Island in the Sun, page 1
About the Author
Katie Fforde lives in the beautiful Cotswold countryside with her family, and is a true country girl at heart. Each of her books explores a different profession or background and her research has helped her bring these to life. She’s been a porter in an auction house, tried her hand at pottery, refurbished furniture, delved behind the scenes of a dating website, and she’s even been on a Ray Mears survival course. She loves being a writer; to her there isn’t a more satisfying and pleasing thing to do. She particularly enjoys writing love stories. She believes falling in love is the best thing in the world, and she wants all her characters to experience it, and her readers to share their stories.
To find out more about Katie Fforde step into her world at www.katiefforde.com, visit her on Facebook and follow her on Twitter @KatieFforde.
Also available by Katie Fforde
Living Dangerously
The Rose Revived
Wild Designs
Stately Pursuits
Life Skills
Thyme Out
Artistic Licence
Highland Fling
Paradise Fields
Restoring Grace
Flora’s Lot
Practically Perfect
Going Dutch
Wedding Season
Love Letters
A Perfect Proposal
Summer of Love
Recipe for Love
A French Affair
The Perfect Match
A Vintage Wedding
A Summer at Sea
A Secret Garden
A Country Escape
A Rose Petal Summer
A Springtime Affair
A Wedding in the Country
A Wedding in Provence
One Enchanted Evening
Katie Fforde
* * *
ISLAND IN THE SUN
This book is dedicated to my cousins, Dr Lennox Honychurch, Sara Honychurch, Petrea Honychurch Seaman and Marica Honychurch, and also to the beautiful island of Dominica.
CHAPTER ONE
Cass had been travelling all day. There had been an early morning flight from Bristol to Glasgow, two long bus journeys, a largish ferry and now this tiny ferry that took a dozen cars at best. She was nearly there.
Cass hadn’t seen her father since he’d moved to the remote Scottish island she could see across the sea loch; she had deemed it just too difficult to get to. But she had loved this journey. The scenery was spectacular and her bus trips had given her a chance for a nap after her very early start. She had also managed to FaceTime her best friend, who was studying in Spain. It had been lovely to catch up with Rosa and try to show her how beautiful Scotland was on an unusually sunny day.
Cass hadn’t expected the glorious weather; she had always associated Scotland with wild winds, driving rain and perhaps snow. But in late May the sky was blue and the majestic hills and mountains were reflected in the almost glassy sea loch.
She sighed, drowsy but happy to be seeing her father in such a wonderful place. Then she heard someone clear their throat and she turned, pulled out of her reverie.
It was the striking man she’d seen getting out of an ancient Land Rover earlier. He was very tall with a lot of almost white hair, but while his hair was prematurely light his eyebrows and eyelashes were still dark. Now she could see that his eyes were greeny-grey.
‘Are you Cass?’ he said.
She didn’t answer immediately.
‘Short for Cassiopeia?’ he went on, his head inclined in query.
There was a heartbeat and then she said, ‘That’s me.’
‘Howard – your dad?’
‘Yes?’ She was tempted to add something about him knowing her father’s name, but she didn’t.
‘He knew I was on this ferry, and he asked me to give you a lift to Corriemore – where he lives.’
Cass nodded. She was trying to hide it, but she was taken aback by this man. He was so striking, so – she struggled for the word – attractive. But attractive didn’t really cover it.
‘I’m Ranulph Gregor. I’ve known Howard for a few years, before he moved here.’
‘Well, your credentials seem to check out. I’ll take the risk and let you drive me home – to my dad’s house.’
Ranulph laughed. It was deep and musical and no less attractive than the rest of him. ‘You haven’t visited before, I know. But it’s a wonderful place. Eleanor—’
‘Eleanor?’ Howard hadn’t mentioned an Eleanor but as he never seemed to be without a woman, her presence shouldn’t have been a surprise. He was dashing, a famous wildlife photographer, and could be very charming.
‘She owns the house Howard lives in. She has a few properties in the area.’
Cass could picture her. Over-tanned, and so a little bit wrinkly, dyed black hair, and a lot of gold jewellery and a lot of teeth, set off by scarlet lipstick. Her father had a type.
Her feelings must have shown because Ranulph said, ‘She’s not what you might expect. Wait and see.’
Cass managed a smile. ‘Well, I have to, don’t I?’
Inside she was disappointed. She’d so wanted to see her dad, share a bit of the father–daughter time that used to be important to them both. She didn’t want to do the sharing with one of his women, who would either desperately try to be her friend, or patronise her.
But Ranulph was a bit of a consolation. She longed to tell Rosa about him. He was so different from her last boyfriend, picked, she realised now, because he was about as unsuitable a boyfriend as she could find. He and Rosa hadn’t got on when she came home for a week’s holiday from Spain. Even then Cass had realised that she didn’t much like him either.
The island was nearing and people were getting back into their cars. Ranulph gestured with his hand to the Land Rover. He opened the door and Cass clambered in.
‘It’s old but sturdy,’ he said. ‘It’s never let me down.’
‘Jolly good,’ said Cass. She found herself unnerved by his looks and his bearing. It made her feel childish and resentful. She hoped she didn’t appear as spiky as she felt.
‘You’re very lucky to visit while we’re having such amazing weather,’ said Ranulph. ‘There’s high pressure stuck right over us. It’s rare but it shows the island off at its very best.’
Aware she was about to say ‘jolly good’ again, Cass nodded. ‘My father will be pleased. He’ll want me to see his new home in the sunshine.’
‘Of course.’
They spent the rest of the short journey in silence. But after she had got out, Cass felt something weird had happened to her, more than just a short drive up a bumpy, stony track.
‘I won’t come in,’ said Ranulph. ‘If it’s all right, I’ll just drop you off here.’
A few steps from the parking place and Cass was at the door of the house, where her father was waiting for her. With him was a woman – Eleanor, presumably. Howard came towards her and took her bag, then dropped it so he could give Cass a long hug.
It was lovely to have her father’s arms around her again, smell his expensive aftershave and feel like the favourite daughter she knew she was. It had been far too long since she’d seen him, she realised. Although he had invited her for a special reason, she remembered. There was something he wanted her to do.
‘This is Eleanor,’ he said. ‘She owns the house.’
Eleanor’s smile was diffident. ‘Hello, Cass. Lovely to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you. All of it good!’
‘Hello,’ said Cass. She regarded her thoughtfully. Eleanor was so unlike any of her father’s previous women. She was an appropriate age for a man in his seventies, for a start, nearer her mother’s age than Cass’s. And she wasn’t overly tanned and was only wearing a bit of make-up. Her hair, an attractive dark grey, was done in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She wore an interesting necklace of silver and sea glass and a loose linen dress. She was, Cass realised with a shock, someone her mother could easily be friends with. Maybe her assumption that she and Howard were together was wrong.
‘Now I’m going to leave you and Howard to have some father and daughter time. I know it’s long overdue.’
‘Eleanor,’ said Howard, as if to stop her leaving. ‘You don’t need to go—’
‘I do. I have a lot to do and you two haven’t seen each other in far too long. I’m off! But I’ll be back to cook dinner.’
Then she hoisted a straw basket on to her arm. ‘Oh – Cass probably needs some tea. There’s homemade shortbread in the tin.’ Then she set off down the drive towards the cars.
‘Does Eleanor live here?’ Cass asked.
‘She owns the house, but yes.’ He didn’t say any more which told Cass what she needed to know. He and Eleanor were together but she was being tactful and giving Cass a chance to get used to the idea.
She put her arm through his. ‘Let’s go in, shall we? I’m longing to see where you live.’
‘And I’m longing to show it to you.’
Cass was also keen to find out why she had been invited. It was more than just a casual visit, she knew.
‘Would you like tea or the tour first?’ Howard asked.
‘The tour, but tea quite quickly afterwards.’
Her father laughed. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. It’s not a big house.’
But it was luxurious, not the ‘but and ben’ – dark and stony, full of draughts, possibly lit by sooty hurricane lamps – of her imagination. Although she should have remembered her father was someon
When her father had telephoned, asking for Cass to come and stay, she’d been on her mobile, on a bus. Apparently, he needed her help. Cass found this hard to get her head round. Why was he asking her for help? She was the youngest and least educated of the family. He could easily have asked his stepchildren, older, cleverer, with strings of letters after their names. What could little Cass, the baby of the family and Howard’s only biological child, possibly do for him?
Her mother, divorced from her father for many years, already knew about this request. As parents, they got on well, and had discussed the matter. Besides, having left the squat she’d shared with her now very ex-boyfriend, the alternative to the Scottish idyll would have been going back to her mother’s house. Cass loved her mother very much and they got on well up to a point, but she did not want to live with her. The remote Scottish island seemed a much better bet. Besides, although Howard had been a fairly absent parent, she had always spent time with him over the summer.
And so Cass had decided to go. Howard had put money into her account for the journey, her mother had driven her to a bed and breakfast the night before the flight, where being driven to the airport before dawn in a battered van, along with other travellers, was part of the package. Once on the plane, Cass’s long journey north had begun.
Now, Cass followed Howard as he showed her his current home.
The house had been designed by an architect and made the most of the stunning if rugged views of the sea and a couple of other islands. Pale wood floors matched the pale wood walls and made the house full of light. There were huge glass lamps in case the power went off but there was no soot. The kitchen had granite surfaces and a coffee machine that would probably play music in the hands of the right barista.
The tweed-covered sofas looked inviting and hand-woven blankets were laid over every furniture arm in case a stray draught managed to penetrate the huge, triple-glazed windows. Cushions, pouffes and footstools abounded. It was the height of tasteful luxury.
‘Eleanor has put a lot of time into making sure all her properties are absolutely perfect,’ Howard said. ‘The beds have sheets with very high thread counts, which I gather is to be desired, and the pillows and duvets are like clouds. Hungarian goose down is the key, apparently.’
Cass wondered how long she was expected to stay. A summer here would be no hardship. She could wander off into the hills and draw, maybe make a study of the wildflowers of the area. Possibly the birds too, if she could draw moving targets. Then, after a summer of comfort and fulfilment, she could go back to her mother’s house in the Cotswolds and do the teaching course she had signed up for as a last resort.
What she really wanted to tell her father was that she didn’t love photography as much as he did but far preferred to draw and paint. And she didn’t want to be a teacher, either.
Cass hadn’t been to university. She’d done well enough in school, but her family felt (and her thoughts went along with their opinions in this instance) that there was no point in racking up thousands of pounds’ worth of debt studying something she would never use in real life when she could probably learn just as much getting jobs, working in the real world.
She would have liked to go to art school, but this had never seemed an option. There was no spare money to help support her at the time and, anyway, Cass kept her interest in drawing and painting fairly secret, knowing that even her mother felt there was no future in it.
Howard made tea and they took it into the sunroom, which looked out on to the Atlantic. Although the sun shone and the weather was calm, there was still a white lace frill of foam around the rocks which could be seen if you stood up and looked straight down. Ahead was the vastness of the Atlantic going on forever until it reached America, Cass knew. Seabirds swooped and dipped, and the sun sparkled on the wavelets like diamonds. This view would never be the same twice, Cass realised.
‘This is the room I rented the house for,’ said Howard. ‘I plan to learn what all the seabirds are. You can see my telescope is in daily use.
‘I can understand why you fell in love with it. This view is amazing.’ She stood watching the waves for a while, hypnotised by them. Eventually she said, ‘But how did you hear about this place, this island, even? It’s such a remote spot.’
‘It was Ranulph. He and I met a few years ago. He heard through a mutual acquaintance that I wanted to finish a book and needed somewhere out of the way to do it. He got in touch and told me about it, sending some photos. I got in touch with Eleanor in my turn, and came along to see it. It was a filthy day, but it was still beautiful. I said yes immediately.’
‘Ranulph lives here?’
‘Most of the time. He’s a hotshot journalist who happens to want to write a book about me. I think that was partly why he was so keen for me to move here.’ Howard tried to look modest at the thought that anyone would want to write about him and failed. ‘He was a bit of a wunderkind, won all sorts of prizes. But in spite of all that, he’s a good chap.’ He paused to pass the biscuit tin to Cass. ‘I wanted to ask him to dinner tonight but Eleanor vetoed it. She said we had to spend some time together. Although she has agreed to stay herself.’
‘I appreciate that. We should probably talk, Dad. What is it you want me to do for you, for example?’
Howard brushed away her question. ‘I’ll tell you later, darling. Is there anything you particularly want to say to me?’
Somehow Cass found she couldn’t. It shouldn’t be a big thing. It wasn’t a big thing! All she wanted to tell him was that she wasn’t interested in photography, not as an artistic pursuit, and didn’t want to teach. She was far keener on drawing and painting, what her elder siblings referred to as ‘colouring in’. Why did that seem so hard? She supposed it was that she felt rejecting photography in favour of drawing and painting was denying everything Howard stood for. She’d talk about it tomorrow; like her father, she wanted to put off the difficult conversation. ‘Not now, Dad. I just want to enjoy having got here, and seeing you.’
After a long and delicious dinner, presided over by Eleanor, Cass had gone to bed, tired after her journey. As she lay in bed, appreciating the luxurious bedding, she was proud of herself for not asking questions about Ranulph. But the thought that she would see him tomorrow made her heart give a little flip of joy. She went to sleep thinking about him. It was such a shame that a high-flying journalist would never be interested in a girl like her.
She wasn’t bad-looking, she reasoned. The hair her brothers had described as carroty was actually strawberry blonde and the rose-gold colour was unusual considering her eyes were dark. She was average height, average build and lots of people considered her pretty. But average wouldn’t be enough for a man like Ranulph, she decided.
CHAPTER TWO
It was very early the following morning when Cass got up. Primed by Eleanor the previous evening, she found the stone steps down to a hidden cove. The sky promised another hot day, and the water was pale aquamarine, crystal clear. She pulled off her shorts and T-shirt and ran into the sparkling sea, naked, relishing the feel of the icy water on her body, confident that no one could see her.
Eleanor had told her how to find this tiny place, sheltered from the ocean by rocks that formed a natural harbour, making the water calm. There was a fingernail of pure white sand at the bottom of the steps. It was the perfect beach in miniature. According to Eleanor it was always sheltered, but in this spell of good weather, it was also warm. The water was still cold but not impossibly so. Cass felt she could have been anywhere in the world and not found a spot as lovely as this.
She was swimming on her back, luxuriating in the feeling of the water passing over her body when she heard a vehicle going up the track to the house.
The sound jolted her out of her dreamy state. She felt annoyed and excited at the same time. She recognised the engine of Ranulph’s Land Rover, but why was he calling on her father so early? It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning. She swam quickly to shore and found her clothes.
