Page 24 of Surprises on the Scottish Isle

Yvaine could be so infuriating.

‘This isn’t about me. It’s about Bonnie, and what’s best for her.’

‘Are you saying I don’t know what is best for my daughter?’

‘She’s my daughter, too.’

Yvaine lowered her voice and hissed, ‘And don’t I bloody know it. Get over yourself, Cal. Bonnie and I are moving in with Lenn whether you like it or not.’

With that, his ex-wife shut the door in his face, leaving him standing on her step, his mouth open and an ache in his chest.

The ache intensified when he saw his daughter’s pale face peering at him through the bedroom window, as he realised she had probably heard every word.

Tara stared at the middle-aged woman standing in front of her and said, ‘Did you just ask whether I could make a coffin?’

‘Yes. Can you?’ The woman’s eyes flickered around the studio before returning to Tara. Her mouth was downturned, her expression sour. She was clutching an oversized bag to her bosom in a white-knuckled grip, as though she feared Tara might attempt to wrestle it from her.

‘I suppose I could.’ Tara had never been asked to make a coffin before. There wasn’t much call for them in the doll’s house industry. Although she supposed she could try branching out into creating Halloween scenes. It was something to consider.

‘Good. When can you come to measure up? He’s been dead two weeks and frankly I want to get this over with.’

Tara’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened. ‘Excuse me?’

The woman peered at her, squinting behind her brown-rimmed glasses. ‘I must say, you don’t seem keen to have my business.’ The accent was pure Glaswegian and the tone was scathing.

‘I, er… You do realise I make doll’s houses?’

‘I do.’ The woman scowled and glanced around the studio again. ‘Can I speak to your manager? I might have better luck explaining it to him.’

‘Sorry, but Iamthe manager. This is my business.’

‘Is there someone up at the castle I can speak to?’

‘About what?’ Tara wished she hadn’t left her mobile on the workbench. She had a feeling she might have to call for backup.

Glancing at it out of the corner of her eye, she wondered whether she would be able to reach it in time if the woman decided to cause a scene. When several more people entered the workroom, crowding in behind, Tara didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed.

Smiling vaguely in their direction, she kept her focus on the decidedly odd woman and her decidedly bizarre request.

‘About false advertising,’ the woman said.

‘Um, I think you’d be better off speaking to an undertaker,’ Tara suggested, trying to inject sympathy into her voice. Grief affected people in different ways.

‘What on earth for?’

‘The coffin.’ Maybe it wasn’t grief. Maybe the woman was suffering from dementia? Tara’s heart went out to her. Should she call someone? She had to do something…

The woman tutted. ‘As far as I’m aware, undertakers don’t do scale models.’

And the penny dropped.

Tara breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Ahh, I see! You want amodelof a coffin, not a real one. Silly me! When you said he’d been dead two weeks, I thought…’ She ground to a halt. No wonder the woman was looking at her strangely. She must think she was a right nugget.

The woman pursed her lips. ‘You thought I wanted you to make afull-sizedcoffin?’

‘Well, yes.’ Tara bit her lip.

‘And I suppose you thought I was asking you to measure him up for it?’

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