‘Mad or not’ – she turned with a dramatic flourish, waving a match dangerously in the air – ‘I’ve got some brilliant news.’
Izzy was still examining the freshly painted walls and paintwork.
‘Don’t you want to know?’ trilled Xanthe, her eyes bird bright with almost fevered excitement.
‘Want to know what?’ asked Izzy, still distracted by the sums in her head. There couldn’t be much left of Professor Strathallan’s money.
Xanthe folded her arms and looked excessively pleased with herself, which immediately filled Izzy with a sense of foreboding.
‘I have let the castle for Christmas.’
‘What?’ Izzy straightened. ‘You can’t.’
‘I have.’
Izzy rolled her eyes and stared at her mother. ‘Don’t tell me, some billionaire has spotted your post on Instagram and has offered us twenty thousand pounds to come for Christmas?’
Irritation warred with triumphant superiority on her mother’s face.
‘Actually, Miss Smarty Pants, they have.’
Izzy narrowed her eyes.
‘It’s true. An assistant of a Mr Carter-Jones messaged me and said that Kinlochleven Castle was exactly the place they were looking for. So I said…’ Her mouth twisted momentarily in remembered glee. ‘I said that it was very exclusive and not available for anything less than five figures for a week. He asked if we’d do it for twenty-five, so I said yes.’
Izzy’s stared at her. ‘T-t-twenty-five … th-thousand pounds. You’re … you’re kidding.’
‘No I’m not.’
‘But there’s no way we can—’
‘Honestly, Izzy, there’s no pleasing some people. You say we need money so I’ve arranged for us to get it and now you’ve got a problem with it. What is wrong with you?’
‘M… Xanthe, for that sort of money, they’re going to want a fancy six-star, superior, de-luxe stay.’ Izzy shook her head. ‘And are you sure it’s not a wind-up?’
‘Izzy, even you must have heard of the Carter-Jones fortune. He’s in boxer shorts, you know. Rather fitting in Scotland, the home of the kilt and where most men I know let everything hang free underneath them… Anyway, apparently, his wife has Scottish ancestry and it’s always been a dream of hers. I’ve already told him we need a deposit of seven thousand pounds to secure the booking and he transferred it to the bank account this morning.’
‘What!’ Izzy blinked at her mother. ‘Seriously?’
‘Oh ye of little faith. Yes.’ She paused. ‘We can spend it on getting the rooms ready. I’ve seen the most darling wallpaper.’
‘Mum, Christmas is only six weeks away. That’s not enough time.’
‘Pish, don’t be silly. Where there’s a will there’s a way. I’m sure we can hire someone from the village to help with the decorating and cleaning, if we need to.’
Izzy caught her lip between her teeth, tugging anxiously. ‘How many people are coming?’ Already her mind was racing, thinking of what needed to be done.
‘Four at the moment, but he said there might be one or two more. I’ll leave you to it. Toodle pip.’
Izzy sat staring at the door for a while after her mother wafted out on a cloud of perfume and satisfaction. Twenty-five thousand pounds. That was a lot of money. Enough to patch the roof and pay for renovations and repairs, providing Xanthe didn’t spend it all on wallpaper. They had six weeks. She shook her head. They could do this.
With the Carter-Joneses’ money and Professor Strathallan’s rent she might just pull it off…
Chapter Three
Izzy tapped her foot and checked the clock. She’d hoped to catch Professor Strathallan first thing but alas the only sign of him was a warm kettle and a clean cereal bowl on the draining board, leaving her to deduce that he was clearly an early riser. He also seemed to be quiet, unobtrusive and self-reliant as her mother had not been providing bed making or cleaning services in Izzy’s absence, which made the exorbitant sum Xanthe had charged him quite embarrassing and yet another reason as to why he couldn’t stay. For that price they ought to be providing a better service and although waiting on one guest wouldn’t be too onerous, she needed to focus on getting the castle updated and redecorated without worrying or having to work around him.
For a moment Izzy dithered, then, with a sudden fit of resolve, she put down her notepad and pen and darted out of the kitchen, running lightly up the stairs past lots of gilt-edged framed portraits of stiff-necked men and their wives looking sternly down at her. It reminded her of all the people that had inhabited the castle before her. As she walked down the hallway to Ross’s room, she slowed and at the door she hesitated for a moment, nerves getting the better of her before she told herself firmly that the man was obviously already up, so she wouldn’t be waking him or disturbing him.
