‘We’ve missed you,’ grinned Susan. ‘You’re our fourth Musketeer.’
‘It’s so lovely to be back.’ Kate opened the door, and the warmth of her little cottage welcomed them in. Five minutes later they were all installed in the sitting room, Mhairi lying on a play-mat, chewing happily on a set of plastic keys. The tea had been made and was brewing in a pot by the fire, covered by one of Helen’s hand-sewn tea cosies. Morag had come bearing biscuits and gingerbread.
‘We thought you’d like a wee welcome-home party.’
‘This is lovely,’ said Kate, touched. She’d missed the island desperately, despite having been gone for less than a week. It was nice to know that some small part of it had missed her, too. But, more importantly, she was dying to know all the news. ‘So, what’s happened?’
‘Well,’ began Jean, ‘I was having a coffee at Bruno’s place on Christmas Eve when none other than herself came in with her mother, acting like the Queen of Sheba.’
‘That’s Fiona, in case you hadn’t worked it out,’ added Susan, unnecessarily.
‘I was sitting at the end booth, and they didn’t see me. So I just carried on reading my paper, as you do, and you’ll never guess what?’
‘Will you two fishwives just spit it out?’ Morag poured the tea, adding milk and sugar without having to ask who took what. Kate smiled to herself at that little sign of friendship.
Jean rolled her eyes at Morag. ‘Will you let me get on?’
‘At this rate you’ll still be getting to the point by next year,’ said Morag, passing her a cup of tea and nudging her, laughing.
‘Well,’ began Jean again, ‘so in come Fiona and her mother, and they sit down at the booth in front of mine, and they don’t see me.’
‘So you just happened to overhear, and you weren’t actually eavesdropping, right?’ asked Kate.
‘I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,’ said Jean, primly. ‘Anyway, herself is up to something. She told her mother that she’s got big plans – plans that involve the island and the Duntarvie estate.’
‘Is she planning to ensnare Roderick and steal the estate away from him?’ Kate was confused.
‘I don’t think anyone could persuade Roderick Maxwell to do something he didn’t want to do.’ Jean looked at Morag, who nodded sagely. ‘But that girl is up to something.’
Susan raised her eyebrows at Kate. ‘Never a dull moment up here, is there? I bet this is riveting, after an exciting week in the bright lights of Cambridge with all those shops and people and lovely things.’
‘Believe it or not, I was dying to get back.’ Kate stood up, looking out of the sitting-room window. Through the bare trees she could see the waves breaking on the little shingle beach far below, and in the distance beyond the silver-streaked sea were the snow-topped purple hills of the surrounding islands. ‘There’s something about this place. It draws you in.’
Jean and Morag exchanged another glance, but said nothing.
Hogmanay arrived. Kate had managed to wangle her way out of wearing the hideous yellow tartan. While in Cambridge, she and Emma had spent a lovely girly day shopping (punctuated by loo visits, sniffs of lemon essential oil, and a small impromptu nap for Emma in a corner of Costa Coffee). They had found the most beautiful midnight-blue velvet dress, which clung to Kate’s newly enhanced curves. Admiring herself looking glamorous in the mirror, she was tempted to send a photograph to her mother, to show her that she really didn’t look tubby at all, thank you very much. Her hair had been curled into shining waves at the new hairdresser in Kilmannan, and her make-up applied with Susan’s artistic flair. Her ridiculously high new shoes were safely stored out of reach of Willow this time, and she pulled them on quickly, hearing a firm knock at the door. She grabbed her coat from the hook.
Kate gasped in surprise. Finn was dressed in full Highland regalia, unlike the first time she’d seen him, in a casual kilt with boots and a woollen sweater. He was quite breathtakingly gorgeous. He looked Kate up and down, smiling, and gave a whistle of surprise. ‘By God, Kate, I forget you scrub up so well.’
‘Always the charmer, Finn.’
‘Aye, well, I haven’t turned it on yet. Wait till I get to the big house.’
It was only a couple of minutes’ walk to Duntarvie House, but Finn had brought his little sports car. ‘Just as well, with those shoes – you’ll not be doing much ceilidh-dancing in them.’
He pulled the car up on the wide gravelled drive. In the darkness Duntarvie House looked spectacular. Kate had never seen the outdoor lights before. The full fairytale splendour of the house could be appreciated, turrets and crenellations highlighted against a velvet-black sky sprinkled with stars.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Finn lent her a hand and she climbed out of the low sports car, straightening her dress. ‘You’ve missed a wee bit.’ Finn tugged at the hem of her dress, patting her appreciatively on the rump.
‘Watch it, you.’ She slapped his hand, laughing despite herself. ‘You’re like something from a seventies sitcom.’
‘You can’t blame a man for trying.’ Finn locked the car, grinning. He was joking, but she sensed that, given the opportunity, he’d be more than happy to oblige.
They crunched across the drive, which was already packed with parked cars. The main door of the house, usually locked shut, was wide open, showing off the marble reception hall. A huge noble fir, decorated with hundreds of sparkling white fairy lights, filled the back of the hall. The staircase was hung with swathes of holly and ivy. Kate recognized Helen’s work. Finn turned right, opening the door into the dining room. The huge table, which lay unused most of the year, was covered with discarded coats.
‘Let me take that.’
As Kate shrugged off her coat, Finn hung it on one of the ornate wooden chairs.
‘Come through.’ He held the door open. ‘I’ll get a drink to warm us up. It’s freezing in here.’
Kate hadn’t had an excuse to be in the sitting room again since that first night when she’d fallen and hurt herself on the drive. Sitting down on the huge brocade sofa, she smiled to herself, remembering the catalogue of disasters that had led her to the house that day. Waiting for Finn, she pulled out her mobile to look at the most recent seal photographs, sent by Mark yesterday. Flora had shed her white baby fur and was now a beautiful mottled cream and grey. She was settled in the sanctuary, already eating fish and swimming in the big pool with another, older, rescued seal pup. Mark and Melanie had sent her a Christmas card suggesting that she and Roderick go over to visit Flora soon. Kate shuddered at the prospect of a trip to the sanctuary with Fiona in tow.
‘You look lovely, Kate.’
She started at the sound of Roderick’s voice and stood up, feeling awkward. She thrust the phone at him. ‘Look – it’s Flora. All her baby fur has gone. Doesn’t she look beautiful?’
Roderick took the little screen, glancing at the photograph. ‘She is gorgeous, isn’t she?’ He smiled, handing back the phone and looking at her outfit. ‘You know, you look a bit like a seal yourself tonight, in that dress.’
Kate looked down at the velvet dress, which suddenly seemed to be clinging to every lump, bump and wobbling bit. Oh! He thought she looked like a fat, velvety, lumpy, shuffling barrel. Not quite the look she’d been aiming for.
‘If that’s a line, Roddy, it’s a really bad one,’ said Finn, returning with a drink for Kate. He handed his own drink to Roderick. ‘You have this – I’ll be back in a minute with another.’
‘How was Cambridge?’ asked Roderick stiffly. ‘It must be nice for you to get back to Finn?’
Kate paused for a moment. ‘Well, it’s certainly nice to get back to the island.’
Actually, why should she correct him. Why shouldn’t he think she was with Finn? She took a sip of her drink and surveyed him over the top of her glass. Roderick, too, was in Highland dress. She couldn’t stop a tiny smile escaping from the corner of her lips as she wondered to herself whether he was a proper Scots
man, or if he’d taken the coward’s way out and worn a pair of boxer shorts under his kilt.
Seeing her smile, he frowned.
‘So . . . ’
‘Did you . . .’
‘Ladies first.’
‘How was Christmas? Did you have a nice time with Fiona?’ Kate decided it was easiest to be direct.
‘Sweetie,’ said the devil, arriving as soon as she was mentioned. ‘Oh,’ she went on, looking at Kate with undisguised dislike, ‘are you not working tonight?’
Fiona was wearing a dark-green velvet corset top, with a very short, full tartan mini-kilt. On anyone else it would have looked hideous, but somehow she managed to carry it off.
‘No, I’m here as a guest,’ said Kate, refusing this time to rise to Fiona’s jibes. ‘I was just asking Roderick how he enjoyed Christmas.’
‘Oh, it was just heaven, wasn’t it, Roddy?’ Fiona wrapped both her arms around Roderick’s waist, looking up at him with adoration. ‘Luckily I invited him to the hotel for Christmas dinner, or he’d have had to spend it alone in this draughty old place.’
‘I like this draughty old place,’ replied Roderick, looking irritated. He removed her hands from his waist and put his empty glass down on the table. ‘Now, if you two girls will excuse me, I want to check on Jean. She’s supposed to be having fun, not working.’
He disappeared down the side corridor, leaving Kate trapped in the room, stunned into silence by Fiona’s basilisk stare. Thankfully Finn reappeared, bearing drinks. Fiona stalked off.
‘Thank God you appeared when you did. If looks could kill . . .’ laughed Kate.
Finn knocked back his drink, still standing.
‘Come and have a look at the ballroom,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘You’ll be needing those dancing shoes tonight.’
Walking along the passage, Kate realized there were whole parts of Duntarvie House that she’d never discovered. The dark-green walls were hung with yet more oil paintings of dogs, deer and kilted men.
‘Here we are.’
Seeing the double doors that opened into the ballroom, Kate got her bearings. Behind her was the inner hall, which led to the kitchen and the stairs up to the bedroom she’d slept in.
The ballroom was a revelation. She’d only ever seen it stacked high with old furniture covered with ancient dust sheets, the room freezing cold and echoing. But tonight it had come to life. Tables full of people encircled the dance floor, and at one end of the room Murdo was keeping watch over a makeshift bar. A group of youths, presumably back home on the island for the university holidays, were manning it, laughing and shouting to each other over the sound of the music.
The ceilidh band finished tuning their instruments, and the accordion moved from strange, tuneless droning to toe-tapping music, which filled the room. Kate made her way down to the bar, where a delighted Murdo stepped forward, glass in hand, to give her a hug.
‘Young Kate,’ he shouted over the music. ‘Happy Christmas to you.’
She leaned across and kissed his cheek, taking in a blast of whisky fumes and aftershave. ‘And to you, Murdo. I hear you had Roderick with you for Christmas?’
‘That we did, and we had our little band of helpers working in the hotel over the holiday.’ He waved his arm. ‘That’s Jamie, Stewart, Robbie, Colin and Rosie.’ All five of them gave Kate a thumbs-up and then burst out laughing at one of their own jokes.
‘Gin and tonic, please.’
Murdo turned to the optic, pouring her a drink and handing it over.
He looked at her, contemplating. ‘So what’s the story with you and young Roddy? Don’t let Sandra hear me say this, but I’d say you’re a far better match for him than our Fiona.’
‘There is no story, Murdo,’ Kate said, flatly. As he tried to catch her eye, she turned away slightly, spinning the ice in her glass with a finger.
‘That’s no what Bruno tells me.’ A hand on her arm, and a reassuring squeeze.
She took a drink, clattering the glass back down on the bar with unnecessary force. There was a fine line on the island between gentle interfering and meddling. ‘Bruno can’t keep his mouth shut. There’s nothing going on between me and Roderick. And, as far as I can see, Roderick and your Fiona are back together.’
‘Well, if they are, he’s making a mistake.’ He frowned, looking across at Fiona, who was tapping at her phone by the side of the dance floor. ‘He’s far too nice for her.’
‘Murdo!’
‘She’s my daughter and I love her, but by God, she takes after her mother. I’ve been married to the woman thirty-odd years. She’s the reason I play golf.’
Kate laughed, despite herself. ‘You can’t say that about your own wife.’
Murdo picked up a keg of beer and winked at Kate. ‘Aye, I can. Ever since she was a girl, Fiona’s been full of big ideas – this wee island isn’t enough for her.’
It’s enough for me, thought Kate, looking at the already-familiar faces grouped around the tables. Even after a few months the island seemed more like home than – well, home. A small, sensible voice in her head pointed out that it wasn’t feasible to carry on living there with no career and no prospects. The job she’d signed up for was a temporary post, and there was no way the struggling estate could sustain any more employees – unless she could come up with something that would bring in some money. There was half an idea that had been stirring in her mind, but she’d need Roderick onside. And right now every time she looked up he was in close proximity to Fiona. No chance of talking to him tonight. She drowned the voice in her head with another mouthful of gin, and promised herself she’d think about what to do. Only not tonight.
Shaking herself, Kate looked up to find Jean in front of her, beaming with happiness, and with Roderick standing just behind her.
‘You look lovely, my dear.’ She turned to Roderick. ‘Doesn’t she?’
Roderick caught Kate’s eye for a second. ‘Beautiful. Finn is a lucky man.’
The band struck up at the same time as he spoke. Kate was almost certain Jean hadn’t heard, or that she had chosen to ignore what Roderick had just said. The floor was full now, the music increasing in pace. People formed themselves into lines for a dance that seemed to consist of people simultaneously whirling around and then galloping up and down. Kate could vaguely remember something like it from her ceilidh days at university.
‘You look confused.’ Ted appeared, hooking his arm around her waist. ‘It’s called Strip the Willow. Do you fancy a turn on the floor with an old man?’
‘In these shoes?’ said Kate, horrified. ‘I’ll break my ankle.’
‘You’ll be amazed what you can do if you try.’ He smiled, pulling her into the melee.
Kate was being thrown around the floor by an assortment of islanders. After a couple more gin and tonics, it seemed easy enough to keep up with the dances. Either that or she just didn’t care that she looked deranged. The air was full of shouts and laughter. Groups of older people stood around, toes tapping, clapping their hands in time to the insistent beat of the ceilidh band.
‘Having fun?’ Finn twirled Kate under his arm.
‘I love it. My feet are falling off, though,’ she laughed, as Bruno caught her hand. She kicked off her heels, throwing them under the bar. Suddenly she was skipping around in a circle, the smile on her face so huge that her cheeks were aching. The song ended, the dancers arranged themselves into a line and she looked up.
‘Glad you came back for Hogmanay? You’ve been smiling every time I’ve looked at you,’ said Roderick, taking her hands.
Oh God, thought Kate, of all the dances to end up with you, it would have to be this one. The prospect of trotting around the room doing the Gay Gordons with Roderick was mortifying. It was the only dance she’d done all night where there was no opportunity to swap partners, and she could already feel Fiona’s eyes burning into her from across the room.
‘It’s been lovely,’ said Kate, counting in her head. The twirling-around dances
were fine, but this one was slower and more complicated. She’d learned it at university, but it had always got her in a muddle.
‘My father used to open up the ballroom for Hogmanay every year. This is the first time I’ve done it since he died.’
There was something very strange about having a conversation with someone while walking forward for a count of four, backwards for four, then doing four rounds of polka steps.
‘Well, it’s beautiful. I’m sure he’d love to see the house full of people, instead of covered with dust sheets.’
‘He always said this place needed filling up with children and noise and chaos.’ Roderick looked at her and laughed. ‘Are you counting, Kate?’
‘Um, maybe. A little bit. But I am listening, honestly. It’s just that if I don’t keep count under my breath, I get my legs all tangled up.’
And, thought Kate, if I concentrate on counting and not on the idea of you and bloody Fiona filling this place with children, I might not throw up.
They danced on in silence. Roderick was a surprisingly good dancer, given his height and long legs. Across the room Fiona was dancing with a grey-bearded man, her nimble feet making the dance look simple. She waved at Roderick with a coy little smile. Still counting, Kate felt quite murderous that bloody Fiona could manage to effortlessly dance, smile and wave, while she was struggling to dance and breathe.
‘Mark sent me a message yesterday about taking a drive over to visit Flora.’
‘That would be lovely,’ lied Kate. Well, she thought, it would be lovely if Fiona wasn’t in tow, but there wasn’t much chance of that.
‘I thought perhaps next Monday? Are you free?’
‘I’d love to.’
‘It’s a date then,’ he said, with a smile that made her knees slightly weak. Thankfully the song came to an end, and she disappeared to the loo to splash some cold water carefully on her face, trying not to smudge her make-up, and remind herself very sternly that she had no feelings whatsoever for Roderick Maxwell, thank you very much.
When she returned to the ballroom the band was playing a tune she recognized straight away. The floor was full of people, but they were standing in a circle, looking inwards at something, and clapping. Kate squeezed through to stand beside Susan.
Sealed With a Kiss Page 18
