Page 40 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

‘Why? What on earth have you been doing up there? Too much sightseeing?’

Freya snapped. ‘I don’t need to see the sights. I used to live here, remember? For your information, I’ve been sorting my dad’s house out ready for when he comes home from hospital. It’s not been easy.’ She was close to tears.

Maybe Hadrian heard her distress, because he said, ‘I’m sure it hasn’t. Sorry, babe, that was insensitive of me. Ignore my weird sense of humour.’

Right now, she wanted to ignorehim. ‘I’m tired, Hadrian. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

‘Don’t be like that. I didn’t mean it. Talk to me for a minute. Has it been really hard?’

‘Yes.’ She sulked for a moment, then relented. ‘There was one nice thing, though. I went out on a boat today. I kind of got railroaded into it, but the fresh air and change of scenery did me good. I was a guinea pig for a new venture.’ She proceeded to tell him all about it, ending with, ‘It really fired up my imagination. The colours here are out of this world. I’d forgotten how stunning they are: the many different blues and greys of the water, the—’

There was a muffled rustling sound on the other end of the phone, and it dawned on her that he wasn’t listening. He was doing what he often did when he was on a call – he was speaking to someone else while holding his phone against his chest.

Freya fumed in silence for a second or two, until he came back on the line. ‘Sorry, babe, I lost you for a minute. What were you saying about photos?’

‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you another time,’ she said, knowing full well that she probably wouldn’t.

‘OK. Night, babe. Miss you.’

She wasn’t sure she believed he did. Or was she just being crabby because she was away from home, worried about her dad and bone-tired? That must be it, she decided after she ended the call.

Dropping the phone on the sofa, she rested her head against the cushion, uttered a deep sigh and closed her eyes, feeling rather sorry for herself.

Suddenly, Freya sat up.

There was a noise at the front door. Not a knock, but a kind of thud, as though someone had bumped against it. Might it be Rhona’s cat, asking to come in?

Not liking the idea of the animal being outside all night, especially on the street, she heaved herself off the sofa and went to take a look. The road her dad’s house was on wasn’t busy by any stretch of the imagination, but all it took was one car.

Opening the door, she whispered, ‘Puss, puss…’ But it wasn’t a cat that was on her step.

It was a bottle of cherryade pop and some chunks of tablet, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a length of tartan ribbon.

Chapter 12

‘You know she’s famous, right?’

Mack narrowed his eyes and stared at Jinny. He’d dropped into the castle to see Cal, but Jinny had spotted his truck before he’d got out of the cab and had beckoned him over. He was early, having run some errands that hadn’t taken as long as he’d thought, so he had a bit of time to spare before Cal expected him.

Having lured him into the cafe with the promise of coffee and cake, his sister-in-law was now in the middle of quizzing him about what he thought of Freya.

He’d just finished telling her that Freya had taken loads of photos when she was on the boat yesterday, and that not only did she teach, but she also had her own studio complete with a half-tonne kiln, when Jinny dropped this particular bombshell on him.

‘What do you mean,famous?’ he asked.

‘As in well-known, renowned, her ceramics in demand – that kind of famous. Hang on.’ She played with her phone for a moment, then turned it around so he could see the screen. ‘That’s her website.’

He took it from her and examined it. ‘Flipping hell, is that price inpounds?’

‘It is.’

‘I’ll be jiggered. I’d never pay that for a vase. It’s a weird shape for a start.’

Jinny rolled her eyes. ‘Heathen!’

It was the second time he’d been called that in less than twenty-four hours.

‘Why are you looking so glum?’ she asked.

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