Chapter One
Ophelia
March
A branch loomed over Ophelia like the sword of Damocles. She stared up at it as Barbara, the estate manager, pulled up the hood of her waxed jacket and frowned.
‘Be careful. I don’t think it’s safe.’
Ophelia picked up a few fallen slates in her path, moving from under the dodgy tree and making her way towards the door of a dilapidated building beside a beautiful little lochan.
‘This old house used to be beautiful.’ She peered in through a grimy window, seeing little but junk. ‘How long has it been like this?’
‘Oh, ages now. None of the estate cottages are inhabited anymore.’ Barbara let out a hefty sigh.
‘No wonder the estate isn’t making money.’ Ophelia remembered a time when all the cottages were inhabited. Someone had even lived at the boathouse for a while, and she’d had to stop hiding there. She’d resorted to the stables, confiding in the horses when she needed a friendly ear.
‘Exactly.’
‘I always thought this would make a beautiful place to live.’ She gazed around, recalling the times she’d escaped the main house for the solace of this little boathouse – when her parents had quarrelled, when Jacinta came on the scene, and when her grandparents died. ‘But it’s too rundown now.’
‘Could it be done up as a holiday rental? Would that work? It’s in such a perfect place, after all.’
‘It’s a good idea in theory. I’ve been drawing designs for it since I was six.’ If Jacinta hadn’t been so beastly, Ophelia saw herself doing up this place and living in it, but she couldn’t bear the thought of being so close to her. Somehow, she’d landed the cliched wicked stepmother for real. In the beginning, she’d tried to get on with her, but no matter what she did, nothing changed. ‘I have plans and designs ready to go. I’d love to put them to good use, but without money, it’s a low priority.’ She toyed with the phone in her pocket and sighed. ‘Have you heard my father’s plan for how he thinks he’ll save the estate?’
‘Hmm. Yes.’
‘And what do you think of it?’
‘Well, it sounds very old-fashioned to me. Unless you happen to know James and want to marry him already.’
‘I’ve never met him and if I go throwing myself at him, it’ll look blatantly obvious what I’m doing.’
‘Possibly, but the Charltons expressed an interest in meeting your father. I think this is where he’s got the idea from.’
‘It still sounds like we need a much better plan.’
‘Indeed. There’s potential on the estate, but, well, your father doesn’t want to see it. He’s afraid of change. I fear it’s caught up on him. As for Jacinta…’ Barbara inhaled deeply. ‘She needs to—’
‘Stop spending money?’
Barbara chuckled. ‘Yes. That. But also understand the need to diversify, the way your grandparents did. She wants to do everything in a way that won’t interfere with her lifestyle, only I’m not sure that’s possible.’
‘I wish I knew what to do for the best,’ Ophelia muttered, more to herself than Barbara.
‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I believe your grandfather wanted this place to go to you for a reason. He saw, even at a young age, that you had what it takes to make it special again. Sadly, I don’t think your father does. Perhaps if you were to come back for a little while.’
‘What for?’
‘Start the ball rolling on some projects. Maybe it wouldn’t do any harm to meet James Charlton. What if he’s nice?’ Barbara gave her a cheeky grin.
‘I might be able to stay for a short while.’ And what if James turned out to be exactly the man she’d been waiting for? Not that she hung about waiting for men to fall at her feet, but she genuinely believed there was someone for everyone and she just hadn’t been lucky enough to meet the right person yet. Sad, because her father had inadvertently hit the nail on the head; she was lonely. She wanted a partner. A real one who could fill the gap in her soul. No one she’d dated so far really fit properly. Whenever she was on dates, it felt like trying to put a jigsaw piece into the wrong puzzle.
If she agreed to meet James, though, it had to be on her own terms, not her father’s and definitely not Jacinta’s.
‘Your input would be very welcome,’ Barbara said. ‘Meaning no disrespect, but sometimes it’s like banging my head against a wall with your father.’
‘I can imagine. Let me chat to Lucinda, my deputy. She’s very good and if she thinks she can keep everything ticking over in the office, then I’ll stay for a while.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘I’ll call her now, if there’s reception.’ She checked. Two bars. That should be enough.
‘I better get back to work.’ Barbara jumped into the old Range Rover and drove off down the track through the woods towards the main house.
Ophelia called Lucinda, pacing and gazing at the stunning scenery around the boathouse. Was that someone walking on the other side of the lochan? People occasionally walked through the woods here. It used to be part of a bridle path from the stables, but with them out of action, she doubted anyone would bother now. She squinted into the dense wood, waiting for the call to connect to the Timeless Butterfly Interiors office in Edinburgh. She’d started it as a one-woman interior design business with money her grandfather left her when she was straight out of uni, but it had grown and grown. More than she’d intended.
‘Darling, hi,’ she said as Lucinda picked up. ‘Got some news, and it’s not all good.’
‘About your dad?’
‘Oh, golly, Dad’s fine. That was a story Jacinta made up to get me here so they could tell me their other crackpot plan. Just wait until you hear what they want me to do.’
‘You are joking,’ Lucinda said, when Ophelia told her story.
‘Sadly no. But that brings me to the real problem. I should stay for a while to see what’s going on and maybe start a few upgrade projects. I have to accept that nothing will happen unless I do it. Would you be ok with that? I’ll do as much as I can from here, but you’ll be the main person in the office.’
‘I’d love to. You know I’ve always been after your job.’ She giggled and Ophelia laughed too. Lucinda was a sweetheart. She’d been the first person Ophelia had hired as the business expanded. She’d not expected it to get quite so big in such a short time.
‘Well, I’ll upgrade you to acting manager and pay you accordingly for the next few weeks. And thank you. I really appreciate this.’
‘Any time.’
With that settled, Ophelia returned to the house to break the news to her father and Jacinta. She wasn’t overly delighted at the prospect of staying in the house with them, but it would be the easiest thing to do. Her mother, Edith, lived in the nearby town of Glenbriar, which was a twenty-minute drive along the side of Loch Briar from the estate. If she really couldn’t stand it, she could always bunk with her, though Edith was fond of her own company, and it wouldn’t be as convenient as being here.
But Ophelia made a point of dropping in to see her as soon as she could, for a brief visit to update her on the plans. Edith wouldn’t like to be left out.
‘Utterly outrageous!’ she said, when Ophelia told her what Rupert and Jacinta were plotting. ‘They really don’t get any better, do they?’
‘Unfortunately not. I don’t know what to do.’ Ophelia hugged her mum, inhaling the comforting scent of her mum’s perfume.
Edith patted her back. ‘Your father is still in the dark ages. It’s one of the reasons I divorced him. Don’t you go marrying anyone you don’t want to. That decision is up to you. I know how important the estate is to you, and how responsible you’ve felt for it since losing your grandfather, but don’t sell yourself for someone else’s dream.’
‘I won’t.’ Though that little voice wouldn’t be silenced completely. What if I’m missing a trick? What if James was the man who could fill the hole in her heart and ignite the dormant spark inside her? Sometimes her heart raged so hot she wasn’t sure how to tame it, but she kept it forced down behind her public face. The guys she’d dated previously weren’t exactly high on the passionate scale. They were usually too gentlemanlike, which was ok, but she craved so much more. Not that she would ever confess that to anyone.
Edith checked her watch. ‘I’m running late for yoga, darling. But I’ll see you at my birthday lunch.’
‘Ah, yes, of course. I’m looking forward to it.’ Ophelia kissed her mum goodbye and jumped in her car. Bugger. She’d forgotten to buy her a birthday present, but she could nip into the Glenbriar Gallery on the way home. Her mum was a big fan of modern artwork.
She squeezed the car into an on-street parking space and headed inside. Sweeping back her long fair hair, she cast around the open-plan room, screwing up her nose at the odd chaotic artwork, curvaceous sculpted wood and bizarre metalwork. This wasn’t her kind of thing at all. She liked the classical landscape paintings, wildlife studies, and, most of all, portraits. Her grandparents had told her stories of all the portraits in Glenvorneth and Ophelia tried to remember everything they’d said, but she’d been too young to fully appreciate them, and now it was too late to ask. Her half memories were all that was left because her father and Jacinta didn’t care.
Her phone buzzed. Barbara Strachan flashed on the screen. An assistant peered over from the desk.
‘Hi.’ Ophelia moved out of sight, inadvertently stepping into a darkened alcove containing what was presumably supposed to be erotica. She blinked, tilting her head. Good lord.
‘Ah, Ophelia, I’m glad to have caught you,’ Barbara said. ‘Can you meet me at the boathouse?’
‘Um… Possibly. Why?’ She averted her eyes from the extreme close-up of droopy breasts lolling before her.
‘Because I—’
Ophelia frowned at the screen. Barbara was still talking, but quieter and obviously to someone else in the room.
‘Hello?’ She glanced around as she waited. Would her mother appreciate something like this as a gift? Unlike herself, Edith loved the abstract, finding hidden meaning in even the oddest pieces, but this stuff? The name Camilla Woodcroft was scrawled in the corner of the pictures. Ophelia had a vague notion Jacinta had mentioned that name. Was she aware that a friend of hers painted stuff like this? Surely that wouldn’t sit well with her.
‘Sorry.’ Barbara finally reappeared. ‘Listen, please meet me. If you could be there at two… Pardon?’ Barbara vanished again.
‘Can I help you, madam?’ The assistant’s voice made Ophelia jump.
‘Actually, yes, I need a gift for my mother. She’s dreadfully hard to find anything for. If I choose artwork for her, it would be like imposing my taste on her, and my mother’s taste is very different from mine. I’ve no idea what she’d fancy in here…’ Her eyes lingered on the droopy breasts; did anyone display pictures like that in their house? ‘Do you sell gift cards?’
‘Of course, madam. We have them in tens, twenties or fifties.’
‘Hello!’ Barbara yelled in Ophelia’s ear.
Ophelia held the phone away. ‘Hi.’
‘I’ll meet you at the boathouse at two.’
Ophelia still had no idea why, and it would be tight. Barbara obviously assumed she was coming from the house. She’d need to put on some speed, but she had a lingering feeling her afternoon was about to go tits-up, unlike the saggy boobs on display around her.