Chapter 6
SIX
Aunt Evelinda had been decorating the castle for Christmas for the last month.
Depending on the room, Evelinda and her housekeeper Claire had a theme: some rooms were more formal, such as the drawing room, featuring stylish arrangements of natural holly and winter foliage around the base of wide cream candles.
Some were more playful, such as the bedrooms, where Evelinda had gone wild with tinsel, tartan bunting and baubles, prompting some cutting remarks from Aunt Joan about fire hazards.
As well as the tasteful candles with their green foliage surrounds, the drawing room boasted a garland of holly with red berries, tartan ribbon and white roses around the large fireplace.
The white roses were a nod to Heather and Matty’s wedding.
An array of Christmas cards from friends and local people stood arranged on a side table.
In the background, Nat King Cole played on the sound system.
Outside, the wind whistled around the castle, and Heather felt grateful at least that she was inside in the warm, despite the fact that the day was going from bad to worse.
However, the main feature of the drawing room had always been the Flag of the Old Ones, the family heirloom that Heather’s dad Angus was obsessed with.
Housed safely in a magnificent gold frame, it was a major attraction for tourists, all of whom loved to listen to Heather’s uncle James tell its history at one of his special talks.
Apart from the flag, the drawing room featured a high ceiling that was painted with a beautiful fresco of the zodiac, coupled with the heraldry of the Balhennies; Heather, as a child, had liked to lie on her back on the thick, salmon-pink carpet in the centre of the room and stare up at it, taking in all the details of the painting.
The painted ceiling was one of the most ornate in Scotland, and James had told her once that many of the Renaissance-painted ceilings that used to exist in castles had fallen apart or been replaced with moulded plasterwork.
Indeed, she’d been fascinated to learn that Huntingtower Castle – the site of one of her favourite Scottish myths, the Lover’s Leap – also had a painted ceiling, although the one there was much more basic in design.
When she’d been young, Heather remembered running around the castle with her five sisters; they’d built dens of fallen branches in the castle gardens, like teepees.
They’d explored the unused East Wing, where the furniture was covered over with dustsheets.
However, if you looked under the thick covers, you could find all sorts of treasures: chests full of old clothes, painted music boxes; once, they’d even found a pair of antique roller skates and taken turns skating up and down the hallways until their uncle’s housekeeper had yelled at them to stop ruining the wood floors.
However, today, the drawing room wasn’t a place of quiet contemplation for Heather.
She glanced up at the flag to pay her respects to the fairies, and she looked up to the ceiling briefly, taking a little comfort from the circle of its painted symbols: Pisces, the fishes; Aries, the ram; Taurus, the bull.
Her love of astrology had come from gazing at this ceiling.
But now, tension filled the room.
‘What’s going on?’ Heather asked, bewildered, as she walked in.
Catriona and Angus were standing by the fireplace next to Matty’s brothers and their wives and Matty’s father, Arthur.
Heather’s uncle James and aunt Evelinda both wore expressions of polite surprise, standing by the drinks cabinet.
Uncle James held an unopened bottle of champagne in his hand.
Heather’s great-aunts, Joan and Chrissie, sat in upholstered chairs, facing the fireplace.
‘Someone forgot to take her social graces pill this morning,’ Aunt Joan said, acidly, from her chair. ‘Hello, dear,’ she added, in a nicer tone, to her great-niece.
‘Auntie!’ Catriona shushed her aunt, but Joan huffed and looked resolute. ‘Lady Campbell is a guest!’
‘Well, then, she should act like one.’ Aunt Joan sniffed. ‘She’s a tartar, is what she is. I won’t have her walking in here acting like she owns the place.’
‘I do apologise for my wife’s… directness,’ Arthur Campbell said, jovially.
‘Elizabeth has her ways, and I suppose we’ve all learned to live with them,’ he added.
Heather noticed that Clara and Estella, Elizabeth’s daughters-in-law, looked less than convinced about that.
‘She’s still adjusting to the idea that Matthew is getting married. ’
‘Your other sons are married,’ Aunt Chrissie observed.
‘Yes. But I fear she’s always been a little protective of Matthew.’ Arthur sighed. ‘I should probably go after her. Excuse me.’ He hurried out of the room.
‘What just happened?’ Heather repeated, aghast. ‘Where did Lady Campbell go?’
‘Your great-aunt was a little…’ Charles, one of Matthew’s brothers, trailed off, searching for the right word.
‘Aunties?’ Heather turned to look at both of her aunts. ‘What did you say?’
‘I merely asked Lady Campbell about her family,’ Aunt Joan replied haughtily.
‘Her family?’ Heather echoed. That was all she needed: her fierce Aunt Joan stirring the pot. Heather needed to get control of the situation, fast. It was as if a cloud had covered Balhennie Castle when the Campbells’ black SUVs had arrived, and it seemed to be darkening by the minute.
Heather had no idea what had just transpired between Elizabeth Campbell and the mysterious man in the car, but it seemed that there had been drama in the drawing room even before that had happened.
‘Yes. Where she comes from. Before she was a Campbell,’ Aunt Joan added.
‘Is that… relevant?’ Heather asked, still bewildered.
‘It’s a normal question, dear. I was wondering whether we knew her people in any way.
After all, your uncle and Laird Campbell know each other from playing golf,’ Aunt Joan said dismissively.
‘Anyway, your new mother-in-law got very distressed. I have no idea why.’ Joan shrugged.
‘Obviously a very sensitive person.’ Joan pronounced sensitive as if it was a character flaw.
From what she’d seen, Heather seriously doubted that Elizabeth Campbell had a sensitive bone in her body. But perhaps I’m wrong, she thought, charitably. Sometimes people can be spiky to cover up their sensitivity. And Matty loved his mother. She’d seen the affection between them.
‘Don’t worry, Heather. It’s just a misunderstanding, I’m sure.’ Catriona put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder and hugged her. ‘Shall we have some champagne? I’m sure Arthur and Elizabeth will be back in a minute.’ Her tone was faux jolly.
‘Certainly.’ Evelinda gave James a meaningful look, and he cleared his throat and turned back to the sideboard, where a row of crystal champagne glasses had been arranged.
‘Yes. Of course. Champagne for everyone.’ James popped the cork, and poured the champagne into the glasses.
He handed Heather one, then Clara and Estella, followed by Charles and Gerald.
‘Will Matty be joining us, Heather?’ he asked; Heather felt forced to smile, even though she felt deeply ill at ease.
‘Yes… I think he’ll be along in a minute,’ she replied, hopefully. In fact, she had no idea whether Matty would be coming or not.
What if it’s all over? she worried.
She sipped her champagne, watching the door to the drawing room.
Please, come back, she willed Matty. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, she thought, even though she’d done nothing wrong.
The door remained closed.
‘And where do you ski?’ Matty’s brother Gerald had asked the skiing question to Heather’s sister Primrose, who had just arrived and was talking to Estella and her husband. Heather walked up to the group to observe Primrose looking at him blankly.
‘Primmy. I missed you!’ Heather had already hugged her sister fiercely when she’d first walked in: Primrose was the kind of reassuring presence that she needed right now: solid, dependable, strong and kind. However, she felt the need to hug her again.
Heather felt grateful to have her there as well as Sorrel and Bluebell, two of her other sisters. Sorrel had just moved into a lovely cottage about half an hour away with her boyfriend Tam. The other two Balhennie sisters, Violet and Blossom, would be arriving soon.
‘Ski? Oh, no. I’ve never skied.’ Primrose shook her head, turning back to Estella and Gerald.
‘None of us have, I don’t think. Oh, maybe Violet – she’s our other sister.
She’s a beauty journalist. I think maybe Bluebell might have gone to a dry ski slope in the Pentlands one time. Blue’s the youngest. Otherwise, no.’
I wish Violet was here, Heather thought.
She’d always been close with her twin, even though they seemed so different.
Violet was fierce, logical and businesslike, careful who she let into her heart.
She was as practical as Heather was romantic and dreamy.
Yet, she was also very protective of her twin.
Heather knew that actually she and Violet shared many similar characteristics.
They were both Cancerians, the astrological sign of the crab.
Though Heather was predominantly sweet, caring and soft-hearted, sentimental and romantic, she also had a will of steel when challenged.
She could shoot a rifle, was a keen archer, and if someone wronged her family, they had better sleep with one eye open.
Violet, though she seemed to have a hard shell, and could be tough and crabby, was a teddy bear when you got underneath all of the snark and sarcasm. If you didn’t know her, you just had to have patience.
Violet would have made mincemeat of the Campbells and their elitist conversations. She also would have known from the first second that she saw Heather’s face that something was wrong, and taken her aside.
‘A… dry ski slope?’ Estella asked a little weakly, as if the thought pained her beyond belief. ‘Oh… no, we meant… France, Italy, Austria…?’
‘We go to Courchevel,’ Gerald added. ‘Though Mama feels it’s lost some of its exclusivity over the years.’
‘Oh. Is that in France?’ Heather asked, politely joining the conversation.
‘Um. Yes.’ Estella looked down her nose at Heather. ‘Do you ski, Heather?’
‘No. But I’d like to learn. And I love cheesecake and fondue, so…’ Heather was trying to be upbeat, but her laugh died under Estella’s horrified glare.
‘Estella hasn’t eaten cheese for the last ten years,’ Gerald said, seriously. ‘She’s allergic to dairy. She eats a macrobiotic diet.’
As Heather was trying to think of something to say about macrobiotic food – she had little to no idea what it was – Elizabeth Campbell came into the drawing room.
She was in Heather’s line of sight, and their eyes met briefly.
There was nothing in Elizabeth’s stare but a general iciness; Heather wondered what on earth had just happened with the man outside.
‘Oh, what a shame!’ Primrose interjected. ‘I don’t think I could live without a bit of blue cheese and a glass of red wine of an evening. Especially after work.’
‘Oh. Me too,’ Heather said, consciously drawing her attention back to the conversation.
‘And what is it that you do?’ Estella asked, politely, looking Primrose up and down in her sweatshirt, jeans and work boots. Heather guessed that Primrose and Estella were not too far off the same age, but Primrose was at least twice the size of the diminutive Estella, who was as tiny as a bird.
‘I teach drama at a secondary school near Edinburgh. Some tough kids, but I love it.’ Primrose tucked a bit of her long fringe behind her ear; her head was otherwise shaved, and she had multiple piercings up both ears, and a ring in her nose.
‘What about you guys? When you’re not skiing, that is.
’ Primrose smiled beatifically at the couple, but Heather knew she was having a little private joke to herself at their expense.
‘I do some charitable work for Elizabeth’s foundation,’ Estella said, primly. ‘Gerald is on the board of a few different hedge funds, that kind of thing.’
‘And what’s Elizabeth’s foundation?’ Primrose asked. ‘I don’t think Heather has mentioned it before.’
‘Oh. I’d assumed Matty would have told you. It…’ Gerald said, with a frown.
Please say it helps orphans. Or supports victims of domestic abuse. Or lobbies for better ecological and animal protections, Heather thought.
‘The Glenorchy Foundation supports technological innovation and research,’ Gerald finished.
Oh.
‘What kind of technological innovation?’ Primrose asked, but Heather didn’t hear the reply. Her phone had pinged and she looked down at it.
I’m so sorry about our argument earlier, baby.
I want to prove to you how much you mean to me – I really do.
However, I’ve just found out that I have some urgent work to do.
I’m going to be gone for a little while.
While I’m gone, I hope you’ll get to know my mother.
She’s tough, but so are you. I’ll be back soon. M xxxx
What?
Heather stared at her phone screen in disbelief. In her other hand she held a glass of champagne. She was surrounded by members of her and Matty’s families, all of whom had gathered at the castle to wish her and Matty well, ahead of the wedding.
I’ll be back soon.
SOON?
What did ‘soon’ mean?
Heather looked at the message, feeling again like she’d suddenly jumped unwittingly onto a rollercoaster and been strapped in against her will.
Her stomach lurched as she read the text.
What was she going to say to everyone? How was she going to explain that Matty wasn’t coming, and that she didn’t know what he was doing or where he’d gone?
‘Heather? Are you okay?’ Primrose asked her, quietly, but Heather shook her head. Tears had sprung to her eyes. ‘Heather? What’s wrong?’
‘I can’t… I can’t be here…’ Heather whispered, and, placing her champagne glass in her sister’s hands, she bolted for the door.