Page 53 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

Xander’s eyes glinted. “That’s right. But do you happen to know who one of the very short-lived owners was?”

I shook my head.

Xander moved even further forward, the sunlight from the office window behind me glancing across the top of my mahogany desk. “The family surname was Gray,” he said with emphasis. “Leonora and Chadwick Gray.”

“Gray?” I repeated, my mouth slipping open. “Are you saying that Jonathan Gray owned Castle Marrian?”

“That was the intention. Leonora and Chadwick Gray bought the property for their eldest son Jonathan to inherit.”

I sank back into my chair. “They owned Castle Marrian? His parents?” I let out a shocked laugh. “Well, there’s no mention of the Gray family being part of its history. When I first started working there, I wanted to gen up on its background and they weren’t mentioned.”

“That isn’t too surprising, given that they resided there for about five minutes, going by Victor’s notes,” replied Xander.

“What do you mean?”

“By the sound of it, living at Castle Marrian didn’t work out for the Gray family and they sold it on.”

I thought back to the letter written by Briar Forsyth, her pleading pain and anguish etched into every sentence.

My mouth grew grim. “And what’s the betting that there was some scandal or trouble this Jonathan was embroiled in and that is why they had to leave Castle Marrian in such a hurry?”

Xander moved to speak but our conversation was interrupted by a brisk knock on the office door as Mum appeared. “Sorry to interrupt, sweetheart, but your dad is here to fix up those shelf lights for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Even though my muscles were complaining on Thursday evening after all the bending, stretching, fetching and carrying, I also felt a sense of achievement and pride.

Once I had showered and slung on one of my off-the-shoulder jumpers and PJ bottoms, I rustled up a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich and some crisp salad.

Then I began to look over the excerpt of Victor Prentice’s notes that Xander had flagged up for me.

I rubbed my gritty, tired eyes and persevered with reading my laptop screen.

I took a considered bite of my toasted sandwich. “I think you might well be right, Victor,” I mused aloud, my lone voice bouncing against the walls of my sitting room. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Monday delivered a June morning that carried tentative sunshine and a drifting blue sky, skittered with the odd cloud. I was relieved.

The Cup That Cheers, although a decent-sized shop, wasn’t huge and I was concerned that all the inquisitive shop-goers who would (fingers crossed) arrive might not be able to fit in. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking?

We therefore decided to split the two trestle tables Mum had borrowed from Jill, one of her Women’s Institute friends, so that one could be stationed outside the shop entrance and the other inside and further down the shop floor.

I’d set both tables with gingham tablecloths in readiness for delivery of the assorted scones from Innes, the local baker I had also set aside a few of the cheaper but still fetching tea sets to serve the complimentary tea in to my customers. If any of my first customers took a shine to them, I thought, they were reasonably priced, so that should lure them in…

The purple sheets of canvas remained on the windows, concealing my display. All the shelves creaked under the weight of the crockery for sale, with lilac price cards placed beside each of them.

Beside the counter, Dad had fitted a hook upon which hung the gift bags I’d had made for The Cup That Cheers, embossed with the shop name and the image of a little teapot and tied with the lilac Cunningham Clan tartan to match the curtains at the window and shop door.

Mum, Dad, Cass and I had been there since 7a.m., checking, sorting and arranging the final touches.

I stared around, taking in every detail, from the glossy teapots to Jake Caldwell’s painting on the wall to my electronic cash register glowing on the counter. I had just about mentally prepared myself for dealing with my new piece of technology.

My thoughts tripped towards Gran and a grateful ball of emotion gathered at the base of my throat. I could not have done any of this without her. If she hadn’t done what she did and had so much faith in me, I’m not sure at all what I would have done after deciding to quit my job at Castle Marrian.

I gazed around. Something told me Gran would have approved of The Cup That Cheers. In fact, with its hint of retro chic, I think she would have loved it.

Innes was due to deliver the job lot of warm scones – cherry and coconut, plain, fruit, apple and cinnamon, and cheese and treacle (I couldn’t decide which ones and, in the end, erred on the side of caution and ordered a batch of each).

I darted into the shop bathroom and changed out of my shabby black cropped trousers and old T-shirt into the smarter outfit I had brought with me.