Wishing Under a Starlit Skye, page 1
Wishing Under A Starlit Skye
Lisa Hobman
For my two Claires.
The best friends a girl could wish for. You keep me sane and I’m eternally grateful to have you both in my life.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
More from Lisa Hobman
About the Author
About Boldwood Books
Prologue
Thirteen years ago
Caitlin Fraser sat, spine straight, shoulders back. Defiant. She would not back down. This was her wish, and no one would stop her from making it come true. She could only hope that her mother would accept her decision and still love her.
She glanced around the living room of the beautiful double-fronted house on Viewfield Road, Portree, on the picturesque Isle of Skye. She had grown up in the house and stayed there right up until she’d gone to catering college and got a flat on the mainland and nothing much had changed. The familiar scent of vanilla pot pourri made her overly sensitive stomach roil. She’d hoped she was out of the stage of pregnancy where smells affected her so negatively, but the sweet sickliness of the fragrance was just too much. She made a conscious effort to breathe through her mouth.
Her high-school portrait still took pride of place on the sideboard that stood in front of the pink and cream striped wallpaper. So eighties, she thought with a small smile. Her mother, Maggie, was stuck in the past with her fashion sense too. She’d never got the memo about shoulder pads and bouffant hairdos being out, judging by the two-piece outfit and string of pearls she was wearing and the amount of hairspray keeping her hair in place. But then again, the past was where all Maggie’s happy memories lived, although not quite so far back as the eighties.
Caitlin’s father, Malcolm, who had helped his wife to run their home as a successful guest house, had passed away when she was sixteen and had left his only child a chunk of money in trust for when she turned twenty-one. It was supposed to set her up for her adult life and she was about to put it to good use at the sensible age of twenty-eight, which is why she was here now and waiting for her mum to say something.
Her mother shook her head. ‘I just think you should reconsider, Caitlin. It’s not the way things are done. It’s like… forgive me, but it’s like playing God. And for goodness’ sake, what will people say?’ Her voice was strained and filled with anguish. Caitlin knew she had her best interests at heart, but there was also some major consideration for her own interests in there too.
Caitlin replied, ‘And this is why I didn’t tell you before. I knew you’d react this way.’ More than anything, she wished she’d been wrong in her presumptions and that her mother would be happy for her, accept the decision she’d made. She was an adult after all.
Her mother scoffed. ‘So, you waited until you were four months pregnant with some unknown man’s child before you told me? Is that how much you think of me? Is that what I mean to you?’
Caitlin sighed, the weight of the situation pushing heavy on her shoulders. ‘You know I love you, Mum. I’ve always been there for you. Especially since Dad passed away…’
Her mother stood and paced. ‘And yet you decided to take this route to parenthood without even consulting me, your own mother. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am, Caitlin; and how disappointed your dad would be.’
Ouch, Caitlin thought, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She’d always been a daddy’s girl. She could do no wrong in his eyes, but it still hurt that her mother used those words.
Maggie sighed deeply. ‘I mean, this man, this donor could be a psychopath. A lunatic. He could have all manner of diseases that will be passed to you and your… your foetus.’
Caitlin clenched her jaw until it ached and closed her eyes, her hand rested defensively over her as yet non-existent bump. ‘They do all sorts of tests and health screening, Mum. And they ask lots of questions. So, me and my baby will be fine.’
Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a pristine white handkerchief. ‘But you’re so young. Why couldn’t you wait until you’d met someone? A real man. What on earth are you going to tell it about its father? That you went to a sperm bank?’ The expression on her face told of the bitter taste the words left in her mouth, and she shivered. ‘A sterile, loveless room where some… some poor excuse for a man did who knows what to… you know what into a cup? Oh my god, Caitlin, what have you done?’ The woman flopped dramatically into the chintzy, floral armchair beside the Adam style fireplace and bit her knuckle.
Caitlin fought an inappropriate giggle. Her mother’s histrionics were something she had dealt with for years; she seemed to thrive on drama. But this was something Caitlin wanted for herself. She was ready and the time was right, meaning she wasn’t prepared to wait around for the perfect man to procreate with.
‘Mum, you know I’ve had boyfriends before, but not a single one has been someone I would settle down with and I certainly wasn’t about to have a one-night stand with someone for the sole purpose of getting pregnant. I’m not that kind of person. And yes, I realise I’m young, but It’s not like I am going to be a teenage mother. I don’t want to put my life on hold hoping that the right man will come along. I want this now. It’s important to me and anyway, it’s done now, okay? You’re going to be a grandma. Don’t you think that’s wonderful, regardless of how it came about? Can’t you just be happy?’
Her mother gasped. ‘It’s wonderful, is it? My twenty-eight-year-old daughter is pregnant with a stranger’s child. A perverted stranger who looked at rude magazines and deposited his…’ she made bizarre hand gestures, ‘into a plastic cup.’
‘Mum! That’s a horrible thing to say!’ Caitlin scowled at her choice of words. ‘These men aren’t perverts. They’re simply men who want to help other people to have children.’
‘And I’m supposed to be happy about that, am I? Well, I’m not. And that won’t change. I can’t just be happy,’ she snapped.
Caitlin’s lungs deflated as exasperation and sadness set in. ‘You could choose to be happy, Mum.’
Her mother ignored her and patted her perfectly set, dyed blonde hair. ‘What on earth am I going to tell the ladies at my bridge club?’ She gasped and closed her eyes. ‘And Cynthia Goulding? Oh, my word, what on earth will Reverend Goulding think? Hmm? Answer me that, Caitlin!’ Her voice rose in both volume and pitch. ‘I’ll be excommunicated!’
Caitlin’s eyes stung and her lower lip trembled. She’d known her mother would react badly, but this was beyond the pale. ‘It shouldn’t matter to you what your bridge friends, or the vicar and his wife think. I’m your daughter.’ It was true her mother was seen as a pillar of the community, regularly involved in everything, from church fetes to coffee mornings and all manner of things in between, as well as being a close friend of the vicar’s wife, but that didn’t justify such a reaction.
Her mother scoffed. ‘Well act like it then. Be a normal person and get married before you have children. Or at least have the wherewithal to have children with someone you’ve actually met!’
Caitlin wiped at the moisture around her eyes. ‘So, should I not set a place for you at the baby shower then?’ She smiled without feeling the humour.
Her mother sneered. ‘What do you think?’
Caitlin nodded and rose from her seat. ‘That’s a real shame, Mum. I hoped you’d be happy for me. And that you’d want to be a part of my baby’s life. Your grandchild’s life.’ Her voice wavered as she spoke.
Her mother smiled almost pleadingly. ‘Well, perhaps if you used some of your inheritance to… sort the matter out, sweetheart, you could wait and have a proper baby when you meet a real man to have a relationship with.’
Caitlin gasped and clamped her jaw shut at the thought of the unmentioned procedure her mother was hinting at. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on Caitlin. She wanted to scream at her, ‘So your bridge club and the vicar are okay about abortion but not having a child by a sperm donor? Is that it? Or would you just brush it under the carpet and pretend it never happened?’ But of course, she didn’t. She and her mother had never really been close, and this was just another way she was disappointing the woman who had wanted a son but couldn’t have any further children after Caitlin was born.
Once again horrified at her mother’s words, Caitlin spoke through clenched teeth as her eyes blurred with tears. ‘This is a proper baby, Mum. How dare you suggest otherwise! And Dad wanted me to use that money to make myself happy. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to buy a little bakery that I’ve had my eye on down in Glentorrin and look after my child.’ She turned to face the doo r. ‘Maybe someday you’ll realise you’ve made a mistake. I hope so because I want nothing more than to have you in our lives.’
Her mother stood and straightened her skirt. ‘I’m sorry, Caitlin. But you have to make a choice here.’ She pointed in the general direction of Caitlin’s belly. ‘That abomination… or me.’
Caitlin’s heart lurched and her stomach roiled on hearing her mother’s vile choice of words. She inhaled a deep breath, smoothed her hand over her tummy, shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. Her heart ached at the posed ultimatum, but she knew, in reality, there was no choice to be made.
Her chin trembled and sadness washed over her like a tsunami. ‘Mum, honestly, that’s a decision I really don’t want to make. But I’m sorry, if you’re forcing my hand, I’m afraid I have another life to protect now.’ Her voice broke and she paused, hoping that her mother would see sense and open her arms out to her.
The prospect of being a single parent was daunting, starting a new business at the same time was terrifying, but she knew in her heart she could and would do it. If nothing else, she had determination. But she could’ve really done with a hug from her mum. When none came, she swiped hot tears from her cheeks and cleared her throat.
‘I really do love you, please remember that.’
Her mother looked on in shock, so she waited a split second more, but when her mother didn’t move, Caitlin nodded in defeat.
‘Bye, Mum.’
And with those final words, she turned and left her family home with the melancholic feeling inside that she may be leaving it for the very last time.
1
The early-evening June sun was still high in the sky over the pretty coastal village of Glentorrin, and it warmed the garden at the back of the bakery, as Caitlin Fraser handed out the filled wine glasses to her friends: Lifeboat House Museum guardian Jules Fairhurst, village shop owner Morag McDougal, and the newest resident, ex-Hollywood actress, Ruby Locke.
It was Friday evening and wonderful to be outside enjoying the clement weather, Caitlin thought, and the planting and weeding she had done in her little cottage garden was paying dividends. Birds were still chirping overhead and feasting on the feeding station she had made with her twelve – soon-to-be thirteen –year-old daughter Grace, and the buzz of bees could be heard as the little insects worked hard around the newly dug flowerbeds. The variety of colours were so cheerful and uplifting and she was happy that Grace’s plan to plant a rainbow had come to fruition.
‘So, I have news,’ Caitlin told her friends with a sly smile.
The women shared an intrigued glance.
‘Sounds ominous. What’s going on?’ Jules asked.
Caitlin took a large swig of the crisp, fruity wine for Dutch courage and placed her glass down again. ‘Well, ladies, at the ripe old age of forty, I’ve decided I’m going to start dating.’
Morag chuckled. ‘It’s about bloody time if you ask me, hen. I thought we were waiting for hell to freeze over or something.’
‘Thanks, Morag,’ Caitlin replied with a roll of her eyes and a good-humoured smile. ‘I’ve spent so many years putting Grace and the bakery first, but I think maybe the time’s right. And I figure that now my parents’ bed and breakfast up at Portree is sold, I have the space to include a man in my life.’
‘I’m surprised it took so long to sell. It’s been quite stressful for you, hasn’t it?’ Jules said with a sad smile as she tucked her blonde waves behind her ears.
Caitlin nodded. ‘Aye, it has. Two and a half years since Mum passed away, and two years since I put the place on the market. Thank goodness it’s done now though.’
‘You did such a lot of work to the place. It was stunning when you put it up for sale,’ Ruby said wistfully.
‘Well, someone needed to drag it kicking and screaming out of the nineteen eighties. I’ve never seen so much chintz.’ Caitlin laughed as she remembered the task of stripping the flowery, pink and blue, lounge wallpaper from the top of the walls, and the pink candy-striped paper from the bottom. Of course, the intricately decorated, oh-so-eighties border covering the join of the two had gone too. Thankfully, she had managed to find a team of painters and decorators to take over when she found the task too much on top of her day job.
Caitlin’s Cakes and Bakes had gone from strength to strength and Caitlin was proud of all she had achieved as a single parent and businesswoman. And although it hadn’t always been a piece of cake, Grace was a lovely, well-adjusted girl, despite her less than ordinary origins. Grace was fully aware of where she came from and although neither were ashamed about it, it wasn’t something they talked about with others. Caitlin had discovered that, whilst not everyone was of the same opinion as her own mother, not many people understood her choices.
‘Didn’t you ever fancy moving up there to run the place yourself after all that hard work?’ Morag asked. The woman, who was in her sixties, not only ran the village shop with her husband but a successful bed and breakfast too. Caitlin often wondered where she got her energy from.
Caitlin smiled and shook her head. ‘No. Too many memories.’ She shrugged. ‘Mostly good but… Well, some that I’d rather not be reminded of.’ She took a sip of her drink as she remembered the beautiful old house she had grown up in with its sweeping driveway and pretty, private garden. ‘And I love my little bakery here in Glentorrin, so it wasn’t a difficult decision to make.’
She was grateful she had made peace with her mother several years prior to her death, and that Grace had met her Granny Maggie. Once, when delivering a birthday cake to a customer, she had bumped into her mum in Portree when Grace was around seven. The woman had sobbed and apologised over and over when she had laid eyes on the beautiful, sweet-natured young girl for the first time. She had taken them back to her home and served tea and scones whilst showing her granddaughter old photos of her mum as a child. It was how things should have been all along, but at least Maggie had acknowledged that fact, even if it had been a little too late.
As if sensing a slump in the jovial atmosphere, Ruby chimed in, ‘So, how are you going to go about this finding a man lark? Because let me tell you, it’s not blooming easy.’
Caitlin laughed. ‘Says the beautiful, red-haired ex-movie actress who bagged a sexy property tycoon.’ Good grief, if Ruby, a thirty-year-old stunner, thinks it’s difficult, there’s no hope for me!
Ruby held up a finger and giggled. ‘Ah, we’re not allowed to call Mitch a tycoon any more. He says it sounds too braggy. And you know what he’s like about being the centre of attention.’
‘Oh, we certainly do,’ Caitlin replied with a knowing smile. Caitlin remembered the first time Hollywood actress Ruby Locke had walked into her bakery, and she had tried her best not to be too starstruck. Glentorrin resident Mitch Adair had been roped into helping the star, by a mutual acquaintance, to stay out of the public eye by staying at a couple of his properties. This all followed a horrible incident where Ruby’s social media accounts had been hacked, and some horrid imposter had put out vile posts pretending to be her. Mitch was just the kind of healing Ruby had needed and now the pair were head over heels in love.
Caitlin’s thoughts returned to the poster she’d seen on the noticeboard at the village hall. ‘So, for starters, there’s a singles night up in Broadford, at the Crown Hotel, tomorrow night. I thought I’d give that a go.’
‘Oooh, a singles night. That could work,’ Jules said, giving her a nudge. ‘But… won’t you be lonely going by yourself?’
Caitlin laughed. ‘Probably, I’ll see if I can get a date to go with me.’ They all laughed.
