Page 26 of Sunrise over Strawberry Hill Farm

‘We won’t. But I’m sure we can find a hotel somewhere en route,’ said Nico, his eyes twinkling. ‘Don’t worry. I reckon if I lock my bedroom door, then I should be safe from your unwanted advances.’

As he and Grams laughed, Flora sat back in her chair and wondered once more just what had happened to her safe and sensible life.

15

The lorry that Flora and Nico had hired to drive up to Scotland was not particularly comfortable or quiet, so Flora was grateful that Grams had declined to come with them.

Flora spent most of the journey wishing that it were also far quicker so that she could escape the confined cab space she had to share with Nico.

‘It’s certainly not as sophisticated as your Ferrari,’ she said, as they stretched their legs at a fuel stop somewhere just south of the Scottish border.

They had grabbed a coffee and snacks and were just getting ready to get on the road once more.

‘I’m not sure where you got the idea that I’m sophisticated,’ said Nico, taking a crisp before offering her the packet to help herself.

‘Thanks,’ she said, taking a handful. ‘Well, let me see. There’s the cashmere jumpers. The flash car.’

‘Both of which are just stuff,’ he told her, with a raised eyebrow. ‘Not a personality, sophisticated or otherwise. Not the inside of a man’s soul.’

She was a little surprised that he seemed almost defensive at her small joke. ‘Okay. How about your private education?’ she countered.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘For which I’m grateful, but, again, the upbringing doesn’t maketh the man. Or did your local school teach you differently?’

‘It taught me about community and helping each other out,’ she told him, primly.

‘Which part of us hiring a lorry and driving it up to Scotland doesn’t shout that I’m not helping you and your grandmother?’ he asked, rolling his eyes.

She faltered and thought for a moment. She went to speak, but he had opened up the driver’s cab and climbed back inside.

Feeling a little sheepish, she got inside the passenger’s side.

‘I’m sorry. I guess I just need to understand why you’re helping us?’ she asked, holding out the crisp packet to him.

He shook his head and seemed out of sorts. ‘Does it matter? You know what? You keep thinking the worst of me, Flora, if it makes you feel better. It makes no difference to me.’

He sounded irritated and perhaps even upset. He wasn’t one to have a fragile ego, she didn’t think.

She wanted to say more, to even apologise, but he had started up the noisy engine and once they got up to speed on the motorways, conversation was near on impossible.

It made for an awkward remainder of the journey and she was glad of the roar of the engine that prevented any more uncomfortable conversations. Perhaps she had been a little harsh in judging him, but it didn’t make sense. Why help out two perfect strangers, just because his grandfather had visited their farm a very long time ago? She couldn’t work it out. Surely he had somewhere far more glamorous to go to?

Once they had reached the border of Scotland, the roads became narrower, but the view was sensational. Flora relished the mountains and views as they went along. The sun was lower now and casting a golden hue on every mountain face. It was spectacular.

The road finally stopped being a motorway and, an hour later, became only a single track.

‘I hope this is the right way,’ said Nico, slowly manoeuvring the truck around a sharp corner on a stony track. ‘Because I’m not sure where we’re going to be able to turn this thing around.’

Flora grimaced. They certainly were in the middle of absolutely nowhere, despite the stunning backdrop of mountains and lochs.

But just as they were starting to fear the worst and contemplating where to turn around, a large manor house came into view far ahead and the sign by the entrance read Loch Fyne. They had made it at last, she thought with a sigh of relief.

They had only just parked up in front of the manor house when the front door was flung open and a tall, severe-looking woman came outside to stand on the doorstep.

They climbed out of the lorry and walked over to greet her.

‘Hi. I’m Nico Rossi and this is Flora Barton,’ said Nico, shaking her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Mrs McKinley,’ snapped the woman in reply, giving them both a finger-crushing handshake. ‘Glad to see you weren’t later than the agreed time. I dislike tardiness. Follow me.’