Page 2 of A Highland Family Affair

After the will reading, Kerr had been very forthright in showing his disdain and anger towards his sister, sabotaging her at every turn when she tried to make plans to keep the castle’s legacy alive. After wreaking havoc for many people connected to the castle and Olivia, he had disappeared and hadn’t been seen for months.

Radio Highland was playing in the background. It was the ‘Golden Oldies’ hour and Mirren was humming along with George Michael’s ‘Careless Whisper’.

‘Pfft, Golden Oldie my foot,’ Mirren chimed out of the blue. ‘They make it sound like the eighties was a hundred years ago instead of…’ She paused, staring up at the ceiling to calculate. ‘Och, no… is it really forty years ago? Well, now I feel like a golden oldie mysel’. I was only twenty-three when this song came out. I remember it vividly. I bought it as a seven-inch single, on vinyl as you lot call it these days. Aye, I got it from a record shop in Inverness.’ She shook her head, apparently bereft at the passing of time. ‘Forty years… my goodness me.’

‘Well, if it’s any consolation, Mirren, you don’t look a day over fifty,’ Olivia told her with a smile.

Mirren laughed. ‘Away with you. I look my age and no doubt about it.’ She carried on working the dough and asked, ‘What was the first record you ever bought?’

Olivia pondered for a few seconds. ‘Oof, I think mine was a CD single of “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira when I was about twelve. I used to love watching her dance. It was like she was made of rubber.’ She giggled. ‘Oh, to be that flexible and supple.’

‘I used to love to dance,’ Mirren replied wistfully. ‘These days I’m afraid of putting my back out,’ she added with a laugh. ‘Or breaking a hip. You see my hips don’t lie either, they tell me, Mirren MacLeod, you’re too old for that nonsense!’ She laughed and Olivia joined in.

‘Nonsense, you’re as old as you feel, Mirren.’

Mirren rolled her eyes. ‘Och, don’t be telling me that! Most days I feel about ninety!’

Golden retriever Wilf and Labrador cross Marley lay in their favourite spot in front of the roaring fire, both snoring with tongues lolling out. Wilf’s feet twitched as he chased birds in his slumber. They had already been out around the grounds with Olivia’s partner Brodie, so he could assess the exterior of the roof from the ground following some recent storm damage. They had all got soaking wet in the murky November rain and the only good thing about that was how incredibly delicious Brodie looked with wet hair.

The castle’s kitchen was the real heart of the place. Nothing much had changed about it since Olivia was a child. The oak worktops were a little more worn and etched with incidences of cooking mishaps: a hot pan placed down here, a loaf of bread sliced without a chopping board there. But it felt homely and comforting, and simultaneously like something from an episode of Downton Abbey. And even though the occupants of the castle were all adults nowadays, Mirren insisted on sticking to her role of making sure everyone was fed and had clean clothes. No matter how many times Olivia insisted that she could retire and enjoy her time with her new husband Dougie, it fell on deaf ears.

The castle grounds were quiet, due to the weather, and the castle itself was only open at the weekend through the winter season for pre-booked tours, but there was still a lot of admin work to do. Olivia was aware she should be getting on with it, but the kitchen was so warm and cosy and the walk to her father’s old study, where she had set up her office since opening the castle to the public, seemed far too long at that precise moment.

Thankfully the castle was now earning its keep and her partner Brodie had taken on the role of arranging and overseeing essential repairs which were possible due to the revenue being generated. Olivia still had so many plans, though, and ideas often whirred around her head in the early hours of the morning, meaning she lay awake tossing and turning. Last night had been one such occasion. She had been pondering about doing more outdoor things during the winter months, in order that the revenue was still incoming but so the interior of the castle could be left for her and her family to enjoy privately. Perhaps a torchlit tour of the grounds would be fun, with people dressed in the clothing of her ancestors and a narrator to tell stories of Clan MacBain and their battles. Or perhaps a spooky Halloween event with a ghost walk like the ones in Edinburgh; the grounds could be made extra eerie, from what Olivia remembered of her childhood. Or maybe an evening nature walk to encounter the bats and owls that made Drumblair their home. And maybe a real-life nativity at Christmas using animals from the neighbouring farms and one of the old barns in the grounds. The ideas tramped around her brain, vying for dominance.

After fidgeting, huffing and failing to return to slumber, poor Brodie had eventually nudged her and groaned, ‘Liiiiiv, whatever it is that’s keeping you awake, pleeeeease go write it down or type it up or something, and then maybe you’ll sleep, which means I will too.’ She had done as he suggested and had eventually returned to his side and drifted back off to sleep, albeit for a short time.

Running Drumblair as a visitor attraction was certainly a far cry from her role as fashion designer at the House of Nina Picarro in New York and it was possibly even more exhausting, but she knew her parents would be proud of all she and her team had achieved in the months the place had been open. And she secretly loved her role, even though her face sometimes ached from smiling at people and her feet often throbbed from the countless steps she walked on a daily basis.

Olivia’s mother’s stepbrother, Uncle Innes, was still around to support her and encourage her. Seeing as he was a kind of surrogate father she was happy that she was making him proud too. These days he was a new man. He had recently embarked upon his first real relationship that Olivia could remember since being a young girl. It appeared his bachelor life had come to an end, and he was walking around whistling and singing, very much out of tune, and if he visited the castle he would twirl her around in the corridor or wherever he found her. It was so good to see him happy.

The bizarre thing was that the fifty-something Marilyn Monroe wannabe, Adaira Wallace, his new lady friend, was to all intents and purposes an ex-girlfriend of her older brother, Kerr – someone else whom he had mistreated by taking advantage of her wealth and love for him; a fact Olivia was horrified by.

‘Where did Brodie go rushing off to this morning after walking the dogs?’ Mirren asked, pulling Olivia from her thoughts without taking her focus from her work.

Olivia paused for a moment, snapping herself back to the present. ‘He’s meeting with the contractors about the roof. He thinks the damage could be quite extensive.’

Mirren stopped what she was doing and gasped. ‘Oh, no. That’s all we need. Will it affect the tours?’

Olivia sighed. ‘Hopefully not. At least the area isn’t on the castle tours. I suppose the only issue will be when the repairs are done and how much mess will be made. But we could certainly do without the expense.’

Mirren began kneading again. ‘I wonder when he’s going to propose. His divorce has been through for ages now so it must be imminent. I wonder what he’s waiting for.’ The statement came rather out of the blue, as if she was thinking aloud.

Olivia placed her mug down as her heart skipped. She toyed with the little satin ribbon Brodie had tied around her ring finger at Mirren and Dougie’s wedding as a promise. ‘I’m guessing he’s waiting for the right time. You know what he’s like. He’ll have something in mind and will want it to feel just right. I’m trying to be patient, but I really do want to marry him. It’s a shame February isn’t a leap year,’ she said with a roll of her eyes.

Mirren’s face took on an expression of pity. ‘Aye, hen, and it’d be nice to see a ring in place of that scratty bit of ribbon. I can’t believe you’re still wearing it.’

‘I do take it off to wash it, you know,’ Olivia said with a giggle. ‘But I can’t part with it. Not yet, at least.’

Mirren sighed. ‘Who’d have thought it, all those years ago when the two of you used to play in the grounds together, that one day you’d be a couple? I did wonder back then, when you were both wee, what might happen. But then his mum moved him away to Edinburgh and I thought maybe that was that.’

‘That and the fact that he turned into a typical mean teenage boy. I was kind of glad when he left, to be honest. Just don’t tell him I said that,’ Olivia said with a wince.

‘Och, he adores you. Nothing you could say now would change that. It’s funny looking back. You were such good friends. He was more of a big-brother type to you than Kerr was at the time. Even though the pair of you were so…’

Olivia tilted her head. ‘So what?’

Mirren shrugged. ‘Different. Not in the ways that matter but, you know, you the daughter of a laird and lady, and Brodie the groundskeeper’s son.’ She chuckled. ‘It really is the stuff of romance novels, isn’t it? Wuthering Heights and all that.’