Page 107 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Chapter Twenty-Two

The next couple of days were a blissful, heady blur of stealing kisses with Evan, having Cayla and her parents over for dinner to discuss her assuming the role of Florence for the tour and then following up with press and marketing for it.

The first tour would be taking place on the sixth of June, which was only a few days away now, meaning all loose ends had to be tied up and finalised; social media accounts updated, press coverage in place, costume fittings booked in with Mindy Dalziel, a dressmaker and long-time friend of Alison’s, and the finalised script tweaked.

Louise had managed to lay her hands on a second journal that Montgomery had written about Florence and her family. From the extensive research he had undertaken, it was clear to see that Florence had come from a struggling but loving and hard-working family, and when she’d died, a part of them had died with her. Her parents, Eliza and Hugh, had worked in service too, and that was how Florence had come by the piano tutor, Constance Miller, who had seen promise in Florence and had taken it upon herself to teach the young girl to read and write.

The more I read about Florence and her family, the more I was determined to show her for who she was, and I knew Cayla would do her justice.

Evan and I worked well together in between stolen, intimate moments.

We’d laugh, teasing each other about how we met, and Evan said he’d never been more grateful to a glass of champagne. I just wanted to savour every minute with him. We would both be heading back to London at some point soon, but I didn’t want to get heavy and start mentioning the future.

What I did know was that misunderstandings and lack of communication could have torn us apart if we hadn’t chosen to listen to one another.

Did we have a future together? I hoped so. Whenever his fingers glided over my skin and he pinned me to the spot with his serious, dark eyes, I knew I’d abandoned my common sense by falling for him, but I didn’t care. We hadn’t been able to take things further, and there always seemed to be someone around, but in a way, it added to the romance and thrill of it all.

I’d opened my heart to him – I’d banished my reservations over being hurt again and allowed myself to trust him – and it felt wonderful! It made my heart sing to know that I’d been the one to banish the pain Sacha had caused Evan from his life.

Leon’s treatment of me and his deception had dissolved in my past. Evan wasn’t Leon. He never would be, thank goodness. But this … this felt like I’d finally managed to turn the page on what had happened with Leon and move on.

With Evan, I knew I was defenceless, and that was ok. In fact, it felt more than ok. It felt as though I was being spun around and around on some glorious fairground ride, and I never wanted to jump off.

Who would have thought that me almost soaking Fox with champagne would have led to this?

Alison and Bennett confirmed that the dressmaker, Mindy, was also an active member of the local theatrical group, The Forrest Bank Players. They put on frequent productions – everything from Wuthering Heights to The Importance of Being Earnest – and Mindy had confirmed that she and a couple of her staff at her dressmakers, Stitched Up, were making great progress on the tour costumes. Apparently they had a generous stash of outfits that would just require some tinkering and fitting.

Josie too had offered her services, saying she would be more than happy to provide assistance with rehearsals. Mindy even suggested a couple of other members of the theatrical group who she felt would be ideal to play Bennett’s great-grandparents.

Then there was the piano teacher, Constance Miller, who had taught Florence to read and write. Who could play that part?

When I’d knitted my eyebrows together over this conundrum, Evan had laughed and pointed right at me. Stage fright at the prospect had gripped me. Could I do it? Fox’s review had bashed my confidence, and not having any other acting roles lined up at the moment wasn’t helping. I’d been involved with writing the script, but could I perform in it too? I thought about what I had said to Cayla about feeling the fear and doing it. In the end, my love of acting overrode my apprehension, so not only was I assisting on the final details of the script and helping with any admin, I also had a role to play. I was loving the chaotic excitement of it all.

I think the creative mayhem was just what I needed.

Everything was beginning to slot together.

Alison and Bennett had discussed ticket prices for the tour and decided that eight pounds each seemed to be a reasonable amount. ‘I think that’s fair,’ mused Alison.

Bennett had nodded his thatch of sideswept greying hair. ‘We don’t want to appear greedy, but we have to make a profit for this place. That’s one of the reasons why we’re doing it.’

Grandpa, meanwhile, while the rest of us were knee-deep in final arrangements, was hitting it off big time with Louise.

She kept plying him with endless cups of tea and slices of the latest cake she’d baked. I knew I’d have real problems getting him to leave The Ramblings when the time came, even though we’d been notified by the council that the area on which his cottage was built had now been assessed and was risk free!

In the meantime, Evan and I continued to push on with putting the finishing touches to the script.

We were out in the gardens, snuggled up together on a fringed, tartan rug. Evan had his laptop perched on his lap, and I was cosied up beside him, my face tilting upwards at the cloudless, baby blue sky.

The silvery waterfall tinkled in the background.

I leant across him and pointed my pen at the screen. I was about to make a comment about chasing up the local press, just to confirm that they were able to give it some coverage, as well as the local radio station (even though Sacha worked there) when I heard Evan breathe into my hair. ‘You smell delicious. Like almonds and sunshine.’

I grinned. ‘You need to keep your mind on the matter at hand.’

Evan broke into a mischievous grin. ‘I like it when you’re bossy. It’s very sexy.’

I shivered with anticipation as Evan’s hand moved to caress my thigh under my yellow printed sundress. ‘You’re driving me crazy,’ groaned Evan, lifting one hand, balling it into a fist and pretending to bite it.