Page 16 of A Scottish Island Summer

‘River Banks has secured a deal with Nature’s Bounty to promote their new range of designer wellingtons.’

I blinked against the rain. Bloody hell! Nature’s Bounty were THE up and coming go-to brand for outdoorsy fashion. A couple of their branded jackets had been seen on the backs of a well-known footballer and his girlfriend just the other week.

I let out a furious hiss. ‘Jammy cow! How the hell did she manage that?’

‘It’s all thanks to the increased number of followers she has, plus Hilliard is a sly old fox. He could schmooze his way out of hell.’

Hilliard Samuels was one of the most flamboyant and experienced showbiz agents in London. He was also River’s agent and made Justine look positively conservative.

I glanced over my shoulder and back into the glitzy, lit surroundings of the jewellers. ‘Right. OK. Well, when I get back to London, we can discuss it further and come up with something we can do to counter her deal. Have a real brain-storming session. I’ll just have to muddle through up here⁠—’

‘Darcie. You need to attack this Skye trip head on. Immerse yourself in it. Throw everything at it.’ Justine was beginning to sound more exasperated than usual. She dropped her voice to an intimidating hiss, her words taking on an even steelier emphasis. ‘I’ve pulled favours to get you this travel guide publishing deal with Caldwell’s. It hasn’t been easy.’

‘I know you have.’

‘OK then, so cut me some slack. Stop moaning about how bloody wet and windy it is up there and just suck it up!’

I blinked down the line.

Justine sounded like she was struggling to control her frustration. ‘I’ve just had a long call with Primrose Steele, my friend and the editor at Caldwell’s who commissioned your travel guide. They really want this to work, Darcie. They’re pumping a lot of their marketing budget and PR promo into this thing.’ She took a breath. ‘They had a bit of a disaster last year, with a reality TV star’s autobiography that promised to be a big hitter but which the public failed to invest in. They lost a lot of money on that and so they need this to work.’

She paused, allowing her words to seep down the line.

‘The publishers want you to get out of your comfort zone. You know, the luxury traveller at one with Scottish nature. It’s what appeals to them most about this project, so you need to be all in to deliver what they’re looking for.’

There was a stony silence for a few moments.

‘I hope I can trust you, Darcie, to make a big splash with this travel guide for all the right reasons. Otherwise, the publishers, your career and my reputation are going to suffer. Capeesh?’

Sick of the rain, I stormed back through the silver and white painted door of Sparkles in the Skye as Justine reverted to her cool, collected exterior again, her voice oozing like caramel into my ear.

‘Darling, stop overthinking this. Three weeks of mild discomfort in exchange for priceless publicity and a TV series?’ She hesitated and sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. ‘You might even find you enjoy it.’

While Arran, Iona, Laird and Kyle pretended to busy themselves, I glowered down at the rows of jewellery nestling behind the glass. ‘Mild discomfort? Enjoy myself? Have you gone mad?!’

Then I drew myself up. ‘Hold on a second. Did you just say TV series?’

‘Yes. I mean, there could be a TV series offer, if you do a good job with the travel guide and play your cards right.’ Justine lowered her voice again to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Sweetheart, opportunities like this don’t come along very often. You know that.’ She paused. ‘Do you remember last year, when you went to Italy to audition for Love in the Lakes and you were pipped to the post by that pneumatic blonde who won the celebrity baking show?’

I dragged a frustrated hand over the top of my ponytail. ‘OK. OK. I’ll try to be a bit more enthusiastic.’ I eyed the tumultuous weather outside. ‘Unfortunately, I’m going to need some warm clothes and waterproof stuff. What I’ve brought with me isn’t suitable for the climate up here.’

‘Not a problem,’ replied Justine. ‘I’ll go into the agency’s account and transfer some cash for expenses. Go get some jumpers and wellingtons.’

I clamped my eyes shut in horror for a few seconds.

Curse bloody River Banks. Curse the pneumatic blonde who stole the Italian reality show gig from right under my nose. I looked out of the jewellery shop windows. Could I actually do this? Could I tough it out on this island, examining puffins and thistles for three weeks? It wasn’t me. I was a London girl, born and bred. The very thought of it was bringing me out in hives.

I was missing the noise and clamour of home, the hipsters and vintage shops in Notting Hill, the chrome nail bars.

I didn’t think I could do this. ‘Justine, I’m not sure⁠—’

‘Darcie, if you don’t do this, you’ll live to regret it. Believe me.’

‘No, I won’t,’ I batted back. ‘And stop being so bloody melodramatic.’ I ran one manicured hand along the edge of the counter. Kyle and Laird had vanished into their office at the rear of the shop to give me some privacy. Iona and Arran, meanwhile, had slipped out of the shop door to converse in the doorway. Every so often, they glanced at me from over their shoulders. ‘I’ll live to regret it if I do it and so will my sanity.’

Justine sighed. ‘So that’s your final answer then? Is it a no?’

I found myself nodding my ponytail up and down, even though she couldn’t see me. ‘Yes. Final answer.’ I pushed out my chin. ‘Sorry, but I want to call it a day.’