Page 8 of A Scottish Island Summer

More paintings of the sea and water-lashed rocks decorated the walls.

If we both held our breath, we could just about fit in.

Iona deposited my case on the floor at the foot of the bed while I looked around despondently.

Sensing my dark mood, Iona sidled towards the door to make a sharp exit. ‘Well, I’ll give you peace to get settled, Ms Freeman. I’ll be back about two o’clock with Arran and we can get going with the photos.’

I flopped down onto the edge of the bed, dejected, and tossed my beret behind me. I snapped my head round, realising what she’d said. ‘Sorry? What photos?’ All I wanted to do was drown myself in a bucket of hot tea and sleep for the next ten hours. ‘And who’s Arran?’

‘Arran McColl. The photographer. He’ll be taking the photos of you modelling the jewellery.’ She frowned at me. ‘You know, from Stars in the Skye jewellery? Your agent, Justine Carrow…’

‘Carew,’ I sighed. ‘Justine Carew.’

‘Och. Right. Yes. Sorry. Well, she emailed me this morning to say you’d be happy to pose in a few of their designs and put the photos on your social media.’

I felt blurred at the edges. The endless coach journey and doll’s house bed and breakfast were beginning to take their toll. ‘Fine. OK.’

I threw myself backwards on the bed, crumpling its neat, nautical bedding. I was still wearing my heavy coat. ‘What time are the make-up artist and hairdresser arriving?’

Iona gulped. ‘Pardon?’

‘For this jewellery photo shoot? When are hair and make-up going to be here?’

When Iona’s face heated up and she didn’t reply, I shot up from the bed, like the monster in Frankenstein after receiving ten thousand volts. ‘You haven’t booked anyone?’

A flood of deeper colour enveloped Iona’s creamy white skin. ‘Oh no…’ She looked like she wanted to evaporate on the spot. ‘I forgot. I know it isn’t a good excuse, but it’s been so hectic setting up Skye’s The Limit PR and helping out my brother in his shop.’

Despite her error, I found I actually felt sorry for her. She looked on the verge of dissolving into tears. ‘Can’t some of your staff help you out? How many people do you employ? You need to delegate, Iona.’

She became fascinated by the cushions on the bed. ‘I don’t have any staff. At least not yet. It’s a one-woman operation at the moment.’ She fumbled with the end of her ponytail. ‘But I have lots of flair and enthusiasm, Ms Freeman. Anyway, cheerio, and see you back here in about an hour at two o’clock. Justine mentioned you’re a dab hand with the make-up brush so hopefully it won’t be too difficult for you to get yourself ready.’

I started to hyperventilate as she shot out the door in a panicked blur of red.

Burying a blood curdling scream, I hurled myself back on top of the bed again.

What the hell had I got myself involved with up here?!

Justine and Brandy had a lot of explaining to do.