Page 30 of The Scottish Island Inn

‘They were talking about you?’ Bluebell guessed, eyes wide.

Sorrel nodded. ‘Yes. I stepped out of the pantry then. I didn’t mean to get involved in the conversation, not even then. I didn’t know what they were talking about, or who. It could have been about anyone – someone they knew on the island, something about one of you, a friend, whatever. But when they saw me, they both looked so uncomfortable that I knew it was something to do with me.’

Sorrel took a deep breath and continued. ‘Mum just stared at me. She didn’t seem to be able to find words. Dad said, Oh, hello, love, we didn’t know you were there. Something like that. And I don’t know why, but I just knew I had to ask him. So, I said, What were you talking about, Dad? And the look on his face. It was terrible. He just sort of… crumpled.’ Sorrel dashed a tear away from her eyes.

‘So I said, Is this something I should know about? And Dad just gave Mum this look, like she had to say something. And Mum said, I didn’t ever want to tell you, Sorrel. Not like this.’

‘Not like what?’ Blossom asked.

‘I don’t know. It was a secret.’ Sorrel stared out of the window for a moment. ‘She said, You know I love you just as much as all my girls. That will never change. And Dad tried to hug me, but I didn’t want to be hugged. He said, I’ll always be your dad, Sorrel.’

‘What does that mean?’ Bluebell frowned.

‘They told me that night that Dad – Angus – isn’t my biological father. I’m not a Balhennie.’ Sorrel blinked. It felt strange to say the words aloud. ‘I never was. All those years, being your oldest sister. All the times Mum and Dad told me I had to look after all of you because I was the biggest sister. The Balhennies, who have been part of Skye’s history for so many hundreds of years. All of it was a lie.’

‘A lie?’ Heather looked uncomprehendingly at Sorrel.

‘Dad isn’t my real dad,’ Sorrel repeated.

SIXTEEN

It hurt to say it.

He isn’t my real dad.

That was the terrible secret that Sorrel had been holding on to for all these years. The reason that she’d stayed away from home for so long. It had hurt her. She’d carried the hurt. And she also hadn’t known how to tell her sisters, until now.

It was a relief to have finally said it, but Sorrel also felt guilty: as if she’d tossed a lit match into a wastebasket full of paper, and now her sisters had to put out the fire.

‘That is… I can’t believe that. Is that really true? So, I mean…’ Primrose asked from the screen, then trailed off. ‘What does that mean?’

What does it mean? Sorrel thought for a minute. There was the fact, and there was the implication, and the two things were different.

The fact was what it was. The implication had roots and links everywhere. What did it mean for her relationship with her sisters? Her parents? Would she be welcome at family holidays? On family group chats and calls like this one? Would Heather still want her to be a bridesmaid? Was she still welcome at the castle? It was everything. It was her whole identity.

‘Well, in terms of facts, it means that Mum got pregnant with her boyfriend before Dad. They broke up. She kept me, which I guess means she wanted me.’

There was a silence, both on the screen and in the caravan. Sorrel knew that they were all thinking the same thought: what would have happened if Catriona had chosen to end the pregnancy? She could have done.

Then, there would be five Balhennie sisters, and nobody would have known any differently. Sorrel didn’t even know how she felt about that. She’d never even considered that her life could have been in question. But, of course, it could. Any of theirs could.

‘Of course she wanted you,’ Primrose said, quietly. ‘She loves you. She loves all of us.’

‘I know that she does. Love is never the issue. Sometimes, people just… do that. It’s not that they don’t want the baby. Sometimes, they just can’t.’ Sorrel nodded. ‘I would never second-guess another woman. It’s not that.’

‘I know. It’s just all a strange thought, isn’t it?’ Blossom said. ‘Carry on with your story.’

‘Okay, well… Mum and Dad knew each other from when they were kids. They were friends, I guess, and she must have gone and cried on his shoulder. He’d always had a soft spot for her, I think. Anyway, Dad stepped in and did the decent thing. He agreed to marry her and pretend I was his.’ Sorrel shrugged. ‘Then they had all of you. They decided they wouldn’t tell us because they didn’t want me to feel left out.’ She snorted, a laugh that was more stress reflex than humour.

‘But then, they told you anyway,’ Bluebell said, her tone cold with shock.

‘Yep. That was a great time to find out that your entire life has been a lie.’ Sorrel’s voice was cold and hard now, but she couldn’t help it. ‘Mum tried to tell me that the reason they were talking about it was because my natural father had reappeared and was trying to get in contact with me. He’d left the island when he’d found out that Mum was pregnant with me and hadn’t come back, not until years later. That was what she said, anyway. Goodness knows I can’t trust anything that comes out of her mouth now.’

‘That’s harsh. She must have had her reasons.’ Bluebell tilted her head to one side. ‘Dad did do the decent thing. He stepped up. He looked after all of us.’

‘I know that. But it’s them not telling me that I couldn’t stand. I was so angry. Because family was always such a big thing. We were raised to value family so highly. You know how Dad constantly talked about the family tree. The Balhennies. The castle. The land. That bloody fairy flag. The wars the Balhennies fought in. The old tapestries, the old books and muskets and silverware and the crest and the tartan and the this and the that…’ She ran out of breath.

‘Right. And you didn’t feel like you were family any more? Heather asked gently. ‘But you are. You know you are. Nothing can change that.’