Page 24 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

Freya let out a low whistle, thinking that wouldn’t be cheap.

Tara said, ‘Cal is the castle’s estate manager and we live in the grounds, so it’s the logical place to hold it.’

‘You’re not from Duncoorie, are you?’ Freya estimated that Tara was a couple of years younger than her, but even so, she would have remembered her.

‘Glasgow originally, but I lived in Edinburgh for a few years.’ She made a face, so Freya concluded that the experience hadn’t been pleasant.

‘How about you?’ Tara asked.

‘Duncoorie born and bred. I went to university in London when I was eighteen and ended up staying there.’

‘It’ll be a bit of a change being back on Skye?’

‘You can say that again!’ Freya’s reply was heartfelt. ‘Needs must, though; Dad won’t be able to manage on his own for a while. Luckily, I don’t have to rush back for work.’ Freya felt Tara’s gaze on her ringless left hand and answered the woman’s unspoken question. ‘Or for anything else. No husband, no kids – although I do have a boyfriend.’

‘Mack will be disappointed.’

‘He will?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Tara nodded. ‘Mind you, he’s got the morals of an alley cat, so even if you didn’t have a significant other, it might be best if you told him you did.’

Freya joined her at the table. ‘He’s not married, I take it?’

‘Good grief, no! He’s not the tying-down kind. His heart is in the right place, though. Seriously, if you need a hand or you’re in a bind, Mack’s your guy.’

A thud from upstairs, accompanied by some choice swear words, made Freya flinch. ‘So I gather. It’s kind of him to help.’

‘Heiskind,’ Tara said. ‘I understand you’re a teacher? Lovely coffee, by the way.’ Her mug was half-empty.

‘Thanks. I’m a lecturer in an art college.’ To be precise, she was a professor, but she never used the title, as she didn’t believe it suited her.

‘What do you lecture in?’

‘Ceramics. What about you, what do you do?’

‘I make doll’s houses.’

Freya’s interest was piqued. ‘I used to love my doll’s house when I was a kid.’ She wondered what had happened to it. ‘Have you got any photos?’

‘Loads! You’re going to regret asking,’ Tara said, taking a phone out of her hoodie pocket.

‘They’re gorgeous!’ Freya exclaimed when she saw them. ‘And unusual, too.’

‘I do commissions of people’s actual houses, or whatever building they want,’ Tara explained. ‘If you’re going to be around for a while, you might want to pay the craft centre a visit. You could have a look at my houses in the flesh, and the centre has an ace gift shop.’

‘Craft centre?’

‘At the castle.’

Oh, yes. Now Freya came to think of it, she recalled her dad mentioning that Coorie Castle had a craft centre, but that had been a few years ago and she’d totally forgotten about it.

Tara asked, ‘Do you make pots and stuff yourself? Or do you concentrate on teaching?’

Tactfully done, Freya mused; some people might have said, ‘Or do you “only” teach,’ as though teaching was easy. Freya was beginning to warm to the woman.

‘Both,’ she told her.

‘It’s rewarding, isn’t it? I don’t teach as such, but I occasionally run a workshop.’

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