An Unexpected Guest

The fifth book in the Isles of Scilly series will be available from the 31st of March. Read the first chapter now…
Chapter 1
The guy in the aisle seat didn’t react to Sylvie standing over him. Not even when she uttered a friendly “hello”. With only nineteen seats on the small aircraft the plane felt cramped to say the least. There was no way he could have missed her looming there.
She smiled politely when he finally looked up at her. “That’s my seat,” she said, pointing.
He twisted, grimacing as his knees scraped along the back of the seat in front before they were dislodged into the aisle.
Sylvie tilted her head as she took in the space he’d created. Depending on which way she manoeuvred herself, she’d either have her boobs in his face or her bum against his chest. Maybe that was his plan but given his scowl she didn’t think so.
“I’m fairly petite,” she said cheerfully, “but we’re still going to know each other pretty intimately if I try and squeeze in there.”
His features didn’t change as he released his seatbelt and unfolded himself from the chair. For a moment his broad chest blocked her view entirely, then he took a step back along the aisle.
“Thanks,” Sylvie said as she shuffled to her seat, noting as she glanced back that he’d not yet said a word.
His silence continued when he returned to his seat and immediately buckled his belt again.
With some difficulty, Sylvie managed to wedge her handbag under the seat in front of her before turning her attention to her seatbelt. She found one end easily enough, but the other disappeared beneath her neighbour.
“Sorry,” she said, tugging on the strap. With a sigh, he shifted his weight so she could free the seatbelt. “Thanks!”
He cast her a sidelong glance just as the plane jolted and set off at a crawl along the tarmac. Intrigued as to whether he was mute, Sylvie was about to attempt to draw him into conversation when the captain’s voice drifted through the cabin. By the time he’d given his spiel about flight times, weather conditions and safety instructions, they were poised at the end of the runway.
Sylvie gazed through the window while the plane hurtled along. A fizz of excitement stirred in her stomach as they ascended shakily into the air.
“Have you ever been to Scilly before?” she asked as her gaze returned to the cabin. Her silent friend was fixated on the floor, and Sylvie couldn’t tell if he was purposely ignoring her or if he hadn’t heard over the noise of the plane’s engines. Instinctively, she leaned a little closer, getting a whiff of his aftershave, which made her want to inhale deeply.
“Have you been to Scilly before?” she asked again, louder this time.
His gaze snapped up to her and he blinked as though bringing her into focus.
“Once or twice,” he said, the softness of his voice taking her by surprise.
“What’s it like? I’ve never been but I’ve always wanted to. In photos it looks stunning.”
He curled his upper lip. “It’s quiet.”
“I’m not sure quiet is really my thing,” she said with a laugh. “Sorry. I talk a lot when I’m excited … or nervous. Actually, I think I always talk a lot. But I’m excited now so I’m kind of in overdrive. I might be a bit nervous too.” She was wittering, that was for sure. “Sorry, I’ll just …” Pinching her index finger and thumb together she ran them across her lips in a zipping motion.
“I have family on St Mary’s,” he said unbidden.
Sylvie took it as an invitation to continue the conversation. “Do you visit often?”
It took him a moment to reply. “It’s been a few years.”
“I’m visiting family too,” Sylvie said wistfully. “My cousin. We haven’t seen each other for years. We were really close as kids, but we drifted apart as adults.” Her eyes slid over to check if he was even listening. The slight hitch at the corner of his mouth was enough of an acknowledgement that she continued. “He doesn’t know I’m coming. I thought I’d surprise him.”
Her stomach twisted and her previous excitement fizzled away. She’d tried to call Lowen a couple of times. When she couldn’t reach him, she decided it was a sign she should track him down in person, but now she wondered if she should have left him a message or tried to contact him through another channel.
“Surprises are fun,” she said, not sure why she was seeking reassurance from the stranger beside her.
“Maybe,” he murmured.
“I think it’ll be good.” She had an image of tracking Lowen down in his pottery studio. He’d stop the pottery wheel when he caught sight of her, and his face would break into a wide smile as he wiped his hands on a rag before crossing the room to embrace her. She’d seen videos of him working the pottery wheel on his social media accounts, so she could clearly envision the scene.
“There’s a chance he won’t even recognise me,” she said, almost to herself. She shook the thought away and told herself not to be pessimistic. “It’ll be fine,” she said determinedly. “Better than fine. It’ll be great. I’m excited.”
It turned out she was talking to herself. The guy had closed his eyes, either sleeping or just letting her know he had no interest in listening to her droning on for the next hour.
After checking his eyes were definitely closed, Sylvie let her gaze travel over him, taking in his dark blue T‑shirt which stretched over his firm chest. His jaw sported a few days’ worth of golden stubble, a shade darker than the thick, glossy hair which framed his face.
Slowly, Sylvie leaned towards him, feeling the warmth radiating from him while she inhaled a hefty lungful of his scent. The distinctive notes of sandalwood were a treat for her nostrils, and she braved another deep inhale before shifting to look out of the window with a satisfied smile.
* * *
It had been a long time since Jago had been back to Scilly. The closer he got, the more anxious he felt about facing his family, and the rickety plane caused him further stress. As the woman beside him chatted away about her cousin, it all felt too much. He closed his eyes as the plane juddered, then didn’t bother opening them again when the women went quiet.
The last time he’d been back to St Mary’s was for his dad’s funeral, a little over three years ago. He’d only stayed for a couple of days and only had snippets of memories from that time. Jet lag and grief hadn’t been a good combination. He’d also been guilt-ridden about not having seen his dad for a good couple of years before he’d died.
At sixteen, Jago had left the island to go to secondary school on the mainland and had only been back for short visits since then. Having spent longer living away from his childhood home than in it, he shouldn’t have been surprised by how removed he felt from his family, but it had unsettled him enough that he left again as quickly as possible.
Now he was returning, but this time he was determined not to flee so fast. The wedding invitation from his brother had come around the same time that Jago had found out his American work visa wouldn’t be renewed. He wasn’t overly upset at the thought of moving on from his life in New York, especially since his job in software development had lost its sheen. The only real problem was that he had no idea what he’d do next.
One step at a time, he told himself. He’d go to Trystan’s wedding and set aside enough time with his family that he could start to build some bridges. At the very least he needed to spend some quality time with his mum.
“Oh my god!”
He startled at the screech from the woman beside him, then felt the warmth of her hand on his forearm.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did I wake you?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly.
“You have to look at this.” She squeezed his arm and tipped her chin towards the window. “I know you’ve been before, but I’m sure this view could never disappoint no matter how many times you’ve seen it.”
His skin tingled where her hand touched it, and his eyes were drawn to her rich auburn hair instead of the view. The look of wonder on her face was mesmerising.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Yes.” He smiled to himself, then leaned close to join her in peering out of the window.
Really, he should have anticipated the effect seeing the islands again would have on him, but the tightening of his ribs took him by surprise. The cluster of green islands, edged by pale sandy beaches and surrounded by crisp azure water, was so familiar it took his breath away. When his gaze locked on his childhood home sitting proudly up on the headland on the south coast of St Mary’s, he forgot to breathe altogether.
Distracted by the sights outside, Jago didn’t take much notice of the captain’s announcement, but the word turbulence cut right through him, making every muscle in his body tighten.
“Exciting!” the woman said. “I love a bit of turbulence. It’s like a free rollercoaster ride.”
The muscles in Jago’s jaw loosened enough for his mouth to hang open. Was she serious? How could someone be happy about—
The plane dropped, and it was exactly like a rollercoaster; that horrible weightless feeling in his stomach and the fear that snaked around his every nerve.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked.
“Yeah.” He realised he’d grabbed hold of her hand. Sheepishly, he loosened his fingers, but the plane lurched again, causing him to grip her tightly. His eyelids snapped shut and he focused on breathing evenly.
A moment passed before his muscles began to relax again.
The woman’s voice came soft in his ear. “I didn’t realise you were scared of flying. I thought you were just the strong silent type.”
“I’m not scared of flying,” he replied, opening his eyes.
A hint of a smile pulled at her lips. “Any chance I can have my hand back then?”
“I’m not scared of flying,” he said again as he reluctantly pulled his hand away. “I just don’t like it when the plane feels as though it’s about to drop out of the sky.”
“Are you also scared of rollercoasters? Is it the stomach dropping sensation that bothers you?”
He turned to look right at her, registering how glossy her hair was and the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “I don’t care about my stomach dropping,” he told her. “I’m worried about the entire plane dropping out of the sky. I don’t see how any normal person would be okay with the plane lurching around so much.”
Her lips twitched. “Since you’re clearly very stressed, I’m going to ignore the inference that I’m not normal.”
“I’m not stressed.” He clutched at the armrest when the plane chose that moment to shudder.
“Would you like to hold my hand again?” the silky voice asked in his ear.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled, then closed his eyes and pushed his head into the headrest.