Page 45 of Scotlander

Orla winced. ‘Not exactly. You’ll be clearing the old kitchen area in the castle.’

Jules threw out an exhilarated air punch and beamed at her new bride. ‘You up for this, babes? I see a new bread oven in our future.’

Orla stepped forward, openly worried. ‘I’ll have to ask you to be very, very careful in there and remember that you have all signed health and safety waivers.’

Blair, Jules’s new wife stepped forward. She was a taller, Xena Warrior McPrincess version of her bagpipe-playing sister. With a discreet ahem, she produced a glittery pink riding hat from behind her back and, with a bow, presented it to Jules. ‘For the protection of your fair bonnet, m’lady.’

Jules ran a victory lap round the courtyard, demanding high fives as she swept the group with a sunlit can-you-believe-my-luck smile. ‘Prepare yourselves for some of the best bread you’ve had in your lives, fellow outlanders!’

‘Eh!’ Jennifer’s new husband, Errol, protested. ‘Watch who you’re calling an outlander. I’m full-blooded Scots, me. I’ve done ancestry dot-com and everything.’

Jules’s smile remained undimmed. ‘See you peeps later.’ And with that, she took Blair’s hand in hers and the pair headed off to the castle as Orla shouted after them, ‘There are gloves and tools in the walled garden!’

When they’d gone, the rest of the group turned to Orla, expressions expectant. ‘Righty-o. Here we go then.’

After a few minutes everyone had been assigned a job. Jennifer and Errol were off to check the state of the potato fields and then on to the hen house for egg collection. Jennifer threw them all a delighted look as she and Errol walked off with snatches of conversation about her ‘to-die-for Spanish omelette’ floating in her wake.

Fenella, Trevor and Trevor’s border collie, Bess, were sent off to fix a stone wall in one of the fields.

ChiChi and Alastair were dispatched on a mysterious ‘mechanical horse’ errand.

Gabe and Lachlan were charged with unearthing the walled garden. (‘As much as you can, lads. It’s a mammoth task, we’re no’ expecting miracles.’)

Willa wished them luck and made a we’ll-talk-later gesture to Gabe.

Jeff and Rosa were dispatched with their ‘son’ Kirk, and Dougie on an unnamed task and then it was just Finn and Willa.

Orla looked down at her list and then at Finn. ‘You’re away to the barns then, are you?’

‘Aye. So long as you’re still happy with that.’ Finn didn’t sound like he was asking permission.

‘Why wouldn’t I be? They’re your cows, aren’t they?’

Finn sucked in a sharp breath but said nothing.

Willa’s eyes pinged between them as an undercurrent of shared frustration hummed between them.

After a few moments of silent standoff Willa asked, ‘Do you two need some alone time?’

‘No,’ they said together.

‘Oooo-kay,’ Willa breathed. ‘Just askin’.’

Finn started to say something to Orla, reconsidered, then turned to Willa. ‘Why don’t you grab an extra jumper. It’ll be turning colder later. We don’t want you catching cold.’

It was the kind of thing her parents would say to her and her brothers before having an ultra-polite conversation about whether or not her dad’s offer to take them all out for a spontaneous pizza dinner had been wise considering the state of the cheque book.

‘Sure thing.’ She smiled, throwing Orla a questioning look she hoped translated as are we cool?

Orla gave her hand a pat and said, ‘If you’ve not got anything you’re happy getting mucked up, I’m sure I could lend you something.’

She excused herself, but left the door to the hayloft ajar so she could earwig on the snippets of terse conversation floating up from the yard.

‘. . . never get everything done this way.’

‘If you have any better suggestions . . .’

‘. . . not the herd. Not yet . . .’