Coming Home to the Highlands, page 4
Olivia waited as the kind-hearted driver extracted her cases and carried them to the door. Mirren, the housekeeper, pulled Olivia into a warm embrace and her eyes began to well once more as Marley nuzzled her hand, licking at her and whimpering.
‘Welcome home, Olivia dear. We’ve all missed you. I asked Innes to bring Marley home so you could see him,’ Mirren told her. ‘And I’m so very sorry you found out about your mother the way you did. I was so cross with Kerr.’ Mirren had been with the family ever since Kerr was a baby and was originally taken on as his nanny, but her role had evolved over the years, meaning she knew the house inside and out. She was like part of the family after all this time and Olivia adored her.
Olivia sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. ‘It’s not your fault, please don’t worry. I’m used to him after all these years.’ She crouched and buried her face in Marley’s fur. ‘Oh, Marley, I’ve missed you so much, you poor, poor love. This must all be so strange for you.’ She pulled back and looked at his sweet face and oddly pink nose, then into his eyes. ‘We’ll make sure you’re okay, don’t you worry.’ Her mind whirred with ideas as to what she could do to take Marley back to New York. She would have to really think it through, and consult with Harper, of course. And check their lease. But the last thing she would do was abandon her mum’s beloved friend.
Mirren patted her shoulder. ‘Come on in, love. I’ve just made cocoa, your favourite,’ Mirren said as she picked up one bag and Olivia lifted the other one. She followed Mirren into the hallway and inhaled the familiar smell of wood polish and smoke. The vase on the huge round table in the centre of the hallway was filled with an array of coloured roses, her mother’s favourite, and as she stepped closer, she closed her eyes to inhale their sweet scent as memories flooded her mind and filled her with emotion.
‘You pop on up to your bedroom with your things and I’ll reheat the cocoa,’ Mirren said with a sad smile.
Olivia picked up her bags and climbed the vast curving staircase to the first floor, closely followed by Marley, panting as he stuck, limpet-like, to her leg. She paused when her phone pinged. She quickly turned her wrist to check her watch and saw a text message from Harper:
I’m sooo jetlagged! But I made it and I’m all checked into your room at the Glenmoriston. Thanks for keeping it on for me, it’s gorgeous. I’m heading to the Brasserie for dinner and then of course the Piano Bar. Cab arranged through hotel reception so I will be with you after breakfast tomorrow. Love ya. H. ❤️
Olivia smiled, happy that she would have someone here to support her, seeing as her brother probably wouldn’t. She made her way up to the second floor, past several closed doors and on to her bedroom. After placing her bags down, she closed her eyes and held the door latch for a few moments, summoning up the courage to enter, knowing there would be no little welcome message on her pillow from her mum.
She glanced down at the dog, whose eyes were fixed firmly on her, as if willing her forward. ‘We can do this, Marls. We can.’
When she finally entered, she felt a certain amount of stress vacate her body. Home had always had that effect on her, like a magic elixir to eliminate worry and anything that might have been preying on her mind. Even though there was sadness mingled in with her emotions today, and she didn’t technically live here any more, it still felt like home. Marley wandered over and took his favourite spot on the rug at the end of the bed and gave a deep sigh as he laid down.
Being back at Drumblair was strange, though, to say the least. It was as if her room had remained in a time warp. It was both oddly comforting and a little disconcerting too that it had been pretty much untouched since she had lived there as a teenager. Back then, she’d been obsessed with an eclectic mix of fashion icons: Vivienne Westwood, Alexander McQueen and Coco Chanel. Posters of slender, overly made-up models wearing quirky outfits she could only aspire to design covered the pale blue walls. In days gone by, she had stared for hours at these statuesque people, who were almost otherworldly in her humble opinion. And as much as she adored the designs, it was her dream to design for every frame size, not just those who could span their waist with their fingers.
A small selection of her own designs were pinned to the notice board above her oak desk, and she could remember drawing each and every single one with passion and excitement. Looking at them now, she was amused at how simple and naïve they appeared, with the exception of one dress. This dress was designed with the family tartan in mind and was subtle and elegant, with a fitted bodice and fit and flare skirt; timeless and simple. She’d often dreamed of having it made up but had never had the connections. Well, not until now, anyway. But she couldn’t help thinking that it still wasn’t in the league of Nina Picarro.
She left her own room and glanced along the hallway to the opposite side of the corridor. Inhaling a deep breath, she made her way to her mother’s bedroom and, once again, paused outside the door. Marley appeared beside her and wagged his tail, as if he was expecting to go inside to greet his owner. This broke Olivia’s heart and tears escaped her eyes to leave damp trails down her cheeks.
Once inside the room, Olivia walked over to the window and looked out. Her mother’s room had a view of the grounds, down to the chapel and the loch beyond. The water was still and the sky grey. She turned and for a moment watched Marley as he wandered around, sniffing and searching. Olivia wiped at her wet face as she observed the poor dog in his confused state. She perched on the edge of the bed and called the dog. Marley sat in front of her and placed his paw on her leg, he was a sensitive soul.
She stroked his head. ‘She’s gone, my lovely boy. I’m so sorry.’ As if understanding the words, Marley whimpered again and lay down at her feet.
The room still smelled of her mother’s favourite Chanel perfume and her make-up and hairbrushes were still laid out on her dressing table as if she was due to return at any moment.
If only she was.
Once freshened up in her own room, Olivia made her way down the stairs with Marley, to the vast kitchen, where Mirren sat at one end of the battered old pine table. The fire was roaring, and two mugs of delicious-smelling cocoa sat on saucers. The deep, bitter chocolatey aroma made her mouth water and brought back memories of post-hockey match drinks lifted by pink, tingling fingers that had just begun to gain their feeling again.
Marley made himself comfy on his bed in front of the fire and Mirren smiled over at her. ‘Come and get warmed up, love,’ she told her with a smile. ‘And tell me all you’ve been up to since I saw you last April.’
Olivia explained all about the fashion show and how her designs had been featured and that there was a chance she was going to be offered her dream job when she returned to New York.
Mirren was delighted. ‘Your mother would be so proud of you. In fact, she was. Often told me so.’ She paused and smiled as she reminisced. ‘Aye, Freya was glad you left this place. Sad at the same time, of course, her only daughter was moving away but she knew this wasn’t where you needed to be. Not back then, anyway.’
There was another moment of silence when the only noise that could be heard was the crackling of logs in the open fire and the snoring of a sleeping canine.
Olivia soaked up the atmosphere of home. ‘I wish I had come home for Christmas,’ she said with a trembling chin. ‘It was the first one I’ve missed, and I knew I would regret it. I just didn’t know why.’
Mirren reached across the table, a futile exercise as her arms were not long enough for her fingers to make contact, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. ‘Hey, don’t do that, my love. Don’t start beating yourself up for things you can’t change. And anyway, your mum was absolutely fine with us boring staff. We had a right old knees-up.’ She chuckled.
Olivia grinned and wiped away a few escaped tears. ‘Aye, so I heard. Apparently, Dougie was playing the guitar and the rest of you were singing carols on Christmas night. Mum said the more wine that was drunk, the more the lyrics were being made up!’
Mirren laughed wholeheartedly. ‘Och, aye! Tam, bless him, was singing something about “Round John Bergin’s mother and child”. We were all in hysterics when we asked him who Round John Bergin was and he said that was John from the bible’s full name and couldn’t understand why the rest of us didn’t know!’
‘Oh, yes, I heard all about the halls being decked with bras of holly!’
‘Yes, that was Celia, Tam’s wife! Honestly, they were cut from the same cloth, those two. I mean, bras of holly? Have you ever heard such a thing?’ Her mirth disappeared. ‘They were such an integral part of the team, the pair of them, and the other gardeners.’
‘What do you mean were?’ Olivia asked.
Mirren fidgeted with her mug. ‘I’m afraid…’ she began but stopped. ‘I don’t know whether it’s my place to say but…’
‘Go on, Mirren, it’s fine,’ Olivia encouraged her.
‘Kerr fired most of the gardening team just after your mother passed. I think we all thought it was a knee-jerk reaction because the gardens were her pride and joy, and I got the sense he was angry at her for dying. But…’ She shrugged and stared into the dark liquid in her mug. ‘He kept to his decision and Dougie’s been left to look after the grounds on his own. Well… he had been.’
Olivia swallowed hard. ‘That’s ridiculous! Why would he do such a thing? Is he planning on doing the gardening himself? All two thousand acres?’ It was a rhetorical question to which she already knew the answer. ‘I can’t believe he’s begun making his changes already. I thought he might have the decency and respect to wait until after the funeral.’
Mirren nodded. ‘Aye, but you know your brother. Not the most patient, nor cooperative, of men.’
‘You said Dougie had been left to the work. Past tense? Does that mean Kerr has hired someone else?’
‘Not exactly. Dougie’s son, Brodie, you may remember him from when you were wee. He went off to Edinburgh to live with his mother after she divorced Dougie years ago. He’s come back to help out.’
A cold shiver traversed Olivia’s spine. She remembered Brodie MacLeod quite well, thank you very much. He was a spotty, annoying teenager, one year older than her at fifteen when she had last seen him. Although she’d actually had a huge, secret, plaguing crush on him until the bullying started. She had towered above him by several inches back then but that hadn’t stopped him from picking on her. It hadn’t always been like that but at high school he picked on her height and called her names, making fun of her long legs and naturally curly hair. Not to mention her buck teeth. Goofy Muckle Shanks, that was it, that was his insulting name of choice, amongst others.
These days, obviously she’d stopped growing, meaning she was no longer spindly, had her teeth fixed and her hair was always smooth and styled perfectly, but she still shuddered as she recalled how embarrassed she had been when Brodie had called her the horrible nickname in front of his school friends. They had howled with laughter and egged him on. They had all thrown leaves and fallen branches at her and made comments insinuating that she could eat the ones from the tops of the trees like all the other giraffes. Then they had guffawed hysterically when they asked if that’s how she had got such wild hair, by catching the power lines as she ate the top leaves.
Looking back, she knew it could have been so much worse, but at the time it was devastating and so humiliating for her as an already awkward teenager, especially when she dreamed about holding hands with Brodie and being his girlfriend one day. Realising that day would never come had broken her teenage heart. He’d been her first – completely unrequited – love. He’d always been a good-looking boy, despite the teenage acne. She could easily look past that. They had pretty much grown up together and had been such good friends at first. But after the name calling and the way he’d dismissed her friendship when he’d reached fifteen, she had been relieved when he had moved away to Edinburgh with his mother. And now here she was, in the present, wondering why on earth he had chosen to return to this remote, isolated and quiet place when he had been in the country’s capital city surrounded by shops, bars and fun. Why would anyone with no real connection choose to be here, in a place like this? The concept baffled her. There must be a serious reason for his return. Maybe he lost his job or his marriage – if he had one – has broken down. If he treated his wife the way he used to treat others, there’s no wonder!
In the back of her mind was the familiar feeling of dread that she would no doubt bump into Brodie during her stay here. Because that’s all this is; a temporary stay, she hastily reminded herself. There was nothing permanent about this visit. She had a dream career to return to in the Big Apple and nothing was going to stop her.
Realising she hadn’t responded to Mirren, Olivia nodded her head. ‘Oh, I see,’ was all she managed to reply.
‘Aye, bless the lad for offering to come back like that and for no pay. Dougie couldnae have coped for much longer. He’s no getting any younger.’
‘So, he did come back by choice? Brodie, I mean?’
‘Aye, mainly to help his dad. He was fair worried about him.’
‘And he’s not getting paid?’
‘Not a bean. Just shows the kind of man he is now, eh?’
‘Indeed,’ Olivia replied without much conviction. Good grief, does this mean he’s acquired some compassion in his twenties, she thought?
She heard a voice coming from the main hall, a one-way phone conversation with a familiar snippy tone, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Kerr.
Her stubborn, selfish brother hadn’t been in touch since their argument, but Olivia had made no attempt to contact him either. No doubt he’d had imaginary business to attend to – could ruining people’s lives be classed as a business? She wondered how many more people he intended to fire. She knew one thing with absolute certainty: if he attempted to let Mirren go, there would be hell to pay. She would simply not allow it. How could she? His desire to radically change their family home was anathema to her. She knew she could protest as vehemently as she liked but ultimately would have no say and this broke her already fractured heart. But the one thing she would put her foot down over would be Mirren.
Kerr appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. ‘Something smells good, Mirry – oh! I didn’t know you’d arrived.’ His eyes widened as they alighted on Olivia and his cheeks coloured pink. ‘When did you get here?’
‘About an hour ago,’ Olivia replied curtly in light of all the new information. ‘Adaira not with you?’
He cleared his throat, ‘No… no, she’s getting her driver to bring her tomorrow morning.’
Driver? Cook? The life this woman leads. I wonder if she can dress herself. ‘Oh, right.’
‘Oh, I see the dog is back,’ he said without hiding his disdain.
Olivia was, as usual, annoyed at his choice of words. ‘Yes, Marley is home. I wanted to see him.’
Kerr grunted. ‘And isn’t that Yankee friend of yours coming over?’ he asked with a disinterested tone and a scratch to his head.
‘Harper is American and yes, she arrived today. She’s getting a cab here in the morning.’ She added in a mumble, ‘Like normal people.’
He ignored her dig. ‘Right. Right. Well, I’ll be off up to my room. There’s a film I want to watch so…’ He turned and left the room and Olivia quickly got up and dashed after him, closely followed by Marley, who had evidently become her shadow and guardian.
‘Kerr, hang on a minute, please.’
He huffed and turned. ‘What now?’
‘Mirren told me you’ve fired most of the gardeners.’
He curled his lip and shook his head. ‘Yeah, so?’
‘What happened to waiting for the will reading before any drastic changes were made?’
He pointed an index finger at her. ‘You said that. Not me. And as I said back then, it’s nothing to do with you. I’m the rightful heir. My place, my decisions.’
‘Who else are you planning to fire? And if you say Mirren, there will be serious trouble, just so you know.’
A sinister grin appeared on his face. ‘You really are full of your own self-importance, aren’t you, Olivia?’
Olivia scoffed. ‘Have you looked in a mirror lately?’
With the grin fixed in place, he replied. ‘Oh, I have, and I saw a wealthy, happy, problem-free man.’ He held out his hands to exaggerate his point.
Olivia’s heart pounded in her chest, and she folded her arms to cover it in case he could tell. ‘So… Mirren?’
Kerr made a zipping gesture across his lips and threw away an invisible key before jogging away and up the stairs, chuckling to himself like some ridiculous movie villain.
Olivia growled and clenched her fists. She glanced down at Marley and mumbled, ‘Is it entirely wrong to almost hate your own brother?’
When Mirren had retired for the evening, Olivia and Marley wandered around the ground floor. The stone-flagged corridors were cold, and she wrapped her arms tighter around her body. The castle was more of a mansion house these days with the modernisations that had taken place over the years, but the draughty passageways that linked the house together, like arteries, still held that stark, spooky atmosphere that used to freak her out as a child. More old paintings adorned the walls here except this time they were landscapes and seascapes with the odd portrait of a distant ancestor; mostly oil on canvas and by renowned Scottish artists such as McTaggart, Raeburn and Gillies.
She wandered a little further and opened the large oak door that led to the drawing room, the room they had used most as a family when she was young; the room where the huge Christmas tree had always been placed, surrounded by myriad gold and red-wrapped gifts.
The fire in the grate was still roaring and Marley wandered over to lie down in front of it. It was always that way ever since Olivia could remember. Mirren, or one of the other staff, would check on it regularly to ensure it didn’t die out until everyone had gone to bed. A family portrait hung above the carved stone fireplace and in this one she was around eight and Kerr had just become a teenager. She remembered sitting for the photographs that were to be used by the artist and how Kerr kept pulling silly faces to annoy the photographer. Dad had grounded him for his exploits on that particular day, and had made the mistake of uttering the words, ‘Why can’t you be more like Olivia? Anyone would think she was the older of the two of you with the way you behave.’ He hadn’t meant anything bad by it, not really, but it evidently hadn’t helped her relationship with her brother.
