Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
‘Darling, welcome to your homecoming upon the SS Margaret!’ Dom removed the scarf he’d tied over her eyes, and Sorrel blinked, dazzled by the scene in front of her.
When she’d turned up to Dom and Farid’s house – a lovely converted barn down a quiet lane – Dom had told her that they’d organised a surprise, and, before she’d even had a chance to take her coat off, he’d ushered into his SUV, tied a floral scarf over her eyes and driven her to a ‘secret location’, playing ABBA all the way there, which was, in his words, ‘to throw you off the scent, missus.’
‘Isn’t it a hoot!’ Dom exclaimed as Sorrel took it all in.
‘Um. Wow. Very Overboard with Goldie Hawn.’ She couldn’t help but smile, because Dom’s energy was infectious; he was as excited as a child on Christmas morning.
‘Exactly. I knew you’d see the vision.’ Dom chuckled. ‘But with slightly more appropriate dinner dress. Those swimming costumes were so high in the leg.’
They had walked into a large living area, sumptuously furnished with Eighties-style upholstered, built-in mahogany sofas along both walls.
The fabric on the sofas was a worn but still serviceable maroon velveteen fabric that featured a large geometric design in blue and purple.
The carpet was also purple, and the made-to-measure curtains that lined the yacht’s windows were a plain maroon.
All in all, Sorrel felt as though she had walked into an aubergine.
At the centre of the room, there was a round mahogany dinner table, at which sat Heather, Farid and Tam Blackwood. There were two empty chairs for her and Dom.
So, it was an aubergine, but it was also an ambush.
Sorrel felt her cheeks blush as Tam stood up, politely, holding out the free chair next to him.
‘Hello, Sorrel,’ he said. ‘I feel like it’s your birthday or something. Happy un-birthday.’
‘Oh… thank you… I don’t have to sit there,’ she said, and then instantly wondered why, of all things, she’d chosen to say that. How rude. ‘There’s two chairs, I mean…’ she trailed off. Now you’re making it worse, she thought. Just. Stop. Speaking.
‘Actually, the place holder says you have to sit here.’ Tam reached over and picked up the little piece of card that had been folded with an exact little crease, on which her name had been written in flawless ink calligraphy.
‘Oh,’ she replied, feeling her blush intensify. ‘Right.’
‘Come in, come in.’ Dom led her in and took her coat; he hung both of theirs up on a series of hooks by the entrance. She sat down between Tam and Farid.
‘This is all such a surprise!’ she laughed, nervously.
‘Do you like it? Dom thought you would. It was his idea to do the abduction thing. Personally, I wouldn’t have gone with the scarf over the eyes, but he wanted to add some drama.’ Farid gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘How are you, petal? You look a bit overwhelmed.’
‘She’s fine, she’s fine. Drinks!’ Dom went over to a vintage mahogany drinks cabinet that could have doubled as a wardrobe, opened it with a flourish and took out some champagne glasses.
‘Kir royale, to begin! Farid, my angel, my sweet, my love, can you get the champers from the fridge?’ He poured a little of the blackcurrant liqueur into each glass and placed one on the table in front of every guest. Farid reappeared and topped each one up with champagne.
‘Welcome to the SS Margaret!’ Dom raised his glass for a toast. ‘And welcome home to Scotland’s most gorgeous prodigal daughter, Sorrel Balhennie!’
They all clinked their glasses together.
‘Can I just say, it’s not actually called the SS Margaret,’ Farid protested. ‘The boat’s official name was The Scottish Thistle, but we both hate that name. So, we’re still trying to think of a new one. All suggestions welcome.’
‘What’s wrong with the SS Margaret?’ Dom asked, in mock outrage. ‘One of the UK’s finest prime ministers.’
‘Dom. Stop.’ Farid swatted his hand towards his partner. ‘I suggested The Julianna Margulies, but Dom doesn’t like it.’
‘It’s not that she isn’t a wonderful actress. I just thought we should have something with a little more clout and glamour,’ Dom protested.
‘She was legendary in ER. Generation-defining,’ Farid pouted.
‘Hmm. I wanted The Joan Collins, of course.’ Dom raised his hands to the ceiling, as if to indicate Joan’s godliness.
‘Too schmaltzy.’ Farid made a noise like a buzzer on a quiz show. ‘Veto.’
‘What about something Scottish?’ Tam asked. ‘Does it have to be a lady’s name?’
‘A boat is always a lady, Tam,’ Dom said, seriously. ‘Everyone, please try the crudités. All locally sourced, apart from the olives.’
‘Of course. My apologies.’ Tam chuckled.
‘Well, what about Mary Somerville? She was Scottish, and one of the first women to be admitted to the Royal Astronomical Society. Or Elsie Inglis. She was a doctor and a suffragist, and she founded a number of Scottish women’s hospitals.
She ran hospital units in World War One, I believe. ’
Sorrel had forgotten that Tam, who, as well as being annoyingly good at sports, handy with tools, and now ran his own business as a builder and general renovation contractor, and who looked like a Scottish Hugo Boss model – tall and buff in all the right ways, with totally no idea how hot he was – was also a big reader. He’d always loved history.
Damn you, she thought, looking at the napkin in her lap. Why do you have to be so perfect?
‘Or Mary, Queen of Scots,’ Heather suggested. ‘You can’t get more iconic than that.’
‘Those are very good suggestions, you two.’ Farid pointed his finger at them both. ‘See? We want something classy.’
‘You’re right. Maybe we should name it after Heather Balhennie.
Always the lady!’ Dom twinkled at Heather.
‘It’s been an absolute age, missus. I hear that nuptials are in the offing?
Dare I ask?’ he trilled. ‘And look at the rock!’ He took her hand and held Heather’s engagement ring up to the light.
‘Goodness. Is that real, darling? Because if it is, he’s a keeper. ’
‘It’s real, and I’m definitely keeping him.’ Heather giggled, and began telling Dom all about her upcoming wedding.
‘Hello,’ Tam said to Sorrel, shyly, as Farid got up to get some mini quiches that he’d made.
‘Hello,’ she replied, also shyly. ‘Sorry about… you know. Earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just a bit discombobulated, seeing you all here.’
‘When he whipped the scarf off? Yeah. It was… a moment.’ Tam snorted a laugh under his breath.
‘You know Dom.’ Sorrel shrugged.
‘I do. They’re such a great couple. Beth and I used to go in there all the time. I hadn’t been in much, since then.’ He looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Sorry. Is that strange to say? I didn’t mean it to be. They were really kind to her, towards the end.’
‘Of course it’s not strange. I know that everyone had a life when I was away. I’m glad that you all stayed friends.’ Sorrel took his hand and squeezed it.
‘They really missed you. They’d always talk about you. We all did. Beth didn’t mind hearing about you. She was a kind person. She knew that we’d been together from when we were young.’
Tam looked down at their intertwined hands. This time, it was he who extricated his hand from hers.
‘Beth sounds like a really good person.’ Sorrel felt sad at the loss of his touch.
They seemed to be having a series of moments when they accidentally touched each other and then one of them would pull away; it felt symptomatic of what had happened between them.
Only, she had been the one who had pulled away.
Tam had never been anything but sure about her.
‘You don’t have to apologise for talking about her. ’
‘All right. Well, anyway, Dom called me up a couple of days ago and said you’d been into the café, and that they were going to plan a special dinner. Asked me to come along. I hope it’s all right that I did.’
‘Again. It’s fine.’ She looked up into his deep hazel eyes, wanting to reassure him. ‘I…’
‘Quiche Lorraine! With a little salad garnish,’ Farid interrupted what she was about to say, leaning between Tam and Sorrel and laying a plate in front of each of them.
‘Sorry, was I interrupting a moment between you two?’ He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Sorrel wondered whether Dom and Farid might not have been doing a little matchmaking this evening.
‘No, nothing at all.’ She smiled innocently at her friend, taking her plate. ‘Farid, you know I love quiche.’ Sorrel was not about to confess her complicated feelings for her ex-boyfriend right here in the middle of a dinner party.
Not least because she had no idea how her ex-boyfriend – her hot, male-model-esque builder-handyman ex-boyfriend with a tragic past who made thoughtful comments about women’s history – argh – felt about her.
Sorrel knew how she felt: it might have been the Kir royale, but she felt distinctly hot under the collar. Sitting next to Tam (she suspected the seating plan was absolutely on purpose) also meant that she had an unfettered view of the way his muscular thighs stretched against his black trousers.
‘Just a little amuse-bouche before I bring out the buttered shrimp with Melba toast, and then it’s lobster tagliatelle, followed by… drum roll,’ Farid continued, catching Sorrel’s eye and winking as she looked up at him and away from Tam’s thigh. ‘If I can have everyone’s attention?’
Heather, Sorrel and Tam began drumming obediently on the table with their fingers. ‘Baked Alaska!’ Farid exclaimed with a grin.
‘We decided we’d do an Eighties-themed menu for you, since we’re on the boat,’ Farid explained to Sorrel. ‘It’s not too retro, is it? We should have all worn fascinators.’
‘Farid. It’s absolutely brilliant. Thank you.’ Sorrel leaned her head towards Farid’s ample torso affectionately.
‘It’s an absolute delight to have you here. We’re both made up.’ Farid clucked. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. ‘And don’t think I didn’t just I-spy what you were just looking at.’
‘Wow. Darling, you have outdone yourself!’ Dom took a bite of his quiche. ‘This is delicious.’
‘Thank you, my angel.’ Farid gave himself the final dish with a quiche on and sat down again.
Heather leaned across the table. ‘This is fun, isn’t it? I haven’t seen Dom and Farid in ages.’
‘It’s lovely. You kept it a secret, though.’ Sorrel grinned at her sister.
‘You can talk.’ Heather raised an eyebrow. ‘Bluebell’s arranged a video chat for tomorrow, by the way. So, it might not be a great idea to have too many Kirs. Not unless you want to tell us your big secret with a massive hangover.’
‘Oh. All right. Thanks. I think I’ll have one more, though. Dutch courage, in that case.’ Sorrel reached for her glass just as Dom got up and went to the drinks cabinet.
‘Top-ups!’ he trilled, coming back with the bottle of blackcurrant liqueur; Farid had also brought another bottle of champagne to the table. ‘Miss Sorrel?’
‘Yes, please.’ She held out her glass. It was a relief to know that tomorrow, her secret wouldn’t be a secret from her sisters any more. But the thought of having to tell them was also deeply nerve-wracking. She took a sip of her refreshed cocktail gratefully, feeling it steady her sudden nerves.
For now, she could enjoy a lovely night with her friends.
Her heart was full, just then, and she was grateful.
Grateful for whatever devilment that had filled Dom in inviting Tam and seating her next to him; grateful for the lovely meal in front of her; grateful for being included, for being back home.
Tomorrow was another day, as the saying went. Tomorrow, everything might change forever.