Page 41 of The Scottish Island Inn

‘You’re sure? It would be a huge help.’ Tam pushed his hair out of his eyes. Sorrel felt her heart go pitter-pat. Stop that, she cautioned herself. Unacceptable.

‘Yeah. That’s fine. Kind of what I’m here for.’ She shrugged, with faux nonchalance. She didn’t want to show Tam that his presence put her in a tizzy, and if Tam and Briony were an item, Sorrel definitely didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.

‘Awesome. I did say I’d buy you a coffee, after all.’ He looked slightly awkward; Sorrel wondered if he was remembering the moment where he’d sort of asked her out. Maybe he’d meant to be friendly all along, and she’d got the wrong idea. She knew Tam, and she knew that he was a naturally friendly guy. It was possible that he was just being friendly with Briony, too.

They gave their coffee order, and Tam added in some delicious-looking doorstep ham salad sandwiches, as well as a couple of slices of a coffee and walnut cake on the counter. Sorrel just nodded when he pointed to it shyly, but she knew he was remembering that it was her favourite.

‘Well, we should get on. Sorrel, give me your number. I’ll call you.’ Briony held out her phone and Sorrel obediently tapped her number into it. ‘Okay. Say bye, Alex.’ She ruffled her son’s hair. Tam enveloped the boy in a hug and they repeated their complicated handshake.

‘Bye, big fella,’ Tam said, and they repeated their complicated handshake. He hugged Briony. Alex’s face was a picture of adoration as he waved goodbye.

‘Okay. Let’s get on. It’s a couple of hours to the place we’re going. I’m parked just here.’ Tam pointed to his four by four. Sorrel followed and climbed up into the cab.

A day alone in a car with her childhood sweetheart. What could go wrong?

TWENTY-ONE

They were on their way back from the home store when the heavens opened.

Sorrel hadn’t been to Fort William since she was a kid; it was the biggest town in the Highlands beside Inverness, and always busy with tourists because of nearby Glencoe and Ben Nevis, which was popular with hikers; there was a mountain biking track, and the Glenfinnan Viaduct, which people always wanted to see because it had been in so many films.

In fact, Sorrel had forgotten just how beautiful Fort William was. It sat on the eastern shore of Loch Linnhe, with the towering purple-black mountain of Ben Nevis behind.

Sorrel remembered being taken there as a child on a very cold day and sharing chips with her sisters, cuddled up together on a boat trip over the deep, cold loch. Angus had taken them all out for the day; her mother hadn’t been there. Sorrel remembered the cold most of all. She’d buttoned up her coat and put on her gloves and even put her hood up, which she hated doing because it pulled on her hair, but even that didn’t stop her feeling iced to the bone. She didn’t know why Angus had taken them all, just for the day. Or why Catriona hadn’t come.

Maybe they’d had an argument. Maybe Catriona had had to run an errand. Or, as she increasingly came to suspect nowadays, maybe it was because Catriona had one of her dark days, and she couldn’t cope with having six children at home.

They’d driven down to Fort William to get what Tam needed, and to order the flooring for the Inn. Sorrel had been in her element: she had a whole career in house renovation, after all, and she found that hers and Tam’s expertise meshed beautifully. They both had great taste, but Tam was better at finding a bargain. Sorrel had been used to bringing in projects on budget, but her budgets had been pretty high for her last few renovations, and Tam had to remind her that it was her own money they were spending.

They’d agreed on a good natural wood floor, treated for long life and high traffic, in a light pine effect that wouldn’t darken the rooms at the Inn but would make the most of the natural light, while still looking rustic. They’d also looked at paints and picked up some samples; Sorrel liked a dusky pink for the downstairs, and she’d selected a few wallpaper samples too in the event that Angus and Catriona could be persuaded to go for something more luxe and modern than the traditional Scottish décor of the Inn.

It had been fun, being at the store with Tam. It was like playing house. When they’d walked past the model kitchens, they’d talked about which ones they liked. Her taste was more modern and minimalist; Tam liked the country-style kitchens with the cream-coloured wooden units and range stoves. However, he could admit that the stunning, cherry-red, high-shine kitchen with the shiny chrome accessories was gorgeous, even though they both agreed that there was no way on earth that Catriona would ever want anything so modern in the Inn.

‘I can just imagine her face, can’t you?’ Tam had chuckled, touching Sorrel’s arm gently as they’d stood in the showroom. Again, it was a gesture of familiarity; Tam knew Catriona, and he knew Sorrel. That sense of being known and understood was balm to Sorrel’s stressed, emotionally overwhelmed soul.

‘Ha. She’d take one look at it and demand we rip it out. And put in the one you like.’ Sorrel grinned.

‘Again – as I said, I’m hardly ever wrong.’ Tam had grinned back. ‘Admit it.’

‘I know. But we can’t let it go to your head.’

‘Ah, the Balhennie sisters. What was it that your uncle called you?’

‘Oh, you mean the Princesses of Balhennie? It’s dumb.’ Sorrel rolled her eyes. ‘I wish he wouldn’t call us that.’

‘Yes. The Princesses of Balhennie. More like queens.’ He’d raised an eyebrow. ‘A man has to be secure to be around you powerful women.’

‘Oh, really? And you’re secure?’ she’d asked, archly.

‘You tell me, Queen Sorrel.’

It was nice to be able to forget about everything for a while. So much had happened since Sorrel had come back to Skye, and everything was so fraught with her sisters that it was a relief to talk about kitchens and paints for a while. And she had to admit that she loved it when they sank back into their familiar banter.

‘You could always spot the best thing in the shop.’ He’d smiled affectionately at her, and then looked at the price tag and winced. ‘And the most expensive.’

She and Tam hadn’t got to play house in real life. Sometimes, when she’d been working on a house renovation, she’d let herself imagine that it was her and Tam’s house that she was making. That she was making a beautiful home for them both, a home that they could both come back to at the end of a long day, make dinner, talk about their victories and failures, snuggle up and be together. Or, maybe, even house a family.

The fact that she had occasionally allowed herself to fantasise about making a home with Tam Blackwood, and yet her home with Simon was basic and functional, was telling. She hadn’t made a huge effort with their house. It was nice, but she always said that she hadn’t had the time to focus on it. She and Simon had made that joke: interior designers have the worst houses.