Page 5 of Surprises on the Scottish Isle

Maybe it was time to look further afield, for a new home for McTaigh Miniatures?

Tara leaned back in her chair and raised her arms above her head,clasping her fingers together and arching her spine to ease out thekinks. She’d been hunched over her laptop for what felt like hours,searching for the perfect property. Needless to say, she hadn’t foundit.

To be fair, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for. She had no fixed idea in her mind, apart from it needing to be large enough, not too expensive, and available soon. She’d looked at houses, flats, and even commercial properties, all within a twenty-mile radius of Edinburgh.

Nothing.

An expanded search had produced equally dreary results.

None of them were quite right, although there were plenty that would do. But Tara didn’t want tomake do. This move was important if she intended to grow her business, and without anything else in her life to focus on, she was going to give it her best shot.

She’d show him.

Dougie used to call her doll’s houses her ‘little hobby’.

The sarcastic, patronising git! Herlittle hobbybrought in enough to pay the bills and then some, a fact he used to conveniently forget because his job wasso much more important. As far as Tara could tell, it was also far less fulfilling, although working in fiscal management had provided him ample opportunity to play around, so he’d clearly got hisfulfilmentin ways other than from his job.

She glanced around the attic, feeling sad. She didn’t mind leaving the house, but she did mind having to vacate her attic. Apart from the structural work, such as putting in a proper staircase and having Velux windows fitted to flood the top floor of their terraced Victorian villa with loads of natural light, Tara had kitted out the attic herself. She’d done everything from cladding the walls and ceiling, to laying the floor and installing the shelves and workbenches. This was her space, her sanctuary. This was where she created miniature models of other people’s houses, and everything to go in them. She would miss this space far more than she would ever miss Dougie.

Getting to her feet, Tara wandered around the room, trailing her fingers along the shelves, stopping every so often to open up one of the houses or to peer through the little windows.

The wall opposite the staircase was lined with the miniatures she’d created, ranging from tiny plates of cakes, to elaborate four-poster beds and planters of tiny flowers for the garden. These were her bread-and-butter items, which didn’t take an age to make and were easily sold online, either from her own website or from sites specialising in unique handmade items.

Thankfully, she didn’t have an actual physical shop to worry about. Her business was fully portable. As long as she had a suitable space in which to work, she could carry on earning a living. The only other requirement was a local post office, a collection service for the bulkier items and decent Wi-Fi.

Returning to her desk, Tara resumed her search, but it was rather desultory and she found herself going down a rabbit hole of looking at properties in places like the Western Isles or the Outer Hebrides, before reining herself in. Ideally, what she wanted was—

She froze. She’d left the popular property search sites behind and had been reading local online newspapers in the hope that something would jump out at her, when somethingdid.

An article featuring Coorie Castle and its associated craft centre caught her eye, and as she read it, excitement bloomed in her chest. It sounded perfect, and from examining the photos accompanying the article, she thought its location on the Isle of Skye was stunning. But what really sent the butterflies in her tummy into a fury of fluttering, was reading that the craft centre had a vacant studio to fill.

With trembling fingers and a stern admonishment to herself to not get too excited because the chances of it leading to anything were slim, Tara typed the words Coorie Castle into the search bar.

Bloody hell! Itwasperfect. This was exactly what she’d been looking for, even if she hadn’t realised it.

Could she?

Dare she?

Taracould– after all, nothing ventured, nothing gained – and a polite enquiry didn’t commit her to anything, did it?

With great care and the attention to detail that she was gaining a reputation for, Tara typed out an email and attached several photos of her work, along with a link to her own website. The castle looked impressive, the craft centre even more so, and as she pressed send, she crossed her fingers. If, by the remotest chance, she was lucky enough to be able to rent the studio, it would be a fresh start, a new beginning.

Tara didn’t get much sleep that night. She was too busy imagining a whole new life away from Dougie, Edinburgh, and a slew of bad memories.

Chapter 2

Tara had never visited Skye, and as she drove across the bridge which connected the mainland to the island, she felt apprehensive. On paper (or rather, on the internet) the castle and the craft centre looked absolutely perfect. But looks and photos could be deceiving, and she prayed she wasn’t about to be disappointed.

With the best part of another hour to go before she reached the village of Duncoorie and its castle, she settled into the drive to enjoy the scenery. For some of the way, the road skirted the eastern edge of the island, with the incredibly blue sea to her right and views of the smaller islands of Scalpay and Raasay.

She passed isolated houses and small hamlets, and there were so many motor homes and caravans on the road that she lost count. Despite the castle’s website hinting at a thriving craft centre with a gift shop on site, Tara had wondered whether there would be much in the way of visitors. Not that a lack of footfall would affect her unduly, because she did all her business online, but it would nevertheless be nice to display her creations in the flesh, so to speak. And she might be interested in running a workshop or two once she’d settled in.

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, Tara,’ she muttered, her words whipped away by the breeze from the half-open window.

The weather was unseasonably warm for May, and her little car’s air conditioning had never worked properly. Her blouse clung stickily to her back and she couldn’t wait to park up and get out. She debated whether to have a quick pit stop in Portree to check out the town but decided against it. There would be time enough to have a look around if she managed to secure the studio. She’d want to scout around the estate agents and see what was for sale. Tara had looked online yesterday after she’d received the reply to her email, but it had only been a quick look because she’d been too busy selecting samples to bring along to her meeting this morning. Although she’d sent them a few photos of her work, there was nothing like seeing it in person, and she hoped they would be impressed. After all, both Tara and Miss Gray, who owned the castle and who she was meeting this morning, had to be convinced that they were a suitable match for each other.

Tara was forty-five minutes early for her eleven thirty appointment, but she didn’t mind. Better to be too early than too late, and it would give her the chance to take a look around the place beforehand.

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