Page 41 of Highland Getaway
It’s the ‘angry’ bit that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Because I may not know Sabrina very well – I don’t think she’s said more than maybe six sentences to me in total since I got here, and almost all of them have been accusing me of something – but I have a horrible feeling that if she’s angry about something, it’s probably me.
‘Oh, my God,’ whispers Luna, lowering the camera she’s using to take photos of all of us as she catches sight of her boss battling with the sand.
Or it could be Luna.
Please let it be Luna.
‘What the hell is this supposed to be?’ Sabrina demands as she reaches us, holding up an iPad to show what is unmistakably my Instagram grid.
Nope, it’s definitely me.
Thought so.
‘Well?’
Everyone edges closer, trying to see what’s got Sabrina so worked up that she’s risked her designer heels in this weather. Zara and Millie come padding over in their bare feet, and even Bramble the pony pauses in the act of chomping on a sandwich from the picnic basket to listen in.
Once we’re all within earshot, Sabrina taps quickly on the screen, and a video starts playing; one I recognise immediately as the piece of footage I was in the middle of editing when I was distracted by the rain outside earlier.
Oh no.
Please don’t tell me I somehow managed to hit ‘publish’ rather than saving it to drafts?
The video starts off innocently enough, with some arty shots of the colourful fruit and veg piled high on Ian’s stall, before cutting to Izzie, who’s holding up some of her hand creams, and speaking earnestly about how the ingredients are all gathered locally, by the light of the full moon. (I meant to edit that bit out, actually.) Then there’s a short, blurry clip of my face in the reverse camera, before we go back to the market square, which looks vibrant and bustling.
‘This is really boring,’ says Bex, her teeth chattering as she sits on her pony at the back of the group. ‘Why are we watching this, Sabrina?’
‘Wait,’ says Sabrina, her tone grim. ‘Just wait.’
The camera reaches the last stall, then swoops forward in a move I recognise, with a sinking heart, as being what happens when I forget to hit the ‘stop’ button on the video, and put the phone back in my pocket while it’s still filming.
This time, though, the phone doesn’t simply end up filming the lint in the corner of my pocket. No, it remains in my hand, now pointing at my feet as I walk back across the square, towards Izzie and Ian.
‘I’ll take one of those turnips,’ I can be heard saying, although the shot is still of the ground. ‘And maybe some leeks, too.’
‘That’ll be much better for you than the muck they serve up at the Chrysalis,’ says Ian from off-camera. ‘They brought in some fancy chef from London, so I heard.’
‘Aye. I bet it’s just those tiny wee portions o’ fancy stuff they give you,’ chimes in Izzie’s voice. ‘Is that right, Rosie?’
‘I’m not sure,’ replies a voice that’s unmistakably mine. ‘I haven’t had a proper dinner at the Chrysalis yet. I got locked in the sauna on the first night and missed it. I could have died, according to the handyman.’
‘You never did!’ says Izzie, scandalised.
The audio is interrupted at this point by a loud rustling sound as Ian puts the leeks into a paper bag, but it comes back just in time for me to be heard saying, ‘And I was almost naked, too!’
The screen goes blurry again as I raise my hand to take the bag of leeks, the camera swooping dizzyingly around until the video finally ends on a shot of Ian holding up a particularly phallic-looking cucumber. ‘This is what we think of the new laird,’ he says with a devilish grin, the scene cutting out just before we can find out what he means by that – although, judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, the message is pretty clear as it is.
There’s a long, horrified silence as everyone on the beach tries to figure out the appropriate response to what they’ve just seen. Even Millie seems lost for words for once, and just stands there looking from face to face, desperate for a cue.
‘Well?’ says Sabrina again, wiping raindrops off the screen of her iPad with her sleeve, before fixing me with a gaze that makes my blood run cold. ‘I assume there’s some explanation for your decision to post this absolute travesty of a video?’
‘It .?.?. wasn’t actually a decision,’ I reply shakily, wishing I was still sitting on the blanket, because my legs have gone all wobbly again. ‘It was a mistake. Surely you can see it’s been posted by mistake? I was in the middle of editing it .?.?. I was just going to post the bit with the scenery in it, and nothing else .?.?. but .?.?. I guess I got distracted. And I, er, somehow must have uploaded the entire thing.’
‘For God’s sake,’ mutters Dante, reaching up to push his dark hair out of his eyes. ‘I knew we shouldn’t have let her stay. She doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing.’
‘Well,Iknow that,’ replies Sabrina shrilly. ‘It wasn’t my decision,Dante.’
‘Well, I didn’t know she was going to pull a stunt like this, did I?’ the hotel manager snarls back at her.
