Penelope slid into the back of the car, and sat on the Lord-McFleurie family tartan blanket that covered it. It was well and truly freezing up in Scotland and she was grateful for the warmth of the car as Merton loaded their luggage into the boot. In no time at all they were on their way, and within an hour they were winding their way up the narrow driveway to the Lord-McFleurie family home. Penelope stifled a gasp as they turned the corner and the castle came into full view. It was vast and grey with a narrow turret on each side. There was a maze garden to the right hand side and beautiful trees lined the stone driveway leading up to the large, ancient, oak front door. Penelope tried to hide her surprise. She had seen countless pictures of the castle, but nothing prepared her for it in all its glory. It had clearly stood the test of time, and in the harsh Scottish climate that was no mean feat. Penelope could not help but have an enormous respect for this building that had been around for centuries, and had housed her family to be.
The car screeched to a halt outside the front door, a small cloud of dust rose as Merton pulled on the brakes in the stone gravel. Penelope sat there motionless, afraid to stir. Richard held her hand and gave it a light squeeze. He leaned in and whispered:
‘Mummy will be so pleased to see you again Penelope.’ He gave her a peck on the cheek.
Penelope turned to him and sighed ‘Indeed, I can’t wait to see her myself.’ She trembled as she got out of the car. She had a feeling of foreboding, which she couldn’t quite place, as she crossed the threshold. Nancy and the butler, McVeigh, greeted them at the door. McVeigh looked as if he was easily a century old, but was still clinging to the tradition and the importance of his role for dear life. Lady Lord-McFleurie stood beneath the portrait of her great, great, great grandfather, on the first landing of the vast wooden staircase in the hallway. Her countenance was stony. She mustered a weak smile as she descended and slowly approached Penelope who was standing in the doorway with Richard, reluctant to move.
‘Penaylope dear, I am delighted to welcome you to my home, and indeed… into my family.’ Lady Lord-McFleurie gave Penelope two air kisses as she said this in her faint Scottish accent. ‘You must go upstairs and change for dinner, we will be having an aperitif shortly in the library. Richard will show you around, won’t you Richard?’ Lady L-McF spun around slowly as she said this.
Richard jumped slightly and he said, ‘Yes mummy, yes, yes of course I will,’ rather hastily.
Penelope breathed a sigh of relief as Richard marched her up the vast staircase to her room. While the castle was beautiful, she had the constant feeling that she was being watched. There were so many ancient oil paintings of people from another time, with a clear family resemblance. That nose had been handed down for generations, and no doubt would survive for generations to come. Penelope grimaced at the thought of it.
As soon as she had closed the door of her room, Penelope flopped down on the four-poster bed in despair…
‘What on earth am I doing here?’ she thought to herself. ‘I don’t belong here, this is so weird. The house is amazing, but it is so ancient and dusty and the pictures are really freaking me out. I hate the feeling that I am bit lost here. I can’t even remember where the nearest loo is… oh god!’ Penelope sat on the bed and stared into space. So much was changing. She felt like she was in the middle of a tornado. A few moments later Richard rapped on her door. Penelope jumped slightly as his knuckles hit the ancient wood.
‘Just a moment,’ Penelope quipped.
‘Penelope darling, it’s only me.’ Richard inched into the room, and closed the door quietly behind him.
‘Oh, hi,’ Penelope sighed with relief. ‘Richard, I have no idea where the nearest loo is!’ she gasped.
‘Oh dear, I’ll show you to it, it’s just at the end of this corridor,’ Richard laughed.
‘Thanks, where is your room?’ Penelope arched one eyebrow.
‘Ah, my quarters are in the turret at the end of the house. I bagged that years ago. Just another one of the main benefits of primogeniture.’ He smirked. ‘You’ll notice that Mummy put you as far away as possible from me!’ Richard laughed.
‘Oh my god, she is worse than my mother in that case,’ Penelope laughed.
‘I know, believe me I know…’ Richard assured her. ‘Look, dinner is at six and we need to go down to the library soon for a drink, and no doubt a friendly grilling from the rest of the family.’ Richard looked sheepish as he said this.
A pit of nerves began to grow in Penelope’s stomach. The castle was difficult enough to deal with, factoring in the rest of the clan was not sitting well with her…
‘Ok, that’s fine, let’s head down now.’ Penelope grabbed a baby pink cashmere pashmina. She was using it for more than just a barrier against the castle draughts. Wrapping it around her person gave her an enormous sense of security. There was no way that Richard’s mother or sisters could scrutinise her figure if she hid it behind the pashmina.
‘Are you not going to change?’ Richard arched one eyebrow.
‘Why? Do you think I should?’ Penelope shot back.
‘No, no, no I just thought that you might like to, but it’s not necessary at all,’ Richard spluttered. He was keen that this should go well, his mother could be “difficult” at times, to say the least.
‘Alright then, let’s go.’ Richard marched ahead of her down the corridor, she felt like she was being marched to the gallows.
They entered the wood panelled library, and were greeted by the whole family who were gathered around the fireplace, an assortment of whiskey tumblers and G&Ts in hand. There was an eerie silence among them.
‘Welcome Penaylope,’ Richard’s mother intoned, as the rest of the family went up to shake Penelope’s hand one by one. A dozen of them gathered around her, except Aunt Muriel who was quite oblivious to the whole gathering. She kept barking, ‘I can’t believe Grace Kelly has finally come to visit us in Scotland!’ as she would motion towards Penelope.
Every time she said this Richard’s mother bellowed ‘Yes, Aunt Muriel, she has come especially to see you…’ and gave an apologetic glance towards Penelope, raising her eyes to heaven.
Richard was the eldest of five. He had twin, platinum-haired younger brothers and two younger sisters, all in their mid-twenties. The clan were expensively dressed in casual, hunting-type clothes. The family tartan was always present, even in its subtlest of forms, such as a well-placed hanky, detail on a sweater cuff or factored into jewellery, such as cufflinks or a small pendant. Just as Penelope felt like their stares were going to bore a hole in her pashmina, Richard’s father came bounding into the library, still in his hunting gear. He was still holding his shooting rifle, he had rushed back as soon as he had seen the car back in the driveway. All of the colour drained from Penelope’s face when she saw the gun, she actually felt as if her heart had stopped with fright for a few seconds.
‘This must be Penaylope, how are you lass? You are so welcome to our household.’ Angus McFleurie extended a very large hairy hand to Penelope. His ruddy cheeks gave away too many games of rugby, washed down with old Grouse over the years. Angus towered over Penelope in more ways than one and she could finally see where Richard got his 6ft2 frame from. Angus was at least 6ft4, and broad with it. He was the complete opposite to Richard’s mother. Penelope was overwhelmed by the contrast.
‘Oh, erm, hello Mr, erm, Lord-McFleurie,’ Penelope gasped. She had not been expecting this at all, he was something of a breath of fresh air after the mute blonde twins and Richard’s conspiratorial whispering sisters, but the gun and his size were a lot to deal with.
‘Pah! None of that now lass, call me Angus, or you can call me “Dadday” if you like?’ Angus leaned down and winked at Penelope, arching one of his bushy red eyebrows as he said this. ‘Sure you are practically part of the family now.’ He stood there grinning manically at her.
‘Oh, quite.’ Penelope nearly fainted at the thought of calling him “Daddy”, she managed to muster a weak smile
, to hide her gasp. Angus was easily twice the size of her and as he bent down to speak to her she felt as if she was eight years old again.
Richard’s mother saw the grimace flash momentarily across Penelope’s face, so she butted in with. ‘Didn’t you have time to change for dinner dear?’ as she considered Penelope’s outfit as she peered over her glasses at her.
Penelope began to squirm in her shoes, and she was very grateful that the pashmina was covering up the blotchy red nervous rash that was crawling up her chest towards her neck. It was much more than just a piece of clothing, she had decided, it was armour!
‘Erm no, not quite you see…’ Penelope began.
‘Leave her alone Mummy, we have barely been here twenty minutes, and Penelope was simply dying to meet you all. She didn’t have time to change.’ Richard snapped.
‘Ah yeyes, of cooooorse, how roooode of may,’ Richard’s mother became slightly flustered and momentarily lost the battle with her original accent as she fidgeted with her glasses. Richard had certainly put her back in her place.
‘Drink?’ Angus motioned towards the drinks’ cabinet with his glass of scotch, the ice sloshed against the sides of the glass as he did this, and a little bit of whisky spilled onto the ancient rug.
Penelope jumped slightly, ‘Em, yes, yes, that would be lovely thank you, gin and tonic please.’ Penelope was relieved to have made the right choice as they all nodded in agreement as she gave Angus her order. He bounded over to the drinks cabinet and started preparing a rather large G&T. Penelope was very glad of his generous measures, and she tried not to knock the whole thing back as soon as he handed it to her.
Twenty minutes passed as they exchanged small talk and examined the ring.
‘Oooh Penaylope, it is lovely,’ Sara-Louise gasped as she tried the ring on for size, mimicking the way her mother said Penelope’s name. In reality the L-McF offspring all spoke with cut-glass English accents, without a trace of their Scottish heritage. This was the result of their boarding school education.
‘Let me, let me, it’s my turn now.’ Lucinda squealed.
‘Now girls, no fighting please we have guests.’ Lady L-McF sternly warned the two twenty-somethings as she motioned towards Penelope. They seemed to have forgotten that she was still there, the ring had taken centre stage, it was taking on a life of its own.
‘Sorry Mummy’ the two girls chanted in monotone unison.
Richard surveyed the situation practically bursting with pride. He had chosen that ring all by himself and his ego was in overdrive over their reaction to it. He just knew that Penelope was “the one” she was fitting in so well.
At this stage, Penelope’s forehead was completely rigid, the tension had risen up her neck and moved into her head. She could feel a migraine coming on. She knocked back the dregs of her G&T as Angus hovered ready to pour her a new one. The group moved into the dining room where the table was lavishly set. White linen, no tartan! The mahogany dining table nearly ran the full length of the room. Penelope was seated beside Richard on one side, thank heavens, and next to ancient Aunt Muriel on her other side.
As soon as Penelope had taken her seat, Muriel leaned in.
‘So tell me dear, what is the weather like in Monaco these days…?’ Muriel adjusted her hearing aid and anticipated the response.
‘Oh, well em…’ Penelope stalled, Richard leaned in and hissed…
‘Play along, play along, she’s completely senile, bless her.’ He patted Penelope’s hand.
‘Oh, right, right, will do,’ Penelope whispered back.
‘Well Aunt Muriel, it is very warm indeed, Scotland is something of a shock to the system.’ Penelope turned to smile at Muriel.
‘Yes, yes indeed, and how is Rainier?’ Muriel sounded like she knew him personally.
‘He’s very well.’ ‘Who the hell is Rainier?’ Penelope thought to herself.
‘What was that dear?’ Aunt Muriel was very hard of hearing.
‘He is v-e-r-y w-e-l-l,’ Penelope bellowed at her.
Lady L-McF gave Penelope a weak smile as she raised her eyes to heaven.
Penelope gave her a weak smile in return. This was their first bonding moment, albeit fleeting.
‘Are you ok?’ Richard whispered to her as he dropped his napkin and picked it up as an excuse to whisper to her.
‘Yes, fine,’ she said beneath her breath. Her English stiff upper lip was coming in very useful in Scotland. Very useful, indeed.
A few hours later, Penelope flopped onto her ancient four-poster bed, well and truly exhausted. Watching every word she said for the entire evening had really taken it out of her. There was a tense atmosphere all evening, as it was clear that Lady L-McF had warned the family to be on their best behaviour and she kept a stern watch over all of her brood. They in turn were watching her like a hawk. Keen for some clues about their new soon to be sister-in-law. Angus was the only one who didn’t abide by the rules, and he was his jolly self all evening. Penelope lay and stared at the paintings. She was convinced that they watched her every move, the whole thing was creeping her out. Richard in London was completely different to Richard at home, it shouldn’t make a difference… but maybe it did. This engagement experience was totally new to her, and she was only planning on doing this once, so she didn’t know what to expect. Just as she was having doubts she caught sight of her beautiful Tiffany’s ring glinting on her left hand. It was terribly reassuring and the sheer beauty of it always made her feel that everything would turn out alright.
The weekend didn’t get much better. It was a constant stream of family overload as more relatives arrived to inspect Penelope and the ring, and she had the same conversation over and over again. By Sunday Penelope was well and truly exhausted. On Sunday evening Richard dropped Penelope off outside 72 Abbeville Road, she waved him goodbye and nearly kissed the ground as she turned to go into her flat.
‘Well hello there, how was the castle??’ Zara gushed as soon as Penelope arrived into the kitchen. ‘Cuppa?’
‘Oooh, yes please, well… have I got a tale for you!’ Penelope laughed.
‘Oh my god, was it really creepy? What were his family like?’ Zara was dying to know the details.
‘Ok, first… do we have any chocolate biscuits, I think we are going to need them!’ Penelope winked at Zara. Zara lunged for the cupboard and spun around and nodded at Penelope as she grabbed the packet of chocolate finger biscuits.
‘Sooo… what happened. Did they freak you out, were there eyes in the portraits, secret corridors, … ghosts?!!’ Zara was talking extremely fast as she fussed around with the teapot. She arranged the mugs and hurled the biscuits onto the plate, plonking down at the kitchen table opposite Penelope. Zara sat with her elbows on the table her cheeks resting on her hands, and signalled to Penelope to start.
‘Well… I didn’t actually see any ghosts, but I’m pretty sure that the castle definitely has some! They talked about the ancestors so much that it was as if they were still there.’ Penelope said mysteriously.
‘No!’ Zara gasped, and her hand flew up to cover her open mouth.
‘Yes!, and, it was hundreds of years old, even my four-poster bed was centuries old, it was quite an experience. Richard had his own ‘turret’ as far away from me as possible… and the whole family subscribes to the family tartan.’ Penelope giggled. It was easier to make light of it now that she wasn’t actually there.
‘No!’ Zara gasped between dipping, munching and sipping.
‘Yes, and… it was freeeeeeeeeeeezing up there, I thought I was going to die of the cold. It was like my bones were cold and I couldn’t warm up. If I have to go up there again I will definitely bring thermals with me. Probably tartan ones!’ Penelope winked at Zara.
‘Eugh, gross!’ Zara grimaced, Penelope was the last person that she could imagine wearing thermal undies, let alone tartan ones.
‘Yeah, I know, but believe me… fashion is not top of mind up there! It was hilarious their senile great aun
t Muriel lives with them and she thought I was Grace Kelly, so I had to play along with her. I hadn’t a clue about what she was talking about half the time.’ Penelope sighed.
‘The actress from the fifties?’ Zara was on the edge of her seat.
‘The very one.’
‘And they were practically grilling me for the whole weekend, it was like the Spanish Inquisition. Thank god the ring provided a great distraction, his sisters were drawn to it like moths to a flame, and every new family member that I met hovered around it. His mother mentioned the “family ring” but Richard shut her up before she could elaborate in front of everyone.’
‘What do you mean a ‘family ring’?’ Zara asked between sips, dips and munches.
‘Well… I think…’ Penelope paused for effect…’ I think… that sometimes people propose with a ring that has been passed down through the generations, they are usually ancient and worth a fortune… and you have to wear it. They are usually hideous!’ Penelope grimaced at the thought of some old granny ring.
‘Oh my god, yuk! You are definitely better off with the Tiffany’s one!’ Zara stated.
‘Oh, I agree, believe me, I agree.’ Penelope sat back and gazed at her ring again, it was mesmerising.
‘So… were they nice?’ Zara asked.
‘Yeah… they were ok, his Dad was hilarious! The rest of them were very stiff, but his Dad was this ruddy, giant Scottish rugby gent, he was really gregarious. He was an absolute giant and he had bushy red hair, even on his fingers. His hands were huge, I felt like a small child next to him. He kept making me huge gin and tonics, to be honest it kept me going for the weekend.’ Penelope tittered.
‘That is hilarious, fancy that, I thought the whole family were going to be really stuck up, it’s good that his Dad was a bit of a laugh.’ Zara giggled.
‘Oh yeah, he was hilarious! I have never quite met anyone like him. He was so larger than life, the rest of them were very, very stiff though. The first time I met him he came straight in from hunting and still had his gun with him, it was an absolute miracle that I didn’t faint when I saw the gun, I thought I was a goner,’ Penelope laughed.
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