Page 17 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

I ploughed on with an emotional apology as soon as she picked up. I didn’t dare stop speaking, otherwise I knew that in my frazzled state, I was liable to succumb to tears. “I will be thinking about you and Dev at two o’ clock today. I wish I could have been there. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, you obviously had your reasons for leaving, but it was still a shock when one of the beauticians at the spa told me last night. We couldn’t have made this day possible without you.” I could sense Nina smiling down the phone. “Dev and I had wanted to present you with a bouquet of flowers and another little something, to say thank you for everything you’ve done, but we’ll arrange for them to be delivered to your flat now instead.”

I bit my lip, feeling wretched. “That is so kind of you, but it’s really not necessary.”

Nina refused to take no for an answer. “Nonsense. Now are you going to give me your address or will I have to get a private investigator on the case?”

I capitulated and gave her my address. “I’m so sorry, Nina. I had no option but to leave Castle Marrian. It was a decision of conscience.”

“So we understand,” she muttered darkly down the phone. “I had to all but torture a Swedish guy on reception this morning to get the truth out of him about why you quit.”

Despite the ball of emotion in my throat, I laughed. Poor Casper.

“Sometimes you just have to follow your heart and do what feels right for you. It might not be much consolation, Sophie, but you did the right thing. Nothing worse than not liking who you are.”

I felt flat and confused when the call ended with me batting away questions from Nina about what I intended to do about looking for another job.

I decided I couldn’t look back. It wouldn’t make me feel any better. Castle Marrian was part of my past now.

I glanced over at my alarm clock, with its vivid, glowing numbers. Bugger! I had better get up and get ready. I was due to see Mrs Cotter in just over an hour.

I felt as though I were inhabiting somebody else’s body.

Having showered and dressed, I threw on my best jeans and my rose-pink pussy-bow blouse with a matching cardigan. It was so weird, not reaching for one of my work suits.

I didn’t regret it, I assured myself for the thirteenth time that morning as I pushed my bran flakes around my bowl. What is done is done, as Gran would often lament.

I would have a chat with Mrs Cotter. I had to find out about business footfall in Briar Glen, not to mention find a contact at the local Briar Glen Business Association for any advice about preparing a business plan and financial management … what advertising I should undertake for the business… Oh bugger! There was just so much to think about. Deep down, my apprehension squirmed, but I did my best to ignore it.

Once I had brushed my teeth and given my ponytail a final titivate, I prepared to set off from my flat to the florist’s, but my plans were interrupted by an insistent knock on my front door.

There was the sight of a familiar short and curvy shape through the frosted pane of my door. “Ivy?”

I pulled open my front door and she rushed towards me, just visible behind an extravagant bouquet of yellow roses, multi-coloured germini and pale pink tulips. Still clinging onto the flowers, she managed to somehow contort her body, clad in a long, swingy, red raincoat, so that I found myself pressed into her ample bosom. Her dyed chestnut hair had been washed and set. I got a whiff of hairspray.

I ushered her into my sitting room and she thrust the flowers at me. “What are these for? They’re beautiful.”

Ivy flicked out her raincoat and took up residence on my sofa. “What are these for, she says?” She regarded me, her jowly face kind. “I can’t let you do this, Sophie. It’s not right.” She gave her shampoo and set a shake of disbelief. “I can’t believe you did what you did.”

“Ivy, it’s fine. Really.” I gazed down at the flowers. “These are beautiful. Thank you.” I darted into the kitchen and popped the huge bouquet into one of my vases, which I filled with water. I hurried back into the sitting room and sat down in one of my armchairs opposite her.

Ivy’s tone was imploring. “Why don’t you call Ms McKendrick first thing on Monday morning? You can tell her our Tony and Sonya don’t mind moving their wedding to another date.”

I shook my head so hard, I thought I was going to dislodge it from my neck. “No. It’s a matter of principle, Ivy. You have had that slot booked for your son for months. I was not prepared to pander to the whim of some spoilt little rich girl.”

Ivy reached out one hand and took mine in hers. I could feel the cool gold band of her wedding ring.

“I told Taylor McKendrick that if they made any attempt to shunt your family wedding from 24th December, I would go straight to the press.” A dark thought occurred to me. “Oh no! They haven’t, have they? I mean, they haven’t tried to persuade you to move your ceremony?”

“No, of course not,” soothed Ivy, her expression melting with appreciation. “You know what management are like at that place. They are obsessed with publicity.” She lowered her voice to more of a conspiratorial whisper, even though there were only the two of us in the room. “After you left, Ms McKendrick sought me out. When I got the call to go and see her in your office, I thought I’d left my cleaning mop in reception again.”

Ivy pursed her lips in a disapproving way. “She was all sugar, saying that Castle Marrian would ensure that Sonya and Tony’s wedding was a day to remember. But she never mentioned you. I had to hear that from the Swedish lad working on reception.” Frustration darkened her face. “But your job!”

I could feel my chest pounding at the cold realisation that I was now unemployed. But then I remembered Gran and my meeting with Mrs Cotter. “Don’t worry about that,” I assured her after a pause. “I’m sure I’ll get myself sorted soon.”

Ivy’s steel-grey eyes widened with optimism. “Have you got something else lined up then? Someone of your calibre should have no problem getting another job.”

I shuffled in my armchair. “Yes … no … well … possibly…”