.’
‘They’re from Jess and your other friends and neighbours. You’re well loved,’ said Patrick.
Maisie gave a rueful smile, thinking of Hugo. ‘Not by everyone. Like Hugo.’
‘Everyone who matters, and actually I went to see Hugo this morning.’
She gasped. ‘And you’re both still alive?’
‘We both needed to talk about a few things.’
‘That’s an understatement!’
‘Yeah, well. There’s wrong on both sides. I didn’t tell him who I really was so no wonder he was narked. Now I need to build some bridges. It’s been tough for him with my uncle’s illness and, in future, I have to deal with him in a business sense.
‘Did you argue with Hugo on the hill? Did he have anything to do with you falling over?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ said Maisie, which wasn’t strictly true but probably wise to gloss over the full story. ‘And the doctor said the fall had nothing at all to do with losing the twin,’ she added, feeling tears well up again at her loss. ‘It would have probably happened anyway.’
‘Good, because if it had …’ He sighed. ‘Maisie, I’m sure Hugo’s always wanted you personally, as well as wanting Gull Island. From his point of view, I can see why he’s upset about me turning up here and taking over. His father’s deteriorated over the past few months and I feel for him, even though I think the bloke’s a prize prat. I’m going to see my uncle when I’ve made sure you’re OK. I need to face up to what I’ve ignored for the past thirty-odd years – and to the future.’
There was a pause as if neither of them knew how to begin before Patrick broke the ice. ‘Your mum and dad let me stay in the Piggery last night when we finally got home.’
She sucked in a breath. ‘Wow. Frankly, I’m amazed.’
‘Me too. They’re willing to give me a second chance, I think, but said it’s up to you what happens next. I hoped you wouldn’t be too pissed off that I waited for you to come home.’
‘I’m not pissed off. I’m just tired and I want my baby to be OK.’
‘I want that more than anything in the world too. Look, I know you must still hate me right now.’
Maisie thought back to her confrontation with Hugo. Maisie loved Patrick, but was love enough to overcome everything else?
‘I don’t hate you. But what’s happened between us has punched a hole in the trust we had. I appreciate you’re trying to put things right … and I admit I said some harsh things to you that I didn’t really mean.’
He took her hand, stroking the veins gently. ‘They were things that had to be said for both our sakes, even if they were painful for us. Can we call today a fresh start, a blank page? We could try to move forward if we wind back from me walking into the Driftwood that first day …’
Maisie was inclined to believe him. She wanted to believe him so much. ‘Do it then,’ she said.
‘What? Now?’
‘Yes. Right now. Walk out of that door and come back in and start again as you should have done.’
‘Will it make a difference?’
She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you try me?’
He picked up his rucksack, and walked out of the front door into the dull January afternoon, leaving the door open as it had been on that sunny day in October. Maisie took her place behind the bar and picked up the menus, wiping the covers with a cloth. She glanced at the sign on the wall: The Landlady is Always Right.
Was she? Had she made a huge mistake in leaving the front door open and handing Patrick a second chance? Or the best decision of her life?
She closed her eyes and in the empty silence, imagined the buzz of chatter and laughter and clinking glasses. She imagined the distant ferry hoot and the sound of customers talking on the terrace.
The silence lengthened.
Her pulse raced. Perhaps it wasn’t possible to turn the clock back after all, or maybe Patrick had decided not to do it. Was her big mistake to let him walk out?
Footsteps rang out on the quarry tiles. She opened her eyes.
A tall, lean blond stood in the porch, hesitating over whether to come in or not. He pushed his tousled hair out of his eyes nervously and said in a broad Aussie accent, ‘Are you open?’
‘Just,’ said Maisie, her heart pounding.
He shrugged the heavy bag from his shoulders. ‘Good, because this bag weighs a ton.’
‘What are you having?’
‘A Coke. A pint of full-fat, please.’ He left his pack by a table and approached the bar. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, the colour of the sea on a summer’s day. He looked like the same man who’d strolled in all those months before, and yet he was very different. Less cocksure, less of a charmer – and even though she knew the worst of him now, she liked him all the better for it.
Maisie picked up the soft-drink gun and squirted Coke into a pint glass. ‘You’re not from round here, by the sounds of it,’ she said.
‘No. I’m not.’
She pushed the glass at him. It was barely half full but she couldn’t play this game any more.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
They exchanged looks over the untouched Coke. ‘My name is Henry Patrick Scorrier McKinnon and I’m an alcoholic and a liar and the father of your child,’ he said. ‘I also happen to own Scorrier Holdings, the scumbags who wanted to take over your home and livelihood. I don’t want to do that to you or anyone that lives here, but I can’t run away from the inheritance or responsibility I’ve been given. I can’t be someone else even though I’ve tried, so I’ve come up with a compromise that I hope you and your family and friends will accept. It may not be perfect but I think it could work, if we all come together. And I also love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.’ He smiled. ‘Can I have my drink now? I’m dry as a drover’s dog.’
Shaking like a leaf, Maisie nodded. Patrick sipped his drink.
‘And if you don’t mind me asking, who you would be?’ he asked, putting the Coke on the counter.
‘I’m Maisie. That’s my name over the door. I don’t take crap from anyone and I don’t like liars but I’m willing to give you a try. Because despite the fact I scare the living daylights out of half the men on these islands, inside I’m just human – like you. I make mistakes and I often feel like crying when people expect me to smile and laugh. I’m having a baby and I’d do anything to protect it but I want it to have a father too, a father who I love and who loves me. I’ll have a drink with you now, if you want to stay a while.’
Patrick’s mouth tilted at the corners and he leaned across the bar. His mouth was warm and sweet as he kissed her and when his lips left hers, he whispered. ‘I do.’