Page 29 of The Scottish Island Inn

Bluebell was the most switched on, communications-wise. Perhaps that was because she was the youngest and the most tech-savvy. Sorrel remembered, even ten years ago, Bluebell had been the one to orchestrate messaging apps and group text chats.

She watched as her sisters appeared on the laptop screen in front of her: Blossom and her partner Tom, Primrose, who was on a break at school, and finally Violet, who looked as though she was in an airport lounge somewhere.

Sorrel, Heather and Bluebell sat in the small, cluttered lounge in the caravan, with Bluebell’s laptop sitting on the table in front of them. Sorrel had come over from the castle; Angus and Catriona were out, doing the big food shop at a large supermarket on the mainland. Heather had estimated that they’d be out for a few hours, and the sisters had thought it better to have the video chat at the caravan, to avoid the possibility of somehow being discovered by their great aunts or their uncle and aunt.

‘Here we go,’ Bluebell muttered under her breath. Sorrel knew it was inevitable now, but she was still dreading it.

‘Hi, everyone. I got the message. What’s up?’ Violet said from the screen.

‘Some kind of family crisis,’ Blossom said, from her part of the screen. ‘How’s all the repairs going?’

‘They’re going well,’ Sorrel replied, shyly. ‘Hi, Bloss. Primmy. Violet.’

‘Hi, big sis. I can’t believe you’re home. If you’re still there in a month, Tom and I are visiting. It’s going to be so nice to see you in person.’ Blossom shook her head in disbelief. ‘You’ve never even met your nephews. Matthew and Archie.’

‘It’s crazy that we haven’t seen you in so long. You look just the same,’ Primrose said. ‘Sorry. I’m actually welling up here.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘How long have you been back?’

‘Not long. A week or so.’ It was strange seeing all her sisters’ faces together. It warmed her heart to see them, but a part of her thought, How could I not have seen it before that day?

There was a Balhennie look. A family resemblance.

Some things varied. Sorrel, Primrose, Violet and Heather all had thick blonde hair like Catriona. Bluebell and Blossom had curly dark brown hair, like Angus. Some of them, like Bluebell, Violet and Sorrel, had athletic figures like Catriona. The others favoured the Balhennie genes: shorter, curvier.

But one thing was the same in all five of Sorrel’s sisters. They had the same dark eyes; the same almond shape. They were Angus’s eyes.

And she didn’t have them.

‘Right. Hello, everyone. I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve invited you here,’ she began, her voice wavering. Sorrel felt oddly melodramatic. For a brief moment, she wondered whether anyone would even be interested in her news. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they’d all look at each other as if to say, Was that it?

‘Is it to tell us who the murderer is, Miss Marple?’ Primrose interjected.

‘Ha ha. No,’ Bluebell rejoined. ‘We all know that Sorrel’s come back to us after being away a really long time. What we don’t know is the reason she left.’ She squeezed Sorrel’s hand. ‘I thought we could all do with a chat.’

‘Why aren’t Mum and Dad here?’ Violet asked.

‘I’d prefer it to be just us, for now.’ Sorrel took in a deep breath. ‘I know that seems weird. But you’ll understand why in a minute.’

‘Okay…’ Violet sat back in her airport seat and shrugged. ‘Go on, then.’

Go on, then. It was hardly that easy, but Sorrel knew she had to begin.

‘I want to tell you about the night I left Skye. The reason I left.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘I’d been out with Tam. We were at Sligachan. Larking about under the bridge, standing in the water, even though it was freezing. We were in love, we were being romantic.’

Sorrel felt for the stone heart in her pocket. She had kept it in her sock drawer for most of the time she’d been away, but sometimes, when she felt like she needed to, she would put it in her pocket or her handbag. Just knowing that the stone heart was with her sometimes gave her the strength she needed. When she left London, she made sure she packed it.

Hearts are stars that dim without love. That was what he’d said when he gave it to her. She dreamed of that night so often.

It was something that she would hold when she felt nervous; when she needed to ground. Sorrel was well aware that the stone was a proxy for Tam. Tam’s body and his presence made her feel calm. In his absence, she had the stone. She was nervous now.

‘When I got home, it was late. I let myself into the kitchen.’ She took a deep breath. This was the part that she had never told anyone. The part of the story that clawed at her insides like a feral cat. ‘I was in the pantry, getting a snack. Off the kitchen. You know.’

‘Yeah.’ Heather sat forward, turned towards Sorrel.

‘Mum came into the kitchen. She was talking to Dad. But they were arguing. So, I hid in the pantry, I didn’t want to get in the middle of it.’ Sorrel took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. ‘I didn’t really listen to what they were saying at first. You know they don’t argue that much, but they do sometimes. I just thought, one of those moments. But then I realised what they were saying.’ She looked haunted.

‘What were they saying?’ Bluebell asked.

‘Dad was saying, We can’t tell her. And we can’t have him hanging around,’ Sorrel said. She closed her eyes. It was as though she was reliving the moment. ‘Mum said, I know, but what can I do? I can’t make him leave the island if he doesn’t want to. Dad said, Is he threatening to tell her? and Mum said, Yes, he wants to see her. I can’t stop him; she’s an adult.’