Chapter 16
16
T he next day, Cally had spent a few dreamy hours tucked up on the sofa with a book she’d found on a shelf next to the dresser in the kitchen. Logan had popped down to the local pub with Alastair for some much-needed catch-up time. Cally had been more than happy not to go and had not required much persuasion to snuggle up in the sitting room and do her own thing. With her companion being a hot chocolate with marshmallows on top and rather too many shortbread biscuits she had cocooned herself in not doing anything apart from switching her body into recharge mode. After a long time working three jobs, it had been a long time coming. The rest and relaxation by way of the gorgeous estate air and understated luxury of the cottage suited her well. She could get used to the life.
After lazing on the sofa and getting lost in the book, she proceeded to wallow in the bath with Scottish bath salts handmade in the local town, no less. Now, she was standing in front of a long mirror in the bedroom in her underwear, trying to decide between the two outfits she’d brought for the family dinner. From what she’d gathered, the dinner was not quite a spaghetti bolognese on a tray in front of the telly kind of affair. Oh no. It was an occasion where one dressed up in a nice frock and shiny shoes. To give her a choice on the night, she’d brought a simple little black dress in a soft crepe with a slash neck and half sleeves and a pair of heavy satin trousers with a plain velvet jacket with a nipped-in waist and beautiful cut. She put the dress on, looked out at the mist rolling in from the hills, felt as if she was going to be too chilly, took the dress off, and pulled on the trousers. Topping them with a pretty high-neck blouse with a ruffle, she shoved the jacket over the top and critically analysed the result. Standing back from the mirror, she tilted her head as she assessed her reflection. She would probably only ever admit it to herself, but she wasn’t half bad. The trousers were classy and a nice change from her usual tights and skirt scenario, and the velvet jacket added a touch of luxury that felt appropriate for a family dinner at a Scottish estate. She’d done well.
Not bad, de Pfeffer , she said in her head, as she smoothed down the front of the jacket. Cinderella will go to the ball.
Dabbing a few blobs of foundation on her skin, she patted it in with a foundation brush, swiped a chunky black eyeshadow across her top lid, and added a load of mascara, some highlighter, and a nice pale pink lipstick. As she blended, she could hear the sound of Logan, returning from the pub, downstairs. Just as she was finishing up with another layer of mascara, Logan came through the bedroom door. His eyes widened as he took in Cally's appearance.
'Wow, you look incredible, Blackcurrant. I like it very much.' Logan laughed and joked.
Cally blushed. Inside, she was delighted by his reaction. 'Thanks. It's not too much?'
Logan shook his head. 'Not at all. Just right. It's perfect. However, I might have to keep a close eye on you. You can’t trust this lot.'
Cally laughed at the same time remembering when Logan’s ex-wife had relished in informing her how the Henry-Hicks men were known to wander. 'Behave, you. Now go on, get ready. We don't want to be late. How was your catch-up with Alastair?'
‘Yeah, good. He’s up to something, I can tell.’
‘Like what? What do you think he’s up to?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘How can you tell?’
Logan held his hand out in front of him. ‘Because I’ve grown up with him. We’ve been together since we were very young, and I know what he’s like. I can read him like a book.’
‘Ooh, I wonder what it is?’
‘I assume we’ll soon find out.’ Logan rolled his eyes. ‘He likes drama and an announcement. No doubt he’s got something up his sleeve for tonight.’
As Logan disappeared into the en-suite for a shower, Cally took the jacket off and pottered around tidying up the bedroom. She mused what Alastair might be up to. She’d never really told Logan that she wasn’t too keen on Alastair. Not that he had ever done anything nasty. In actual fact, in his own peculiar way, he’d always been nice to her pretty much since the moment she’d arrived on the scene. He was just up himself and totally unaware of the entitled existence he led, and that rubbed Cally totally up the wrong way.
Logan emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips. Cally swallowed. The view wasn’t too bad as he made his way to the wardrobe.
'Yes?' he teased, catching her eye in the mirror.
Cally rolled her eyes. 'Just get dressed, you muppet. We're going to be late.'
Logan chuckled and pulled out a white shirt and dark trousers. Unlike her, with a quick spray of aftershave and a jacket, he was ready in a jiffy. Cally slipped on her heels, and Logan whistled. ‘You look gorgeous. I'm really glad you're here, Cal. I know all this can be a bit overwhelming if you’re not used to it.'
'It is a bit. But I'm glad I'm here too. It really is beautiful up here.’
‘I knew you’d love it. You just have to get through meeting everyone else this evening. Though if Aunt Agatha starts on about her stamp collection, you're on your own.'
Cally laughed. 'Noted.’
‘Right, come on, let's go face the Henry-Hicks clan.'
L ogan closed the door behind them and Cally inhaled a sharp breath at the chilly evening, more than glad that she’d decided on the velvet jacket outfit. Although they’d had lovely weather, once the sun was on its way down, it was cool. All through the grounds, uplights lit up the ancient trees, and tiny little lights in the flower beds beside the path lit the way to the house. Lights glowed from every window, and there was a faint sound of music and laughter drifting in the breeze.
Logan squeezed Cally’s hand. 'Ready? Warm enough? The temperature has certainly dropped.'
‘I am, yep, I’m fine.’
A few minutes later, they’d hustled past the sunken garden, along a tree-lined path, and bypassed the main front entrance with its vast porch and steps. Taking a side path, they entered a large sitting room with a huge fireplace via a conservatory door. Cally tried not to let her chin drop to the floor as she was met with towering ceilings, panelled walls, beautiful old rugs, warmth, candlelight, wealth and breeding just about every way she looked. A buzz of conversation greeted them. Cally plastered on her best smile, flicked her “I’m okay” switch at the back of her throat, and reminded herself that she'd faced tougher challenges than meeting a few posh people for a weekend bite to eat. How bad could a Henry-Hicks family dinner really be?
She looked around at people chatting and quickly assessed how her outfit held up. Spot on by Cally de Pfeffer. She had most definitely got it right. Maybe she was getting used to how the upper class did things, after all. She chuckled to herself and mused as a tall, distinguished-looking man approached them with a smile. She’d learnt that faking it until she made it was half the battle. She was beginning to be a pro.
With a champagne flute in her right hand and her left hand tucked loosely into the pocket of her satin trousers, Cally most certainly looked the part. The important thing was, now she felt the part too. Not totally. Oh no. There was a little bit of her that still prickled when she conversed with the Henry-Hicks of the world, but most of her was now okay with it. She’d learnt to accept that she was different and that nearly all of the problem with that was hers and nobody else’s. In actual fact, no one else was really interested, which in itself was surprising. The Henry-Hicks of the world were so elevated that they more or less didn’t really care. They didn’t have insight into a world like Cally’s and they didn't want to. They were so very removed from it that it went right over their heads. Once Cally had clocked that, she’d run with it and, in many situations, had realised that it was more than true. Tonight, as people sat around on beautiful old furniture, drank too much, and chatted, it was exactly the same. No one gave a hoot about whether or not she felt out of place. She’d learnt to suck it up and bowl on in.
Pretending to be interested in Logan’s aunt’s stamp collection, she observed the beauty of the room around her, taking in the details of the ornate ceiling and gorgeous old rugs. Her eyes darted around the room as she nodded politely at Logan's Aunt Agatha's enthusiastic description of her stamps.
'I have one from the first postal run in the Highlands. Can you imagine, dear? A time when getting a letter might take weeks! I rather cherish that stamp.'
'I can imagine you must do. Fascinating,' Cally said as she gazed at the gigantic gilded mirror with a slightly spotted surface alongside the fireplace.
Agatha smiled. 'Of course, some say the stamp is cursed. There are those who believe that the stamp has brought bad luck to every collector who owned it. But that's just superstition. Do you believe in things like that?'
Cally nodded, not in the slightest bit interested. She played along and smiled. 'Oh yes, quite. Superstition, absolutely.' Cally’s eyes drifted to a beautiful seafoam green sofa where Logan was deep in conversation with his cousin, Alastair.
'I also have a particularly rare one from up this way with a mistake on it. Only fifty were ever printed.'
'Really?' Cally tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice, but all she really wanted to do was stand and gape at the exquisiteness of the room around her. A pair of large, pastel green antique lamps flanked the beautiful sofa, huge fresh floral arrangements were dotted around the room, and a thick plush rug felt amazing underneath her feet.
'It was quite the scandal when they realised the misprint.’
'How dreadful.'
'Are you alright, dear?' Aunt Agatha's voice cut through Cally's observations. 'You seem a bit distracted.'
Cally turned back to the older woman. 'Ahh, sorry. I was just taking in this room. It’s so lovely in here.'
'Ah, right, you’ve never been here before! I see, yes. It is rather splendid, isn't it? All the bits and pieces have been in the family for generations. Every piece has a story. This room hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve been coming here apart from the odd upgrade or two.'
‘Oh really? I love that.’ Cally gestured to a pair of floral armchairs tucked either side of the fireplace. 'Those chairs, for instance. They're beautiful. Are they very old?'
'Oh, those, gosh yes. They belonged to my grandmother. She brought them all the way from London when she married into the family. Apparently, the story goes that she caused quite a stir, I can tell you. She was heavily into fashion at the time. I suppose it’s a classic style these days.'
As Agatha began to ramble on about her predecessor's arrival in Scotland, Cally saw Logan watching her from across the room in the reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. He raised his glass in a funny little toast and flicked his eyes upwards.
Just as Cally was hoping that someone, anyone, would come and save her, Logan strolled over, joined the conversation and nodded in the direction of the dining room. ‘Time for us to move in there. I hope you two lovely ladies are hungry.’
Cally was ready to eat just about anything and run far from Agatha. ‘I am.’
‘Let the feasting begin.’
The dining room was just as good if not better than the sitting room they’d come from. Though Cally wouldn’t have called it a dining room. In her opinion, it was more like a banqueting hall. Grand and opulent, it gave off a sense of historical elegance, refined luxury and cosiness all at the same time. No mean feat. Beautiful old panelled walls painted in a soft, pastel green, intricate high ceilings and coving topped the walls, and very tall windows were draped with heavy, pleated curtains in shades of green and gold. Running along the centre of the room, a long, polished wooden dining table showed off tall, slender candlesticks with white candles, a gigantic chandelier threw sparkles around the room, and each table setting held a small wrapped gift. A Little Chef this was not.
Logan pulled out a high-backed chair made of dark wood, its seat upholstered in a deep, rich fabric. Cally sat down, tucked herself in, put her feet together, inhaled and stared at an ornate painting in a gilded frame at the far end of the room. She thought about her tiny cramped flat over the deli in the little seaside town. She’d come a very long way indeed.