Page 28 of Snowy Surprises in the Highlands

9

August breezed into September, and it was only a month since she had visited but Bella was excited to be heading back to Drumblair Castle. Bella’s mum and dad had finally relocated to Skye, to beautiful Rowan Cottage, and were loving being closer to Bella and Isla. They had even rescued a mongrel called Charlie, a cross between a Staffordshire Bull Terrier and a black Labrador. He was the sweetest, most sensitive dog regardless of his huge head and wide mouth. He was completely black apart from a white patch on his chest that almost looked like he was wearing a tuxedo.

The whitewashed cottage was surrounded by a sage-green painted fence, its entrance door in the centre of the front elevation was the same colour, and the borders of the front garden were full of colourful flowers and evergreen shrubs. A bench made of driftwood sat under the living room window and was the perfect vantage point to take in the stunning views of the Skye countryside on the shores of Loch na Cairidh, and across to the Isle of Scalpay with its four inhabitants (unlike the other, more bustling island of the same name with its population of 350, which is situated below the Isle of Harris). It was the quintessential cottage and Bella’s mum and dad were overjoyed with the place. Her dad had already made a start on decorating the interior of the three bedroomed house to their style and Charlie had been helping Bella’s mum with the gardening by digging holes in the flower beds. Both her parents had already decided it was the best move they had ever made.

Before they set off for Drumblair, they dropped Bertie off with Caitlin and Archie and stopped in to check on Bella’s brother, Callum, who had come home from Glasgow under the guise of looking after their parents’ house while their mum and dad had gone away to Inverness for a few days to visit their old friends and neighbours. Bella knew that it really meant he was coming home to eat decent food, seeing as their mum had cooked a load of his favourite meals and left them in the fridge and freezer, and to spend time with Charlie, who he had grown very fond of to the point he was contemplating looking for work on Skye so he could be closer to his new canine friend. He had used the excuse that he was sick of eating pasta and that was all his new flatmates could cook and that it seemed silly to put Charlie in kennels when he was able to take a few days off work.

With Bella’s business going so well, and of course with Harris manning the police station in Glentorrin, they didn’t get to visit Drumblair as much as they had done when they first relocated. But Bella had been overjoyed to be back working on designs at Drumblair and it had been a real labour of love, just like the stable block apartments. She had done much of the work remotely, the mood board had been met with great positivity and the Zoom meetings had all gone well, so she had only visited in person a couple of times; once when the decorators had started, to ensure her plans were being adhered to, and then at the end to see the final result. But the main contractor had kept in regular contact, by video call, throughout the whole process so Bella could keep abreast of the progress while she was working on her other projects. Seeing her design finally come together had been so incredibly fulfilling; she got to see her work through fresh eyes and those of other people too.

Being back was wonderful. The distillery looked incredible, if Bella did think so herself. Very modern and fresh with the light-coloured wood and use of old brass ships’ lights sourced from a reclamation company on the west coast of Scotland. Bella was ridiculously proud of the ambience she had achieved in the reception area, which was bright yet chic, and so welcoming.

Olivia and her Uncle Innes had gushed over the way Bella had used the old fixtures she had sourced with the new design features.

‘How you come up with these designs is beyond me, Bella,’ Innes had said. ‘I love the slim vertical panelling around the curved wall that leads into the working part of the distillery. I would never have thought of doing something like that. But then again, that’s why you’re the designer and I’m not.’ He had chuckled. ‘And I’m so impressed that you found light fittings that look like they were designed just for this space.’ He’d shaken his head. ‘I see awards in your future, young lady. Many awards.’

The Master Blender, Colm Cassidy, had been touched by the use of the old black and white photos of McIver’s distillery in Inverness that she’d had framed and displayed on the walls. It had been the place he had worked before and was happy she had made sure to show how the two companies had been merged. And, of course, Olivia’s husband Brodie had written a book about the setting up of Drumblair Castle Distillery, and the distilling process, to sell in the shop. He had been heavily involved in the project and had become quite the expert, keeping a photographic diary of the construction.

Bella had spent a lot of time researching the production of whisky too and had visited several other distilleries to witness firsthand how the spaces functioned. Of course, she had been encouraged by each distillery to sample their own drinks and had even become more accustomed to the smoky and spicy flavour of each of the individual amber liquids.

The juxtaposition of old and new had been her main priority when creating a design that would suit Drumblair’s new venture, and an earthy colour palette had seemed most fitting. The use of copper and brass to mirror the whisky stills had also been incorporated and added a touch of warmth and depth to the design.

It had been an incredible feeling to see her design featured in the Inverness Courier and even more exciting when it had been picked up by Whisky Monthly, which was an international online magazine. It had been this that had led to her expanding client list and many more leads, including a rather large private residence – a mansion house on the northern coast of Skye. She had tried to keep her work as close to her home as possible and so far it seemed to be working.

If Bella was really honest with herself, she was relieved to have been able to take time out of the hotel project to attend the launch of the latest Drumblair Castle Distillery beverages. Carlton, her present-day, Texan boss, had begun taking a different approach in his pointless attempts at trying to woo her. Lately he had been bringing her fancy lunches and specially brewed coffee from her favourite coffee shop in Portree. She had tried being nice and she had tried being not so nice, she had even dropped an email to the owners, Carlton’s parents, requesting that she might deal with them instead. When they enquired as to why, she had to be honest and explain that Carlton was behaving a little too familiar for her liking, but they brushed it off.

‘Oh, honey, pay no mind to him,’ Mrs Somers had said when she called to ‘put Bella’s mind at rest’. ‘My boy is just a real character, and people can sometimes misunderstand his intentions. It’s his sense of humour, but he’s as harmless as they come, I swear. I wouldn’t have let him near you if I thought otherwise, even if he is my flesh and blood. He loves an attractive woman; you should take it as a compliment. He’s a model, you know. Women usually tend to fall at his feet, or in some cases they can even take advantage of his looks and his good heart,’ were some of the things Bella was told. And, ‘You know what boys can be like. It’s just his way of letting you know he’s attracted to you. Some people just don’t know how to take him. He knows you’re engaged; it’s just a little harmless fun is all. But leave it with me and I’ll talk to him. He doesn’t realise that the Brits have a… erm… different sense of humour. Just don’t be too hard on him, honey. He’s going through a lot just now.’

Even though his mother’s opinion and comments were a tad disturbing really, coming from another woman, after that call Bella was left thinking she might be taking things a little too seriously. And in spite of the niggle to the contrary that she couldn’t seem to shake, she ended up feeling as if she was being ridiculous and overreacting. And she wondered what it was that he was going through, because it didn’t show outwardly. She doubted that being an arrogant arse was a coping mechanism.

But the truth was, nothing she did to deter him was working and it was preying on her mind. The only thing she hadn’t done was tell Harris anything other than he was American and a tad difficult at the start of the project, even though they had promised to keep no more secrets from one another. And that just added to her anxiety. She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle herself. She was no damsel in distress and wouldn’t let herself be forced into getting a man to sort out her problems for her. So, being at Drumblair was a very welcome escape.

* * *

Since the distillery had been up and running, the shelves of the castle gift shop had been stocked with their signature gin but today was all about the launch of the new blended whisky that had been produced using single malt from McIver’s casks and malts sourced from various places around Scotland. It had been named the ‘Lady MacBain Blend’ after Olivia’s mother, and the bottle’s label featured a stunning, specially commissioned painting of the very much missed late custodian of the castle with Drumblair in the background. This had been created by Reid MacKinnon, Bella’s artist friend from Skye whose paintings she had originally sourced for the apartment design she had completed at the castle.

Lady Olivia MacLeod took to the small, raised platform in front of the curved wall and the press photographers sprang into action. Bella caught sight of Brodie off to the side, with Freya in his arms, and Olivia’s Uncle Innes standing beside him, both men looking on in adoration.

Olivia wore tailored trousers in the MacBain tartan and a soft, pale blue cashmere sweater. She looked every bit the lady she was, classy and sophisticated. ‘Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to Drumblair Castle Distillery on this very auspicious occasion. As most of you will no doubt be aware, a whisky must legally be allowed to mature for a minimum of three years in its oak cask for it to be classed as single malt, hence our delicious gin being for sale first. We’re an impatient bunch here at Drumblair, however, and so something had to be done about this one small matter.’ A rumble of chuckles travelled the room. ‘So, we set about researching the possibility of a blended drink, and after months of trial and error, that I have to say were quite fun in their own right,’ more low laughter, ‘we are here and so excited for today’s launch of our very first blend which is now bottled and ready for your delectation. So many people have been involved in bringing this wonderful drink to you but at the forefront, aside from the very important job of the tasters, I’m looking at you, Uncle Innes and Brodie,’ another rumble of laughter swept through those gathered and Innes and Brodie doffed invisible caps as they joined in the chuckles, ‘the main person we need to thank is Mr Colm Cassidy. Although born in Ireland, Colm was a long-serving fixture at McIver’s in Inverness for many years. When Mr McIver decided to call time on his business, we took on the casks and the staff from the distillery, and we were so grateful that Colm accepted the position as Distillery Manager. But we were even more delighted that he agreed to be our new Master Blender and brought his many years of experience to the role to help create the smooth, earthy, warming drink we are launching today. And I have to say it’s just the perfect thing for a chilly autumn day such as this.’

Bella’s phone began to ring and vibrate in her handbag and many heads turned her way. Her cheeks heated as she mouthed her apologies and reached into her bag to fumble around until she was able to flick the sound-off switch on the side of the handset.

Olivia continued, ‘I have fond memories of whisky being consumed here at Drumblair, at parties and clan gatherings, and it warms my heart to know that we are now producing a drink that was a firm favourite of my father, one which I know deep down would make him incredibly proud⁠—’

After only a few seconds, Bella’s phone rang again, and she huffed as she took it out of her bag and tiptoed to the back of the room as Olivia continued speaking. She glanced at the screen and concern gripped her insides. Dorothy Lyndhurst’s name flashed up on the screen. Bella was down as next of kin for her granny seeing as she lived closer than her parents, so why would the manager of the residential complex where Granny Isla lived be calling her unless it was serious? A shiver of dread shuddered down her spine, and she immediately opened the door and stepped outside.

The autumn sunshine had appeared deceptively warm from the interior of the distillery and Bella regretted taking off her jacket and hanging it in the cloak room, as, stepping through the door, the chilled air hit her skin and made goosebumps appear. Although it could have been the physical manifestation of dread at answering the incoming call. Her biggest fear was of that one inevitable yet horrifying call, to say her granny had passed away. Although spritely for her age, Isla was in her late eighties and Dorothy didn’t usually make a habit of calling Bella.

‘Dorothy? Is everything okay? Is my granny okay?’ She failed miserably in her attempt to not panic.

‘Erm… I don’t know how to say this, Bella, but… she’s… she’s gone?’ The distinct question in Dorothy’s voice was a bizarre addition. Either she was or she wasn’t, surely?

Bella’s stomach plummeted and she felt the colour rapidly drain from her face towards her feet as her heart tripped over itself. ‘What? No!’ she cried out, leaning on the wall to steady herself as she felt her surroundings spinning and the ground falling away from her feet. Her insides knotted and she thought for a moment she might throw up. ‘She can’t be. She was fine when we left the day before yesterday, and she was fine when I spoke to her yesterday morning.’ Her voice wobbled and her eyes welled with tears that clouded her vision and made the sunlight seem unbearable. What would she do without her? This couldn’t be happening. Not to Granny Isla. Not now.

‘No, Bella, I mean… not gone gone but… just gone. I… I take it she’s not with you then?’

Bella was sure she should probably feel somewhat relieved but the concept of Isla actually being missing bothered her almost as much as the thought that she had passed away. ‘No, she’s not with me. What are you saying, Dorothy?’

Dorothy cleared her throat. ‘Erm… she went out with Maeve yesterday, perhaps just after you had spoken to her. I saw them as they were heading to catch the bus to Portree, like they do regularly, so I thought nothing of it, and I presumed she’d arrived home later, and that I’d simply missed her, but when I did my rounds this morning she wasn’t there.’