Page 4 of Chasing a Highland Dream

‘Arabella, is that you, hen?’ Granny Isla called from the living room as Bella walked along the hallway into the kitchen at the back of the house.

‘Aye, Granny,’ Bella replied. ‘I’m home and I have news!’ She dropped her handbag on the kitchen table, then made her way back through to the living room and was greeted by Beau, her granny’s excitable two-year-old beagle.

As Bella scratched the dog behind his ears, she glanced up at her granny, who was sitting in front of the TV in her purple paisley kaftan, watching a quiz show. ‘Have you had a good day?’ Her long violet hair was tied in a neat chignon and she had on a full face of make-up; she really was the epitome of the glamorous granny in a cool, eccentric kind of way.

Isla rolled her eyes. ‘If you mean have I enjoyed spending my day with a load of gyratics moaning about their ailments and trying to one-up each other on how many pills they take every day, then yes, it’s been thrilling.’ She pursed her lips.

Bella couldn’t help smirking at her granny’s incorrect use of geriatrics. ‘Granny, you’re older than most of the people at the day centre, you know.’

Isla waved a dismissive hand. ‘Aye, well, you’re only as old as you behave. So I’m practically a twenty-something compared to that lot of whinge bags! Don’t get me wrong, they’re not all like that, mainly the curly perm brigade.’ She scoffed. ‘You won’t catch me wearing a twinset and pearls and carrying five packets of Werther’s Originals and a pot of smelling salts in my handbag. No, thanks. And I don’t understand the need to compete for whose aches and pains are the worst either. We’re British, we should suffer in silence.’

‘If it’s that bad, why do you go?’ Bella asked as she flopped onto the sofa.

Isla huffed. ‘I go to keep them company. To try and show them there’s a different way of life than greetin’ on all the while. But anyway, there’s those have naeone to visit them, you know. I like to do my bit for the old folks. And, of course, Maeve Donaldson likes me to do her hair, bless her heart. Her son’s a policeman, you know? Very handsome too.’ She gave a knowing look.

‘So you’ve said about a million times, Granny. And I’ve seen him at the day centre, he’s not my type. How many more times do I need to say it?’

Isla ignored her and continued. ‘Aye, he plays the fiddle and the guitar, you know. He’s in a ceilidh band with other police folks. And she’s a lovely old dear is his mother, Maeve. My best friend after you and Beau. She’s seventy-eight, you know?’

Bella giggled. ‘Aye, and you’re eighty-five.’

Isla made another scoffing noise. ‘Anyway, what’s your news?’ she asked.

‘The apartments are finished!’

Isla widened her eyes. ‘Already? That’s wonderful, hen. What has Olivia said?’

‘She’s banned from seeing them until the furniture arrives and the paintings are up.’

Isla beamed at her granddaughter. ‘I’m so proud of you and I can’t wait to see them.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘I’ve told you I don’t know how many times your talent’s being wasted. Maybe now you’ll listen to me and pursue the career you actually want.’

Bella stood and walked over to kiss her granny on the head. Ignoring her comments, she simply said, ‘I’ll take you to see them once they’re furnished.’ She sat on the arm of her granny’s chair.

‘Speaking of the castle, have you had any more issues with that brother of Olivia’s?’

Bella regretted confiding in her granny; the note of disdain in her tone was evident. ‘Not really. I think he’s finally getting the message.’

‘About bloomin’ time if you ask me. He may be a posh nob but he’s no good for my Arabella.’

Bella had lost count of the number of times her granny had expressed her opinion on the matter. ‘Aye, I know how you feel about him, Granny. You’ve made that crystal clear.’

Isla shook her head and pursed her lips. ‘I really don’t get what you saw in him. I know he’s good-looking but he’s ugly on the inside.’

Bella scrunched her brow. ‘I don’t think you know him well enough to say that, Granny.’

‘It’s the truth, hen. I’ve heard stories about him and his antics; his drinking and his gambling. Not to mention his womanising. I worry about you. What you need is to meet a handsome young man who’s available and not a shit.’

Bella tried not to laugh. ‘Granny! I hope you mind your language at the day centre.’

‘Och, I do not. I’m frae Glesga, don’t forget, and we tell it how it is,’ she said, allowing her softened accent to give way to its origins for a moment. ‘And anyway, they’ve all been around the block a few times so they’ve heard much worse. And stop changing the subject. Kermit MacBain is a ratbag and you know he is. What kind of man has two women on the go?’ Bella opened her mouth to speak but Isla interrupted, ‘A ratbag, that’s what!’

Bella stood. ‘His name is Kerr.’

‘Aye, well, what else could it be short for?’

‘It’s not short for anything, Granny. It’s just Kerr. Mirren’s sent me home with some shortbread and some more of her wedding cake from the freezer so we can have that after dinner.’ Mirren, the housekeeper at Drumblair, had married Dougie, Brodie’s dad and the groundsman for the castle. Their wedding had taken place at New Year and the cake had been huge. Months on and every so often she would defrost a batch to share around. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’

‘Aye, I’d love a cup of tea. The stuff they use at the day centre tastes like floor scrapings. In fact, I’m not even sure it’s ever seen a tea plant. Probably some random dried leaves oot the gardens.’ She chuckled.