Chapter 34
Most of the villagers, it turns out, are with me.
Izzie, Ian and a few others, however, are still hell-bent on heading back to the village as soon as the tree can be removed; which, they say, they’re going to make happen, even if they have to haul it out of the road themselves with their bare hands.
‘Come on,’ says Hunter, reaching up and putting his arms around my waist. ‘Let’s get you down from there.’
He lifts me down from the Land Rover as easily as he lifted me onto the pony a few days ago, and I try not to think about how good it feels being close to him as I slide down his chest until my feet are back on the ground.
‘So, that was quite some speech,’ he says as my eyes draw level with his. ‘What on earth were you thinking, Rosie?’
I shrug, not entirely sure of this myself.
‘I thought I was trying to help,’ I say. ‘I thought if I could just make sure they knew how hard it’s been for you, and that you’re not this horrible, penny-pinching city boy they seem to think you are then maybe they’d understand. That’s . . . that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?’
Hunter’s eyes crinkle with amusement.
‘I am technically a city boy,’ he says. ‘I’m only a country one in my heart.’
‘That’s the only place it counts,’ I say stubbornly, very aware of the fact that his arms are still around my waist, and that he’s making no move to step away.
‘Ach, Rosie, I wish that was true,’ he says sadly. ‘I wish wanting something was enough to make it happen. You have no idea how much I wish that.’
He looks deep into my eyes, and I’m not totally sure if he’s talking about the city versus the country . . . or something else.
‘You could make it happen, though,’ I point out, breathlessly. ‘You could be whatever you want to be.’
Our faces are almost touching. Not far away, Izzie and Ian are arguing over whether or not it might be possible to cut up the tree with one of the bread knives they brought with them, and two of the other men who stayed behind have started a ‘sword’ fight with two of the fallen branches.
But, to me, there’s only the two of us: me and Hunter and the utterly undeniable spark between us that’s making it almost impossible for me to pull myself away from his arms, even though I know I have to.
‘And so could you, Rosie,’ Hunter replies, his voice soft. ‘Have you not worked that out yet?’
He leans towards me, and I jump back as if I’ve been burned, remembering at the last second that he might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, but there’s no hope of a future between us; even if he hadn’t neglected to tell me who he really was.
Which means kissing Hunter Stuart – again – will only lead to heartbreak.
And I’m going home tomorrow, anyway. So, walk away, Rosie Winter, before you get hurt.
‘Um, I wanted to check in with you, anyway,’ he says, flinching slightly at the speed with which I move away from him. ‘To see how you are after all that stuff about Dougie and Agnes? It must’ve been a shock.’
‘It was,’ I reply, remembering the guilt on Agnes’s face when she apologised to me.
‘I still can’t believe they did all of that.
I’m OK, though,’ I add, seeing his eyes cloud with worry.
‘I actually feel a lot better now that I know who was doing it, and why. And now they know I’m not spying for WanderNest, I guess I’ll be able to have my first decent night’s sleep since I got here. ’
It’s just a shame it’ll also be the last.
‘I’ll be having a word with them both,’ Hunter says quietly. ‘It’s horrible, what they did to you, Rosie. Dougie in particular. And as for Agnes . . .’
‘Please don’t sack her,’ I say quickly. ‘I know she shouldn’t have moved the clothes, but she was only doing what the Laird told her to do, Hunter. She’s probably terrified of him. I know I would be. And she really needs this job.’
I look up at him pleadingly, and an expression I can’t quite read briefly crosses his face.
‘I won’t sack her,’ he says at last. ‘I will be having strong words with her, though, Rosie. I can’t have staff members messing with the guests’ stuff like that. Not if this hotel’s going to be a success.’
‘Is that still what you’re aiming for, then?’ I ask, my heart filling with hope. ‘To make it a success? Or are you still considering the WanderNest offer?’
Hunter looks at me, as if he’s considering how to answer this.
‘I’m considering everything,’ he says, his eyes on mine. ‘All options are still on the table as far as I’m concerned.’
I nod slowly, wondering if I’m one of the options he’s talking about; although I don’t see how I possibly can be.
‘Um, anyway,’ I say, trying to speak as if this is a perfectly normal conversation we’ve been having, and my heart isn’t hammering wildly in my chest just from being close to him.
‘If the rest of the villagers are determined to leave today, we’re going to need a plan. Here’s what I think we should do . . .’
* * *
I send Hunter off to the tool shed to rustle up everything he can find that could be used to cut up a tree, and Ian to the hotel to muster some more volunteers.
For a split second, I think they’re going to refuse to cooperate, but then I point out that if they don’t at least try to work together, no one’s going to be going anywhere, at which point they both do as I’ve asked.
‘Come on, Izzie,’ I say, taking her by the arm and steering her back towards the hotel. ‘We’re going to need some more of that amazing turnip soup of yours, to keep everyone’s strength up.’
‘It was leek and tattie soup,’ she protests. ‘And I don’t think we’ve any leeks left. Plenty o’ tatties, though, so I suppose I could sort something out for you, Rosie.’
‘Great,’ I reply, privately relieved that I’m not going to be confronted with any more turnips. ‘See if you can round up some helpers; there are a lot of people to feed.’
Izzie nods her agreement, her eyes lighting up as she catches sight of Yasmin, coming wandering towards us.
‘You’ll do,’ she says, taking the surprised influencer by the arm, and frogmarching her towards the kitchen. I follow them down to the long, whitewashed room in the castle basement, where I push open the door to the pantry, looking for some other snacks I can take to the workers outside.
‘Oh, my God!’
I let out a shrill squeal as my foot makes contact with something soft and squishy.
‘Rosie? Is that you?’
The voice from the floor is a familiar one, and I force myself to look down, gasping in surprise when I spot Sabrina crouched in a corner, her legs folded neatly underneath her as she tucks into a large chocolate cake, which is smeared around her lips in a way that reminds me of my niece at her first birthday party.
‘Um, Sabrina?’
It’s obviously her, but the sight in front of me is so unlike her that I feel I have to check.
‘Close that door behind you, would you?’ she orders, sounding more like her usual self. ‘I don’t want Dante to find me in here.’
‘Er, sure.’
I push the door shut, then turn back to her.
‘Are you OK, Sabrina?’ I ask cautiously. ‘It’s just, I’ve never seen you . . .’ I’m about to say ‘eat’, but change my mind at the last minute. ‘I’ve never seen you like this before,’ I say instead.
‘Oh, Rosie,’ she sighs, sticking the fork she’s holding into the cake.
‘Of course you haven’t. I’ve been on a diet since I was in my early twenties.
That’s when I started the business. That’s how long I’ve been trying to make a success of my life; to stay in control of it all.
And now I don’t know why I even bothered, because I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked for anyway.
So now I just think I might as well have eaten the bloody cake when I had the chance.
You know? Always eat the cake,’ she adds, offering me the fork. ‘Don’t be me, whatever you do.’
‘If this is about Luna, and what she said earlier,’ I say carefully, crouching down until we’re at eye level, and pushing away the fork she’s holding out to me, ‘you could just, you know, apologise to her, instead of . . . well, this.’
I gesture towards the cake, and Sabrina stares down at it miserably.
‘She said she hates me,’ she says, her voice wobbly.
‘I think everyone hates me, Rosie. I probably deserve it, to be honest. But this business has been my entire life, and it’s just so hard to watch it fail that I suppose it was easier to blame Luna than blame myself.
And now I’ve lost Luna too, which is awful, because she was a really good assistant. And she was my best friend.’
She sniffs loudly, and I reach over and awkwardly pat her on the arm, feeling a bit like I’m petting a lion who might turn on me at any second.
‘Luna doesn’t hate you,’ I remind her. ‘She took that bit back, remember? She said it was the way you’d been treating her she hated, not you personally. I think maybe if you just tried talking to her? Maybe you could figure something out together?’
I let the suggestion hang in the air for Sabrina to consider. She sniffs again, but doesn’t try to argue, which I take as a good sign.
‘Just have a think about it,’ I suggest. ‘Luna’s still here. Only because the driveway’s blocked so she can’t leave yet, obviously, but still . . . you have time to fix this, Sabrina – the thing with Luna and the campaign. You can do this.’
I straighten up again, uncomfortable with my new role as motivational speaker and life coach.
‘That’s just it, though,’ says Sabrina quietly. ‘I don’t think I can do it.’
She reaches for the cake again, and I pull it quickly out of reach.
‘Of course you can,’ I say firmly. ‘You’re Sabrina Bates. You’re . . .’
I’m about to say ‘terrifying’, but stop myself just in time. ‘You’re really good at what you do,’ I say instead. ‘Anyone can see that. You’re just having a bit of a wobble, that’s all. You’ll be back to your usual, confident self in no time.’
‘But I’m not confident at all, Rosie,’ she replies. ‘I just pretend. And now I’m about to be caught out, because I planned this big, elaborate party for the hotel launch tonight – you know, the one I was telling you all about, with the countdown to midnight?’
I nod, vaguely recalling something about a countdown.
‘I invited all these people,’ she goes on.
‘Mostly from the hotel industry, but some local celebrities, too. Important people, you know? And I’d booked this great band – well, Luna had.
They were supposed to be the best ceilidh band in the Highlands, she said.
But I’ve just had a message saying all flights into Inverness have been cancelled because of the storm.
The rail lines are down, too, apparently.
So now none of them can make it, and everything’s ruined. ’
Her voice breaks on the last syllable, and I risk another quick pat on the arm as I consider the fact that, for all her bravado, Sabrina’s turned out to be yet another one who’s faking it until they make it.
In Sabrina’s case, though, she actually has made it; she just needs a bit of help remembering that.
And I think I know someone who can help with that.
‘Um, I think you might have to forget about the band and the celebrities,’ I tell her, not wanting to add to her distress by telling her about the tree currently blocking the hotel driveway, on top of everything else.
‘I’m not sure it matters, though. No one cares about celebrities, and all of those other people you mentioned, though, Sabrina.
They’re not the “important people” you think they are.
So I think you should go ahead with the party.
It’s just the guest list you might need to think about changing. ’
Sabrina listens carefully as I outline my plan to her, and, a few minutes later, I leave the pantry with a fresh list of party-planning tasks on top of my existing villager-mediation duties, and the spark of an idea making my heart beat a little faster.
I might not be leaving the Highlands as the best version of myself, like I was promised, and I might not ever see any of these people again after tonight, but I can at least make sure we all go out with a bang.
And if I can help mend some bridges between Hunter and the villagers in the process – and make up for whatever damage I might have caused with my stupid video – then so much the better.
I just might need a little bit of help is all . . .