Page 6 of Surprises on the Scottish Isle

After parking in the ample car park, she clambered stiffly out and cricked her neck from side to side. The five-hour drive from Edinburgh to Skye had felt more like ten, and she’d been on the road since half past five this morning.

Thirsty and in need of a wee, Tara gazed around to get her bearings. If anything, the location was even more stunning than in the photographs.

Perched on a hill above a loch with the open sea in the distance and a backdrop of impressive peaks, the castle proudly rose out of the rock to tower over the landscape, white and gleaming in the morning sun. Its mullioned windows glinted and glittered, and a flag fluttered from the top of a crenellated turret.

Tara was impressed. It was grander than she’d envisaged, and she couldn’t wait to see inside. But first, she needed to find a loo and then have a coffee, followed by a quick delve into the gift shop.

A wooden signpost indicated the way to the cafe, which was cutely called Coorie and Cuppa, ‘coorie’ being the old Scots word meaning to snuggle or to be cosy – much like the Scandinavian word ‘hygge’. The cafe certainly lived up to its name, she discovered, when she went inside and saw the squashy sofas, the wooden beams in the ceiling, the fairy lights, and the most gorgeously mouthwatering selection of cakes and pastries.

Maybe she would treat herself to a spot of lunch after her meeting, but for now she’d have a quick coffee, then go and explore. She already knew from her research that the individual studios, the cafe and the gift shop had been converted from the castle’s extensive outbuildings, and she was keen to have a look around.

Almost scalding her mouth on the seriously good coffee, she gulped it down and then hurried into the gift shop.

Oh, this is simply lovely, she thought, gazing around in delight.

The shop was full of the most wonderful handmade items: silver jewellery, driftwood sculptures, stained glass ornaments, needle-felted figures and quilts, and Tara could easily imagine how well her doll’s houses would fit in.

Tingling in anticipation, she went back outside. With fifteen minutes to go until her appointment, she just about had time to check out the rest of the set-up.

The craft centre was laid out at right-angles, with a courtyard in the middle, and the gift shop and the cafe occupying the corner where the two sides met. To either side of them lay the individual studios. Some were quite small – the one where the silver jewellery was made, for instance – but others were larger. The largest by far was the glass-blowing studio, and she lingered for a moment, watching a guy rolling a long stick with a blob of white-hot glass on the end back and forth over the edge of a wooden bench.

It was fascinating and she would have liked to have stayed longer, but she was conscious of the time. Besides, there was one more thing she wanted to do before she made her way to the castle’s main entrance, and that was to take a look at the empty studio, if she could.

It was easy to find, being the only one whose door was locked, whose lights were off and whose window was empty. Cupping her hands around her eyes, Tara peered through the window.

Bigger inside than it first appeared, she was relieved to see that there would be plenty of space to display her little houses, as well as sufficient room in which to construct them.

Having seen enough and with five minutes to spare, she hurried back to the car to fetch the wee house she’d brought with her, along with some of the miniatures. Then she made her way to the castle’s main entrance and went inside.

At the far end of a wide wood-panelled hall was a reception desk, and as she walked over to it, she couldn’t help being impressed by the sweeping staircase, the crystal chandelier, the portraits on the walls and the coat of arms, as well as a couple of large tapestries. The castle smelt of beeswax and old money, and she bet it cost a fortune to run.

‘Hi, I’m here to see Miss Gray,’ Tara announced, balancing the corner of the large box on the desk and smiling at the woman manning the desk. ‘I’ve got an appointment at eleven thirty.’

‘Tara McTaigh?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Great, I’ll let her know you’ve arrived. One second, please.’ The woman briefly spoke into the phone, while Tara hovered anxiously.

This place was even grander than she’d thought, and after seeing the craft centre she was even more keen on securing the studio. It was perfect, exactly what she’d been looking for.

‘I’ll take you through,’ the woman said, and as she got to her feet, Tara spotted a name badge: Avril.

‘Do you need any help with that?’ Avril asked, nodding at the box.

Tara shook her head. ‘I can manage, thanks.’ She might be short, but she was stronger than she looked.

Following the receptionist, she was led across the hall and into one magnificent room after another through a series of interconnecting doors, and soon she was thoroughly lost. Wondering whether she’d be able to find her way out again, she was relieved to be shown into a small sitting room.

‘Here we are,’ Avril announced. ‘This is Tara McTaigh.’

‘Thank you,’ Tara muttered absently as she took in the tall, thin woman standing in front of her.

‘You can put that down over there, my dear,’ Miss Gray said, pointing to a substantial desk in the corner underneath a window.

Tara did as she was instructed, then turned to offer her hand. Miss Gray took it, her handshake surprisingly firm for a woman who, Tara guessed, was somewhere around eighty years old. She’d expected someone younger.

‘Thank you for inviting me,’ Tara said. ‘I’ve brought some pieces to show you, if you’d like to see them?’

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