Chapter 36 Tilda
TILDA
THREE MONTHS LATER
A soft mist hangs in the late autumn air, giving Benruar the look of a painting.
The bunting Georgia insisted on hanging across the courtyard sags slightly, already damp.
I’m pulling out stray weeds from the troughs outside the kitchen door.
They seem to have popped up overnight. I hook a tendril of old man’s beard around the trellis as a horn sounds on the road. Flora leaps up, ears flying.
“They're here,” Susan calls from the kitchen door, already brandishing the tray of scones in a slightly panicked fashion. “Don't forget to smile,” she says sternly. “You’re the face of Benruar now.”
“I thought Finn was the face. I’m more the grubby hands department.”
“He might be the name on the deeds, but he’d be the first to admit you’re better at charming visitors.”
The cars crunch up the drive and what feels like moments later the courtyard is buzzing. Rory and Edie are first through the gate, greeting the dogs first then rushing over to kiss us hello.
Then Jamie appears with a hamper, followed by half of Susan’s knitting club, Dervla with a box full of seal-centre pamphlets, and Malcolm with his granddaughter, Cleo.
More cars arrive and Arran directs them to the back of the stables, waving his arms with the confidence of someone who spends all week in charge of the community skip.
“Where’s Georgia?”
“Here!” She links her arm through Malcolm’s. “Everyone in position?”
“Never thought I’d see the day you were hosting a garden party,” mutters Rory out of the side of his mouth, making Finn laugh.
“Don’t get used to it,” he growls, but he’s smiling. I lace my fingers in his and he rubs his thumb over my palm for a second. I feel the hairs on my arms rising and look up to see him gazing down at me, the lines at the sides of his eyes crinkling although he’s not quite smiling.
The courtyard – and the house – look nothing like they did the first time I saw Benruar House.
Where there was once cracked paving and tangles of brambles and weeds, there are now sweeps of wooden tubs filled with flowers and herbs, and thyme mixed with marjoram which fills the air as people brush past.
The old stables have been whitewashed and turned into the Benruar Marine Mammal Rescue Information Hub – Dervla’s proudest creation, complete with photographs of the island’s rescued seal pups and an electronic tip jar which Mhairi brandishes at everyone with no shame whatsoever.
A chalkboard sign reads – See a seal? Shout us here! in Georgia’s neat looping handwriting.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Dervla sidles up to Rory, Edie and I. “Never thought I’d have my very own satellite office, even if it does smell faintly of gin.”
“Everything and everyone smells faintly of gin here,” I say, laughing. “It’s an occupational hazard.”
“You should sell it. Eau de Benruar.”
“Don’t give him ideas,” I say, watching Finn deep in conversation with two of the distillery owners from the mainland who’ve come over for the occasion.
“You look happy,” Mhairi says, joining us. “Life here suits you.”
“Weird, isn’t it?” I smile at them. “Of all the places, doing all the things, I never expected this.”
Dervla groans and rolls her eyes. “Well, savour it while you can. The Wicked Witch of the West is getting off her broomstick, look.”
The crunch of tyres on gravel announces the arrival of Jennifer Ross. She climbs out of the car with her habitual sucked lemon expression and surveys the scene as if we’ve committed the cardinal sin of having a nice time.
“Well,” she says as Finn crosses the courtyard, trying to keep his expression neutral.
“This is not what I was expecting.”
“Jennifer!” Georgia appears at her side in an instant, all sunshine and diplomacy. “Can we tempt you with a small sample?”
She glances at the glass that Georgia’s holding, then takes it with a faintly disapproving grimace. “I don’t normally drink before six.”
“Oh, it’s six o’clock somewhere,” says Georgia, waving an airy hand.
Jennifer takes a sip of the brand new Benruar gin, her eyes narrowing. Everyone around her seems to hold their breath.
“That’s… actually rather good. Floral without being too cloying. And you’ve used local botanicals?”
Georgia and Malcom exchange a stunned look.
Finn clears his throat and steps forward.
“All grown here, apart from the juniper, which is obviously harder to come by. There are a few berries from the Benruar juniper, more as a token than anything. But the thyme and gorse are from the garden, and the roses and the lemon and the various other herbs from Tilda’s gin garden.
The idea was to distil the island itself. ”
“Hmm,” says Jennifer, taking another sip. She looks around, taking in the mix of islanders and visitors, the dogs weaving through the crowd. “And this rewilding area you’ve mentioned on the web page?”
“You need to have a chat with my brother. He’s the expert on all of that.” Finn looks thoughtful. “Perhaps you might like to meet my older brother the Duke of Loch Morven, as well?”
“Oh.” Jennifer goes pink. “Gosh, really. Yes, well, if he’s not too busy,” she simpers.
“Absolutely not,” says Finn, charm personified. I can’t look at Georgia in case I laugh, and Malcolm is standing completely stock still beside Finn as if he’s in shock.
“Well, I’ll be sure to make a note of this in the next tourist board review,” I hear her say, as Finn guides her across towards an unsuspecting Rory.
I watch him work the crowd, all charm and confidence, and feel a surge of pride mixed with something else. He catches my eye across the courtyard and the look he gives me sends a jolt through my core. He raises one brow and gives me a smile.
“I think I’ve seen everything now,” Malcolm says, slowly shaking his head.
“Did she just… compliment us?” Georgia scratches her forehead in confusion.
“I think so?” I say, stunned.
“What proof was that gin again?”
Malcolm chuckles. “Strong enough.”
The speeches happen under a string of fairy lights in the barn, and nobody seems to mind that the mist has turned to a faint drizzle.
Susan goes first, insisting she has something important to say.
She clears her throat with all the authority of a woman who has chaired the knitting club for the past thirty-five years.
“I’ll keep this brief,” she says crisply.
“Many of you will remember Finn Kinnaird coming to the island as a young man but I think we can all agree that Charles Fairfax would be very proud of what he’s done to ensure that his legacy lives on.
Between him and Tilda they’ve done something remarkable—”
“And Malcolm, and Dervla, and Mhairi, Sally and Eilidh,” Finn calls out, surprising everyone.
Susan gives a grave nod. “Aye, and them as well. They’ve not only brought Benruar Distillery back to life and created this lovely place, they’ve reminded us all that community starts at home on the island, not in some fancy glass box imported from the mainland.
” She glares at Jennifer while Finn groans almost inaudibly by my side. Susan pauses to have a sip of gin.
“I thought I was the tactless one around here,” he says out of the side of his mouth.
I curl my arm around his waist and pull myself close, feeling the solid bulk of his body against mine for a second. He leans into me briefly then steps away to wrestle the microphone from Susan.
“I’m not very good at speeches, so I’ll keep this extremely short.
All I want to say is thank you – to all of you.
We’re not just launching a gin, we’re also celebrating the opening of the nature centre and the seal rescue hub.
And this place isn’t mine, it’s ours.” He looks over at me and crooks a finger, beckoning me to join him.
“I left Loch Morven as a teenager, but it’s only this year that it’s really felt like home, and that’s because of Tilda. ”
“Ahhh,” says everyone, as Finn takes me into his arms and looks down at me with love in his eyes. I take the microphone from his hands, surprising myself.
“I thought I was coming here to close a chapter of my life,” I say, looking down at Malcolm and Georgia and Dervla and Mhairi and all the faces I’ve grown to love.
“But it turned out I was opening a whole new book. One my dad wrote, not just for me,” I blink hard, remembering his words, “but for everyone here on the island. It makes me incredibly proud to think his gin recipe will live on, and I’m so glad I found out the truth about him. ”
I swallow back a sob. Dave from the ferry gives me a nod and then wipes his eyes while Susan is dabbing at hers with a cotton hanky from her bag.
“And that’s why we’re here, of course, to celebrate the launch of Benruar Gin,” Finn continues, picking up a bottle.
“We all agreed that – much as it would be nice to name it after the man behind the recipe – we might find ourselves in some legal trouble if we called it Gordon’s.
” The crowd bursts into laughter and Finn looks quite pleased with himself. “So Benruar Gin it is.”
Rory starts a cheer, Edie wipes her eyes, and even Jennifer looks vaguely cheerful.
Later, when the band from the pub starts playing and the tealight lanterns are glowing in the barn, I finally get a chance to breathe. Poppy’s message pings through as I’m stacking empty glasses with Georgia.
Loving the Instagram stories. Wish we were there. So proud of you babe!
I grin and send back a string of hearts. Her reply flashes back.
BTW you might want to check your bank balance
I open the app and boggle at the screen in confusion. There’s a deposit in Jack’s name into the old joint account for ￡5384 – he’s returned my inheritance money in full.
***
I appealed to his better nature.
I’m scratching my head in confusion when Finn finds me by the back door, a crate of glasses in my hands. A second later, there’s a second text from Poppy that makes me laugh out loud.
When that didn’t work, I reminded him I was a lawyer
Jack always did say he thought Poppy was a bit fierce, and he was pretty pathetic, really. I guess she put the thumbscrews on.
“What’s happening?” Finn squints at the screen.
“I’ll tell you later.”
He runs a hand down my back, pulling me towards him as he drops a kiss on the top of my head.
“Malcolm’s threatening to auction off the dogs to raise money for the Seal Rescue fund.” He grins. “Given how much of a hit Flora seems to be with everyone, she’d probably make more than the gin.”
“Not bad for a delinquent hound,” I tease him as he opens the door into the kitchen. I dump the crate on the table and turn around. He’s standing close and I hitch myself up to sit on the table.
“Don’t speak about my Flora that way,” he says, making me laugh. “I happen to be very fond of that dog, and her owner.” He cups the back of my head and runs a rough thumb down my jaw, a half-smile on his lips.
“Even though she’s a disgrace, disorganised and chaotic, and drives you mad?”
“Especially because of all of that. And because you love me.”
“I do.” I catch the metal buckle of his belt, pulling him close to me. “Do you think anyone would notice if we sneaked away?”
He laughs. “I think it might be noted, yes.”
“Always the control freak.”
He raises a brow and smirks. “You love it.”
So, we head back outside, his arm over my shoulders, into the darkness of the evening. The music starts up again, an old song everyone knows, and the sound of laughter and off-key singing fills the air. Above us the sky has cleared, and stars as bright as sparks as they appear one by one.
“I love you, Tilda MacLean,” Finn says, pulling me into his arms as the music continues to play. He looks down at me, brow lifting. “What is it?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Everything is perfect.” I slide my hands inside the rough fabric of his plaid shirt and feel the solid warmth of his body.
I look across the courtyard full of people and love and laughter and hope, and I sort of hope that somewhere out there my dad and Charles Fairfax are looking on and smiling.
And realise that for the first time in as long as I can remember, everything feels exactly where it should be, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to run away again.
“Dance with me,” Finn murmurs in my ear, pulling me close.
“I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I’m making an exception.” His hand slides to the small of my back, holding me against him. “For you.”
We sway together under the fairy lights, his body huge and solid against mine.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
“For what?” I look up and he’s staring down at me with a gentle expression on his face, his dark eyes soft.
“For staying. For crashing into my life and turning everything upside down.”
I pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his broad back, breathing in the familiar scent of his body, remembering the moment when I walked around the corner and our lives collided.
“You’re welcome.” I tilt my head up again, laughing as I say, “Though technically, we should thank Flora. Turns out she has excellent taste in men.”