Page 4 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

What was all this about? What had my gran being doing?

Chapter Three

Dearest Sophie,

Please don’t be alarmed by this letter and please try not to be sad. I remember you would often laugh when I said this, but I’ve always had a feeling for things and something is telling me now that I might not have long left. I have had eighty wonderful years and I don’t regret a thing. Well, that isn’t entirely true. There is one thing I wish I’d done and that is why I’ve written this letter.

I re-read the letter, my thoughts skittering everywhere. I could hear Mum and Dad moving about in the sitting room next door, oblivious to the sound of my heart pumping faster against my ribs. Mum was busy exclaiming about my gran’s Yucca plant, which had grown to the size of a Christmas tree.

I turned my stunned attention back to Gran’s letter, as spools of watery morning light fell across the linoleum kitchen floor.

I know how hard you are working at Castle Marrian, running to the beck and call of all of those greedy, flash brides. Talk about over-inflated opinions of themselves!

Despite my head whirring, I smiled, imagining Gran saying that to me with her light blue eyes glinting with fury on my behalf.

And that is what this is all about.

At the beginning of this letter, I mentioned I had one regret – and that’s true.

It isn’t a huge or momentous one. It isn’t that I wished I had seen the Great Barrier Reef or met the Queen – although both of those would have been wonderful.

To some people, it may be a rather insignificant regret. But how can it be when you do something that you love?

I bit my lip. Nothing about Grandma Helena had been insignificant.

I should never have allowed my heart to rule my head and I will always regret that I did.

I would like you to go and look in the cupboard under the stairs, Sophie. Once you have seen what’s in there, things should become a lot clearer.

I lowered the letter and stared around myself, as though temporarily forgetting where I was.

My grandmother always did have a penchant for the dramatic, but she had excelled herself this time.

What on earth was she talking about?

Next door, Mum and Dad were still working away, unaware of what was going on in my head. I could hear Dad heaving a nest of tables to one side, the ones Gran used to set her meals on by her armchair.

I placed Gran’s letter on her kitchen table and moved into the hall.

The cupboard under the stairs was painted white to match the rest of the staircase and was inconspicuous enough. I never used to notice it. I always assumed Gran stored her considerable number of shoes in there, or perhaps the remnants of my late grandfather’s fishing tackle and equipment.

I crouched down in front of it, tugged at the handle and pulled.

It creaked open, bringing with it a faint aroma of dust and apple air freshener.

I peered in, but there was no light. I switched on the torch on my mobile and lifted it up, illuminating the walls of the cupboard with the bright whiteness.

At first, I was struck by how deceptively large the space was. It seemed to snake away from me and down off towards the left and under the staircase. I shuffled forward on my knees and craned my head in further, swiping the light from my mobile up, down and around.

Four brown cardboard boxes were nestled deeper inside and on top of one another towards the far wall. They were all sealed with brown tape. Sophie was scrawled on each box in black felt-tip pen.

What on earth had my grandmother been doing?

I eased the first box, marked with the number 1, out of its concealed space. Its mysterious contents gave a slight rattle.

Realising it would be easier to open with scissors, I scrambled to my feet and fetched a pair from the kitchen drawer.

I sank back down onto my knees in front of the gaping cupboard space and slit open the tape on the first box. The contents were covered with a couple of layers of bubble wrap, and another envelope was placed on top of it.