Page 28 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

‘University?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded.

‘What subject?’

‘Ceramics.’

‘When you said you teach, I thought you meant in general, not that you teachpottery. Got any tips?’

‘I doubt you need any.’ She smiled. ‘You clearly know what you’re doing.’

‘Well, don’t forget to pop in again,’ he said as she turned to leave. ‘It’ll be nice to talk shop with a fellow potter. My wife’s eyes glaze over when I start talking about slips and stains.’

After promising him she would, Freya left to explore the other studios, but before she’d taken more than a step or two, she heard her name being called and glanced around to find Cal walking towards her.

‘Have you come for a look around?’ he asked.

‘Actually, I’ve come to give you this.’ She pulled one of the bottles of whisky from her bag and held it out.

He took it, turning it over in his hands. ‘What’s this for?’

‘For helping move that sofa. I’ve got one for Mack, too.’ She removed the other bottle and offered it to him. ‘Would you mind passing it on, along with my thanks?’

He made no move to take it from her. ‘You can give it to him yourself. I’m on my way to see him right now, so how about you come with me?’

Freya was taken aback. ‘No, it’s OK, you can give it to him.’

‘I’m sure he’d prefer if you did. Come on, it’s not far.’

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, was he? And Freya had to admit that she wasn’t averse to seeing Mack again. The attraction she felt for the man was undoubtedly an echo from her teenage years, but as she didn’t intend to act on it, what was the harm? Anyway, Cal was right: it probably was more polite to thank Mack in person.

Cal strode towards a narrow lane leading past the castle, and she hurried to catch up.

The lane led directly down to the loch, and she fell into step with him. She soon heard the lap of waves against rocks, as a small crescent-shaped beach appeared in front of them. A wooden jetty jutted into the water and a boat lay above the high tide mark.

There was a building directly in front of her, which used to be an old boathouse, but now looked lived in and cared for.

‘Oh, how lovely!’ she exclaimed, when Cal told her that it had recently been transformed into self-catering accommodation.

‘And this is my house.’ He pointed to a whitewashed cottage with a wonderful deck facing the water. ‘Although, technically, it belongs to Mhairi.’

‘Does she still own the place?’ Freya was incredulous.

‘She does, and she continues to be very active in the running of the estate.’

As they neared the Range Rover parked outside the cottage, it beeped into life and Freya got in the passenger seat.

‘Where does Mack live?’ she asked.

‘He’s got a house not far from Muirporth Quay. That’s where he moors his boat.’

Freya knew the quay well. Her dad used to moor his trawler there.

Cal was saying, ‘He runs a whale- and dolphin-watching business – although I’m hoping he’ll agree to the proposition I have for him. It’s why I want to see him today. He should be returning from the last afternoon excursion about now.’

‘You should have said! I don’t want to intrude on a business meeting.’

Cal chuckled. ‘You’ve been in the Big Smoke too long. It’s hardly a meeting – a quick chat, that’s all. It’ll take five minutes.’

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