Chapter 5
The rest of the castle is just as spectacular as the kitchen.
On the ground floor, Ollie shows me a magnificent dining room, with intricately patterned flooring and a table you could imagine kings and queens dining at.
A huge drawing room with gold-edged cornicing where I can envision the Victorian gentry dancing at grand balls, and a guest lounge with vast windows, which is nowhere near as cosy as the far more demure private living room he also shows me, with an unlit fireplace along one wall, a big TV, and more of a dark, masculine feel than the other places.
‘This is my favourite place in the house.’ Ollie invites me in to what is the first normal-sized room I’ve seen so far.
‘The only room that I’ve made my own since I inherited the castle.
I set out to pick the comfiest sofa known to mankind, so feel free to test that out anytime and tell me I made the right choice.
TV’s there. Remote’s on the coffee table.
It’s got all the usual streaming options.
It buffers a bit because the broadband speed out here isn’t wonderful, but it’s perfectly watchable.
It might come as a culture shock to someone used to city life though. ’
‘With an entire castle to decorate, I don’t think I’m going to have time for watching TV, do you?’
‘Yes. You’re not going to work all the time, Lula. Not on my watch.’
‘Lu,’ I correct him.
‘Sorry. Lu feels horribly overfamiliar when we’ve literally just met, even though I see the logic behind it.’
‘You’d better get used to it, Ol.’
I like the way his face changes when he laughs so unexpectedly, like the laugh has caught him by surprise, and it loosens something inside him and makes him realise that I really am all-in on this, because he seems to relax a bit.
‘Either way, TV is never better than at Christmas and I have a secret addiction to Christmas films. I intend to watch all of them in December – I hope you’ll join me.’
‘Before you say things like that, you should be aware that I cry at Christmas films.’
‘So do I!’
Try as I might, I can’t help grinning at his earnestness, even though he has no idea how messy the end of It’s a Wonderful Life can get with me.
Ollie carries my bag and suitcase as he continues showing me around, through elegant hallways and rooms that belong to another century.
‘Have you given any thought to what you want from the décor?’ I ask as I follow him up the red-carpeted stairs.
‘Traditional. Old-fashioned, cosy, vintage. No glitz and glamour. They’re used to glitz and glamour in a way that we can’t possibly compete with, so I want to go in the opposite direction.
A warm and welcoming family home. A normal family home, where my family actually lives.
The Christmas decorations you’ll find here are old now, so you might find some things of use in there.
It’s all about the kids too. The bosses have teenagers, and the holier-than-thou co-worker has younger sons, so whatever we can do that kids might like, let’s do that. ’
At the landing at the top of the staircase, he opens a door that leads to a balcony overlooking the grounds, and even though darkness has long since fallen and it’s too dark to see anything other than the outlines of a few trees across the estate, the only sound is the whisper of the sea beyond, and I can imagine sitting here on a bright sunny day with a cold drink and a good book.
If you closed the door behind you, you could hide out here and never be found, and that’s a surprisingly nice thought.
Back inside, Ollie hauls my bags towards the staircase to the right, where it curves around the wall and leaves the entrance hallway behind.
‘How do you usually decorate?’ I lingered too long on the balcony and have to rush after him.
‘I don’t.’
‘From what you said about Christmas films, I didn’t peg you as a Christmas-hating Grinch…’
‘I’m always away for Christmas with the company, so what’s the point in putting up decorations? This is my first Christmas at home in forever, so…’
For some reason, that makes me really sad. To live in a spectacular place like this and never spend Christmas there just seems wrong, somehow. ‘So it has to be special for you too.’
Ollie shakes his head. ‘This isn’t about me.
It’s about getting the promotion and getting through those five days without anyone realising that we haven’t been married for the past few years.
’ He glances down at me from a few stairs ahead.
‘In terms of decorations, the nutcracker outside the front door has to stay. My mum loved the ballet, and he ended up being the last Christmas gift my dad ever bought her, so I make sure he stands guard every year now. I don’t have any other requirements.
Your portfolio was spectacular, so whatever vision you have, go for it. I trust you.’
The words awaken a fluttery feeling inside me.
At Calloways, the one thing I never had was trust. Every window was meticulously presided over – by my team manager, by Patricia, and by Head Office.
Window layouts were generated in 3D templates and had to be implemented to precision, and the creativity of working in smaller shops is something I’ve missed since joining such a large firm.
To hear him openly say that is a lovely confidence boost.
‘There are some old photos in the library, so—’
I gasp so loudly that it makes him jump. ‘You do have a library!’
‘What self-respecting castle doesn’t?’ He stops with my suitcase and waits for me to catch up, while I barely restrain myself from letting my noise of excitement burst out.
‘You’re going to show me right now, yes?’
He hesitates. ‘I would, but the library is better seen in daylight. Trust me on that. The books are mostly old but feel free to read any of them. Can’t beat curling up in front of a crackling fire with a good book at this time of year.’
I can’t deny the little thrill that goes through me at having something else in common. There is nothing sexier than a man who reads.
When we reach the second floor, he holds open another set of double doors that lead to a wide hallway.
It’s carpeted with a luxurious if old-fashioned carpet that’s looking a touch threadbare in places.
There are four doors on one side, and the wall opposite has a row of windows with red velvet curtains held back by gold tiebacks.
They overlook the courtyard and driveway, and in daylight, they must let in a lot of light, but by this time, they’re only letting in a draught.
There are radiators on the walls between windows, but they’re clearly not switched on.
Now we’ve left the fire-warmed rooms downstairs, the Kintyre chill is working its way back into my bones, and I’m missing the coat I left in the coat room. I rub my forearms to warm myself up.
‘Over there is my office.’ Ollie stops and points out a door in the corner. ‘Strongest Wi-Fi signal in the house. If my car is in and you can’t find me, chances are I’ll be in there working. And these are the bedrooms, and I have some explaining to— You’re freezing.’
‘I’m fi—’ Before I can even get the word out, he lets go of my suitcase and drops my holdall onto it, shrugs his chunky-knit cardigan off and holds it out to me.
I almost laugh at the gesture. He can’t seriously be offering me his own cardigan. ‘No, don’t be silly. I brought jumpers with me, I just need to get one out.’
He glances at the suitcase and then takes a step closer, holding the cardigan out more resolutely.
‘I insist. This is my fault. I can’t afford the heating, so we use the fires downstairs and only heat the rooms we’re in.
There’s a wee electric heater in your bedroom to plug in when you need it, but the bigger areas have to be left.
You can’t imagine the bill for keeping this place warm throughout. ’
I grimace because I can. It was painful enough to keep my previous one-bedroom flat warm in London, and that’s not on the literal wind-battered edge of the UK.
I admire his honesty in admitting that. It’s easy to look around a building like this and see only the glamour, but I’ve never considered the day-to-day costs that must come from having to pay its bills.
‘Please, Lul—’ He stops and corrects himself before he uses my full name. ‘Lu. When the visitors are here, the heating will be on full-time, but until then, you’ll need layers. I should have made it clear how cold it gets here and how old and draughty the castle is.’
‘I’ve been travelling all day. I need to shower and change – you don’t want me wearing your jumper.’
‘I don’t mind. Throw it in the basket in the utility room when you’re done and Nancy or I will get it in a washload.
’ He waves the cardigan towards me even more insistently, and I really am freezing, to the point where I don’t think the Christmas jumpers I brought with me would make much difference, and the hooded cream cardigan looks irresistibly inviting.
I take it from him gratefully and slip my arms into it, even though I will definitely be doing my own washloads.
Cardigans are something you usually imagine only elderly people wearing, but this one is modern in every way.
The fleece lining is warm from his body heat, the acrylic wool is soft and tactile, and it’s huge on me, like being wrapped in the thickest blanket.
I feel immediate relief against the chill of the hallway, and I’m once again struck by what a gentleman he is.
I lift the hood over my head and bury my fingers in the sleeves as I wrap it around myself and breathe in the scent of his clove and earthy mint aftershave, which has wrapped around me too.
‘It looks better on you.’
My eyes fly open and I blush again because I hadn’t realised just how deeply I’d been inhaling. ‘It looks like a tent on me!’
I’m five-foot-two and he’s well over a foot taller than me. The cardigan comes down to mid-thigh and the sleeves dangle far over my hands.
‘More room to coorie in.’