A Flight of Fancy (Scottish Island Escapes Book 6)

by Margaret Amatt

  When the taxi rocked up in front of a two-storey white house, Taylor realised this was the hotel. Not the way she’d planned to spend her last night on the island, but here she was.

  She paid the driver, collected her case and staggered to the door.

  Chapter 22

  Magnus

  Someone was talking. Who? Who cared? Magnus downed another glass of whisky and banged it on the bar. He didn’t look around from his bar stool. When a hand touched his shoulder, he wrenched it away, his vision swimming. The hand didn’t move. When he finally glanced up, it took him a few minutes to work out whose face was spinning before him.

  ‘There you are. Do you want some of the cake?’

  ‘What?’ Magnus blinked. His mum came into focus. The jaunty sound of Scottish dance music pounded inside his head like a mallet on a string.

  ‘The cake, they’ve just cut it. Where’s Taylor?’

  Magnus rubbed his forehead. ‘Somewhere about,’ he muttered.

  Fenella frowned and put her hands on her hips. ‘What is going on? Have you fallen out?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh, Magnus. Livvi said she thought something was up. What happened?’

  ‘Don’t wanna talk, Mum, ok? I’m good.’

  ‘And Taylor? Where’s she? Is she ok?’

  He cinched his shoulder blades together. ‘Who knows? But she won’t have gone far, it’s not like she can, is it?’ He lifted his glass and stared into its emptiness. Before he could raise his hand to order another, Fenella took hold of his wrist.

  ‘You’ve had enough.’

  He looked away. I’m too old for her to order me about, his fogged brain protested. But he slammed the glass down and squared his jaw. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘You should go and get some fresh air. I’m going to look for Taylor. What’s her number?’

  Magnus got off the barstool, managing to stay upright despite the world spinning before him. ‘I’m not giving you her number. She’ll be somewhere, I’ll find her. But whatever hopes and plans you had for us, you can forget it. We’re finished.’

  *

  Magnus’s eyes didn’t want to open. His mouth was the opposite. Eventually, he forced it shut and peeled up his eyelids. Where was he? Fragments came back, jabbing like broken glass against his forehead. He groaned and laid his hand on his temple.

  Something dug uncomfortably into his back. Fumbling around, he found soft covers. He was still in his kilt. He yanked at the sporran chain, pulling it out from under him. The motion induced a wave of nausea and he shut his eyes. More memories dripped into his subconscious.

  They hadn’t found Taylor. Beth McGregor and her boyfriend had said they’d given her a lift back to the house. Fenella had been relieved and as the wedding party dwindled, she’d decided to take Magnus home. In case I ruined the day for my little brother. Which was likely. Jean had been snoring beside him on the drive back. Daylight threatened him through the gap in the curtains, but everything else was dark and obscure.

  Where was Taylor now? She hadn’t been in the house when they came back. Had the police come hammering on the door and he’d missed it in his stupor? Jesus, I’m an irresponsible brat. Heaving himself into a sitting position, it took all his strength not to throw up.

  He tugged off the wedding outfit, pulled on a robe and slogged towards the bathroom. He needed to wake himself up and lose the contents of his stomach before facing his family. When he’d drowned himself in hot, then cold water, he pulled the robe back on. Padding over the soft carpets in his bare feet, he checked every room, finding no one except Jean sleeping in the old armchair. The last room was the kitchen. Fenella had her back to the door, stirring something on the hob.

  ‘Oh, there you are.’ She barely looked at him as she referred to a page in a cookbook. ‘We’re heading back to the hotel in an hour to wave off Carl and Robyn on their honeymoon. It’s a surprise. Come if you like. I’m making a pot of soup for later. I thought I’d try this new recipe.’

  ‘Mum.’ Magnus ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Where’s Taylor?’

  Fenella turned and shook her head; her pupils flashed red. ‘Now you ask.’ She returned to the book. ‘Well, in your own time.’

  ‘Ok. So, she’s not here, and as you’re not calling out the cavalry, I assume you know she’s safe.’

  ‘No, I don’t know for sure, but as she’s an intelligent young woman, I’m sure she’s done everything she can to have a safe journey.’

  ‘Dare I ask you what she told you?’ Magnus bit his bottom lip, digging his teeth into it.

  ‘The truth, and the only part of it which makes me question her intelligence, is taking up with you.’

  ‘Oh, bloody charming,’ he muttered, throwing his hands in the air. His head reeled.

  ‘She acted with her heart, which was silly, though she wasn’t to know.’

  ‘Wasn’t to know what? She didn’t act with her heart. If you knew the truth, you’d understand exactly what she did.’

  Fenella turned around and folded her arms. ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘The whole thing was fake.’

  ‘She said.’

  ‘Did she?’ He ran his fingers through his hair and twisted his lips. ‘And did she tell you about the part where she thought it would be fun to pretend she was her twin sister?’

  ‘Yes, all of that.’

  ‘And you think that makes her intelligent?’

  ‘Why do you think she did it?’

  Magnus frowned. ‘How the hell should I know? She must be unstable.’

  ‘And if she is, she needs more compassion than this.’ Fenella glared. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s unbalanced, not after the life she’s had.’

  ‘You do know she’s not Skylar?’

  ‘Yes. I do. She left me a note, telling me everything. She’s lived in the shadow of her sister for years. When she met you, she saw a chance to get one over on her sister but mostly it was a chance to escape to a different world, to be free, have some fun and let go of herself.’

  ‘Then why not tell me?’

  ‘Yes, that was naïve. But by the time she realised she wanted you to know, it was too late. She’d fallen too hard.’

  ‘Seriously,’ Magnus mumbled. ‘You believe that?’

  ‘Yes, Magnus. I do. And I know she lied to you, but really, you lied to all of us. She wasn’t your girlfriend at all.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I hate…’

  ‘Hate what?’

  ‘Feeling left out.’

  ‘Taylor felt the same. She’s always overlooked for her sister. After she arrived here, it was easy to forget she was lying because the two of you had grown so close. She found something in you she admired and she thought you felt it too.’

  ‘I did,’ said Magnus, clenching his fists. ‘But that makes it worse. It was all based on a lie.’

  ‘Does it change how you feel?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘So, if she really was the twin sister, do you think the week would have played out like this?’

  Magnus snorted. No. Of course it wouldn’t. None of it would have happened with Skylar. That seemed obvious now. ‘Why didn’t I click right from the start? She was so different. I didn’t even know Skylar had a sister.’ He frowned. He’d met Taylor first. Skylar must have seen their encounter and sought him out later. Why? Was she jealous of Taylor? What twisted world had he got himself mixed up in? ‘I thought she’d changed.’

  ‘Into someone kind, sweet, fun—’

  ‘Yeah, ok. I get the message.’

  ‘Just twelve hours too late.’

  ‘Oh, whatever.’ Magnus sighed. ‘So where is she?’

  ‘Gone. She booked into a hotel so she could get the first ferry out.’

  ‘Right.’ He rumpled his hair. ‘Maybe it’s for the best.’ Taking a few wide steps, he crossed the kitchen and embraced Fenella, planting a kiss on her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I’m no good at this.’

  Fenella patted him on the ba
ck and while his mum’s hugs were always comforting, it didn’t come close to mending the gash in his chest. ‘You have to find a way to get better then.’

  ‘Yeah. But not with Taylor. It’s too late for that.’

  ‘It’s never too late, Magnus.’

  He returned to his little bedroom and tossed off his robe. What an amazing few nights they’d spent here. And so much more. Grabbing a pair of boxer shorts, he tugged them on.

  If he’d crashed into Skylar, she’d have sued him for every pound of flesh on his body and every penny in his bank account, assuming he’d got out the airport alive and her bodyguards hadn’t murdered him.

  He’d thought she’d changed and loved her for it. He frowned. Taylor was… tailormade for him. She’d never been Skylar. She’d always been Taylor, and he’d fallen for her. They’d hatched crazy plans that had seemed too huge, but if he removed the movie star, they didn’t seem so impossible anymore. Except, of course, Taylor was gone, and he’d told her he never wanted to see her again.

  The edge of a piece of paper on his bedside table caught his eye. He slid it out from beneath the lamp and read.

  Magnus

  I will never be able to put into words how I feel right now. My heart is crushed. Not by you but by my own stupidity. I don’t know why I ever thought this could work and I have no excuses. I will never forgive myself. When I saw you again, I was in a rage with Skylar, and saw a chance to get back at her. It wouldn’t have worked. She wouldn’t have cared. But my idiot-self decided to do it anyway. I believed if I could win you over, I’d have won against Skylar. But after only a few hours, I realised you were so much more than a good-looking guy. That’s when I made the big mistake. I fell for you for real and I couldn’t stop falling. Maybe I won’t ever stop. Everything we did was amazing and I cherish the feelings we shared because I meant every single one. I can’t bear the idea that I put you through this. I toyed with a living, breathing, feeling man in order to satisfy a need in myself. The desperate need to be valued and to feel loved. For a few days you gave me that and I’ve honestly never felt that way before. Thank you.

  I won’t trouble you again. I wish you every joy in the future.

  I love you.

  Taylor Rousse

  Magnus furrowed his brow, his eyes roaming over the last few words. The characters blended into a blur of grey and crazy thoughts trumpeted in his ears like a brass band booming. He dropped his head into his hands. His body slumped forward. How would he ever get over this?

  Chapter 23

  Taylor

  Skylar’s voice rang out loud and clear from the back of the limo. Taylor sank back into the leather couch as her father reached for a bottle of water from the ice chest.

  ‘Try it again,’ he said. Skylar’s eyes flashed with annoyance, twinkling in the reflected glow of the track lighting.

  ‘Just once more,’ Skylar said. ‘I know it.’

  ‘Once more, only more convincing this time.’

  Taylor lowered her gaze, scrolling through an iPad and breathing sharply as they jerked around a corner.

  ‘Watch it,’ muttered Skylar to no one in particular before resuming her speech.

  Four weeks ago, a giant hand had plucked Taylor out of her world and thrown her into a completely different one. Now, just as suddenly, she was back where she belonged, keeping her head down, pretending she didn’t exist, but this time always under the watchful eye of her parents. As soon as she’d arrived back on mainland Scotland, she’d been dragged back to reality.

  Unable to think about where to go, she’d messaged Liesel. Within a few hours, Liesel and an army of bodyguards arrived to retrieve her.

  ‘My god, we thought you were dead,’ Bianca had said. ‘This is exactly the reason we don’t like you going anywhere alone. You’re a danger to yourself.’

  ‘I wasn’t in any danger.’

  ‘Taylor, this is so like you. Only thinking of yourself. Didn’t you stop for a second to think how Skylar felt when you just vanished? She was beside herself. We thought you’d stopped all this. You should start considering other people, and if you can’t, it’s time to go back to therapy.’

  Yes, my fault. Wasn’t it always? Skylar’s words were like a dull chant in the background, blending with the music, the horns honking and the rush of traffic outside.

  Skylar had lapped up the poor wounded sister attention with quips like: ‘You terrified the life out of me. How could you? You wrecked my time in London. Where did you even go? Some drug den? And here we were thinking you were clean.’

  Taylor didn’t reply to any of it. None of them knew where she’d really been. The countryside was as vague an answer as she could muster. Mull would have been lost on them completely. Mull? Even the name sounded like something from a distant memory. Was it even real? Or somewhere she’d dreamed up? The memories were like something that had happened to someone else. They were slipping away like sand through her fingers.

  Without the messages, she could have been persuaded that none of it was real. She woke her iPad, barely hearing what Skylar was talking about. The message thread that kept her going flashed up and Fenella Hansen’s little round profile picture smiled from the page top. She’d changed the picture to one from the wedding. A little jolt of pain struck Taylor in the chest. Skylar’s cloying perfume was nauseating and Taylor took a moment to lay back her head, catching the cool swell from the A/C before rereading the messages for the umpteenth time.

  She skimmed over them. What did she expect to find? Nothing from Magnus. Fenella’s words over the past few weeks had been comforting but didn’t indicate any change in her son. Just swapping chats with someone from that world gave Taylor a flicker of joy in these otherwise dark days. Fenella skirted neatly around the Magnus subject, telling Taylor more about the dogs, Aunt Jean, Robyn and Carl, or her granddaughter. And while loving it all, Taylor wondered more and more if keeping up the friendship made sense – for Fenella. Surely she had more important things to do?

  Skylar’s voice sang out as she practised her speech for the opening of a charitable foundation. She should have it off-pat by now but other things were always more important: hair, nails, make-up, a spa therapy session. Taylor almost choked at the thought of the foundation. Skylar and charity couldn’t be used in the same sentence as far as she was concerned, but it was part of the new image, the all-American girl who’d pulled herself out of the black hole of child stardom, the addictions and the rehab to become a squeaky-clean icon.

  All fake. Taylor’s insides contracted at the word. If anyone was the queen of fake, it was her. Maybe it ran in their family. With both parents being actors, the gene was there. The one which caused the desire to be someone else and the desperation to be noticed. Skylar achieved it by acting and being famous. Taylor didn’t. And when she’d tried to act and get someone’s attention, it backfired.

  ‘Was that better?’ asked Skylar.

  ‘Excellent, you nailed it,’ said her father. ‘You’re a natural.’

  ‘Great.’ Skylar squinted at Taylor. ‘Why are you here? You should have stayed with Mom.’

  ‘Mom’s busy,’ said her father. ‘Taylor’s got some work to be doing.’

  Oh yes. Taylor had work. A bit of lip service to PR that they paid her for, but it was nothing except an umbilical cord keeping her attached to them. Whenever she suggested moving on they reminded her how her life was secure and safe here. How she would always have the help she needed – whether she wanted it or not. She got to share in a life of luxury. Who would object to so much spending money, designer clothes, fast cars, private flights, luxury hotels, poolside parties and all the trappings of a Hollywood star? And they had control. They didn’t want Taylor out in the world being ‘a danger to herself’ or risking any damage to Skylar’s precious career.

  Taylor’s glimpse into a different world had been cut short. As she skimmed the messages, she smiled, thinking how much Magnus’s world would have petrified Skylar. She may preach charity but t
o see life in a world so much humbler than her own would freak her out. The glimpse into a new dimension had fascinated Taylor, surrounding her with people who cared and where caring didn’t mean overspending just so the leash could be tightened. She couldn’t leave because she ‘owed them’. Magnus’s family had accepted her without question, taken her in and valued her. Her family wouldn’t do the same for him. He’d be an outsider and they’d only look at him with suspicion.

  The limo ground to a halt and Skylar peered out the window, the corners of her mouth turned down. Taylor didn’t need the twin bond to read her sister’s mind. With Skylar being so used to rolling up outside grand hotels, exclusive clubs, casinos and movie theatres, this had to be the biggest comedown of her life.

  Her focus flicked from the window and she gaped at her father. ‘I can’t go in there.’

  Taylor took in the worse-for-wear building and liked the way they had decked it out for the occasion. The residents and staff at the Holdbane Shelter for the homeless had made a genuine effort. It wasn’t every day a celebrity turned up, especially one as young and glamorous as Skylar. A gang of photographers and reporters waited around on the sidewalk, desperate to get the best shot of Skylar. At the bottom of the steps was a little podium decked with posters. Taylor had arranged for it to be as picture perfect as possible. One of those little jobs she got to do and was expected to be delighted about.

  Their father gave a sharp shrug. ‘It won’t take long, just get out, shake some hands and make the speech.’

  ‘Think of the Instagram photos,’ said Taylor.

  ‘Oh god.’ Skylar threw her head back. ‘You’re loving this, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Of course you are. You deliberately set me up in the most dreadful area of town.’

  ‘I just arranged the stand. The idea wasn’t mine. And anyway, you don’t exactly get homeless shelters in the best parts of town.’

  ‘Sometimes I wish you still looked like me,’ said Skylar. ‘Then you could do all this shitty stuff for me.’