Chapter 17
That night, Skye lay in bed, her thumb marking the page in her book, and thought about the last week.
From the pit of doom in which she had been entrenched at the start of the month, she had managed to claw her way out.
Silver linings were everywhere. You just had to know where to look.
She ran through them. For starters, she had been given a month off, without asking. She hadn’t even had to manifest that one. Tanya had basically tied that gift up with a bow and handed it to her. There was bumping into Hamish, and reconnecting with him. Then he’d offered a wee job which meant she could feel useful. Not to mention the luck of falling in with the surgery crew, Paolo in particular.
And then — Skye poked her head out of the curtains of the four poster and did an enthusiastic inner victory dance for the hundredth time since she had arrived at Glenalmond — there was this bedroom. It was decorated to perfection, from the antique furniture to the sumptuous fabrics. This wasn’t a little win, it was huge.
Though it was warm outside, the walls of the castle were thick, and inside was blissfully cool. You had to admit, builders of yore, or whatever you called them, knew what they were doing. The walls kept the heat in during winter, and kept it at bay come summer. Skye glanced around, wondering where the tapestries would have gone.
She shivered, and scooted back behind the drapes, pulling them shut. There was a flexible clip lamp within, which readers of yore would have loved as it was incredibly useful and had been on for the last hour as Skye turned the pages of Wuthering Heights . She picked up the book, and then closed it again, instead picking up her mobile. It was late, half eleven or so, but Bear might still be up, and Skye had the urge to text him.
I wish you could see what the inside of my current bedroom looks like!
Whoa! Too flirty. Skye hit the delete button and watched the caret eat up the words.
He had darted back to Edinburgh to work on another project and had texted her earlier in the day to say he would be back soon. She tried again.
Hi! How’s your week going? Staying at this castle is like living in some century gone by. Have you been for a tour yet? With your love of historic buildings you’d be in your element. Hope you’re well x
That was far better. She hovered her finger over the send button, but hesitated. Again, she held her finger down and let the caret erase that effort. Instead of a third attempt, Skye tugged the blanket around her and bustled out of the bed.
She walked to the window and gazed out at the Glenalmond estate in front of her. She could understand why tourists descended on the place like vultures between May and September, when the gardens were at their best. The manicured lawn, which Hamish’s dad liked to keep trim with his ride-on mower, was impressive, and to one side Skye could see the quirky topiary which Hamish claimed had been there for over a century. His mum, as well as running tours, liked to tend the herb garden, set in a beautiful parterre hidden behind neatly clipped yews.
The scene was bathed in white moonlight, the river at the bottom of the garden shimmering silver. Then something moved. Skye froze, focusing her eyes on whoever or whatever it was. She quietly opened the window a couple of inches, careful not to let in any midges, but even though it was a still night, no sound carried over.
Then, as they came out into the open, Skye realized it was a herd of deer.
‘Wow,’ she whispered, as ten or twelve emerged from the trees that edged the castle and gardens.
They moved gracefully on to the grass, dipping their elegant necks to graze. Alongside their parents, there were a couple of fawns.
She marvelled at them. Hamish had told her they represented both strength and tenderness, and that the loss and regrowth of their antlers was a symbol of rebirth. He tried to convince her that it was important to manage their numbers, but Skye hated the fact that people came to shoot them. They were wild animals, and she wished they could be free to roam.
Skye was still holding her phone in her hand, and she lifted it up to take a picture. It was a gorgeous shot.
This was the message, of course it was. She uploaded it to WhatsApp, and added a caption.
Another reason why this place is heaven on earth.
She paused, thinking how such a phrase would wind her father up no end. She remembered how she used to fling such sentences around with abandon, just to infuriate him.
It wasn’t something she did any more. Everyone had a right to their beliefs, including her father. Besides, when it came to verbal duelling she had run out of steam some time ago. She preferred to maintain a peaceable relationship with him these days, which meant minimizing drama.
It didn’t matter now though. The text wasn’t for him.
She added Bear’s name to the address box, and pressed send. Then she placed the phone on the window ledge, and watched the herd browsing the grounds.
After fifteen minutes or so, Skye wandered back to bed. Stifling a yawn, she made to turn her phone off, when it vibrated.
Is this a ruse? If so, top marks. Presumably you’re working with the Eastercraig tourist board?
Skye chuckled under her breath.
I promise they’re the real deal. Living, breathing, in my back yard.
Her phone rang, a delicious tingle running down her spine. She pressed the green answer button.
‘Aren’t they amazing?’ she said.
‘I bet you’re glad you managed to land yourself such a fantastic place to lodge for the next few weeks.’
She could have told him that it took a fountain of self-doubt to get her there, but kept that to herself.
‘I’m very lucky,’ she agreed. ‘You’re up late.’
‘I’m working,’ he said, his deep voice rumbled down the phone. ‘I’m moving on to yet another project soon. A potential redevelopment in Leith. What are you up to? Other than communing with nature.’
‘For me, that phrase conjures up images of dancing naked with sage sticks, pressing my cheeks against the bark of trees and listening to what they have to say.’
There was a pause. ‘That’s quite a picture you’ve painted.’
‘Oh God.’ Skye blushed, only just seeing it for herself. ‘Well. I could also commune fully clothed in a bird hide.’
‘Right. Well, I reckon either would be a good look,’ said Bear, after a beat.
Skye felt herself turn a deep crimson, matching the red of the tartan blanket on the bed. She pictured his strong face, those eyes she could drown in, imagining his strong arms around her. She focused on the carved wooden detailing on the bedposts, reminding herself to slow herself down.
‘Thank you.’ She tried not to stammer.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Bear, his voice playful.
Skye gulped, feeling flustered. She pushed the window open a little further to cool down.
‘When are you back in Eastercraig?’ she asked, returning to safer territory.
‘I’m not sure. I want to get back though. If I can get everything done here, I’ll be able to make it up at the end of the week. Are you around?’
‘I’m not going to be anywhere else. Give me a call?’
‘I will,’ said Bear. ‘Right. This tender isn’t going to write itself. Send me more pictures, will you? Of Glenalmond, I mean.’
‘Sure,’ said Skye, feeling herself break into a grin.
They said their goodbyes, and Skye closed the window, then wriggled down into bed, wondering how early the next morning was too early to ping over a photo.