by Lizzie Lamb
‘Fliss,’ he called after her. ‘Wait. Please.’
But he’d left it too late. Without a backward glance, she hurried down the stairs and out of the house. She walked across the gravel, which was usually kept raked to within an inch of its life, and made sure she left her footprints next to the lorry’s tyre tracks. And when she glanced back at the house and Ruairi’s bedroom window, it was deserted.
Once back in the Wee Hoose, she picked up the phone and dialled Becky’s number. Now that she’d run out of anger and the adrenaline had stopped pumping she felt weary to her bones.
‘Hello,’ Becky’s mum picked up.
‘Hi, Sue - is Bex there?’ Fliss asked, trying desperately to keep her voice from cracking.
‘No, she’s away on a Hen weekend, seems like everyone’s getting married round ‘ere, at the moment. You alright, babes? You don’t sound it.’
Hearing Sue’s familiar voice made Fliss long to lay her head in her surrogate mother’s lap and howl away her misery. Instead, she swallowed hard to dislodge the great wedge of wretchedness clogging her throat and managed a bright: ‘No probs, I’ll catch her later.’
‘Ok, babes. Take care. You’re coming home soon, ain’t cha?’
‘Very soon,’ Fliss replied, and a plan began to take shape in her mind.
‘Bye, darlin’.’
She ended the call and then walked over to her dressing table where a business card was wedged in one corner of the mirror. Since Iona’s birth she’d become friends with Shona McAlester and she recalled her words on the morning Ruairi had driven her back to the far side of Kinloch Mara where she and her husband Archie had their small hotel.
If there’s ever anything I - or my family - can do for you, you have only to ask. If things don’t work out here - Remember that you have friends on the other side of the loch … the bit where His Gorgeousness doesn’t call all the shots.
His Gorgeousness - Fliss’s body was still tender from their lovemaking and it took all of her concentration to forget his touch, his kisses, his tenderness. How could everything have changed so quickly and irrevocably? How could he believe that she’d opened the gates deliberately and be so blind to Isla’s faults?
Never had the cliché cool light of day had more resonance than it did this morning. Hardening her heart against Ruairi, she dialled Shona’s number.
‘The Rowan Tree. Good morning, how can I help you?’
‘Sh - Shona?’ The tears, which she’d held in check, now threatened to swamp her.
‘Fliss? Is that you?’
‘Uh huh …’
‘What’s happened?’ There was no reply for several seconds and then Shona intuitively picked up the vibe. ‘His Gorgeousness causing you problems?’
‘Oh, Shona …’ was all Fliss could manage on a drawn-out sigh before scalding, salt tears overwhelmed her. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’
Chapter Thirty Eight
Shona poured a slug of brandy in Fliss’s coffee and pushed a box of Kleenex towards her. Shutting the door to her private sitting room, she dusted off her hands and gave Fliss her full attention. ‘Okay, tell Auntie Shona everything.’
As intended, Fliss smiled through her tears and blew her nose. Shona was like a capable, grown up version of Becky; the sensible older sister she’d always longed for. Perhaps that was why they’d become firm friends in such a short space of time. After her phone call, Shona had driven to the rescue like Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan, well before Ruairi was aware of her hasty departure and the rest of Tigh na Locha was awake. They’d then spent a tearful half hour in a layby between Kinloch Mara and Shona’s hotel The Rowan Tree, while Fliss wept inconsolably.
The thought was enough to make Fliss’s bottom lip quiver again, so she took another restorative slug of her brandy-laced coffee and blew her nose for a second time.
‘Repeat everything sloooow-ly, and in some kind of order this time, please,’ Shona commanded, as she sipped her coffee. ‘What exactly has His Gorgeousness done to you? Something about contracts - gates - revenge - believing Isla, not you?’ Fliss related the story as concisely as she could, but glossed over the fact she and Ruairi had become lovers last night.
‘I had to get away, I simply had to. That’s why I rang you, Shona.’
‘And I’m glad you did, Fliss. My, my … what a pickle. And His Gorgeousness doesn’t know you’re here?’
‘No. And I don’t want him to, either. I’m getting the next plane h-home to London and saying goodbye to Kinloch Mara f-forever,’ she stammered. The very thought was enough to start the tears falling again. She blotted them with the sleeve of her sweatshirt pulled over her knuckles.
‘Well of course you don’t - and I’m right there with you on that one, sister. But what about Mitzi, Angus and all the people on the other side of the loch who think the world of you? Cat - Murdo - and even the wee girl who cleans the Dower House and does your laundry? They’ll be anxious to know where you are and that you’re safe won’t they.’
‘The family won’t be awake for hours, not after last night’s shindig,’ Fliss began, but Shona shook her head.
‘If opening the gates is as big a deal as His Gorgeousness has made out, then my guess is they’ll all be standing in their pj’s with massive hangovers, knocking back hair of the dog and wondering what form the curse is going to take.’
‘Don’t you believe in the gheusaibh?’ Fliss asked, smiling weakly at Shona’s robust summing up of the situation.
‘Fliss, I’m from the Borders, almost an Englishwoman, we’re a more prosaic species altogether, and aren’t prone to bouts of away-with-faeries like the highlanders. This isn’t to say that the so-called curse isn’t genuine. You must have read about sympathetic magic; if people believe a curse is real, then - to them - it is real.’
‘Yes - to them,’ Fliss emphasised, some of her old spirit returning. ‘I thought R-Ruairi would have been above all that, that … mumbo jumbo.’
‘Mumbo jumbo?’
‘You know - superstition, rituals, and archaic beliefs.’ Fliss’s spirits took a dive as she recalled his look when she’d suggested they quietly moved the lorry, shut the gates and act like nothing had happened. How could he have been so unfeeling? How could she have been so crass and lacking in understanding?
‘Don’t you ever touch wood for luck, salute a magpie or check your horoscope?’ Shona continued in her role as Devil’s Advocate.
Fliss thought back to the party when she’d touched the brass Buddha in the Urquhart’s hall for good karma and the horoscope she’d downloaded onto her phone that same morning. Friends will make or break your weekend. Have an escape plan at the ready. She was prepared to admit that maybe Shona had a point. But she wasn’t ready - yet - to concede that Ruairi’s reaction to the gates being opened had been perfectly understandable. Or that he’d been in shock, spoken to her in haste and was probably regretting every one of his hasty words.
‘Of course. Everyone does. Becky even has lucky knickers she wears when she’s out on the pull,’ she tried to bring some humour to the conversation. ‘But that doesn’t excuse him.’
‘There you are then. Only, with highlanders - it goes deeper than that. It isn’t superstition - it’s more like belief.’ Shona pushed the tissue box across to her and Fliss took a fresh one.
‘But, I said …’ In retrospect, Fliss now realised that she should have given him time to cool down before she’d owned up to her innocent mistake.
‘Well, never mind what you said. I’m guessing that you’d spent the night together and were both … tired and emotional. Not thinking straight. High on lurve and hungover on champagne,’ Shona crossed her eyes and pulled a funny face. Fliss gave a watery smile. ‘That’s better! His Gorgeousness has probably had the lorry driven away, gravel raked, the blasted gates closed and is - even now - realising what an utter pillock he’s been. The only curse is the one he’s brought on himself by throwing away his chance of happiness with a girl like you. End o
f.’ Shona’s upbeat tone restored Fliss’s equilibrium. She drank the last of her coffee and put her collection of crumpled tissues in the waste paper basket Shona held out to her.
‘Think so?’
‘Know so.’
Fliss gave Shona an I’m not so sure look. ‘But there’s still the issue of my contract being terminated and a replacement being brought in to run the therapy centre,’ she pointed out. ‘Ruairi said he had a different position in mind to offer me, a better one.’
‘What do you think he meant?’ In her mind’s eye, Fliss saw him removing the tissue-wrapped parcel from the tallboy and bringing it over to her. What was in it?
‘Stupid of me, I guess, but I hoped he was going to ask me to live at Tigh na Locha with him. See how things went before - possibly - making the arrangement more permanent?’ The words felt liked like they’d been gouged out of her heart, because it was the first time she’d actually given voice to them. ‘And when Mitzi and the girls moved out …’
‘You’d move in permanently?’
‘I guess,’ Fliss said noncommittally, knowing that in her heart she’d hoped for more. Much more.
In the cold, dull light of the October afternoon, Fliss squirmed at how naive and ridiculous her dreams appeared. Of course she couldn’t move in with him. How could a therapist from Pimlico become the next Lady Urquhart? She looked out of the bay window down the sloping gardens of the old Victorian property and towards the grey sheet of the loch. The same waters would be lapping the sands below the Dower House where she’d been so happy. Where she’d never wanted to leave.
Her position as manageress had only ever been temporary and she’d known that from the outset. And initially, she’d simply viewed the appointment as her passport out of Pimlico and her way out of trouble. She hadn’t foreseen that the longer she stayed in Kinloch Mara the more she’d grow to love it and the harder it would be to leave.
And the same was true of Kinloch Mara’s laird.
‘Okay. Say you found out what Ruairi had in mind, and that he was asking you to move in with him. Would you accept?’ Shona broke into Fliss’s sombre thoughts.
‘How could I, knowing that he thought me capable of such deception? That I’d actually opened the gates in a fit of pique because my replacement had been appointed? And in order to save my own skin, had put the blame on Isla?’
‘Isla. Hmm … she really is a piece of work, isn’t she?’
‘Spoiled and screwed up,’ Fliss agreed but then, ever soft hearted, added a coda. ‘But she was really hurting last night, has been hurting for years if the truth be known - over her father’s premature death, denying her love for Murdo, Ruairi’s heavy-handedness and so on. Then I arrive in Kinloch Mara, bringing change she didn’t want and hadn’t expected … and for a finale, bring a curse down on their heads.’
‘Fliss, you’re a better person than I am. I don’t think I’d feel quite so generously disposed towards Isla in the circumstances. Now then - shower and bed, after which you come down in time for tea and we’ll talk some more. Then,’ she gave Fliss a searching look, ‘you can book your flight home for the day after tomorrow. If you’re sure that’s what you really want.’
‘Shona, to be absolutely honest, I don’t know what I really want.’
‘One final thing - should His Gorgeousness ring up begging for forgiveness, what should I tell him?’ Shona asked, quirking an eyebrow.
‘In the unlikely event of that happening, tell him it will take more than words to get me back into his life.’ Or his bed, Fliss thought distractedly, as Shona led the way to one of the guest bedrooms.
‘A grand gesture is required, then?’ Shona said almost to herself as she paused on the bottom step and scooped up some bed linen placed there. Then, in her usual businesslike manner, she ushered Fliss into the suite reserved for family and friends. ‘It’s yours for as long as you want. No hurry. To use a cliché, decisions made in haste are always repented at leisure.’
Shona pulled back the bedcovers, drew the heavy linen curtains on the distracting view of the loch and the hills towards Port Urquhart and then quietly left the room.
When Fliss woke some hours later, she thought she was still dreaming. She imagined that she could hear Murdo’s voice downstairs and - even more incredibly - Isla speaking to Shona. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was five in the afternoon and almost dark. To satisfy her curiosity, she slipped on the dressing gown Shona had thoughtfully placed at the foot of the bed and then padded onto the landing.
No mistake. It was Murdo and Isla down below in the hall.
‘I’m not sure she’d want to see either of you,’ Shona was saying firmly in a tone that even made Fliss quake. ‘Especially not Miss Urquhart.’
‘Oh, but she must. I promised Ruairi I’d apologise, put things right,’ Isla began and then looked at Murdo for backup.
‘You think sorry and an anguished expression will do that, do you? I’m not quite sure who you’re most sorry for - yourself, or Fliss.’
‘She deserves your censure, Shona, I know she does. But,’ Murdo put his hand on Isla’s shoulder, ‘I think she should be given the chance to square things with Fliss, especially if - as you say, she’s flying home tomorrow.’ He spoke quietly and with a steady determination that Fliss recognised. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Shona, it’s okay,’ Fliss called down. ‘I’ll listen to what she has to say.’ They watched as she descended the stairs in the too large dressing gown, raking her fingers through hair still knotted and tangled from last night’s lovemaking. Nodding, but giving Isla the benefit of a cold stare, Shona led them into the small office and left them to it.
Fliss sat in the office chair, forcing Isla and Murdo to stand by the desk. Her body language made it quite plain that as far as she was concerned the Kinloch Mara phase of her life was over. Murdo perched on the edge of the desk and Isla stood in front of him, pale-faced and red-eyed, leaning back against his kilted knees as if she drew courage from the physical contact.
‘And?’ she prompted. Isla looked like she’d spent most of the day shedding tears of regret - as well she should, Fliss thought, glaring at her.
‘Fliss, I did an unforgivable thing and I’m sorry. Please come back to Kinloch Mara and let me - us - make it up to you.’
‘And that’s it? No explanation as to why you did it?’ Fliss asked, although she already knew the reasons. However, she wasn’t letting Isla off the hook that easily. ‘Thanks for coming over but I think I deserve better than that.’ Getting to her feet, she held the door open, a signal for them to leave. Isla took a step forward, hesitated, and then burst into noisy tears. Murdo closed the door quietly and motioned for Fliss to sit back down.
‘Isla had the mistaken belief that -’
‘That she can do whatever she wants and get away with it?’ Fliss finished his sentence for him. ‘Breaking News - she can’t.’
‘I think she knows that now.’ Murdo put his arm round Isla who hid her face in his shoulder. Fliss was far from mollified by the sight of them cosying up to each other while she and Ruairi were at daggers drawn. In fact, if anything, Murdo’s show of consideration towards Isla inflamed her anger even more.
‘And that’s it, is it? She gets a mild ticking off, you get the girl and - what do I get? I’ll tell you - a one way ticket to Pimlico and a pull-out bed on my friend’s bedroom floor.’ Murdo leaned away from Isla as if finally realising not only the implications of what she’d done, but how furious Fliss was. ‘I’m assuming that Ruairi knows the truth now?’ she asked sharply.
‘Yes. M - Murdo suspected almost straightaway I was behind telling you to pass the message on to open the gates.’
‘Unlike your brother.’
‘Unlike Ruairi,’ she agreed. ‘Murdo took me to him. Made me tell him the truth. But, instead of being angry as I thought he would be, Ruairi simply said, quite coldly: Isla, you don’t know what you’ve done.’
That brought tears to Fliss’s eyes, but she b
linked them away furiously.
‘Go on,’ she urged, stony-faced.
‘At first, I thought he was talking about tradition and the gheusaibh, but then I realised - now I know … he meant I’d ruined things between you.’
‘Isn’t that what you’d intended?’ Fliss asked coldly.
‘Fliss, last night - I was out of control. I thought merely to make things difficult for you so that you’d leave Kinloch Mara and never come back.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘Stupidly, I thought that you and Murdo were - lovers.’ Her voice went up several octaves and the word came out as a strangled cry. ‘And had - somehow - conspired to encourage Ruairi to change the terms of the trust, get me out of the way on Angus’s land and leave you free to …’
‘You were wide of the mark,’ Fliss said and gave her a caustic look. ‘It’s Ruairi I love. It’s always been Ruairi. I don’t give a fuck about you, your trust fund or your jealous imaginings about Murdo and me. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you both to leave.’
Murdo moved Isla out of the way and walked over to Fliss. He enfolded her in a brotherly hug and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Fliss, I’m sorry. So very, very sorry.’
‘Murdo, you’ve been a great friend to me, but I want nothing more to do with anything or anyone connected with Kinloch Mara. Can you understand that?’
‘Yes, Fliss I can.’ He held onto her hands and seemed reluctant to leave her. ‘But, what shall I tell Ruairi?’ Fliss took a deep breath before answering.
‘Tell him …’ She was about to say that our timing’s always been wrong, but then she changed her mind. ‘Tell him he made his choice this morning and we can’t turn the clock back.’