Chapter 3
THREE
‘And dip, and turn, remember the feet… wonderful!’
Heather had managed to reschedule the dance class they’d missed, and now, she and Matty were twirling around the dance studio in Bracadale under the close watch of Elsie Biarritz, the owner of the studio.
Heather and her sisters had gone to dance classes at Elsie’s studio when they were children – tap, ballet and traditional Scottish dancing – and the twins, Heather and Violet, in particular, had always loved it.
They had kept up with ballet and tap into their late teens, and Violet still danced when she could, even though her job took her all over the world.
Sometimes Heather would see a clip of Violet dancing bachata in the Dominican Republic, or salsa in Cuba on the sisters’ group chat.
The sprung wooden floor creaked under them, in exactly the way that it had always done.
Everything was exactly the same as it had always been at Elsie’s studio, even Elsie: she probably had aged, Heather realised, but she was just as spry and bright-eyed as she always had been.
Petite and lithe, Elsie was dressed in a wraparound ballet top and yoga leggings, with a scarf tied around her grey hair, which was braided into two long plaits and wound around her head.
She was Swiss, but had lived on Skye for more than thirty years, coming to the island on holiday once, and then, like many people who wanted to move away from the hustle and bustle of life elsewhere, deciding to come and live there permanently.
Heather and Matty were learning the waltz for the wedding: Heather had wanted something graceful and traditional, even though she’d been tempted by videos she saw online of various wedding dance crazes.
She’d shown Matty one where the groom, his best man and two of the groomsmen had performed a very impressive rehearsed street dance routine for the bride, who watched delightedly from her seat.
Matty’s response had not been favourable.
‘I’m not much of a dancer. I’ll learn a waltz for you, baby. But that’s as far as it goes,’ he’d said, his brow furrowing in concern as he watched the video. ‘I want to manage your expectations here. I am no Patrick Swayze.’
‘You’re my Patrick Swayze,’ she’d said, fondly.
‘Now, my dears… remember, one, two three, one, two three… The waltz, she isn’t as slow and floaty as you think, eh?
No, we are dancing the Viennese waltz… she moves at quick tempo.
Elegant turns, sweeping steps… finesse, finesse, finesse!
’ Elsie clapped her hands in time to the music.
Heather followed the steps, loving the feeling of Matty’s hand on her waist, his other hand holding hers so gallantly.
She felt as though she was in one of the old black and white movies that she loved.
Closing her eyes, she imagined that she was wearing her wedding dress, being spun around the ballroom at Balhennie Castle, while hers and Matty’s friends and family looked on.
The group chat she had with her five sisters, Violet, Bluebell, Blossom, Primrose and Sorrel, had been very busy as the wedding had got closer.
For months, Heather had been excitedly updating everyone on all the details that she and their mother had put into place for the wedding, down to the napkin colours and the groom’s cake that Heather had organised with Farid and Dom, their friends who ran one of the cafés in Portree.
The six Balhennie sisters had all been named after flowers found in Scotland; they sometimes joked that if there’d been a seventh sister, she would have been named Thistle.
Catriona always defended her choice of names, saying that the flower names were beautiful, just like all her daughters.
And every one of you is beautiful in your own way, she’d add, mistily.
Each one of you has your own special loveliness, your own special talents, your own path to tread in life.
After she’d warmed down from the waltz, Heather took out her phone to update her sisters.
Heather: Good morning @everyone from the dance studio >video attachedphoto of Heather hugging Elsie<
Violet: @Heather Awww
Heather looked up from the group chat to see Matty frowning at his phone.
Elsie had gone to take a brief break; her little cottage was attached to the studio.
Heather remembered being taken in there sometimes as a child for tea at Elsie’s table and chairs, which were painted a light blue and covered with hand-painted daisies.
Heather also remembered that there was a large bright pink shelving unit and that the floor was tiled with a red poppy design.
Somehow, it all worked. Or, at least, the young Heather had thought it did.
She wondered if the kitchen was still as chaotic and cute as it had been.
‘Hey. Is everything okay?’ she asked quietly.
‘What? Oh… right. Yeah, fine,’ Matty said, distractedly. He turned his phone on to silent and put it down on the deep windowsill next to them. Outside, they could see shaggy brown Highland cows roaming on the tussocky moor.
‘You seem very distracted. Is something bothering you?’ Heather asked, as gently as she could.
‘No, I’m fine. Work stuff.’ He kissed her on the cheek.
‘You’re off work now,’ she protested. ‘I’m not doing work.’
‘I know, but our jobs aren’t exactly the same. I sometimes have to do urgent stuff. It’s important. You know this.’
‘Yes, I know. Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe you could just try and switch off, just for the dance lesson?’
‘Okay, sweetheart.’ Matty smiled affectionately at her and pulled her in for a kiss.
‘Mm. That’s nice,’ she murmured, looking up into his eyes. Matty could always reduce her to a puddle by kissing her or holding her close.
‘You’re nice,’ he murmured, tracing the line of her lips with his finger. Yet, there was a slight alarm bell in the back of her mind that was growing louder. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself and her own judgement, or was she about to walk into something that she’d regret?
There was something wrong. Her intuition was picking it up.
‘Just nice?’ she teased, pulling away.
‘No, not just nice. Lovely. Beautiful. My sweet princess of Balhennie.’ He kissed her again.
‘That’s better.’
I wish I could stay here forever, she thought. Matty always made her feel so safe and protected.
Heather snuggled closer into his chest. ‘Isn’t it wild that we get to be together forever?
We get to build the lovely life that we’ve always dreamed of.
We’re so lucky.’ She was trying so hard to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of her mind: something was wrong.
But she didn’t want anything to be wrong.
She wanted it all to be a lovely fairy tale.
‘I know. I know. And I do want that life. I want you to know that. Okay?’ He looked down at her, anxiety flickering across his handsome features. ‘Whatever happens. Please know that I want that with you.’
What did he mean? Heather had the distinct feeling that Matty wanted to tell her something, but right in that moment, Elsie came back into the room.
‘Alors, les jeunes amants.’ She clapped her hands. ‘My young lovers. Are we ready to recommence?
‘Oui, madame,’ Heather answered automatically; it was a standard call-and-response that she’d learned at the studio with Elsie from her childhood. Like many Swiss, Elsie spoke French, German and English, but she had always conducted her dance classes predominantly in French.
‘All right, then. And… beginning position, un, deux, trois…’ Elsie began the music again, and Matty led Heather in the first steps of the dance. She was dimly aware of a commotion outside, but she was concentrating on putting her feet in the right place.
Suddenly, the door to the studio swung open and Elsie’s daughter, Susan, who lived next door to the studio, burst in. A blast of cold air blew in after her. Susan had gone to school with Heather and her sisters.
‘Mum! You have to see this!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, hi, Heather! How are you?’
Heather sometimes saw Susan around the island, and they’d said polite hellos to each other recently, since Heather and Matty had been coming for their lessons.
‘Susan! Que fais-tu? What are you doing, I am teaching!’ Elsie said, surprised. ‘Close that door, s’il vous plait! It’s freezing!’
‘I know. I’m sorry. But you have to come and see.’ Susan pointed to the street, through the open door. ‘There’s an absolute army of posh cars coming through, and someone said it’s the Campbells of Glenorchy! You know, from the TV show!’
‘What?’ Matty went pale. Heather looked at him askance; she couldn’t imagine her fiancé being a fan of the reality TV show that followed a wealthy and powerful Scottish family.
They were the sort of people that were always in the celebrity magazines, and she’d never witnessed Matty being even remotely interested in that kind of thing.
‘Really, Susan. I do not care who is driving along the street! I am in the middle of a lesson!’ Elsie replied, a little tersely.
‘But we never get anyone interesting visit! If it is them, I wonder where they’re going?
’ Susan looked longingly back at the road.
Heather, curious, went to the door. Beyond, she could see a phalanx of monstrously sized, shiny black SUVs making their way along the small road outside.
The wind buffeted her and Susan as they stood there, but the cars proceeded steadily, like a herd of buffalo.
‘How do you know it’s the Campbells of Glenorchy?
’ she asked Susan, who was watching the procession with awe.
‘It could be anyone. It’s not like you can see through the windows.
’ Indeed, all the windows of the vehicles were black.
All Heather could see were the drivers: anonymous-looking men with short cropped hair and dark sunglasses.
‘Someone said they recognised the number plate of one of the cars. Apparently, that’s Elizabeth Campbell’s car. GLEN 1,’ Susan said. ‘Do you think it’s them? Why would they be here? Maybe they’re doing some filming on Skye. Oh, how exciting!’
‘I have no idea, but I’m sure we’ll all find out soon enough.’ Heather watched the cars go by, clutching her cardigan around her. ‘Everything they do seems to end up in the papers.’
She looked back into the dance studio, about to make an innocent comment to Matty about the SUVs’ tyres playing merry hell on the narrow Skye road, but the expression on his face stopped her.
Matty was staring out at the passing cars with a look of horror on his face. He looked at his phone, and then up at her.
‘Heather… there’s something I need to tell you,’ he said.