Page 29 of Surprises on the Scottish Isle

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘I thought it was.’

‘Oh, Cal, I’m sorry. If I had known… Did she break your heart?’

‘I broke it myself when I ended it.’

‘Why, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Cal gave her the sanitised version, the one he had given Tara at the time. ‘She was too young and had another year in uni to go. I’d just been offered a good job and my parents thought I was too young to settle down.’ He snorted at the irony. Just seven months later he was married to Yvaine and was about to become a father. And all because he’d stupidly wanted to ease the pain of losing Tara.

Mhairi knew all about his marriage and his subsequent divorce. She could also do the maths. ‘You don’t get over a broken heart that quickly.’ Her expression and her voice were full of sympathy and understanding.

‘No, you don’t,’ he agreed. The problem was, he didn’t think ten years was long enough to get over a broken heart either, even if it was self-inflicted.

Calan had a suspicion he might never get over it.

And an even worse suspicion that he might still be in love with her.

Chapter 9

It had been a long and fraught week, so when Friday finally arrived Tara was more than ready for a visit to the pub later that evening. She prayed Cal wouldn’t be there.

Hoping to find out, Tara popped along to the gift shop, ostensibly to check the stock levels on her stand, but in reality she wanted to ask Jinny who was going, and she was relieved when his name wasn’t mentioned. Maybe he didn’t fraternise with the staff.

However, she couldn’t resist mentioning him herself, albeit in a roundabout way, her desire to know more about him as difficult to curb and as painful as the habit of probing at a sore tooth with a tongue.

‘Calan’s daughter is lovely,’ she began, her face averted as she examined the packets of miniatures on the stand. ‘How old is she?’

‘Nine, the same age as my eldest, Katie.’

Tara felt sick. The child must have been born not long after Cal had got married. He hadn’t wasted any time, had he?

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Jinny reminded her as Tara continued to fiddle with the stand.

‘I know, but I like to. It makes me feel good to see how well they’re selling.’ Her hands shook slightly and she hoped Jinny wouldn’t notice. ‘Bonnie wants to sign up for a doll’s house workshop, but I haven’t decided whether to run one yet.’

‘Give yourself time to settle in, you’ve only just got here.’

‘I know, but Bonnie wants me to hold one and…’ She trailed off, not sure where she was going with this.

‘And she’s the boss’s daughter?’

‘Um, yeah.’

‘Don’t worry, Cal won’t insist you run one.’

‘What is he like to work for?’

‘He’s the best! He used to be an assistant manager at some big estate near Inverness but,’ Jinny lowered her voice, ‘he moved here to be near Bonnie. He’s divorced. His ex – Yvaine – is from Skye originally and she came back to the island after they split up. Her mum and dad still live in the village.’

Something loosened in Tara’s chest at the news that he was no longer married. Yvaine had haunted her ever since she’d seen the photos Cal’s sister had posted online. Tara had scrutinised each and every one of them, over and over again, trying to read the expression in Calan’s eyes, comparing herself to Yvaine, and hating the woman who had unknowingly driven another nail in the coffin of Tara and Cal’s dead romance.

Tara wanted to ask more but didn’t see how she could, so she scurried back to her studio hoping she wouldn’t bump into him.

She’d managed to avoid him all week, although she’d caught the occasional glimpse that had sent her pulse soaring and tied her stomach into anxious knots. She couldn’t go on like this, though. Something would have to give. Maybe if she became more used to seeing him around, she wouldn’t have such an extreme reaction. What was it called…? Exposure therapy? Immersion therapy? Whatever, she had to learn to cope with his presence if she intended to remain at the craft centre.

It wouldn’t be so bad when she had a home of her own, because that could be anywhere within a reasonable commute to the castle (a house in Duncoorie would be ideal), but until then, she’d have to get used to Calan living a mere stone’s throw away. He was so close she could see his cottage from her bedroom window. Last night there’d been a light on at two thirty-five, and she’d lain there in the darkness knowing he was awake. It had taken her a long time to drift off to sleep.

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