‘The garden is lovely,’ said Olivia, admiring the colourful flowers and the immaculate grass.
‘That’s down to my dad, he’s very green-fingered, and my nephew when he’s back home for the holidays. I can’t tell the difference between weeds and plants. I obviously didn’t inherit the gene. But enough about me,’ she said. ‘How about you?’
Olivia felt her cheeks flush as Amy switched her attention to her. ‘Oh,’ she said, flustered, ‘I just wanted a break for a while, and work has been intense and . . . Trudy said I should come here and, well, here I am.’ Glancing over, she could see a woman walking towards them.
Amy looked up. ‘That’s Kirsty, my sister.’
Olivia was relieved at the distraction.
‘Good morning.’ Kirsty wandered towards them with a mug of coffee. ‘If I’d known you were outside, I would have brought you out a cuppa.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll get one in a minute. Is that the breakfast chaos over then?’ asked Amy hopefully.
‘Yes, don’t worry, the coast is clear. Steve is just finishing with the tidying up.’ Kirsty looked at Olivia inquisitively.
‘This is Olivia, she’s staying at Lilybank,’ explained Amy.
‘Oh.’ Kirsty smiled. ‘Hello, Olivia. Great to meet you, sorry that it’s all been a bit of a kerfuffle but I’m glad it’s all sorted now.’
Olivia didn’t know what ‘kerfuffle’ meant, but assumed she meant ‘muddle’ so smiled graciously. ‘It’s all great, thanks, and this place is as beautiful as my aunt said it was.’
Kirsty rewarded her with a warm smile. ‘Ah, you’re Trudy’s niece. Of course. It’s so good to welcome you here, and it’s all down to them.’
‘I’ve said to Olivia to come back some time and we can show her inside,’ said Amy.
‘Of course, please do. And I’m glad that everything is fine, and you and Kitty are going to stay. The owners are friends of ours and we keep an eye on things for them when they’re away. If you need anything, please just let us know.’
‘I think it will be fine. It will be nice to have some company.’
Kirsty frowned at her. ‘Just a thought, but wait there until I get some things from inside.’ She turned and disappeared back inside the cottage.
‘I have no idea what she’s gone to get,’ said Amy suspiciously.
Kirsty reappeared with a handful of leaflets. ‘Lilybank’s information drawer could be a little out of date now the owners aren’t letting it out. We’ve just refreshed ours recently, you may find these useful. Just some of the local attractions we would recommend and a couple of maps. If you and Kitty are keen to explore then you might be interested in this walking tour of the island?’
Olivia took the pamphlets from Kirsty and saw the one about the walks was the same one Kitty had shown her earlier. ‘Stravaig Tours offer escorted walking tours of some of the island’s most beautiful sights.That’s the one Kitty picked up too. I think we might do it.’
‘Are they the ones James brought over last night?’ asked Amy.
Kirsty nodded. ‘Steve has given them to some of our guests, but most of them leave in the next couple of days and have already scheduled what they’re doing.’
‘Well, if you’re interested let us know as we may be able to negotiate a discount for you,’ said Amy. ‘We know Logan, the tour guide.’
‘Thank you. You’re both very kind.’ Olivia folded the leaflets and tucked them in the pocket of her leggings. ‘I’d better geton with that run otherwise it won’t happen. It’s been lovely chatting.’
‘Anytime,’ said Amy. ‘Just let us know when you want to come back for the inside tour.’
‘Will do. Thank you.’ Olivia said her goodbyes and walked away from Meadowbank feeling uplifted. She could feel a small glimmer of hope, the possibility of a happy summer starting to form at the back of her mind. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt for a very long time, and she liked it. For the first time in ages she felt okay. There was something about this island. It felt almost magical.
Chapter Seventeen
Kitty had decided that she would bake. She was in that kind of mood where she had to do something rather than just sit down. She couldn’t really clean any more than she already had. The house was immaculate anyway and, even if it was cluttered, which it wasn’t, it wasn’t her house to start rearranging. The next on her ‘how to unwind’ list was to bake. As the kitchen was about twice the size of her kitchen back home, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to perfect some of her recipes and update her Instagram account with some pictures. She was thankful she’d brought the car over after all, as it meant she could nip to the big Co-op and stock up on all the things she needed without having to lug heavy bags back up that hill.
Deciding on one of her quick and easy recipes, she stirred up a batch of cinnamon and raisin muffins and popped them in the oven, making sure she’d turned on the timer. More than once she’d become distracted, forgetting about whatever was in the oven, and it was only the smell of burning that let her know her baking efforts had been wasted.
Standing with her back against the kitchen worktop, she scrolled through Instagram and quickly became distracted by the many foodie reels. They made everything look extremely easy to make and delicious. Her early attempts at baking had been rather interesting — nothing like they were now thanks to many, many hours of practice and perfection. Bookmarking some of the recipes she liked the look of, she watched to see how they had been presented. They all seemed to have the same theme, which usually went a bit like this:You have got to try my delicious/lovely/mouth-watering cake. It has just four ingredients and tastes better than anything you’ll buy in the shops.She knew she would have to put herself out there and do more of those kinds of reels if she wanted to raise her profile, butshe wasn’t quite ready or confident enough to start talking as she baked.
Kitty had always been an introvert, much preferring to stay behind the scenes and out of the limelight. Her thumb slipped and hit another reel that started to play. Normally Kitty would scroll on, but now she was staring at her phone, transfixed by the rather good-looking bloke staring straight at her and talking in his deep, sexy voice. ‘Are you planning a trip to Scotland? Then you must come soon. Come on over.’ He paused, looking straight at her, then grinned. ‘Visit our remote islands, our mountains, our forests and our beaches. What are you waiting for?’Behind him were panoramic shots of what looked like the Cuillin Ridge on the Isle of Skye, then some shots of the Fairy Pools, which looked vividly blue. He certainly didn’t have any problems with his confidence, and he looked kind of familiar. She wondered if she’d seen him on one of those outdoor shows on TV she sometimes flicked past. Looking at his profile, she saw he was called the Tartan Wanderer. Why did that name ring a bell?
