Page 69 of Highland Getaway
‘My wee sister, Rowan,’ Ian calls over to me. ‘She’s looking forward to getting a look inside the castle.’
‘Ian’s mam and dad died when Rowan was just a toddler,’ says Izzie in a low voice, coming to join me. ‘Bad accident. Ian was at college at the time; he had to give it up to raise Rowan and Callum, and take over the farm.’
‘But that’s awful,’ I whisper, my heart contracting with pity for them all. ‘Poor Ian. Poor all of them.’
‘Aye, he’s some boy,’ Izzie replies. ‘There’s not many young men who would rise to a challenge like that. We all rallied around, of course, to help them, but it was a tough time for them, there’s no mistaking it. And now the farm’s at risk too, thanks to His Highness up there.’
She gives a jerky nod in the approximate direction of the castle, presumably referring to the Laird. My resolve to use tonight to try to rebuild relationships between the hotel and the village goes up a notch.
I wasn’t lying when I told Dante this could be a good thing for everyone; it’s just going to take a bit of careful management, is all.
It’s a good job managing things is my job, and although I’m more used to managing an office full of marketing executives than a Highland hotel and a group of disgruntled villagers, how different can it really be?
‘Well, this is lovely,’ says Ian, rubbing his hands together cheerfully as he approaches me and Izzie on the drive. ‘It was right good of you to invite us all, Rosie. Now, if you wouldn’t mind giving us a hand with this stuff .?.?.’
He walks round to the back of the van, where he and Callum start unloading trays of food; most of it potato-based, but I notice quite a few other vegetables too, including an entire box of turnips, which I give a wide berth.
‘If you could show us where the kitchens are, Callum and me can heat up the soup we’ve brought,’ Ian goes on, lifting yet another tray of produce out of the van. ‘And there are some lassies from the village bringing some baking as well.’
I have no idea where the hotel kitchens are, but Hannah does, and she leads Ian and Callum into the castle, me trailing along behind them and trying not to notice the fact that a group of children are attempting to slide down the main stairs on trays.
Hunter is nowhere to be seen, and neither – to my relief – is Dante, so I follow the sound of voices along the hall and into a vast room with polished wooden floorboards, which I assume is the ballroom Hunter mentioned a few days ago. The room looks straight out of an episode of a Regency drama, with crystal chandeliers, velvet curtains and even a grand piano positioned in one corner, as if it’s just waiting for someone to come along and strike up a tune. Instead, the place is currently filled with confused villagers, all milling around wondering what to do with themselves.
‘If this is what you call a few extra people, I’d hate to see what you’d describe as a crowd,’ says Hunter’s voice from behind me, a few minutes later. ‘There must be at least half the village in here.’
He steps up to join me, a frown line etched between his eyebrows.
‘It won’t be for long,’ I reply, trying to sound confident. ‘The electricity in the village will come back on, and they’ll all go home with stories about how lovely and welcoming the staff at the Chrysalis were.’
I shoot him a meaningful look, and the frown line gets deeper.
‘I wish I could be so sure,’ he tells me. ‘I’ve just been on the phone to the electricity company and they still haven’t managed to figure out what’s caused the fault. And the wind’s getting stronger, which’ll make it more difficult for them. I’m worried these folks will end up being here all night at this rate.’
‘Did you hear that, everyone?’ yells a man standing nearby, who’s obviously overheard us. ‘We’re going to be here all night, apparently. Good job we’re in a hotel, eh? And a five-star one at that!’
A murmur of excitement rumbles around the room as everyone takes in this fresh piece of news.
‘We don’t actuallyknowthat’s going to be the case,’ Hunter protests loudly, but his voice is lost in the general hubbub as everyone starts talking at once.
‘A free stay in a spa hotel! I bagsie the best room!’ shouts one voice.
‘I bagsie first go in the Jacuzzi,’ yells another.
‘Right, that’s the soup ready,’ says Izzie, appearing in the doorway of the ballroom with a large cauldron, which she’s stirring with a wooden spoon. She carries it over to a long table that’s been set up under one of the tall windows which line one side of the room, and puts it carefully down.
‘Soup’s up, everybody,’ she shouts, her voice cutting through the commotion. ‘Come and get it while it’s hot!’
Dozens of pairs of feet go thundering across the wooden floor, the hungry villagers momentarily distracted from the spa by the promise of hot food. With Agnes’s help, Izzie starts ladling the broth into bowls which someone’s brought in from the kitchen, while Ian recruits some more surprised staff members to help him carry in the rest of the spread; plus some more tables and chairs, which have soon transformed the grand ballroom into something resembling a school cafeteria.
‘Dante isn’t going to like this,’ Hunter mutters darkly, the line between his eyes now in danger of becoming a permanent feature. ‘In fact, he’s going to hate it.’
‘Dante isn’t here,’ I point out reasonably. ‘And what he doesn’t know .?.?.’
‘.?.?. could definitely hurt him,’ Hunter finishes for me. ‘Ach, look,’ he adds, relenting slightly at the sight of me twisting my hands together nervously. ‘It’s done now. I suppose we’ll just have to make the best of it. It’s not as if we can kick this lot back out into the storm that’s coming.’
The expression on his face suggests that’s exactly what he’d like to do, but before he can change his mind about ‘making the best of it’, his phone starts ringing, and he scowls down at the caller display, before excusing himself to answer it. For once, I’m actually relieved to see him go.
The evening wears on, and the wind picks up, roaring around the castle and occasionally finding its way down the giant chimney, much to the delight of the children present, who try to convince each other the eerie howling noise it makes is coming from a ghost.
