Coming Home to the Highlands, page 3
‘I lost my job!’ Bella blurted and once again all heads turned to their table.
Olivia and Skye turned to face her. ‘What?’
Bella covered her eyes briefly with her hands. ‘Sorry. I had to say something to change the subject. I didn’t mean to upset you, Skye. I’m just…’ She sighed deeply. ‘Olivia’s right, I’m a pessimist when it comes to love. I’ve never had a relationship that’s lasted long enough for a birthday card, let alone an engagement ring and I need to learn to haud ma wheesht. I’m so sorry, Skye.’
‘Have you actually lost your job? The one with the PR firm that you’ve been at for six months?’ Olivia asked.
Bella nodded and gave a sad, regretful smile. ‘Aye. I made a daft meme and sent it to ma mate. She opened it on her phone and the director saw it over her shoulder while he was standing by her. The timing couldn’t have been worse. I was asked to clear my desk and leave the premises. They cited gross misconduct.’
‘Oh, no, Bella, that’s terrible,’ Olivia said, aghast at the story.
‘And a bit harsh for a joke,’ Skye agreed.
Bella’s cheeks returned to their fluorescent pink again and she slunk into her seat. ‘Not really. I’d made a joke meme about the director’s toupee inviting me out for a drink. I mean, it’s got a bloody life of its own, that thing. I’m sure it’s alive!’
There was a silent pause and then the three friends burst into fits of laughter as Bella showed Olivia and Skye the meme she had sent. The toupee in the picture had googly eyes and they had to admit it was hilarious but also a disastrous career move.
Olivia reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘Something will come up, Bella. You always land on your feet.’
Bella shook her head. ‘Well, I’m no’ getting a reference from him, am I? And there’s nothing out there for personal assistants, I know, I’ve scoured every job site. I might have to just accept whatever I can get now. I might have to move back in with ma folks too.’ There was a long pause before Bella continued, ‘Oh, good grief, can we change the subject again? So come on, Skye, where would your ideal wedding be?’
The following day, Olivia walked into Inverness once again, knowing she should really call in on her brother, who lived at the family-owned villa; a grand Victorian detached house in the leafy conservation area of Crown in the city. He had sent several messages summoning her. But before she could face that, she decided to browse the crammed shelves at Leakey’s Bookshop. Leakey’s was an Aladdin’s cave of antiquarian and general second-hand books that had been trading in the city for around four decades from a converted church. She got the same feeling of excitement every time she stepped inside. So many words, so many different lives between the thousands of old, slightly foxed pages.
The walls of the old church were covered in framed antique prints and each level was stocked, floor to ceiling, with every book you could imagine. A spiral staircase joined the two floors and the railings that surrounded the top floor gave the most incredible vantage point to view the place. The stained-glass windows were still in situ and in the centre stood a wood-burning stove that provided the cosy feeling even on a cold day.
Olivia found a book on Victorian fashion and flicked through the beautifully illustrated pages before taking it to the counter and purchasing it to add to her already vast collection. After a little more browsing, she left the sanctuary of the bookshop and paused to text her brother to ensure he was home, and then made her way to Southside Road.
The stunning nineteenth-century villa that stood back from the road, in an impressive elevated position, had been in the family since before she and Kerr were born. It was, in fact, purchased by her grandparents as a ‘crash pad’ to use when they were in the city. Olivia found this concept quite ridiculous. This particular ‘crash pad’ consisted of a large double-fronted building with ten bedrooms and as many ensuites. These days, it was Kerr’s home and it had been modernised to his tastes, even though he didn’t technically own it. He had butchered some of the period detail and it made Olivia wince when she visited and witnessed the glossy modern kitchen with its high-tech gadgets and abstract artwork. She loved art and modern kitchens as much as the next person, but they had their place, and Drumblair Villa was not the house for such things, in her opinion.
At least from the outside nothing much had changed. She climbed the steps to the front door and pressed her finger determinedly on the button for the doorbell, then stepped back and waited.
Much to Olivia’s disappointment, Adaira answered the door and almost rugby tackled her into an uncomfortable hug. ‘Oh, Olivia, darling, my sincerest condolences, do come in. Cook is making some tea, so we’ll have that in the drawing room.’
Olivia stood there, momentarily confused. ‘Cook?’ she asked with a slight shake of her head. Kerr had always managed to make his own tea. He was a grown-arsed man living alone, after all.
Adaira smiled. ‘I brought my cook from home while I’m staying here for a while. Poor darling Kerr is struggling with the whole situation. I’ve never seen him so down, poor lamb.’ Ah, okay, that makes sense. Her brother was playing the wounded orphan and Adaira was lapping it up. Adaira patted her arm. ‘You see, you’re so much stronger than he is. You moved away, but Kerr has never been able to do that. Always the dedicated son,’ she said wistfully, and as if she knew him extremely well – which she absolutely did not.
Dedicated to Mum’s bank account, more like, Olivia thought. She resented the fact that Adaira had almost insinuated she wasn’t quite as bothered by their mother’s passing, but she bit her tongue and smiled sweetly before following the woman into the living room.
When Olivia entered the room, Kerr was standing by the fireplace with his back to her and his head bowed. She felt a small amount of comfort at the fact that this was one of the rooms that had remained true to its period. It reminded her of when Uncle Innes had lived there for a brief time and how much she had always loved to visit him.
Kerr turned quite dramatically, as if he was in some Victorian period drama, and held out his hands. ‘Olivia, my dear, dear sister.’ Okay, so I’ve walked onto the set of Pride and Prejudice, have I? I wonder which of us is which. ‘Thank you for coming all this way. We all appreciate it.’
Wondering who the suggested all were, she walked towards him and accepted his outstretched hands. ‘Of course I came, Kerr. She was my mother too,’ she replied rather indignantly and with a twinge of annoyance inside.
He nodded. ‘Of course, of course. We just know that your life is in New York now and this place is behind you. Plus, it’s such a long journey.’
Again, bothered by his words, she retorted, ‘Again, my mum too.’
Kerr held her at arm’s length. ‘Why so bitter, Olivia?’
Olivia sighed and closed her eyes briefly before smiling. ‘I’m not bitter. I just don’t like the insinuations that Mum wasn’t as important to me because I moved away. I did so with her blessing and encouragement.’
Again, Kerr nodded and smiled but it all seemed false, forced even. He gave a shrug which indicated what she had said was obvious to him, and that she was wrong in her understanding of his intentions. ‘Of course you did.’
A middle-aged woman with her greying hair in a tidy bun, wearing a black dress with a white apron over it, entered the room carrying a tray. On the tray was a fancy china teapot that Olivia surmised must have been Adaira’s, and matching cups with saucers, a milk jug and sugar bowl. She silently set it down on the mahogany coffee table and left without speaking. Olivia couldn’t help feeling that it was all a little pretentious for two capable, non-working adults to have such an employee. They weren’t blooming royalty, for goodness’ sake.
‘Please, have a seat, won’t you?’ Adaira said as she sat on one of the brown leather Chesterfield sofas and gestured to the one opposite. Regardless of feeling a little perturbed by her presence and the behaviour that hinted this was not actually Olivia’s family home, she did as instructed and Kerr followed suit, sitting beside Adaira.
Olivia waited as Adaira poured weak tea into the cups then lifted hers, simply for something to do with her hands.
‘So, you know the funeral details, I take it,’ Kerr said as he took a quick sip of his tea and placed it down again.
Olivia nodded. ‘Yes… I met with Uncle Innes, and he told me everything. I’m glad it’s almost all arranged. I don’t think I could’ve faced that.’
Kerr huffed. ‘Yes, I can’t say I’m happy at all about Mother’s choice of executor. I mean, why him?’
Olivia shook her head as it seemed pretty obvious to her. ‘He’s her brother.’
‘Stepbrother,’ Kerr sneered. ‘They’re only related by marriage, which means nothing, if you ask me.’
Olivia sighed; she already knew that Kerr wasn’t keen on their uncle. ‘Well, it was up to Mum who she chose, so there’s no point getting upset about it. And he’s been good enough to look after Marley too. I presume you didn’t want to take him.’
Olivia was fully aware that Kerr was jealous of the dog. Ridiculous but very true. ‘Pfft! Why would I want white hair and mud everywhere? No, thank you. He’s welcome to that one thing.’
‘Marley is not a thing. He was Mum’s beloved companion. And he’s not taking it too well, according to Uncle Innes.’
Kerr’s face contorted. ‘He’s a dog, Olivia. Dogs don’t have feelings.’
Flabbergasted, Olivia was at a loss for words, so chose not to speak. Kerr continued. ‘Oh, I’m sure Innes is all holier-than-thou because of his good deed with that mangy animal. He’s used to such things living on that farm. And I bet he loves lording it over us like this. I bet he’s thoroughly enjoying the power trip.’
Beginning to regret her visit, Olivia willed herself, once again, to remain calm. ‘He lost his sister, Kerr. I’m sure lording anything over anyone is the last thing on his mind.’
Kerr gave a sinister smile. ‘Well, I’m only glad that he can’t have inherited anything too big. Mum definitely wouldn’t have been cruel enough to leave him anything of value that should have been mine… erm, ours. And the fact that he’s the executor indicates he’s not the main beneficiary.’
Olivia knew he was wrong about that; an executor could, in fact, be a beneficiary. Unwilling to hear her beloved uncle berated in his absence any further, Olivia placed her cup and saucer back on the tray. ‘Look, Kerr, you asked me to come and visit, so here I am. Please let’s not argue about things, okay?’
Kerr opened his mouth as if to protest but Adaira nudged him and frowned when he turned to face her for a moment. It was an unspoken signal of some kind. He took hold of Adaira’s hand and turned back to face Olivia. ‘Very well. Now, as difficult as this is, we need to discuss the future, Olivia.’ Olivia watched as a small smile spread across Adaira’s face, like withheld glee. ‘Now, I’m sure there will be some provision left to you in the will. I mean, I can’t see Mum leaving you with nothing, of course. It may even be that she has left you this old place.’ He glanced around the high-ceilinged room and shook his head as if to rid himself of the unpleasant thought. ‘But I’m not really sure, as I’ve been living here for some time now and it will break my heart to let it go.’ He paused as if waiting for her to speak. When she didn’t, he continued, ‘But the main reason I felt we should discuss the future is that I want you to know I intend to make some big changes at Drumblair when I take over.’
Olivia inhaled deeply through her nose with the intention of remaining calm as she spoke. ‘Perhaps we should wait until we know what the will document contains. I’m not sure it’s appropriate to make such grand plans when we don’t know the details. She may have left Drumblair to charity for all we know.’
Kerr gasped. ‘She wouldn’t do that! Don’t be so ridiculous! It’s our family home. Our father’s ancestral seat. She would never do such a thing.’
Relief flooded Olivia on hearing his vehement response. It was completely unexpected, but at least his reaction indicated his intentions were not to sell the place off.
She decided to humour him. ‘Okay, so what changes are you thinking of making?’
He briefly glanced at Adaira and they shared a knowing smile which further irked Olivia. ‘Nothing is finalised as yet, but I feel there is definite missed earning potential.’
Uh-oh. I get the feeling I’m not going to like this. Olivia cleared her throat and tried to remain passive. ‘How so?’
He shrugged. ‘Oh, you know, the land, the cottages. Maybe even the chapel. Chapel conversions are very en vogue right now.’
Olivia’s temperature began to rise, heating her face, and anger bubbled beneath her skin. She narrowed her eyes at him and held up a finger to halt his words. ‘Hang on, you don’t mean to sell these buildings off? And you can’t sell off the chapel! All of our relatives are buried around there! And the land is farmed already by locals on the family’s behalf. You can’t just take that away from the people who work the land!’
He crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his spine in apparent defiance. ‘Like I said, nothing is finalised. But ultimately, it’s my decision.’
She scoffed. ‘What happened to “It’s our family home, our father’s ancestral seat”?’
He scowled and curled his lip. ‘You suggested that Mum may have left it all to charity. Why should charity benefit when it’s rightfully mine? I’m the one who should inherit and benefit, not charity.’
And there you go… Olivia pursed her lips and nodded. ‘Oh, I see. I get it. You’d rather sell the place off bit by bit and pocket the cash, while our ancestral seat becomes a hotel and spa, rather than a more needy cause, one that our mother supported for example, benefiting from her loss.’
One side of his mouth tilted, and a crease formed between his brows. ‘Well, duh! And I think I’m a suitable needy cause, for goodness’ sake.’
Olivia stood. ‘I knew it was a mistake my coming here. I knew you’d have some half-baked scheme to cash in on our mother’s death. My god, Kerr, she’s not even in the ground yet and you’re planning ways to get rich off of her. It’s mercenary, pathetic and totally against anything either Mum or Dad would have wanted. I honestly can’t believe you’re considering such actions.’
He stood to face her and waved a pointed finger in her direction. ‘You asked about the changes, so what does that say about you?’
Exasperated, she couldn’t help raising her voice. ‘I presumed you meant replacing the kitchen or updating the heating system like you’ve done here!’
Kerr’s face contorted with incredulity. ‘Why would I do all that if I’m going to sell it?’
Olivia widened her eyes, and she stepped back, almost falling onto the sofa again. ‘Oh! So now you’re selling the castle too?’
Kerr folded his arms once more. ‘And what if I am? It has nothing to do with you! You don’t even live here in Scotland any more. You swanned off to the US of A to pursue your frock-making dreams! You’d rather be a two-bit seamstress than stay here and look after our poor dying mother!’
Something snapped inside Olivia; she clenched her fists and screamed, ‘She wasn’t dying! She had a stroke, remember? No one had a clue it was going to happen, Kerr! In fact, it was probably the stress of keeping you alive and out of trouble that caused it! And it’s about time you dropped this little narrative you’ve created in your head about being the perfect son and me being the prodigal daughter when it was clearly the other way around!’ Her chest heaved and her heart pounded at her ribs.
‘Get out of my house,’ Kerr growled through clenched teeth. Adaira stood, hands on cheeks and eyes wide, just watching the drama unfold.
‘Gladly.’ Olivia turned and stormed back through the vast hallway where a family portrait hung. She paused to look at it. Her mum and dad sat on the mahogany-framed sofa that still stood in the bowed window of the living room and standing beside them were young adults – Olivia and Kerr – smiling for the artist. Olivia’s eyes welled with tears, and she shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum… Dad. I do love you both.’ And with those final words, she opened the door and let it close behind her as she left.
2
March continued to wear the same dull and frigid attire as February had donned when it had departed. Even though spring was around the corner, it was as if the trees on the castle estate were holding off displaying their newly sprouted leaves and buds, and the bulbs had waited to bloom out of respect for their dearly departed Lady of Drumblair. Olivia had avoided the castle until the night before the funeral for fear of further arguments with her brother, who would no doubt be around, plotting his takeover. She couldn’t stomach watching him planning to deface her childhood home and sell bits off as if it was a car being sold for scrap.
Drumblair Castle was located south-west of the city of Inverness on the shores of Loch Ness, between the villages of Dores and Whitefield. It was a stunning location surrounded by trees and with a backdrop of the loch on one side and an expanse of land to the other which eventually led to a village that shared the castle’s name. The castle itself could be accessed by the village and also by General Wade’s military road, a network set up in the late 1700s as a way of controlling the locals who had rebelled against the crown alongside the Jacobites.
Olivia remembered going to the loch shore in the summer with her father’s handheld telescope and searching for Nessie. She had seen many species of wildlife on her trips but none that she could put hand on heart and confirm as being the so-called monster. She used to picnic down at that same shore with her parents and they would sit by the small chapel and, after much cajoling on Olivia’s part, they would regale her with the story of their wedding day; a story she simply never tired of. Such happy times.
The closer Olivia got to home, the more nervous she became. The taxi drove along the tree-lined avenue that led to the castle and Olivia shivered as the majestic building came into view. She paid the driver and as she climbed out of the taxi, a familiar person stood just outside the huge oak doors, waiting to greet her, alongside a majestic cream-coloured dog whose tail wagged a happy rhythm.
