Surprises on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #1)

Chapter 25

At first, Cal didn’t spot the doll’s house sitting by his front door. His mind was on the boathouse, wondering whether Tara was in it, as he’d noticed that the studio lights were off. And when he did see the doll’s house, it took him a second to understand what he was looking at.

His daughter knew what it was immediately, leaping out of the car and dashing towards it as soon as he brought the vehicle to a halt.

‘Daddy! Daddy! Look!’ She crouched down to peer at it. ‘It’s just like my house.’

‘So it is.’ He looked towards the boathouse again, part of him expecting to see Tara.

She was nowhere in sight.

‘Shall we take it inside?’ he suggested, glancing at the sky. Clouds were building to the west and the wind was picking up. It wasn’t raining yet, but it would do soon, even before the storm arrived.

Being very careful, which wasn’t easy with Bonnie dancing around excitedly, Cal gently picked up the house and carried it into the cottage.

‘Can you move that out of the way?’ he asked, indicating the tablet and documents on the table. Then he set it down and stepped back to examine it. Tara had done a brilliant job. On the outside, it looked exactly like Yvaine and Bonnie’s house.

‘Can I open it?’ Bonnie asked.

‘Absolutely! It’s yours.’

The interior was just as wonderful, and the attention to detail was astounding. Bonnie thought so too, as she exclaimed over every little thing, pointing out this and that, and picking up various items to show him.

‘Tara is very clever, isn’t she, Dad?’

‘She certainly is. We’d better go and thank her,’ he suggested. The thought of seeing her made his heart leap, and a desperate yearning filled his chest.

Bonnie’s expression became wary. ‘Do I have to?’

‘No, you don’t. But one of us should, it’s only polite. She’s put a lot of work into this.’

‘I didn’t ask her to.’

Disappointed with his daughter’s sudden surliness, there was a hint of rebuke in his tone when he replied, ‘I asked her. I thought it might be a nice keepsake.’

Bonnie relented. ‘Tell her I said thank you.’

Cal recognised that this was as good as he would get for now. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said. Bonnie didn’t respond.

Leaving her to play with her little house, Cal headed down the track to the beach. His heart was thumping and he had no real idea what he would say to Tara, apart from ‘Thank you’.

Should he ask how she was? Or would that seem patronising?

As his feet hit the shingle, he faltered. Perhaps it might be better if he sent her a note instead. Or a card; the gift shop had some nice ones. He might even persuade Bonnie to sign it, although he wouldn’t hold his breath.

He was about to turn back when he realised something wasn’t right, but it took him a second or two to figure out what was wrong.

Misty Lady was missing.

Great. That’s all he needed. Some thieving scabby bawbag had nicked his damn boat.

He stared over the water with narrowed eyes, trying to spot it. A few vessels were still on the loch, and he scrutinised them. Some were obviously not his – too big, wrong colour, wrong shape – and all of them, except one, were high tailing it towards the shore ahead of the encroaching storm. Having no idea when his boat had been stolen, he realised it could be anywhere by now, and may have been taken out to sea.

Cal concentrated on the speck near the far shore, but although his eyesight was good, it wasn’t that good. He needed a pair of binoculars.

He dashed back to the cottage to fetch them and found Bonnie at the window. She’d been watching him, and when he hurried into the hall, lifted his binoculars from the coat peg where they usually lived and shot outside again, she followed closely behind.

‘Wasn’t Tara in, Dad?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t get that far. The skiff is missing.’

‘Where has it gone?’

‘I think someone might have stolen it.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Cal came to a halt on the shingle and raised the binoculars. As he scanned the water, which had grown considerably choppier in the few minutes it had taken him to fetch the binoculars, he adjusted them to sharpen the image.

The sea was grey, with racing flecks of white, the water whipped up by the wind. Angry clouds scudded overhead, and the mountains on the opposite shore were shrouded in mist. He could see the rain coming, purple and iron-grey columns darkening the water.

Cal felt a twinge of alarm, and hoped whoever had stolen his boat wasn’t still out there. Things were about to get nasty pretty quickly, and the skiff wasn’t built for rough weather.

Thinking he must have imagined seeing a small vessel on the far side of the loch, he was about to give up searching when he saw something.

Was that it? Concentrating hard, he adjusted the lenses again, trying to get a clearer view. The waves were higher now, hiding the vessel, so he could only catch brief glimpses of it now and again before it disappeared into the troughs.

Feeling certain it was Misty Lady , he gripped the binoculars hard. Even if it wasn’t his boat, it was in danger, and that was a job for the coastguard.

‘Can you see it, Dad?’

‘I think so.’

‘Can I see?’ She held up her hand for the binoculars, but he didn’t answer.

The rain had reached them, and although the first drops were only a smattering, Cal knew he and Bonnie would soon be soaked to the skin.

‘Why don’t you go inside before you get— Oh, God!’

‘What?’

‘It can’t be! She wouldn’t!’

‘ What, Dad? ’

‘It’s Tara.’

Bonnie glanced at the boathouse. ‘Where?’

‘On the loch. She’s taken Misty Lady out.’

‘But you said there’s a storm coming.’

‘There is, and it’s nearly here.’ He lowered the binoculars, grabbed his daughter’s hand and began to run. ‘We’ve got to go.’

‘Where?’ Bonnie panted, as she hurried to keep up.

‘You are going to the castle. I’m going to see Mack.’

‘Why? What’s—?’

‘I haven’t got time to answer questions,’ he replied, barging into the cottage and grabbing his waterproofs, phone and the car keys. ‘Get your coat,’ he instructed, dialling Mhairi’s number as he charged outside again, Bonnie hot on his heels.

Mhairi answered on the second ring.

‘Call the coast guard,’ he yelled, the strengthening wind snatching at his words. ‘Tara has taken Misty Lady out.’

Mhairi didn’t argue. She knew as well as he did what that could mean. ‘Will do.’

‘I’m going to Mack’s. Can you have Bonnie?’

‘Drop her off on your way.’ She hung up, and Cal made another call. ‘Mack? It’s Cal. I need your help.’

Tara’s teeth chattered as she fought with the rudder. Although she was aiming the boat in the right direction, the waves wanted to take it in another. She also suspected that the tide was going out, and slowly but surely the little boat was being pulled out of the relative shelter of the loch and towards the open sea.

‘Relative shelter’ was a relative term, because the waves were higher than she thought possible, whipped into white angry peaks by the worsening wind. The troughs between them were even worse as the distant shoreline disappeared from view each time the boat sank into one. And every time it did, she feared she was about to be swamped.

The boat was slowly filling up as waves sloshed over the side. Driving rain didn’t help either, and with each minute that passed, Tara grew ever more fearful that she wouldn’t come out of this alive.

If she’d realised there was a storm on the way, she never would have taken the boat out. But it had been so calm and so peaceful. The calm before the storm. She knew now where the phrase came from.

Tara had been psyching herself up to go back to the boathouse, having cried herself into a strange surreal calm of her own, when she’d noticed that the sea had become choppy, the boat bobbing more than it had previously. The wind had picked up, and when she’d glanced at the sky, a darkness above the mountains had struck a chord of worry. It was only then did she appreciate that the weather on Skye truly could turn in an instant. And it was at that point she started to become scared.

It had taken her several tries to get the outboard going, but once she did some of the tension eased a fraction. She had power therefore she could get back to safety. She hoped. But chugging across a millpond was vastly different to battling waves higher than her head, and she was worryingly sure she wasn’t making much headway in the direction she wanted to go.

However, that wasn’t the worst. In her eagerness to deliver Bonnie’s doll’s house, Tara had forgotten her mobile phone. She couldn’t call for help, and no one knew she was out here. There was a very real possibility she might die if she was swept out to sea.

When the engine spluttered and cut out and she failed to get it going again, the possibility became a certainty.

Terrified, freezing, soaking wet and filled with despair, Tara began to shout.

But it wasn’t ‘Help’ she shouted. It was Cal’s name.

The Range Rover slid to a halt in a scatter of gravel, and Cal was out of the door and reaching for his waterproof jacket a split second later. He’d made the short trip from Duncoorie to Mack’s place in record time, but despite only speaking to Mack mere minutes ago, the man was already there, readying the boat.

Cal waved and Mack held up his hand, so Cal hung back, not getting on board just yet.

When Mack gave him a thumbs up, Cal released the boat’s two mooring ropes and jumped down onto the deck. Mack was already in the cockpit with the engine running as Cal joined him at the helm, and when the boat moved away from the quay Mack pulled back on the throttle and engaged the thrusters.

In less than a minute, the quay was behind them, obscured by the driving rain. The boat’s navigation lights were lit, and as soon as it reached open water, Mack also flicked the searchlight on.

‘I don’t get to use this very often,’ he said, his eyes on the radar screen.

As well as radar, the boat was equipped with sonar and GPS, but Cal knew it wouldn’t be easy to detect a small wooden boat in heavy rain. What he was depending on was Mack’s expert knowledge of the winds and the tides in the loch. If anyone could find Misty Lady and her precious cargo, it was Mack. He hadn’t needed an explanation. His friend knew the danger that Tara was in better than anyone.

Cal clapped a hand on Mack’s shoulder and shouted to make himself heard over the engine and the howling wind. ‘Thanks, mate.’

‘We haven’t found her yet.’

‘We will,’ Cal was certain of it. To think otherwise was, well… unthinkable. He had to believe they would find Tara safe and well. He had to .

‘Where do you think her starting point would have been?’ Mack asked.

‘Due west of the boathouse. I believe she would have tried to moor up on the other side in the shallows.’

‘I’m assuming she wouldn’t have gone out if the weather had already turned, so she would have been caught out either when she was still there or on her way back. Can you give me a guestimate of where you saw her?’

‘A quarter of a mile north of where she’d started, and a few hundred yards from shore.’

Mack nodded, then began muttering to himself. Cal caught a few snippets – wind speed, drift, tide, rate of knots – but he didn’t interrupt. Mack knew what he was doing.

‘I reckon I know where she could be, there or thereabouts,’ he announced and changed course slightly. ‘If we get ahead of her and turn our backs to the tide, we’ll have a chance of netting her. The last thing I want is to miss her. We’ll take a zig-zag line because her location depends on how well she can steer that little boat of yours. Not that your piddly motor will be much use in this weather. What?’ he asked as Cal let out a groan of despair.

‘She mightn’t be able to use the motor. The damned thing keeps cutting out. Oh, God!’ He felt like gnashing his teeth and wailing, and it was with difficulty that he held himself together. If anything happened to her, he didn’t know how he would carry on.

When they found her – he had to say when, not if – he was going to throw himself on her mercy and beg her forgiveness for being such an idiot.

He’d tell Tara he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and he hoped she would forgive him. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, because he could never forgive himself for putting her through such heartache for a second time.

Please, please, let her be safe.

Please.