Page 90 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

‘Then I’ll say it again: you haven’t met the right one yet.’

Actually, Mack feared he had, but she wasn’t here to stay.

Vinnie continued, ‘I never regretted settling down, not even after Sandra passed away and all the hurt that came with it. And without her, I wouldn’t have Freya. But if we’d never had children, I wouldn’t have any regrets. She was the love of my life and I miss her every single day. She would have been so proud of our girl. I wish she was here to see it. New York, eh? Who’d have thought it?’ Then he chuckled. ‘Sandrathought it – she always said Freya would go far.’

Mack remained silent because he was imagining what his life would be like with Freya no longer in it – and he didn’t like the look of it one bit. Soon she would be on the other side of the world, and he really didn’t want her to go.

When she left, she would be taking a piece of him with her.

Mackenzie Burns had finally found the right woman, but he’d lost his heart in the process.

Freya had always loved Portree, with its quaint charm and its pastel painted houses, and it was also the nearest town with any decent clothes shops. It didn’t have many, but she was hopeful she could findsomethingto wear to dinner at the castle. And shoes. She needed shoes. Flat ones. Despite having no intention of walking anywhere afterwards, she wasn’t taking the chance.

Negotiating the one-way system, she drove along Wentworth Street, searching for a place to pull over, and was pleased when she spied a space up ahead.

‘Will you get the van in there?’ her dad asked doubtfully, peering into the passenger side-mirror as she pulled alongside the space.

‘I mightn’t be the best driver in the world, but I’m ace at parallel parking,’ she said, hauling on the wheel. ‘You’d be surprised at the places I can get into with this.’ A small adjustment to tuck the van as close as possible to the kerb, and it was done. ‘I’ll walk you to the cafe and have a quick coffee with you first,’ she told him. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own for an hour?’

She helped him out of the van, and when he was upright with his walking stick firmly planted on the pavement, he gave her the side-eye. Freya took the hint and stopped fussing. Of course he would be all right. He’d read his newspaper, people-watch and drink tea.

It took them a while to make it to the cafe, their progress slow, her father understandably nervous with so many people around. She could tell he was worried about being jostled and was scared he might lose his balance, but she had a firm grip on his arm and acted as a buffer between him and the other pedestrians.

When they finally got there, the cafe was full and there didn’t appear to be any free tables.

Freya was beginning to worry, because he couldn’t stand for long to wait for one to become available, when she spied a middle-aged woman with two young children getting ready to leave. Telling him to wait by the door, she hurried over to nab it, but as she reached it, she happened to glance over her shoulder and saw him trying to shuffle between two tables. His face was set in its customary grim and determined expression.

‘Stay there, Dad,’ she called, then she turned back to the woman and said, ‘Do you mind if…’ The rest of the sentence died on her lips. ‘Mrs Henderson?’

‘Do I know you?’

‘I’m Freya Sinclair, Sandra and Vinnie’s daughter. Alice and I used to be friends.’

‘Freya?Well, I never! I should have realised – you’re the spit of your mother.’

Was she? Freya didn’t think so. Her mother had been beautiful.

Mrs Henderson continued, ‘How lovely to see you after all these years. And is that your father? I can’t see too well without my glasses.’

‘It is. Do you mind hanging on to the table for a minute while I go rescue him?’ He had once again ignored her and was carrying on trying to forge an unsteady path towards her.

She hurried over to him. ‘Why didn’t you wait by the door?’ she demanded, taking his arm.

He shook her off. ‘I can manage. Isn’t that Pearl Henderson?’

Mrs Henderson was busy gathering up her shopping, as she minded the table for them.

‘Pearl, is that you?’ he asked when he reached her. He was a little pale and his jaw was tense, but there was a smile on his face. Freya pulled out a chair for him and he lowered himself awkwardly into it, breathing hard.

‘You look like you’ve been in the wars.’ Mrs Henderson tilted her head in concern.

‘I broke my hip a month ago, but I’m on the mend.’

‘Should you be out?’ she asked.

‘They tell you to keep moving.’

Freya said, ‘He thinks he should be better by now.’ She patted him on the shoulder. Hopefully, a sit-down and a cup of tea would put him right.

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