Page 16 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

Mum made a dismissive noise, but Dad ignored her. “Why don’t you at least look into it, lovey? Have a chat with Mrs Cotter. You have got nothing to lose.”

I felt like common sense had taken hold of my left arm and passion was tugging at my right. I was being pulled and pushed in each direction. Dad was right. If Gran hadn’t been serious about me following the dream, why go to all that effort of hoarding those tea sets and buying the business from Mrs Cotter in the first place?

I pressed my lips together. This delaying wasn’t like me; I was a doer. The prospect of sitting wallowing in self-pity and torturing myself as to whether I had in fact made the right decision about leaving Castle Marrian after all was horrific, not to mention the dire thought of subjecting myself to endless hours of excruciating daytime TV.

So many people faced with my predicament would think they had been presented with a gift. It was a bloody big and daunting one though.

Could I at least have a go at being my own boss? Did I stand a chance of making it work and honouring my Gran’s faith in me? I couldn’t not do anything about it. Perhaps it was meant to be, me leaving Castle Marrian behind?

Callum used to sneer and make sarcastic comments whenever I mentioned crockery or enthused about a lovely tea set I had seen. “What bloody use is all your knowledge about crockery?” he would crow. “It’s not as if it’s going to benefit you in any way, is it?”

A flicker of wanting to prove him wrong took hold.

I’d spent all week refusing to engage with the notion and dismissing it as a whim, but now… I got to my feet. “I’ll give Mrs Cotter a ring this afternoon and ask if I can drop by A Bloom with a View tomorrow. It won’t hurt to have a word with her.”

Mum still wasn’t convinced. She aimed a disapproving look at Dad, but he chose to ignore her. He rose up from his armchair and clapped his hands together. “Right. That’s a plan then. Anybody for a cuppa?”

Chapter Eight

I woke up the next morning with what felt like a weight pressing down on my chest.

It was Saturday, the day of Nina and Dev’s wedding at Castle Marrian. They were such a sweet couple and it had been a pleasure and an honour to organise their special day for them.

I let out a guilty groan and pushed my head back under the pillows. All the ramifications of me quitting were gradually seeping into my conscience and swimming around.

I should have been working today but Taylor had insisted she put me on gardening leave straightaway, so that was that. I was done with Castle Marrian.

Through my lavender cotton bedroom curtains, fingers of sunshine were pushing their way in and feeling their way over my white duvet. It looked as if the weather would be kind to them and provide a backdrop for what I knew would be their stunning wedding photographs. Good. They deserved it.

I snaked my hand out from under the covers and reached for my mobile on the bedside table.

As soon as I switched it on, it made incessant pinging noises. I had purposefully switched it off after clearing my desk yesterday. I decided it would be best not to speak to anyone straightaway, especially anyone connected to work.

I had to get all this straight in my own head first.

Now, I was paying the price.

A series of voicemail messages ruptured my eardrum. First there was Ivy, who had been told by reception staff about the short, sharp email circulated by Taylor, to say I was no longer employed with The Marrian Hotel Group “with immediate effect” but that I was thanked “for all my excellent work over the past three years and I’m sure I speak for everyone when we wish Sophie well in her future endeavours.”

“Please ring me back, pet,” insisted a concerned Ivy down the line. “There are all sorts of rumours flying around. Derek on reception even said that you leaving was connected to some row with management over Tony’s wedding. Is that true?”

I chewed my lip. I would return Ivy’s call later. She sounded so upset and as I was feeling fragile from the events of the last twenty-four hours, the last thing I wanted to do was make her feel worse. The decision had been mine and mine alone and from a moral perspective I knew I had made the correct one – even if I did end up eating baked beans every night and becoming paranoid about my central heating use.

Then there was a frosty call from one of Taylor’s minions at HR, wishing to clarify how much leave I had owing to me, as they would be content to pay me for that (as far as I was concerned, that was the least they could do) followed by a panicked Heston from Spain. “What the hell is going on, Sophie?! Tell me this is a joke! I’ve just had the Ice Queen on the phone, telling me you’ve quit!”

I could hear Spanish accents in the background and the whispered hush of the Mediterranean Sea. “Ring me, Sophie. You should know you are ruining this shitting holiday for Pablo and me. This better not be true!”

I gave my phone a bored look and moved onto the next message. Heston was just terrified his workhorse had finally bolted.

The following message pulled at my heart, just as Ivy’s had. It was Nina. She had only just called me. She sounded distraught. “I stayed the night here at Castle Marrian,” she sniffed, “and was so looking forward to catching up with you before the ceremony.” There was a pause. “Dev and me got you a little something, just to say thank you for all your hard work and for putting up with my demands.”

I gave a sad smile as I clutched my mobile to my ear. Nina didn’t know the meaning of the word “demanding”. I swallowed a ball of emotion.

She added, “Ring me when you can,” before ending her message.

I pushed myself upright in bed and caught sight of myself in my long, bleached-wood mirror. I looked like a demonic ragdoll. My hair was a blonde dandelion.

I pushed it this way and that, before admitting defeat and returning Nina’s call.