Page 43 of The Scottish Island Wedding

‘Don’t speak for me, Catriona,’ Elizabeth coughed. ‘I can talk for myself. And what I would like to tell you, Heather, since we’re all telling the truth, is that there is no way in the world that you’re going to marry my son. I’ve been reserving judgement until now, but I’ve seen enough. You, and your classless, thoughtless family.’ She coughed again and took a sip of the hot chocolate. ‘If you marry Matthew, it will be over my dead body.’

TWENTY

TUESDAY 21 DECEMBER

‘What were her exact words?’ Matty poured himself a coffee from the jug he’d brought up from the drawing room. Heather sat up in bed, watching him.

‘She said we would get married over her dead body.’ Heather rested her head against the cream satin headboard of her bed and looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long breath.

‘She was hardly in her right mind, babe. She’d just almost drowned.’ Matty stirred in some milk and came to sit next to her. ‘I don’t think you should worry about it.’

Uncle James had assigned Matty his own room for the duration of the wedding period, along the corridor from Heather’s. The rest of the Campbells were in the East Wing, which the laird had had cleaned and reopened for the wedding; usually, the whole wing was closed.

Heather was glad that there was at least some distance between her and the Campbells, although it hadn’t stopped Elizabeth seeming to be everywhere in the castle, dominating the space with loud conversations with Clara and Estella or her sons, or on the phone to her press contacts or friends, complaining about everything from the cold to the food at the castle.

However, since she’d got home the day before, Elizabeth had been confined to her bedroom.

She’d seen a doctor – not Dr Kincaid, who the Balhennies had been going to all of their lives, who Catriona had recommended – but a private doctor that she’d had flown in from London. The helicopter had arrived in the castle grounds, blowing many of the shrubs to smithereens at the edge of the large lawn it had chosen to land on, and all the Balhennies had watched in concern as the doctor had been ushered in by Clara and taken solemnly up to the East Wing.

It had all been very worrying; Elizabeth had seemed present and generally okay by the time they’d got her off the boat and into the car, wrapped up in blankets, and fed her hot chocolate laced with whisky. But when the doctor had turned up looking so grave, Heather wondered whether Elizabeth had got a lot worse. Maybe I shouldn’t have organised the boat tour, she thought. It is almost Christmas, after all. It’s not the time of year for it.

Heather hadn’t seen Matty much after everyone had got home from the boat tour. He’d gone straight in to see his mother and stayed there for much of the afternoon and into the evening; she’d gone up to see what was happening, worried, and poked her head around the door after the doctor had left. Elizabeth was sleeping peacefully, and Matty was holding her hand. He’d looked up at her and smiled reassuringly, nodding, which Heather interpreted as Elizabeth being all right.

She’d left them to it, gone back to her room and texted Matty instead.

Is Elizabeth all right?

We were worried when the doctor came.

Yes. He’s going to check her tomorrow but she looks all right. Just resting now. Sorry that your hen do didn’t turn out quite as expected. Will make it up to you xx

Okay. Look after your mum. Love you xx

Love you too xx

Heather had lain awake in bed the night before, thinking about what could have happened if Sandy and Gloria hadn’t fished Elizabeth out of the Raasay Sound so quickly.

She could have died.

A few days before their wedding, and the groom’s mother dies of hypothermia on the bride’s hen do? It was a terrible thought. She’d lain awake almost until dawn, worrying about it, when Matty had slid into bed next to her and gathered her in his arms.

They hadn’t said much, just cuddled up and gone to sleep. Now, though, Heather was sitting up in bed with a cup of coffee, feeling drained from worry and only a couple of hours of sleep.

‘She sounded pretty sure about it at the time.’ Heather sipped her coffee.

‘Well, even if she was compos mentis, us getting married isn’t up to her,’ Matty said. ‘How did she end up in the water?’

‘She fell. She was standing on a wet plastic seat on a moving boat in high heels.’

‘Oh. She didn’t tell me that when I went in to see her yesterday.’ Matty frowned. ‘But she did seem pretty out of it. Mind you, the doctor loaded her up with tranquilisers and goodness knows what. I wish she would have seen your family doctor, to be honest,’ he added. ‘Her celebrity doctors and nutritionists and wellness gurus or whatever… some of them are good. But you really feel like some of them are just there to profit from the wealthy. She doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference between the two.’

‘Oh. That’s not good.’ Heather frowned. ‘But she’s okay?’

‘I think so. When I left, around five a.m., she’d had a decent sleep, then she woke up and we had a bit of a chat. She seemed pretty with it.’

Matty rubbed a hand over his face. ‘But you know, she wouldn’t want anyone to know, but she can be pretty frail. There’s not much of her, and she’s lucky not to have hypothermia after what happened.’

‘Your mother is about as frail as a rhino.’ Heather raised an eyebrow. ‘Sorry. That was mean. I hear what you’re saying. You know her better than me.’ She caught Matty’s eye; hegrinned ruefully.