Page 89 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Chapter Eighteen

After a tasty breakfast of porridge sprinkled with nutmeg, which Grandpa insisted on making, we stowed our cases in Marlene’s boot and set off for the half hour journey back to Forrest Bank.

I always tended to overpack anyway and had added to my suitcase a few spare T-shirts, shorts and a couple of pairs of jeans that had still been hanging up in my old bedroom. Grandpa had tossed in a couple more short sleeve shirts and polo shirts for good measure.

Today, however, he’d adorned himself in his best milk chocolate pinstripe suit, buttermilk shirt and gold and beige tie. He looked like a dapper 1940s New York gangster.

I’d assured him he didn’t have to stand on ceremony and dress up for Alison and Bennett, but he’d shaken his thick head of silvery blue hair. ‘I want to set a good impression, lass. Not let you down.’ His eyes creased with a sad smile. ‘If your grandma were here, you know she’d be telling me to do the same thing.’

‘Yes, she would,’ I conceded. ‘But you’ve never let me down before.’

As we made our way along the sun-drizzled country lanes back to Forrest Bank, Grandpa kept slipping me charged looks from the passenger seat. ‘You look very pretty.’

‘Do I?’

He flicked one hand towards my pale pink sundress sprigged with roses. I’d left my hair down, so it was tumbling in loose waves.

‘Aye. You do. Any reason for the dress and the hair?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Evan?’

I tutted and clenched the steering wheel. ‘It’s a lovely day,’ I blabbed. ‘Just felt like making a bit more of an effort. Making the most of the weather.’

‘Aye. Aye.’

He always said that when he was cynical about something, but I let it drop.

‘You looking forward to going back then? To this big fancy house?’

‘Yes. Why?’

Grandpa straightened his tie under his jacket. ‘No reason.’

Now it was my turn to deliver him a look.

I clicked the indicator right, which led us further away from Strath Ross’s stippled cottages and rippling fields. ‘I don’t know how long we’ll end up having to stay at The Ramblings, Grandpa. Like I said to you before, it all depends on how fast we can get everything pulled together for the tour.’

Grandpa shrugged under his suit. ‘I’ve got nothing to rush back home for, lass. And anyway, that risk survey thing will take a few days to complete as it is.’

The hedge-lined lanes twisted and curled like emerald satin ribbons.

The few tufts of clouds sailed overhead as Grandpa nestled back in his passenger seat and sang ‘Caledonia’ to himself.

And even though I’d protested like crazy that I hadn’t been thinking about Evan, I was fighting not to register the fact that I’d made an extra effort with my outfit, hair and makeup today.

I glanced at my reflection in my rear-view mirror and saw my tousled hair and my floaty dress. From now on, I would be focusing on the tour.

I joined my grandpa in another rendition of ‘Caledonia’ and tried not to think about Evan for the time being.

* * *

The Ramblings opened out like a grand, sun-splashed image jumping out of a magical pop-up book.

‘Bloody hell,’ gasped Grandpa beside me. He sat up. ‘Not exactly a two up, two down, is it?’

‘It’s hoovering up money,’ I commented as Marlene’s wheels sent some gravel spinning. ‘That’s why I suggested Alison and Bennett stage a regular historical tour. They need the extra income.’