Page 14 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

I rubbed a furious hand across my forehead. “Well, I don’t believe what she says about her parents marrying on the 24th. It wasn’t mentioned by either the daughter or the mother when they spoke to me.” I tried to steady my voice. “So, you’re prepared to shunt Ivy’s son’s wedding, just to accommodate that spiteful Barbie doll?”

Taylor’s lips pursed with disapproval. A chilly silence ensued. All that could be heard was the chiming of music from the Spa along the hallway.

“Sophie, I’m sure that once you explain to Ivy the ramifications of all this, she will be more than happy to have her son’s wedding moved to the 22nd.” She flicked me a charged look. “And once you have apologised to Ms Bonnington, we can put this unfortunate mess behind us and move on.”

I shot forward in my swivel chair, my head whirling with the injustice of it all. It wasn’t even that I was being ordered to apologise to that horrid woman, it was more the accepted fact that Ivy should be inconvenienced. She was a hard-working, gentle lady who was worth a million of the likes of Ulrika Bonnington. The injustice was fanning my anger far more than having to bite my tongue and apologise. “This just gets better and better,” I ground out, sinking back in my chair and folding my arms. “So you want me to switch Ivy’s wedding to make way for Ulrika Bonnington’s – and I have to apologise to her as well?”

Taylor jutted out her powdered chin. “Sometimes in business, Sophie, you just have to suck it up.”

Suck it up?

My heart was pounding in my ears like an out-of-control bass drum. As I sat there, listening to this drivel, I could feel the blood bubbling in my veins.

“So can I trust you to sort out this rather unfortunate situation straightaway, please, Sophie, and we will say no more about it?” Taylor rose from her chair, smoothing down her skirt with an air of smug satisfaction.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just stared around at my office, with its walnut desk, tie-back curtains and the acid-green views of the sumptuous gardens.

Taylor stalked towards my office door in her killer heels. “Thank you for your co-operation, Sophie. I’ll head back to the office now and tell Ms Bonnington you have everything in hand and that she can expect a call from you today.” She adjusted the strap of her bucket bag. “And I’m sure you will be able to smooth things over with Nancy.”

As though my legs didn’t belong to me, I rose in slow motion and pressed the heels of my hands against the edge of my desk. They dug into the wood. Decisions and conflicting thoughts jostled in my head. “It’s Ivy,” I managed to growl out. “The name of our devoted cleaner is Ivy.”

Taylor stood framed in the doorway, a look of self-satisfied relief in her features “Silly me. Not great with names. Of course. Ivy.”

I watched her prepare to slink out of my office.

“Taylor.” Her name came out of my mouth in a snarl, but she didn’t seem to notice.

She spun round on her heel, a smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. “Yes? Was there something else you wanted to raise with me?” She gave a little tinkle of self-indulgent laughter. “Probably a good idea while I’m in the vicinity.”

The endless hours of work – scrolling through reams of emails; waking up in the night with visions of bridal bouquets, chocolate cupcake wedding cakes and ice sculptures – twirled in front of me; the way Heston would “delegate” so that I was struggling to keep my head above water.

I was good at what I did. But now the injustice of this situation with Ivy – I couldn’t square that with my own conscience.

I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t. Maybe they didn’t think it was unacceptable for them to ask me to do it, to expect me to. But it was morally wrong. It wasn’t the apology. That would have stuck in my throat and choked me, but for the sake of the hotel and its reputation, I would have done it.

It was the way they were treating a loyal, long-standing employee. I would not be party to that.

And with that thought, I informed a stunned Taylor of my decision – and changed my future.

“I quit.”

Chapter Seven

“You’ve done what?!” gulped Mum. “But you can’t have!”

The three of us were standing in my parents’ hallway.

I’d just told them I had quit my job two hours previously. To be honest, I was struggling to comprehend it myself.

I lifted my chin, hoping I looked and sounded more convincing and resolute than I felt. Doubts and rising panic were clawing at me, despite my conscience slapping me on the back. “I couldn’t do what they were asking, Mum. What they were expecting me to do was wrong.”

Dad gestured for us to go through to the sitting room, where I sank down on their squashy leather sofa.

“So, what happened?” probed Mum, flashing my dad in the chair beside her a concerned glance.

They listened as I described the situation with Ulrika Bonnington. “And to cap it all, she also put in a complaint about my attitude and demanded I apologise.”

I was having difficulty gauging their thoughts as I explained the whole messy and needless situation. Well, my mum looked far more anguished than Dad did.