Page 37 of The Castle in the Bay

‘Barra, you are a truly beautiful place.’ There was nowhere on earth quite like this.

Continuing his journey, he followed signs to a local gin distillery on the edge of Castlebay he’d read about in the guidebook Catriona had left in the annex. His mother liked gin, and this seemed something fitting to take back to her. Monty parked and headed inside. The moment he opened the door, he caught the rich scent of botanicals. He might enjoy something from here too.

‘Hello,’ a woman behind the counter said.

‘Hi.’ Monty smiled, looking around at the shelves lined with bottles of gin, each labelled with intricate designs and claiming to be the spirit of the Atlantic. A film showed the gin-making process, along with some stunning clips of the island being battered by storms and waves. A beautiful but scary place.

He perused the different gins before choosing a pink rhubarb and ginger one. His mum would like the bottle, if nothing else. The shape was curious, wide at the bottom and tapering into a very thin neck.

‘Are you on holiday?’ the woman asked as she put through the sale.

‘Yes. This week and next.’

‘And how are you enjoying it?’

‘It’s a beautiful island. I’m falling in love.’

The woman smiled. ‘It has that effect on people. I know some people who came on holiday and then returned here to live.’

Monty thanked her. He was pretty certain he wouldn’t be returning to live here. A holiday was great, but this was too far from his normal life to contemplate more.

As he left the distillery, the sun was high in the sky. He drove on over the causeway to Vatersay, stopping at a beach with afamous gate he’d seen lots of pictures of. After leaving the car and walking across a grassy strand, he found the gate and took his own picture. From there it was a short walk down a narrow gap in the dunes to a stunning beach that was almost deserted; golden sands glowed and turquoise waters glittered in the June sun. Monty walked along the shore, kicking off his shoes and letting the cool water wash over his feet. He picked up a few pebbles, tossing them into the waves. The place reminded him of the beach where he’d kissed Iona. The memory was vivid. So vivid.

And just look at me!

He was in the water, paddling. This was all Iona’s doing.

He pulled out his phone and took a few photos. He could add these to his social media page, but why bother? He had a quick look. Sophie hadn’t reacted to his post from earlier. Who knew if she’d even seen it?

Iona’s face battled in his mind with Sophie’s and he wasn’t entirely sure which one he wanted to win, but always Iona rose to the surface. Maybe just because she was here, fresh in his mind and easier to picture.

Returning to the car, he checked the map on his phone. There was still plenty of the island to see, but his thoughts kept circling back to Iona’s business. Of course he’d like to help her if she needed it, but he didn’t want her to think he was stepping on her toes. Maybe she didn’t want help. Not everyone was super organised in business. Being a ‘flake’, as Alexander had called her, was maybe just her way. She was undoubtedly spontaneous and full of energy. It could be the same for her business.

Monty stopped in Castlebay to get some food. His eyes frequently strayed to Kisimul Castle as he walked down the little street towards the shop. Dad’s ashes were there now, flying free. Maybe he was in heaven having stern words with the clan chief MacNeil who’d cut their branch of the family out of theirinheritance. The thought made Monty smile. He half wished Iona was down here with her boat today. Before his time was up, he fancied another trip to Kisimul. An odd feeling rippled across his shoulders like he had unfinished business there, though what it was, he wasn’t sure.

Later in the afternoon, Monty returned to the farm and parked the Vauxhall in the small parking area to the side of the main house. It was too early for dinner, so he got his book from his bag and sat on a bench outside the annex. Reading to the gentle lilt of the sea and buzz of insects was the stuff of dreams, and Monty lost track of time completely.

Dinner was served in the same room as breakfast, and a few other guests sat around the table with Monty. One particularly chatty older woman talked to him for almost the whole meal. Her husband looked thrilled that she’d found someone to tell her stories to. Monty listened as he ate Catriona’s delicious version of a cheese and lentil pie.

‘This is our thirtieth year coming here,’ the older woman said. ‘We’ve seen so many changes.’

‘I bet.’

Catriona took the plates away and served dessert. ‘Are you still ok to chat later?’ she said as she leaned in to hand Monty his bowl of rhubarb crumble.

‘Sure am. What time?’

‘Seven thirty.’

‘I’ll be there.’

It wasn’t long to wait after dinner, so he spent some more time reading on the bench. Voices caught his attention, and he spotted Iona returning. A young man Monty didn’t recognise got out of her car with her and they laughed as they approached thehouse. Monty ground his teeth and tried not to look. Was this someone she’d hooked up with after a paddleboarding lesson? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He thumped his book shut. Time to go find Catriona.

When he knocked on the kitchen door, Iona answered it, and Monty met her eyes. His insides froze. Stay calm. All he had to do was treat his interactions with her the way he would with a client.

‘Hi.’ He flexed his fingers. ‘I’m here to see Catriona.’

---