Page 9 of The Scottish Island Inn

Tam was clearly being kind by saying she looked great, because she very obviously looked like crap.

‘I didn’t know you were back. It’s been a long time,’ he said, jamming his hands in the pockets of his waterproof mac. He wore jeans and work boots, and was carrying a toolbox.

He looked fantastic, which made Sorrel feel even worse. He was tall, muscular, dark-haired. His eyes were soft and kind; she’d always teased him about his long eyelashes. How any girl would envy him. He could have had any girl on the island, because he was kind, and loyal. But he only wanted Sorrel.

‘Just got here,’ she said, hoping he didn’t ask why she was home. Sorrel didn’t think she could cope with explaining her disastrous personal life to Tam. Not right now. Possibly not ever.

‘Oh. Well… um… welcome back,’ he said.

‘Not quite the welcome she might have wished for, dear,’ Catriona interjected, holding up her hands to indicate the shabby interior of the 1980s-era caravan that they were currently inside. ‘I’ll give you the key, and you can get started. Angus’ll want to have a word with you, I’m sure.’ She went to a wooden box on the kitchen counter, opened it and took out a key. She handed it to Tam.

‘I thought that you couldn’t afford the repairs,’ Sorrel said, watching Tam. Everything about him – the way he moved, the light in his eyes, even his smell – was so familiar. Seeing him again was disorienting in the extreme.

‘We can’t. But Tam has agreed to come and help out of the kindness of his heart, at first, with the faith that we’ll be able to pay him soon.’ Catriona shot Tam a grateful smile. ‘He really is the kindest young man.’

‘Right. Well, I’ll be getting on with it, then.’ He nodded, and examined the key in his palm for a minute as if it was a rare treasure.

‘Sorrel, I… I, err…’ he trailed off, a frown overcoming his face. ‘I hope we’ll get some time to catch up while you’re back.’

‘Sure.’ Sorrel smiled politely. I don’t think that’s the best idea, she thought, but it would have been rude of her to say it.

‘Why don’t you take Sorrel and show her the damage in the Inn now?’ Catriona asked, as if that was some kind of bizarre treat. ‘You can have a nice catch-up.’ Sorrel glared at her mother, but Tam cleared his throat.

‘Of course. It’s your home, isn’t it? You’re probably worried about it,’ he said, kindly.

‘Um. I mean, I am, but…’

‘Well, it’s settled. Off you go,’ Catriona interrupted, shooing them out of the caravan. Sorrel suspected that Catriona was also creating a diversion because she wasn’t comfortable talking to her daughter, but Sorrel didn’t want to go. It felt as awkward as hell: her palms were sweaty and her breath was erratic.

‘Long time,’ Tam said as they walked across the garden towards the Inn. Sorrel gazed at the old, gnarled apple trees that stood to one side of the garden. She’d always loved those trees. One of them was leaning at an angle to the right, its roots starting to lift from the earth. Someone had propped up the trunk with a number of wooden supports.

I could do with some of those, she thought, surreptitiously wiping her palms on her jeans.

‘Um. Yes.’ She looked up shyly at Tam. ‘You look well.’

‘Thank you. You cut your hair a little. It looks nice.’

‘Thank you.’ She put a hand to her hair self-consciously. ‘So… how’s it all been going?’

‘The repairs needed are sizeable. I’m not sure if your mum and dad really understand how much work needs to be done. It’s going to cost a lot.’

They walked into the kitchen of the Inn. It was nothing like she remembered.

All the furniture that could be removed had gone, and the rest – the units, the big fridge, the stove – were covered over.

‘Where’s it all gone?’ She gestured to the room. It was horrible, seeing it so stripped and lifeless.

‘Storage, where it was possible. Your mum put as much food as she could in the deep freeze, plates and cups and what have you are mostly boxed up. Same for the rest of the house. In storage, mostly. They took what they’d need to use in the caravan, but it wasn’t much.’

‘Oh.’ Sorrel felt the awfulness of the day hit her; she was exhausted, she was upset, and now she was standing in the kitchen of her childhood home, which had been stripped bare of every comforting thing she could remember. The pictures Catriona kept that Bluebell had drawn as a child. The doilies under Catriona’s porcelain on the dresser. The kitchen table Sorrel had sat at to do her homework. It was all gone.

‘Oh, no!’ Unable to stop herself, Sorrel started to cry.

She didn’t want to cry in front of Tam Blackwood. They might have been close once, but now they were more or less strangers. But she couldn’t help it. The shock of seeing everything so sad and empty was too much.

She’d thought that she’d escaped the pull of home on her heart, but as she stood in the decimated kitchen at the Balhennie Inn, she knew that she hadn’t.

‘Oh, Sorrel! I’m so sorry. I should have warned you.’ Tam strode over to her and caught her in a firm hug. It was instinctive; as soon as his arms surrounded her, he stood back, awkwardly, letting her go. ‘Oh. I shouldn’t have done that. Old habits, I guess.’