Chapter 14
‘Do you believe me now?’ I say a short while later, as Hunter’s Land Rover pulls up at the harbour and I jump into the passenger seat, shooing Stevie out of the way first. ‘They hate me, Hunter. All of them. Well, at least one of them. Why would they have driven off without me if they didn’t?’
‘Now, there’s nothing to suggest they left you behind deliberately,’ Hunter replies, checking his mirror before pulling out onto the main road.
‘I’m sure there must be some explanation.
You didn’t get stuck somewhere again, did you?
Because, no offence, you seem to have made a bit of a habit of that. ’
‘I didn’t get stuck anywhere,’ I reply, annoyed. ‘I was just at the market; there was nowhere to get stuck. And I was definitely at the pick-up point on time, Hunter. I was even early. They just drove away and left me. Come on, that has to have been deliberate. Even you have to admit that.’
‘The driver wouldn’t do that,’ says Hunter. ‘He wouldn’t dare. It’s more than his job’s worth to leave a guest behind.’
‘He probably didn’t even notice I wasn’t there,’ I say glumly. ‘That happens to me a lot.’
‘I find it hard to believe anyone wouldn’t notice you, Rosie,’ Hunter replies, his eyes fixed firmly on the road, so I can’t tell if he means this, or if he’s just trying to cheer me up, but either way a blush colours my cheeks.
‘And I can’t imagine why Sabrina and co.
would want to leave you behind on purpose, either. ’
‘You obviously never went to an all-girls school,’ I reply, reaching over to pat Stevie on the head as he nudges at me with his nose for attention.
This wolf-dog is more like a puppy; and he’s really growing on me.
‘Women can be absolutely brutal to each other, trust me. And they don’t even need a reason for it, either. ’
My shoulders thrum with tension at the thought of all of the other things I’ve been deliberately left out of, and I have to force myself to relax them.
‘Well, in this case, they definitely don’t have one,’ says Hunter gallantly. ‘Unless it’s something to do with the vegetables. What are you planning to do with those, by the way? Are you going to make soup?’
‘Oh!’ I look down at the turnip on my lap, and the leeks poking out of the top of my brown paper bag Ian gave me.
‘No, I bought them in the village. I don’t actually know what I’m going to do with them – Ian said something about a “clapshot”?
– but the people selling them were so nice I wanted to buy something.
Can you believe the hotel doesn’t buy any local produce at all?
Apparently, everything comes from giant wholesalers down in the Central Belt.
Isn’t that wild? It’s so they can save money, Izzie says. ’
Hunter glances at me curiously.
‘What else did you find out from Izzie and Ian, whoever they are?’ he asks.
‘Ian’s a farmer,’ I tell him, picking up the turnip so I can admire it.
‘Although he’s worried he might have to sell up if things don’t improve for him soon.
And Izzie is a witch. A green witch, I mean,’ I add quickly, as the Land Rover swerves towards the side of the road.
‘She makes things from natural ingredients. Here, smell this.’
I pull out some of the little bottles I bought from the market and thrust one under his nose.
‘It reminded me of you,’ I say without thinking.
The car swerves again.
‘That’ll be why it’s so disgusting, then,’ Hunter comments, pulling a face as he recovers control of the Land Rover. ‘What other types of snake oil did this witch sell you?’
‘Um, just that,’ I tell him, not wanting to admit to the little tub of gel that Izzie described as a ‘love potion’, and insisted on giving me for free, saying I looked like I needed it.
I’m still not sure what she meant by that.
‘They did tell me a ton of stuff about the village and the castle, though,’ I go on quickly, before we can get back to the subject of me buying lotions that remind me of burying my face into Hunter’s jumper last night.
‘And about the Laird. Did you know that he’s basically a prisoner in the place now?
And his posh-boy great-nephew is running the show from Glasgow? ’
‘Is that right?’ Hunter comments, his tone infuriatingly neutral.
‘So Izzie says. Everyone hates him, apparently. They’re convinced he’s going to try to sell the hotel the first chance he gets. Ian said he was a right arsehole who only cares about money, so that’s definitely the kind of thing he’d do. Have you met him?’
‘Your pal Ian? Or the arsehole nephew?’
‘The arsehole,’ I confirm. ‘Izzie says that if she hadn’t pledged to do no harm, she’d make a tincture for his tea, to make him a bit less tight-fisted. She doesn’t think she could do it without potentially killing him, though, unfortunately.’
‘Well, that’s a shame.’ On the steering wheel, Hunter’s own fists seem to tighten, although a smile plays around his lips.
‘It’s not funny, you know,’ I say, turning to look at him, and almost headbutting Stevie in the process.
‘The stuff they make is really good quality, and it’s all made locally.
The hotel should be buying it. They could even have a little shop in reception or something, selling different things from around the area. ’
I hold up the turnip and the bottle of Eau de Hunter again, as if to prove my point.
‘Maybe I’ll have a word with Dante when I get back,’ I go on thoughtfully, when Hunter doesn’t answer. ‘He’s the manager, surely he must have some say over what kind of products are bought?’
‘Maybe. Why are you so invested in this, though?’ Hunter asks, his eyes flicking in my direction. ‘Or is it just that you enjoy shopping so much that you want to shop on behalf of the hotel now, too?’
‘I do think about things other than shopping, you know,’ I remind him, annoyed. ‘I told you that last night. And I’m not invested, particularly; I just want to help.’
I don’t want to tell him this, but his constant jibes about shopping and selfies have been making me think a bit more about what it is, exactly, that I want to get out of this stay – these four days in the life of an influencer.
And I’m still not totally sure what the answer to that is, but I do know it has to be something more than just that.
I don’t want to influence people to be like me; constantly buying things they don’t actually need, as if it’ll make up for the things they do need, but which aren’t actually for sale.
Like love, say. Or that elusive sense of belonging that I’m starting to realise doesn’t come courtesy of a cashmere sweater or sparkly dress; no matter how fabulous.
I want to make a difference.
And maybe this is a good place to start.
‘Izzie and Ian are the first people who’ve been nice to me since I got here,’ I say instead. ‘Well, other than you and Agnes. And, yes, you too,’ I add, laughing as Stevie nudges me with his nose to get my attention. ‘I’d just like to do something for them in return.’
‘Fair enough. I’m just not sure pestering Dante to buy their stuff is the best way to go about it,’ says Hunter. ‘I told you how much pressure he’s under. I don’t really fancy your chances of convincing him to buy hand cream, or whatever that stuff is.’
I clutch my shopping bags a little tighter, annoyed by how dismissive he’s being of my big idea. It reminds me of my ex. He always thought my ideas were stupid, too; that’s if he even bothered listening to them.
And I haven’t even got onto the subject of the Nuckelavee yet. Or told him about the hand cream that repels evil.
‘Laugh all you want,’ I say, opening up the bottle of lotion again so I can have another sniff.
‘But yes, convincing Dante to shop locally for the hotel is the best way to go about it, actually. And it could be good for the Chrysalis, too. People want to experience local culture. They don’t want to travel to the Highlands and just see the same old things they can find in any Travelodge in the country.
They want quality produce that’s made in the place they’re visiting. ’
‘Aye, and all that stuff comes at a price,’ Hunter replies. ‘Which the hotel has to be able to afford if it’s going to survive. Tourists might like local products, but they don’t always like the price tag that comes with them.’
‘Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To influence them. And if there’s anyone who can persuade people to shop, it’s me.’
I cross my arms stubbornly over the bag of leeks. I may be down to just over two thousand followers now, but that’s still two thousand people who might see one of my posts and decide to come to the hotel.
That has to count for something?
‘Well, I for one have every confidence in you, Rosie,’ Hunter says, in an amused tone which makes me want to throw my turnip at him. ‘I’m sure the Chrysalis is very lucky to have you out there influencing on its behalf.’
‘It’s lucky to have all of us,’ I retort.
‘And so are you, Hunter. I know you think influencers are stupid, and vapid, and obsessed with shopping, but if you and Hannah want to be able to stay here in the Highlands, you need the hotel to be a success as much as anyone else. And having us all doing our best to promote it could help it do that.’
‘Hey, now, I didn’t call you stupid or vapid,’ he protests, the amused tone gone. ‘I would never say anything like that, Rosie.’
‘No, but you do think it, don’t you?’ I challenge him.
‘Not about you,’ he says after a pause. ‘I can see you’re neither of those things. You do like shopping, though.’
I shrug, because there’s no point arguing with that one.
‘Look,’ he says in a gentler tone. ‘You’re right.
I do want the hotel to be a success. I want to be able to stay here.
I want Hannah to grow up somewhere with enough space to run wild when she feels like it, without worrying about who she might be disturbing.
So I’m sorry if I sounded a bit . . . well, sceptical .
. . about what you do. I didn’t mean to. ’
‘It’s not really what I do,’ I admit. ‘I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?
But it is what Bex and the rest of them do.
And this is an amazing place, Hunter,’ I go on, twisting around in my seat so I can see his face.
‘It just needs the right publicity, so people know it’s here.
And once they do, they’ll want to come and see it for themselves. I just know it.’
‘And you think you and your pals are the right people to give it that publicity?’ The amused tone is back, although he’s doing his best to hide it.
‘Maybe,’ I reply, with a defiant tilt of the chin. ‘We can’t just let the arsehole nephew sell the place, can we? We have to defeat him.’
This seems like an excellent line for me to exit the car on, only I forget about the turnip and have to go back to get it, and I’m not sure a turnip is quite the prop I need for my big moment. Not even a particularly large and tasty one, which Ian assures me this one will be.
It’s the best I can manage under the circumstances, though, so, holding the turnip in both hands so I don’t drop it, I make my way up the steps that lead to the castle, feeling like Erin Brockovich or . . . or Moana, say.
OK, maybe not like either of those.
But as I stride into the lobby, giving Agnes a breezy wave as I march past her at the reception desk, and then another one as I pass her for a second time, having realised I’m going in the wrong direction, I walk with a renewed sense of purpose; because now I’m not just here to get a few spa treatments while taking part in a competition I have no chance of winning.
Or even to have myself the journey of transformation I was promised.
No, now I’m here to save the hotel from the property-developing Nuckelavee from Glasgow who wants to sell it to the highest bidder; and, not only that, but to save dozens of people’s jobs in the process.
And if that’s not a lofty goal, as Hunter sarcastically put it, then I don’t know what is.