by Zoe Sugg
Sadie Lee kisses Jane on both cheeks, avoiding touching her with her sugary hands.
“Jane,” says Mum, “this is my daughter, Penny. She’s going to be helping me out tomorrow.”
“Oh, so this is the famous Penny!”
Mum and Sadie Lee both look at me questioningly.
“Do you know Penny from her blog?” Mum asks.
Jane frowns. “What’s that? No, I’ve heard about her from my cousin, Callum,” she says with a wink.
I cringe. I haven’t exactly told Mum yet about my date with Callum—it just seemed too premature. In hindsight, I probably should have mentioned it. Oops. “I met Callum at Megan’s school. He’s also at Madame Laplage.”
“Oh!” Mum’s arched eyebrow raises even higher. I know she knows there’s more to the story.
“It’s such a wonderful coincidence!” says Jane. “He’s going to get here later on this afternoon. He thought maybe you’d like to go for a walk and see where he grew up? I can drop you off there on my way back.”
“Oh, uh . . .” I look to Mum and Sadie Lee, who are now staring at me expectantly. It feels rude to refuse a suggestion from the bride. “Sure, that would be great,” I answer.
“Sorted then. Be at the front gates in an hour and I’ll drive you down. Sadie Lee, tell me, how are the canapés coming on? I really want the smoked salmon to be incredibly fresh . . .”
Sadie Lee whisks Jane off to the other side of the kitchen, leaving Mum still staring at me. “So . . . who is this Callum?”
“He’s just this guy I met . . . We went on one date and he wants to see me again.”
“Oooh, check you out. What about Noah?”
I cringe. Ah, Mum. Always straight to the point. “I haven’t heard from him in so long, and besides we’re supposed to be just friends now . . .”
She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I understand. It’s good that you’re meeting new people. I know you’ll follow your heart.”
“Do you think Sadie Lee will mind?” I ask. I can’t help feeling like I’m betraying their whole family.
Mum shakes her head. “Don’t you worry about that. Noah is his own person, and what he’s doing isn’t fair to you—or to them. Frankly, I hope he snaps out of it soon. A creative break. Really . . . If only all we creatives were so lucky as to get a break.”
“Thanks, Mum,” I say.
“Now if you have an hour, here’s a list of all the things you can do in the meantime . . .”
I look down at the list and inwardly groan. It’s packed with errands that will mean running all over the castle. But the last thing Mum needs from me is any more stress.
Instead, I plaster a smile on my face and say, “You got it!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
With all the errands I have to do for Mum, the hour flies by, and it’s not long before I’m sitting in the car with Jane—who might just give Kira a run for her money as the chattiest person on earth. I could put it down to pre-wedding jitters, but something tells me she’s always like this. I’m still not quite sure how planning to avoid Callum wherever I could while I was here has turned into being driven to his family home by his cousin.
My stomach swirls with guilt at leaving Mum a man down (or, rather, a girl down) at the castle, but I hope I can make up for it later. It is strange how circumstances keep throwing Callum and me together. Maybe I should listen to them?
“Did you grow up in Scotland too?” I ask Jane.
“Do I sound like I did?” she says with a laugh. “No, it’s just Callum’s family who live up here now—but I used to come up here every summer to play in the Highlands and around the castle. I always knew that when I got married it would be here. It’s practically a McCrae family tradition! Perhaps one day it will be your turn,” she winks.
I swallow hard. What on earth has Callum said about me? I try to laugh it off, but it comes out as more of a croak.
“So do you visit the castle a lot then?” I continue.
A strange look passes over Jane’s face. “Visit? All the time! It’s the ancient family seat of the McCraes, after all. It’s only recently that it’s been converted into a tourist attraction and the family moved into a more modern country house a few miles away. Callum’s parents are still very involved in the restoration work, of course, and you can often find his mum doing the tours.”
My eyes open wide. Callum’s family own Castle Lochland? “Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Ah, well I guess you two are still getting to know each other. Don’t let it change your view! Callum is still one of the most down-to-earth guys you’ll ever meet.”
“Yeah, he seems that way.”
“Ah, here we are.” We pull in to the driveway of the country house and I almost groan out loud. It’s huge. There are four gigantic windows on either side of the front door, which is double the size of ours, and it’s three storeys high, the stone work covered in ivy. It almost looks like a castle in its own right. Why don’t I ever attract an average Joe, living in a three-bed family terrace who works in Starbucks on the weekend?
“This place is beautiful,” I manage to choke out.
“And it’s got all mod cons. There’s even an indoor/outdoor swimming pool in the grounds at the back. You can tell why the McCraes wanted to move here—much easier to take care of than a draughty old castle.” She pulls up in front of the house and toots the horn twice.
Callum steps out of the front door, in full Scottish countryside gear: a flat cap, olive jacket over tan shirt, and khaki trousers tucked into dark green wellingtons. He looks like he’s walked straight out of a Barbour catalogue. He couldn’t fit in more if he tried. In his hands are another pair of wellies, this time in pink. A real gentleman, he even opens the door for me to get out.
“Hi, cousin!” he says over my head.
“Lovely to see you, Callum. Well, you two lovebirds, I have a mani-pedi appointment to be getting to! But I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you soon, Penny.” Jane waves at me and drives off the moment I shut the door. I smile awkwardly up at Callum. I guess I’m stuck here now.
He holds out the wellies to me. “Ready for a walk?”
“I guess so!” I say with a laugh. Balancing on his shoulder, I remove my Converse and replace them with the wellies. They require a bit of manoeuvring to get on, but once my feet are inside I’m surprised how comfortable they are.
“They suit you! Come on, this way.” He starts walking away from the house, but before we can go very far, we’re interrupted by a loud “Oi!”
I spin round and have to duck as a rugby ball is thrown over my head. Standing in the doorway is an even bigger version of Callum, in a polo shirt and chinos.
Callum catches the ball, then effortlessly tosses it back to his almost-twin in the doorway. “All right, Mal?” There’s a hint of hesitation in his voice.
The guy grunts and steps out, followed by another, this one also tall and blond. How many of them are there? But I can’t think for too long: I jump out of the way as the two guys tackle Callum, roughing up his hair. I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m glad someone’s finding it funny,” says Callum, caught underneath Mal’s arm in a headlock. He grimaces. “Penny, these nutters are my older brothers, Malcolm and Henry.”
“Hi, Penny,” they say, almost in unison. Mal releases Callum, and I finally get a proper look at them both and realize they’re not as alike as I first thought. Malcolm is taller and broader, with a nose that looks like it’s been broken, and Henry’s hair is cropped short and he’s much more muscly than Callum. But from a distance you’d be forgiven for thinking they were triplets.
Rowdy, sporty triplets, I think, as I watch them wrestling the ball from one another. I grin as Callum’s cheeks flush with colour and snap a photo of them all on my phone.
Seeing Callum loosen up with his brothers makes me look at him in a new light. Either he notices my scrutiny or they all finally run out of energy, because a breathless Callum jogs over to
me, his brothers smiling and chuckling. “See you later, you two!” shouts Malcolm in a sing-song voice.
“Come on, let’s go before they drag us into a game of rugby!” says Callum.
“Yeah, let’s—I’m rubbish at sports!”
We clamber over a fence and walk through the short yellow grass of a fallow field. Out in the open, the breeze cools my skin, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
“You’re so lucky to have grown up here,” I tell Callum. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”
He grins. “So, Jane spilled the beans, did she? I hope you don’t think any differently of me.”
“Of course not!” I say.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You did date a sell-out pop star after all, so you’re probably used to it.”
My jaw drops open. “Well, I hope you can get used to dating a normal person,” I shoot back.
He stops and takes my hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. Come on, let me show you something. Do you like ruins?”
I search his face, but it doesn’t give away any hint of malice. Maybe he’s just the kind who makes bad jokes, like calling Noah a “sell-out pop star.” So I give him a small, tentative smile. “Sure.”
“Then I have just the thing,” he says. We start walking again, and I have to pick my feet up to avoid squelching in the mud. “There are these old ruins of a castle, about a mile away along the coast. Well, I say ‘castle,” but it’s actually a single tower with a few turrets on top. The man who owned it was a pirate and a rogue.”
“Ooh, sounds scandalous!”
“He was. As a third son, he never expected to make anything of himself by legitimate means, so he became a pirate. But then he inherited the lairdship and suddenly he was a pirate and the rightful landowner of an estate. It didn’t change him much. He still led raids on his neighbours and scandalized the local village. His castle was ruined when he was finally defeated by a rival clan and that put an end to his pillaging ways.”
My eyes open wide. “Wow! There’s so much history here. You talk about it like it happened yesterday.”
“The past is all around us. In Scotland, you don’t have to scratch too deep before you find a tale or two that will chill your blood or shake your bones, or both. It’s why I love it here so much. It feels one step away from being wild again. Not like in London, where the history is either buried or it becomes assimilated, so you’re just not aware of it.”
As if eager to provide a suitable atmosphere for his words, the wind picks up as we near the cliff edge and sends my hair flying round my face. Callum reaches out and grabs my hands to steady me and I pull my jacket closer round me with the other, but I don’t hate the wind. It feels bracing and, Callum’s right, it feels wild. I lean into his grip, burrowing against his muscular chest. This is not so bad.
As we walk along, the waves crash against the foot of the cliffs, sea spray leaps hundreds of feet into the air. A few gulls squawk overhead, but apart from that it’s as if we’re the only creatures for miles.
“There, can you see it?” Callum points to where the cliff juts farther out into the sea.
I squint in the direction he’s pointing. “Is it . . . is it that lump of rock?” I ask.
He laughs. “That about sums it up! When you get closer, you’ll be able to see it clearer. And, if it’s not too overgrown, we might even be able to clamber inside.”
“Oh, cool!” I say. “It’s a pretty desolate place to put a castle though.”
“Welcome to Scotland,” Callum says with a wink. “And, like I said, the man was a pirate, so he wanted to have a good lookout over the sea.” He breathes in deeply and looks out over the ocean too. He seems much more at home here than he did in sedate St. James’s Park.
“How did you end up in London?” I ask.
Callum shrugs. “I won an Arts Scotland photo competition, and I’ve always loved taking pictures. I never thought I was good enough to make a career out of it, but when I was offered the place at Madame Laplage, it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. A place where my hobby was suddenly something worthwhile. If it doesn’t lead anywhere and it turns out I have to go to law school or be an accountant or something, at least I got to do it for a little while.”
I nod. “I know how you feel. It’s a privilege to be able to do what I love and hope to make money from it. I’ve been so lucky so far, but I can’t help thinking the rug is going to get pulled out from under me at any moment.”
“I think that’s called being a creative,” he says.
“I guess so.”
He squeezes my shoulder, bringing me tighter towards him. “You shouldn’t worry about that, anyway. Yes, you’ve had some luck, but you’ve also worked hard to put yourself in a position where you can be lucky. Not everyone does that. Plus, you’re really good. Don’t underestimate that either. FPN doesn’t do charity cases.”
I smile up at him gratefully.
“When was the first time you knew you had to be a photographer?” he asks.
I pause. “I’ve never really thought about it. I think it was when my friend Megan got a Polaroid camera for her birthday and asked me to take photos at her party. I loved the anticipation of seeing the picture develop right in front of my eyes. It felt like . . . a dream coming to life.” I blush as I think how cheesy I sound, but Callum nods thoughtfully.
“For me, it was getting my first roll of film developed. Taking a little black bottle to the shop and an hour later receiving an envelope full of memories. It felt like magic. What was your first camera?”
I scrunch my nose up trying to remember. “It was a Canon Sure Shot, I think.”
“Me too!” he says with a laugh. “I used to spend all my pocket money on getting the films developed in Boots. Most would come out blurry or the composition would be pants, but it was fun. There were certainly a few gems in there.”
I grin, nodding at his words, amazed at how much we have in common—at least, when it comes to photography.
We walk the rest of the way to the ruins wrapped in our own thoughts, and I’m grateful for the comfortable silence. The harsh wind whips away our words anyway, and the salty sea air stings my nostrils.
When we reach the castle, I run forward, excited at the prospect of getting up close to the ruins. The big, dark stones are fluffy with moss, and I can see now that the tower must have been much taller in its heyday.
“Over here,” Callum says, walking round the other side. I follow him over to a window—or rather, just a hole in the stone—and he hoists himself up to climb through. “Come on, I’ll help you,” he says.
“OK,” I say, and swallow hard. I tuck my camera bag behind my back, tugging the strap tight round my body. Then I take Callum’s outstretched hand and let him help me through the window.
Inside the castle is so much quieter than outside, the wind buffeting the stone but unable to break through. The Scottish wildlife has completely taken over inside, though: rough brambles with juicy blackberries punch up through the soil and thistles huddle low to the ground.
“Wow, this place is amazing,” I say.
“I know,” he says with a grin.
Callum has his phone out and is searching for something online. It looks such a funny juxtaposition—this modern Scottish boy in an ancient castle on his brand-new phone—that I whip my camera out and snap a picture.
“Ah, a couple of months in London and I forget how bad the signal is out here,” he says, with a shrug of apology at having his phone out. He plucks a couple of berries from the bush and hands them to me. “Try one? They’ll be really sweet at this time of year.”
I take a couple from his palm, the purple juice already staining my fingers. I pop them in my mouth and he’s right—they’re deliciously sweet, with only a hint of tang. I savour the taste on my tongue, closing my eyes.
“You know, if you want, you could come to the wedding with me. As my guest. Jane doesn’t mind a bit—I’ve already asked her.”
/> I open my eyes wide with alarm, and swallow down the rest of the berry as fast as I can. “Oh no, I couldn’t—I . . . I need to help Mum anyway. That’s the whole reason I’m here.”
“Well, you have to at least come to the masquerade. There won’t be anything left for you to do in the evening. I insist.”
I wrinkle my nose. “There’s always things to do on a wedding day but . . . I’ll see if I can spare an hour.”
“Good,” he says, stepping close to me. “It would kill me to know that you were so near but I wasn’t seeing you.” He lifts his finger to my chin. “You have some blackberry juice here,” he says, gently wiping at the corner of my lip.
Then he leans down and kisses me again.
And I curse my stupid mind and heart for not feeling a thing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My alarm goes off at six in the morning and I wake up, bleary-eyed.
“Come along, sunshine!” Elliot peeks his head round my door, way too perky for this early in the morning. But he’s been like a different person all week. Sunnier. Happier. More like the old Elliot. Plus, he’s brought me a cup of tea, so I can’t be mad at him for long.
“You’re so excited, anyone would think it was your wedding day!” I say with a laugh.
“Dahling, if this was my wedding day, I’d be bouncing off the walls! Plus, there’s no way I’d be able to afford something this extravagant, but my goodness me, I’ll enjoy helping your mum put it all together. She’s a genius!”
“I know,” I say with a grin. “But do we really have to wear these costumes?” In the corner of my room, laid over an armchair, is the purple crushed-velvet monstrosity that I have to wear for the majority of the day. When Mum showed it to me last night, I almost called Callum right then and there to take him up on his invitation, just so that I could wear normal clothes. But I also knew I couldn’t let Mum down, even if she was making me wear “historically accurate” dress for the wedding.