Page 27 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

As soon as I stepped inside The Cup That Cheers that afternoon, I started to smile.

Ally and Finn were making good progress. One wall was already finished, boasting the gorgeous shade of lilac I’d chosen, and Ally was busy attending to the counter with his paintbrush, delivering a coat of the off-white Scottish Mist.

The shop was going to look gorgeous when it was all finished.

Finn put down his lilac-loaded paintbrush and strode over to me. A digital radio was cranking out energetic music in the background.

“Checking up on the workers, eh?”

“Not at all,” I smiled. “Just came to admire your handiwork.”

Finn gave a gap-toothed grin. “I think you’re going to be pleased, once it’s all done.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Once the interior is finished, we’ll get cracking on the outside of the shop.”

He tapped his forehead, as though to illustrate the point that he had thought of something else. “Can you hang on for a few minutes here? Ewan, my son, was going to pop into the art shop to stock up on a few supplies. I could ask him to drop by and have a chat with you.”

“Oh, of course. That would be great. Thanks.”

Finn retrieved his mobile from his dungaree pocket with paint-smeared hands and dialled Ewan. A minute later, he turned to me and said, “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Wonderful. Thanks, Finn. Can I get either of you guys anything?”

Ally shook his shaggy head of blond hair. “No, you’re okay, thanks, Sophie. If I see another cup of Finn’s anaemic tea, it will be too soon.”

Moments later, a young lad of about nineteen loped into the shop, all legs, a thatch of messy brown hair and a shy smile.

“Ah! Here he is. The prodigal son!” joked Finn from halfway up his ladder.

Ewan blushed and rolled a set of light eyes at his dad. “Sophie?”

“That’s me.”

He was clutching a brown paper bag, out of which thrust several artist’s brushes in varying sizes. “Dad just told me you would like a new shop sign for this place.”

“That’s right. Well, I will need two, if that’s okay. One large one and a smaller design to suspend from the pole that’s already there.” I led Ewan outside, so he could get a clear view of the shop’s exterior.

Ewan tugged a small notebook from the back pocket of his black jeans, together with a short, stubby pencil. “I’m on summer holidays from art college at the moment. I’m just going into second year.”

He squinted up in the vanilla sunshine. “So do you have a rough idea of what you’re looking for?”

I told Ewan the name I’d chosen for the business. “I take it your dad told you I will be selling crockery, teapots, tea sets…?”

Ewan’s wavy, toffee-coloured hair lifted a little in the breeze. “He mentioned that the other night. I’m sure you will do well with the locals, but especially the daytrippers.”

“I do hope so.”

Ewan began to pull together a rough sketch of the front of the shop. His pencil skittered across the page of his notebook, effortlessly producing an uncanny resemblance of the shop. “What I could do is provide you with a few suggested designs and then you can decide which one you prefer?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

We headed back into The Cup That Cheers, where Finn and Ally were discussing last night’s football results over the top of the radio. Finn gestured to the lilac wall his dad had painted. “And you want to keep the same colour scheme for the signage?”

“Yes, please.”

Ewan nodded and pushed his notebook back into his pocket. “Thanks for this, Sophie,” he said with a blush, looking down. Finn and Ally had smothered the wooden floor in squares of cloth to protect it from dripping paint. “I’m working as a part-time waiter in that new fish restaurant on the outskirts of town just to earn a few quid during the holidays, but any extra income is more than welcome.”