Page 93 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

And what if Cayla said no? I’d have to find someone else to play Florence, and I just couldn’t imagine anyone else doing the part justice.

I dumped myself down on the edge of the bed and retrieved my mobile from my bag. It was approaching lunchtime, and the sun was sploshing across the silky, tangerine bedcovers.

I pulled up Gillian’s number. After a few pleasantries, I asked her if Cayla was at school.

‘Oh no, she’s here. She’s on study leave at the moment for her Advanced Highers. Hold on and I’ll just get her for you.’

‘Oh, please don’t let me interrupt her revision.’

But Gillian was already letting out a throaty laugh. ‘She’ll be glad of the break.’

I rubbed one finger over the bedspread as I waited for Cayla to come to the phone.

‘Hi, Daisy.’ Cayla’s voice swam into my ear. She sounded hesitant. I recalled what had happened the last time I’d tried to speak to her. It hadn’t gone well.

‘Hi, Cayla. How’s things? Revision going ok?’

‘Yeah, but I’ll be glad when it’s all over.’

‘I bet. Still, all you can do is your best.’

‘That’s what Mum and Dad keep saying.’

‘And they’re right.’

Cayla paused. I could hear the hesitancy in her voice. ‘Look, I’m sorry I was such a pain in the arse the other day.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ I took a breath. ‘Look, there’s something I’d like to speak to you about.’

Out of my bedroom window, a blackbird was playing hopscotch amongst the trees.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, do you know the big house, The Ramblings?’ She did, so I explained about Florence, her age, working at The Ramblings, the vase going missing and her being blamed for it before her untimely death.

Cayla stayed silent until I finished. ‘Whoa,’ she breathed. ‘That’s so sad. She was almost the same age as me.’

‘And that’s why we want to tell her story, in the form of a tour of The Ramblings. The idea is that if it goes down well it would be a regular thing a few times a week.’

‘Okay,’ said Cayla, puzzlement in her voice.

I decided to take the plunge. ‘So, the thing is, we’ve got a script, and we wondered if you would play the part of Florence, Cayla? I think you would be amazing.’

There was silence. I wasn’t sure for a moment if she’d been cut off. Then Cayla’s voice wobbled down the line. ‘No. I’m sorry, Daisy. The answer’s no. I’m flattered you asked me, but I’m not up to it.’

I shot off the top of the bed. ‘Of course you’re up to it, Cayla.’

But the girl wouldn’t listen. ‘I’m sorry to let you down, but I’m sure you’ll find someone else who could do it.’

Then the line went dead.