Page 21 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

Helena viewed her husband with resentment across the linoleum-floored kitchen, with its grass-green-and-white tiled backsplash and woven blind. She wondered what the likes of Germaine Greer would make of this conversation. Ms Greer would want to put Donald’s testicles in a vice. The way she was feeling right now, Helena knew she would happily volunteer to turn the screw.

Signalling that, as far as he was concerned, the discussion was closed, Donald pushed himself away from the sink and took a stiff Helena in his arms. He smelled of Old Spice and factory machinery. “Don’t you worry your little head about anything, Hels. I’m earning more than enough for the family.”

It isn’t about money, Helena screamed to herself. Can’t you see that? I’d just like to do something for me.

He indulged her with a condescending smile. “You continue to do what you do best. That’s taking care of Marnie and me. We are very grateful for it, you know.”

Her eyes scorched into his back as he strode off towards the sitting room to see his daughter. Helena could hear Marnie giggling at some corny joke Donald was telling her.

Helena snatched up a tea towel. How often had she tried to have this conversation with him? How many times had he dismissed it, as though she were experiencing some sort of episode, and if she gave it time she would recover and come through the other side?

She gripped the edge of the pine kitchen table. Enough was enough.

She was thirty years old and didn’t need the approval of Donald Hamilton. She had believed she was doing the right thing in raising the subject with him again. Couples were supposed to talk about things. Wasn’t marriage supposed to be a partnership? At least that was what she had read in a copy of Cosmopolitan.

She had made an effort to talk about it rationally and yet Donald had just responded with his usual platitudes.

Marnie let out a bored sigh. “Mummy. Can you come and test me on my words please?”

Helena crossed her arms. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m just coming.”

She studied her surroundings. There was more to life than doing the weekly shop and housework. More images of confident, glossy women in the magazines that she’d been reading when Donald wasn’t around fluttered in her head like tropical, exotic birds. She didn’t just want to be known as a wife and mum.

She knew her genuine love of crockery would be such an asset to the little gift shop and how rewarding would it be? She would be out of the house, meeting people, indulging her passion and earning a bit of money for herself – and still be here to be the mother to Marnie that her gorgeous little girl deserved.

Helena’s heart pumped with adrenalin. Her mind was made up. The possible consequences and prolonged arguments that would no doubt ensue when she had to tell Donald she was working flapped in her chest. She dismissed them. She would call in to see Mrs Auld tomorrow morning, straight after taking Marnie to school, and tell her she could start straightaway.

“Gran bought this shop,” I murmured, a mug of tea in one hand as I gazed wide-eyed at my surroundings. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

Mrs Cotter’s dark eyes shone. “She did indeed. I have all the paperwork to prove it.”

I twisted in my chair, now that we had returned to the office. “Mrs Cotter, when did my gran first speak to you? About buying the shop, I mean?”

Mrs Cotter grew thoughtful. “Now let me think. It was a while ago.” She screwed up her eyes. “Ah. Yes, now I remember. It was just before my husband’s seventieth birthday weekend, so that was fourteen months ago now.”

I almost slopped my tea everywhere in shock. “My grandmother had been planning this for that long? Are you sure, Mrs Cotter?”

“Absolutely. I remember it well. Your grandmother dropped by for a chat the Friday afternoon, just as I was getting ready to close earlier to whisk Martin to the shores of Loch Lomond for a surprise birthday dinner with the family.”

My mouth shot open. So, Gran had been planning this all that time and never said a word to me or to Mum and Dad.

As though reading my stunned thoughts, Mrs Cotter interrupted them. “She swore me to secrecy, Sophie.”

I gave my head a disbelieving shake. “I’m sure she did.”

Mrs Cotter rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “It’s typical of Helena Hamilton. Always springing a surprise.”

I searched Mrs Cotter’s amused expression. “But … but why not tell me before?”

She sank back into her chair. “Perhaps she thought you would change your mind once you had thought about it and say no. This way, she hasn’t given you much time. Perhaps that’s the best way. Carpe diem and all that.”

I rubbed at my face. Dear God. Talk about a life-changing decision. My emotions were travelling between being grateful, worried sick at what I was taking on and then excited about the future. One minute I’m organising high-end weddings, and the next, I find out I own a shop and boxes of tea sets.

Mrs Cotter took a sip from her mug of tea, watching me closely. She allowed me to digest it all for a few moments before she spoke again. “I know it must have come as rather a shock—”

I let out an incredulous bark of laughter.

“But your gran would never have done this if she thought you weren’t capable of making a go of it.”