Page 110 of A Scottish Island Summer

It was just more likes and comments on my video post.

No doubt Justine was lying down in a darkened room somewhere, with her ringed hand clamped to her forehead, demanding a gin and tonic.

I bit back a wave of self-pity. It was my own fault my life had imploded.

Campbell continued to watch me, then pointed to the golden slices of toast perched on the side of my untouched breakfast. ‘Right, young lady, you have to humour me by having a bite or three of that toast.’

I made a face like a fussy four-year-old, but Campbell was undeterred. He pulled Victoria’s photocopied letter out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the white tablecloth at me. ‘If you don’t eat that toast, I’m not letting you read this.’

‘That’s blackmail. And you sound just like my dad. How old do you think I am? Eight?’

Campbell took a mouthful of tea from his thistle-sprigged cup and flexed one brow.

I let out a frustrated sigh. ‘OK. OK. If emotionally blackmailing me makes you feel better, then I suppose I have to let you.’

I picked up one of the slices of toast, slapped on some butter and apricot jam and took a few unenthusiastic bites.

Only once I’d forced myself to eat the two slices, did Campbell push Victoria’s letter across the table for me to read. ‘Well done. Now, drink your tea and read this.’

I took a couple of mouthfuls of my cuppa and unfolded the letter.

Campbell quickly pointed one finger at the date—1 November 1909—located at the top right-hand corner of the letter. ‘That was the day Neist Point lighthouse here on Skye was first lit.’

‘Was it?’

Campbell nodded. ‘When I first read the letter, I thought the date rang a bell with me, but I wasn’t sure why, so I looked it up.’

Neist Point.

Echoes of Logan and I enjoying our picnic up there as the waves rolled in and the gulls dived underneath the clouds of the rose gold sunset flooded through me; the scene was lodged in my head like a permanent painting and refused to budge.

I rubbed my eyes and returned my attention to Victoria’s letter.

My dearest Edward,

I hope that despite the inclement weather, I find you well.

I apologise profusely for not having written to you earlier, but I have found myself preoccupied with a number of other matters.

First and foremost, I want to offer you my deepest and heartfelt apologies. Despite you making every attempt to protect my feelings and to prevent me from finding myself in such an emotional and difficult situation, I did indeed find myself falling hopelessly in love with Arthur. I did not intend for this situation to arise, nor did I choose to become emotionally attached to a married man. (Please note I am not referring to him as a gentleman. The reason for this will be made clear shortly.) I should inform you, and I’m certain, dearest brother, that it will come as no great surprise to you, that the inevitable has happened and I failed to heed your well-meant warnings.

On numerous occasions, Arthur promised me he would leave his marriage to Mary and begin a new chapter with me. When I explained that I was growing tired of his constant assurances, Arthur accused me of being demanding and unable to appreciate the delicate situation he found himself in. This was of course untrue and most hurtful, seeing as I had been nothing but understanding and circumspect with regards to his marital situation. Nevertheless, fractious words between us were exchanged and Arthur informed me that he felt unable to continue our association and was therefore leaving Skye and returning to Mary in Edinburgh, now that his archaeological work here had come to an end.

As I write this, there are tears flowing down my face but with a melancholy and rather strange sense of acceptance. At least I still have Skye, where light meets the sea, in the heart of the island. I knew this situation would result, but I persisted in deluding myself. I wanted therefore to take this opportunity to thank you, Edward, for remaining my support and stay, despite your deep reservations about my relationship with Arthur. I shall never forget your selflessness. That is why I am furnishing you now with some very important information.

During the course of my amateur investigations into the possible whereabouts of valuable and ancient trinkets here on the island, I conducted my own research into the Skye Lovers’ Cross. I had intended to share what I’d discovered with Arthur, but following his cruel and heartless termination of our relationship, I felt it far better to pass my theory on to you, dear brother. However, I would much prefer to do this in person.

I love you dearest brother and hope to be able to arrange a convenient time for us to meet to discuss this matter further.

Please write me at your earliest opportunity.

Your darling sister,

Victoria.

I jerked my head up from the letter and gawped at Campbell across the table. He was savouring his tea and watching my reaction.

‘Wow! You can tell how much Arthur broke her heart, just by reading this.’