A Highland Family Affair, page 30
A HIGHLAND FAMILY AFFAIR
LISA HOBMAN
For Gee.
With all you have dealt with lately, you continue to make me so incredibly proud to be your mum, and I Iove you.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
More from Lisa Hobman
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Lisa Hobman
Love Notes
About Boldwood Books
PROLOGUE
‘Coming, ready or not!’ Olivia called out into the dark corridor, her heart pounding at her ribs and her breaths shallow. Even at the tender age of ten, she wondered why on earth she let her older brother, Kerr, manipulate her into playing his ‘favourite game’ after the sun had descended below the horizon. A heavy silence hung around her and the sound of the thud, thud, thudding of her blood pulsing through her veins became loud and distracting. The walls of Drumblair Castle seemed to draw inwards after sunset, especially in winter, and the dips and striations of the stone surfaces took on shapes that resembled contorted faces. Olivia shivered but told herself it was just the cold, draughty castle, not fear. She was a MacBain and MacBains were brave warriors, after all.
The dim lighting of the long hallway meant that the portraits of her ancestors took on an eerie and disconcerting glower as they loomed over her from the heavy antique gilt frames above. No matter how many times her mother and father reassured her that they had all been kind and generous people in their time, Kerr’s words still rang around her head: ‘They all come alive at night and watch you while you sleep, conjuring up ways to eat you for a midnight snack.’ A shudder travelled Olivia’s spine as she inhaled deeply, willing herself to calm down. It was only a game, after all.
‘Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t lie to me. And pictures can’t come to life. That’s just silly,’ she said aloud with a shaking voice into the empty space that surrounded her.
Something clanked up ahead and she sucked in a sharp breath, holding on to it for a few seconds longer than normal. She released it slowly as she tried to focus on a dark shape that seemed to be forming out of nothing, along by one of the unused bedrooms. She clenched her fists and tears welled in her eyes. She wished Mummy and Daddy didn’t have to be away so much. Did she enjoy helping Mummy pick out the dresses she would take along for their important engagements? Absolutely! But she would much rather her mother was at home wearing her long, flowing satin lounge coat so that Olivia could relish the feeling of being enveloped in her arms, inhaling the sweet, heady and familiar fragrance of Chanel perfume.
The shape ahead began to move towards her on the darker side of the corridor. She squinted for a split second, trying to make out what it was. But thankfully the stairs were behind her, and she knew if she made a dash for it, she could escape the clutches of whatever the spectre may be, even though, deep down, she knew she was being ridiculous. Drumblair Castle was, and always had been, her safe haven. She had never come to harm here, despite her brother’s stories. But that didn’t stop her fertile imagination running riot. As the shape approached faster, faster, her heart skipped and tripped over itself. She let out a squeal, turned and ran. She lurched for the stairs, taking them, dangerously, two at a time until she reached the half-landing.
‘God, you’re such a wuss, Livvy MacBain, the giant pain!’ Kerr called from his place at the top of the stairs in between loud guffaws. His head was shrouded in a burgundy tapestry bedspread. No wonder she had been unable to make him out.
Tears stung at her eyes, and she stamped her feet. ‘I hate you, Kerr MacBain! You’re nasty and mean and horrible and there’s no wonder no one likes you!’ she screamed.
‘Hey, hey, what’s all the shouting?’ Mirren, the nanny/housekeeper asked as she appeared at the very bottom of the stone steps, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
‘Kerr and I were playing hide-and-seek, and he tried to scare me, again!’
Kerr chuckled. ‘Tried? I think I managed it pretty well,’ he announced proudly.
‘Kerr MacBain, you need to stop tormenting your wee sister. You’re five years older and you’re supposed to look after her, not scare her half to death on a weekly basis. Wait until I tell your father what you’ve been up to.’
Kerr scowled and stamped his foot. Even at fifteen he was overly dramatic. ‘That’s it, you’re all ganging up on me again,’ he whined. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not my fault she’s such a gullible Gerty.’
‘Away to your room, young man,’ Mirren said, pointing upwards in the direction of his bedroom. ‘And Olivia, come on down and drink your cocoa, it’s almost time for your bed.’
Olivia glanced up at her older brother once more and stuck out a defiant tongue. He sneered in response and stormed off along the corridor.
‘I’m going to speak to your father about replacing the dim candle bulbs up there. If you could see clearer, you wouldnae be so afraid. Dougie could fit them before they get home. I’ll mention it when the laird phones later on,’ Mirren said, almost to herself.
As she sat at the large old wooden table in the kitchen staring into the warm, dark brown liquid in her mug, Olivia asked, ‘Why doesn’t Kerr like me?’ Her voice cracked as emotion tightened her throat.
Mirren walked over and smoothed down her wild hair. ‘Oh, hen, he doesn’t dislike you. He’s just a teenage boy going through what teenage boys go through. He thinks the whole world is against him the now. Pay him no mind. One day he’ll grow up and realise the error of his ways and you’ll be best friends. You wait and see.’
Olivia brightened at her words. ‘You really think so?’
Mirren’s tight-lipped smile didn’t go unnoticed, yet she replied, ‘I really do. And in the meantime, you’ve a lovely friend in young Brodie.’
The groundskeeper’s son had been a constant in Olivia’s life for as long as she could remember and, admittedly, they did have fun together. ‘But what if, when he gets older, he starts to go through the teenage boy stuff and gets all mean too?’
Mirren smiled warmly this time and patted her shoulder. ‘He’s not the type, hen. Not that I can see.’
Olivia sipped on her cocoa. ‘I hope you’re right. I couldn’t bear it if he became like Kerr. He’s so sulky and bossy. Then he asks me to play, and I get excited and think we’ll be friends, but then he tries to scare me. It’s not fair.’
‘Aye, hen. But be patient, eh? It’ll all change eventually.’
Why was it, then, that Olivia wasn’t convinced?
1
MID-NOVEMBER – PRESENT DAY
Olivia MacBain nursed her mug of steaming tea as she watched Mirren, Drumblair Castle’s housekeeper, kneading the dough in front of her on the old, battered kitchen table. The fifteenth-century castle, which had been updated over the years with additions in both the Georgian and Victorian eras, stood on the outskirts of the city of Inverness on the shores of Loch Ness and had been the home of Clan MacBain for centuries.
Mirren had been at the castle since Olivia and her brother Kerr had been babies and the domesticated scene before her had played out so many times throughout her life that she had lost count. It was somehow therapeutic and soothing watching familiar hands work elastic dough and Olivia found herself becoming quite drowsy.
Mirren had been Olivia’s protector for many years, but more so since she lost first her father, Laird Gregor MacBain, and then more recently her mother, Lady Freya. Olivia was grateful to have her around now that she had unexpectedly inherited the castle instead of her older brother – a situation that had caused a great rift between the siblings. Lady Freya had made the difficult decision to circumvent tradition, knowing that Kerr was likely an alcoholic and gambling addict who’d chip away at the castle until there was nothing left of the MacBain legacy.
After the will reading, Kerr had been very forthright in showing his disdain and anger towards his sister, sabotaging her at every turn when she tried to make plans to keep the castle’s legacy alive. After wreaking havoc for many people connected to the castle and Olivia, he had disappeared and hadn’t been seen for months.
Radio Highland was playing in the background. It was the ‘Golden Oldies’ hour and Mirren was humming along with George Michael’s ‘Careless Whisper’.
‘Pfft, Golden Oldie my foot,’ Mirren chimed out of the blue. ‘They make it sound like the eighties was a hundred years ago instead of…’ She paused, staring up at the ceiling to calculate. ‘Och, no… is it really forty years ago? Well, now I feel like a golden oldie mysel’. I was only twenty-three when this song came out. I remember it vividly. I bought it as a seven-inch single, on vinyl as you lot call it these days. Aye, I got it from a record shop in Inverness.’ She shook her head, apparently bereft at the passing of time. ‘Forty years… my goodness me.’
‘Well, if it’s any consolation, Mirren, you don’t look a day over fifty,’ Olivia told her with a smile.
Mirren laughed. ‘Away with you. I look my age and no doubt about it.’ She carried on working the dough and asked, ‘What was the first record you ever bought?’
Olivia pondered for a few seconds. ‘Oof, I think mine was a CD single of “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira when I was about twelve. I used to love watching her dance. It was like she was made of rubber.’ She giggled. ‘Oh, to be that flexible and supple.’
‘I used to love to dance,’ Mirren replied wistfully. ‘These days I’m afraid of putting my back out,’ she added with a laugh. ‘Or breaking a hip. You see my hips don’t lie either, they tell me, Mirren MacLeod, you’re too old for that nonsense!’ She laughed and Olivia joined in.
‘Nonsense, you’re as old as you feel, Mirren.’
Mirren rolled her eyes. ‘Och, don’t be telling me that! Most days I feel about ninety!’
Golden retriever Wilf and Labrador cross Marley lay in their favourite spot in front of the roaring fire, both snoring with tongues lolling out. Wilf’s feet twitched as he chased birds in his slumber. They had already been out around the grounds with Olivia’s partner Brodie, so he could assess the exterior of the roof from the ground following some recent storm damage. They had all got soaking wet in the murky November rain and the only good thing about that was how incredibly delicious Brodie looked with wet hair.
The castle’s kitchen was the real heart of the place. Nothing much had changed about it since Olivia was a child. The oak worktops were a little more worn and etched with incidences of cooking mishaps: a hot pan placed down here, a loaf of bread sliced without a chopping board there. But it felt homely and comforting, and simultaneously like something from an episode of Downton Abbey. And even though the occupants of the castle were all adults nowadays, Mirren insisted on sticking to her role of making sure everyone was fed and had clean clothes. No matter how many times Olivia insisted that she could retire and enjoy her time with her new husband Dougie, it fell on deaf ears.
The castle grounds were quiet, due to the weather, and the castle itself was only open at the weekend through the winter season for pre-booked tours, but there was still a lot of admin work to do. Olivia was aware she should be getting on with it, but the kitchen was so warm and cosy and the walk to her father’s old study, where she had set up her office since opening the castle to the public, seemed far too long at that precise moment.
Thankfully the castle was now earning its keep and her partner Brodie had taken on the role of arranging and overseeing essential repairs which were possible due to the revenue being generated. Olivia still had so many plans, though, and ideas often whirred around her head in the early hours of the morning, meaning she lay awake tossing and turning. Last night had been one such occasion. She had been pondering about doing more outdoor things during the winter months, in order that the revenue was still incoming but so the interior of the castle could be left for her and her family to enjoy privately. Perhaps a torchlit tour of the grounds would be fun, with people dressed in the clothing of her ancestors and a narrator to tell stories of Clan MacBain and their battles. Or perhaps a spooky Halloween event with a ghost walk like the ones in Edinburgh; the grounds could be made extra eerie, from what Olivia remembered of her childhood. Or maybe an evening nature walk to encounter the bats and owls that made Drumblair their home. And maybe a real-life nativity at Christmas using animals from the neighbouring farms and one of the old barns in the grounds. The ideas tramped around her brain, vying for dominance.
After fidgeting, huffing and failing to return to slumber, poor Brodie had eventually nudged her and groaned, ‘Liiiiiv, whatever it is that’s keeping you awake, pleeeeease go write it down or type it up or something, and then maybe you’ll sleep, which means I will too.’ She had done as he suggested and had eventually returned to his side and drifted back off to sleep, albeit for a short time.
Running Drumblair as a visitor attraction was certainly a far cry from her role as fashion designer at the House of Nina Picarro in New York and it was possibly even more exhausting, but she knew her parents would be proud of all she and her team had achieved in the months the place had been open. And she secretly loved her role, even though her face sometimes ached from smiling at people and her feet often throbbed from the countless steps she walked on a daily basis.
Olivia’s mother’s stepbrother, Uncle Innes, was still around to support her and encourage her. Seeing as he was a kind of surrogate father she was happy that she was making him proud too. These days he was a new man. He had recently embarked upon his first real relationship that Olivia could remember since being a young girl. It appeared his bachelor life had come to an end, and he was walking around whistling and singing, very much out of tune, and if he visited the castle he would twirl her around in the corridor or wherever he found her. It was so good to see him happy.
The bizarre thing was that the fifty-something Marilyn Monroe wannabe, Adaira Wallace, his new lady friend, was to all intents and purposes an ex-girlfriend of her older brother, Kerr – someone else whom he had mistreated by taking advantage of her wealth and love for him; a fact Olivia was horrified by.
‘Where did Brodie go rushing off to this morning after walking the dogs?’ Mirren asked, pulling Olivia from her thoughts without taking her focus from her work.
Olivia paused for a moment, snapping herself back to the present. ‘He’s meeting with the contractors about the roof. He thinks the damage could be quite extensive.’
Mirren stopped what she was doing and gasped. ‘Oh, no. That’s all we need. Will it affect the tours?’
Olivia sighed. ‘Hopefully not. At least the area isn’t on the castle tours. I suppose the only issue will be when the repairs are done and how much mess will be made. But we could certainly do without the expense.’
Mirren began kneading again. ‘I wonder when he’s going to propose. His divorce has been through for ages now so it must be imminent. I wonder what he’s waiting for.’ The statement came rather out of the blue, as if she was thinking aloud.
Olivia placed her mug down as her heart skipped. She toyed with the little satin ribbon Brodie had tied around her ring finger at Mirren and Dougie’s wedding as a promise. ‘I’m guessing he’s waiting for the right time. You know what he’s like. He’ll have something in mind and will want it to feel just right. I’m trying to be patient, but I really do want to marry him. It’s a shame February isn’t a leap year,’ she said with a roll of her eyes.
Mirren’s face took on an expression of pity. ‘Aye, hen, and it’d be nice to see a ring in place of that scratty bit of ribbon. I can’t believe you’re still wearing it.’
‘I do take it off to wash it, you know,’ Olivia said with a giggle. ‘But I can’t part with it. Not yet, at least.’
Mirren sighed. ‘Who’d have thought it, all those years ago when the two of you used to play in the grounds together, that one day you’d be a couple? I did wonder back then, when you were both wee, what might happen. But then his mum moved him away to Edinburgh and I thought maybe that was that.’
‘That and the fact that he turned into a typical mean teenage boy. I was kind of glad when he left, to be honest. Just don’t tell him I said that,’ Olivia said with a wince.
‘Och, he adores you. Nothing you could say now would change that. It’s funny looking back. You were such good friends. He was more of a big-brother type to you than Kerr was at the time. Even though the pair of you were so…’
