Chapter 21
The spa morning I’m apparently going to be allowed to join now (thanks to Bex) includes breakfast, according to my new itinerary, so after a quick shower, I put on my swimsuit and dressing gown, before having a look around the room to make sure no more dirks have turned up while I was gone last night.
Everything looks totally normal, though; so much so that as I lock the door behind me and make my way downstairs, I start to feel a little silly for being so scared.
It was just a turnip, after all.
Maybe it was just some kind of practical joke, like Hunter said?
The thought of Hunter gets me thinking about kissing Hunter again, and I wander in a pleasant daydream through the pool area (deliberately not looking in the direction of the sauna, in case it triggers some kind of flashback), and outside again to the hot tub, which sits on a wide wooden deck, looking out over the gardens to the sea beyond; the kind of view that makes you stop in your tracks just to gape at it.
‘Rosie! There you are at last!’ yells Bex, who’s already in the water with the other girls, wearing a complicated-looking bikini with so many straps that it reminds me of one of those cat’s cradle things.
Daniel, I notice, is still fully clothed and hovering on the deck with his giant camera in hand, and I quickly slip out of my robe and into the warm water before he can point it at me.
‘Here,’ says Millie, handing me a plastic glass filled with what turns out to be Buck’s Fizz. ‘There’s some toast and pastries in the pool building too, if you’re hungry.’
I take the glass, and look out at the view.
The sky is a vivid bright blue this morning, as if it’s just been washed after yesterday’s rain, and the mountains stand out sharply against it.
It’s so beautiful it’s almost hard to believe it’s real, but I’ve already learned how quickly the weather can change up here, so I lean back against the headrest, determined to enjoy it while I can.
‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ says Zara, adjusting the strap of her bright red bikini.
‘It’s like we’re actually inside an Instagram Reel,’ agrees Millie, holding her blonde head carefully above the water so as not to ruin her makeup, which she’s applied as thickly as usual, despite the fact that we’re going to be spending the morning jumping in and out of the water, in between beauty treatments.
‘Or like we’re lobsters, being boiled in a pot,’ adds Yasmin solemnly, adjusting her sunglasses. ‘For dinner.’
The rest of us exchange nervous glances, but Yasmin doesn’t appear to notice and, after a few seconds, everyone starts chatting as usual, while Daniel snaps away in the background.
Now that Bex has decided she owes me one, and is being nice to me, the atmosphere of the group feels much more relaxed (or, at least, it does to me; I suppose this must be how it always felt to the rest of them), and we giggle and splash away, taking it in turns to pose for photos.
I sip my drink, listening in fascination as they all swap stories and anecdotes about their lives, which sound so different from mine that it feels almost as if I’m on some kind of anthropological study, which will have a voice-over from David Attenborough, earnestly observing that here we see the female influencer in her native habitat – a hot tub, with a steady supply of fizz.
Strange as it is to be sitting here with a group of women I’m more used to seeing on the pages of my social media feeds, though, for the first time since I got here, I actually feel like I’m part of things, rather than just a barely tolerated observer.
If it wasn’t for the fact that my life back home is still such a disaster, I’d almost feel like one of them.
And, just to prove it, yesterday’s cucumber video might have almost got me ejected from the hotel, but it gained me an additional 1,023 followers before I got the chance to delete it, so things are finally starting to go well for me at last.
Naturally, then, the universe chooses this exact moment to remind me of what I said to Hunter last night about wanting to use my new-found influence for good, rather than for . . . well, shopping.
‘Who’s that?’ says Zara, shielding her eyes with one hand and squinting in the direction of the castle. ‘We’re not expecting anyone, are we?’
I pop my head up out of the water like a baby seal to see a small group of people crunching their way over the gravel towards us.
Izzie’s in the lead, wearing a long purple cloak which swirls around her ankles dramatically.
Ian’s just behind her, looking like a cartoon version of a farmer, in wellies and a flat cap.
With them is a small collection of what I’m assuming are other villagers, and, call me paranoid, but I have a funny feeling none of them are here for a social visit, somehow.
‘Who are they?’ says Millie curiously. ‘They look like one of those pop groups from the seventies.’
‘Well, I could be mistaken,’ replies Zara dryly, ‘but I think it’s probably an angry mob?’
Just as she finishes speaking, Ian produces something that looks suspiciously like a shotgun from the folds of the waterproof coat he’s wearing.
‘Yup.’ Zara nods, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. ‘That’s definitely an angry mob.’
‘Don’t shoot,’ screams Millie in a panic. ‘Please don’t shoot!’
She scrambles frantically to get out of the hot tub, succeeding only in belly-flopping into the water face first, completely soaking her hair in the process and sending up a spray of bubbles that hit me full in the face, while somehow missing everyone else.
‘Oh, my God, this is horrific,’ breathes Yasmin.
‘I know,’ agrees Bex, still watching Millie. ‘Look at her makeup!’
‘Don’t shoot,’ shouts Millie again, emerging from the bubbles with mascara pooled under her eyes, and her lipstick smudged around the edges of her mouth, like a clown. ‘Please don’t hurt us!’
‘Och, don’t you worry,’ says Ian, stepping forward with an embarrassed chuckle. ‘Did you think this was a gun? It isn’t a gun; it’s just a walking stick that looks like a gun. See?’
He takes another step forward and everyone screams again. There’s just time for me to notice Daniel Foster making a bolt for it around the back of the hotel, then Ian reaches us, holding out the ‘gun’ so we can see that it is, indeed, just a piece of carved wood.
‘Inherited this from my granda, so I did,’ he tells us. ‘I carry it everywhere, on account of my dodgy knee. Got kicked by a horse when I was a young lad. It—’
‘Aye, aye, enough about your medical issues, Young Ian,’ says Izzie, gliding towards us like an apparition, her craggy face contorted into a fierce scowl. ‘Oh, hiya, Rosie,’ she says, smiling as she catches sight of me. ‘We were hoping we’d see you here.’
‘What’s going on?’
There’s a crunch of gravel underfoot as Dante appears, accompanied by Daniel Foster, whose face is pale with fear, and Hunter, who looks totally at ease, as if facing down angry mobs is all in a day’s work for him. My stomach does a silly little flip-flop of pleasure at the sight of him.
‘Well?’
The three men join us by the hot tub, Dante looking furious, and Hunter as impassive as always. At first I think he hasn’t noticed me, so I sit up a little straighter, and am rewarded with a wide smile, and . . . did he just wink at me?
And what does it say about me that my entire body is now tingling with excitement, even though it’s right in the middle of . . . whatever this situation is.
‘It’s an angry mob,’ supplies Zara, helpfully. ‘They haven’t said why they’re here yet, though.’
‘Aye,’ says Izzie, flicking her cape back to make it swirl around her body again. ‘Aye, that’s right. We’re an angry mob. We’re here to see the Laird.’
‘We did call ahead,’ puts in a very tall, extremely muscular young man, who has tattoos on every visible piece of skin. ‘But there was no answer, so we thought we’d just chance it.’
‘Look, they’ve brought backup,’ whispers Millie, who appears to have regained her composure. ‘They’re really serious about this, aren’t they?’
‘Backup? Naw, that’s just my wee brother, Callum,’ says Ian, overhearing her. ‘He’s no’ really bothered about any of this; he just wanted to see the influencer lot, and see if he can get any tips from them.’
‘I’ve got 1.4 million followers on TikTok,’ says Callum shyly. ‘I started off doing stuff about tattoos, but now I mostly just lip sync to Gracie Abrams songs. Well, that and the odd dance routine, but we all do that, don’t we? D’ye want to see one?’
‘No,’ says everyone simultaneously.
‘Ooh, yes, please,’ says Millie, one beat behind the rest of us. ‘Well, maybe later, then,’ she adds, sensing that this possibly isn’t the time.
‘I was saying,’ hisses Izzie, glaring at Callum, ‘that we’re here to see the Laird.
We want to speak to him about why the castle has stopped ordering goods from the village now that it’s turned into a fancy hotel.
We used to do a decent trade with this place – we all did – and we want to know what’s changed. Other than the obvious.’
‘The obvious?’ Hunter frowns. At the sound of his voice, Stevie appears from the back of the group of villagers and comes padding softly towards his master.
‘Aye. The bastard new laird,’ says Izzie. ‘The nephew, or great-nephew, or . . .’ She trails off, her eyes wide with horror.
‘Or bawbag,’ says Ian, looking around to see what’s upset her. ‘That’s the word you’re looking for, Izzie, isn’t it? It’s bawbag.’
Izzie isn’t listening, though.
‘A Black Shuck,’ she shrieks, pointing at Stevie. ‘A Black Shuck! Beware the Black Shuck!’
‘He’s a Belgian shepherd,’ says Hunter with dignity. ‘With a few bits of something else in there, too.’
‘Is he?’ says Izzie, wrinkling her long nose in suspicion. She pulls a pair of spectacles out of her cloak and puts them on.
‘Ach, so he is. It’s just a dog, right enough, Ian,’ she says. ‘Sorry about that, everybody, false alarm.’
‘She sees Black Shucks everywhere, this one,’ says Ian, chuckling. ‘The last one turned out to be just a very small cow, didn’t it, Izzie?’
‘You wait until you’re my age, young Ian,’ says Izzie fiercely.
‘You’ll be seeing Black Shucks everywhere, too.
Harbingers of death, so they are. This one’s just a Very Good Boy, though,’ she adds, crouching down to pet Stevie, who immediately rolls over so she can scratch his belly. ‘Aren’t ye, Good Boy?’
‘I don’t know what a Black Shuck is,’ says Millie eagerly. ‘But there’s an invisible woman in the castle. I heard Rosie talking about her yesterday.’
‘I don’t believe in ghosts,’ says Yasmin vaguely. ‘But I once read a book where a group of women were staying in a castle, and the locals butchered them all, one by one. Then they ate them.’
She makes a slicing motion across her throat with her finger, and we all stare at her, open-mouthed.
‘I think about that a lot,’ she says, shrugging. ‘I’m not saying it’s definitely going to be the same here, though.’
‘Now, now,’ says Ian, his cheeks red. ‘No one’s here to do any butchering or eating.’
‘I could eat, to be honest,’ says Calumn, hopefully. ‘I’ve only had a protein shake since breakfast. Could you eat, Izzie?’
‘Och, I suppose I could manage a wee something,’ Izzie replies from her position on the ground next to Stevie. ‘Just to be polite. Maybe just soup and a sandwich, say.’
‘I’ll have the full Scottish breakfast,’ says Calumn. ‘Vegetarian, if you have it.’
‘Well, if everyone’s eating,’ begins Ian, ‘I’m partial to the odd kipper. D’you do kippers?’
‘Enough,’ yells Dante, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. ‘Would you all just be quiet and get off my property? This is completely unacceptable.’
‘Your property?’ replies Izzie, her eyes narrowed. ‘This isn’t your property, Dante Romano; it belongs to Lord Glenmuir. And that’s no way to speak to your Auntie Izzie.’
‘Sorry, Izzie,’ Dante mutters, looking at his feet. ‘She’s not my real aunt,’ he adds petulantly, under his breath. ‘She’s just one of my mum’s friends.’
‘Aye, and wait until I speak to her about this,’ says Izzie, tapping a foot imperiously. ‘Now, are you going to fetch the Laird for us, or does Young Ian here have to get out his gun again?’
‘OK,’ says Hunter, raising both hands in a placatory gesture as Millie resumes her screaming fit.
‘That’s enough, all of you. The Laird isn’t going to be coming down to speak to you,’ he goes on, his eyes flicking upwards to the top floor of the castle, almost imperceptibly.
‘And he doesn’t accept visitors in his private quarters, either.
But if you’d like to come inside, I’m sure we can sit down together and have a chat about this. A calm one. Without any guns.’
‘We can talk here,’ insists Izzie, folding her arms in an I won’t budge kind of way.
‘You can do what you like,’ announces Bex, standing up abruptly. ‘I’m going inside. I’m not sitting in this hot tub while you all argue about whatever it is. My fingers are starting to go all wrinkly, and I hate that.’
She steps delicately out of the tub, water cascading off her perfect body as she goes. Everyone falls silent as she walks slowly down the steps and strolls casually over to a wooden hammock which we’ve hung our robes on, her head high, shoulders back.
‘Did you get that, Daniel?’ she hisses at her husband as she drapes the robe over her shoulders, influencer style.
‘I’m coming too,’ says Millie, getting up to follow her, clearly unaware of the clown makeup still smeared over her face.
Nevertheless, Callum still turns bright red at the sight of them both, and then goes redder still when Yasmin follows suit, walking like a model in a runway show.
After a few seconds, Zara heaves a world-weary sigh and does her own cat-walk, adding a sassy little head toss as she reaches for her robe, and then I reluctantly haul myself out of the water and go splashing clumsily across the deck, horribly aware of the fact that my swimsuit’s giving me a wedgie, and Hunter’s right there, watching me.
When I’m finally back in my dressing gown, however, I risk a quick glance in his direction, and see a broad smile on his face, which I shyly return.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all?
‘Right,’ says Callum, clearing his throat importantly, once we’re all gathered on the deck. ‘So that’s one full Scottish breakfast, one plate o’ kippers, soup and a sandwich. Should one of us maybe be writing this down?’
‘Come on,’ says Hunter, his smile disappearing. ‘Let’s get everyone inside.’