Page 38 of The Scottish Island Wedding

Chrissie opened the album and flicked through a few pages. Then, she stopped on a series of headshots. A young Chrissie stared up from the pages; wide-eyed, clear-skinned, with a pouty mouth and a mass of auburn hair.

‘Oh, Auntie. You look so beautiful.’ Heather had gone to stand behind her great-aunt and was looking over her shoulder. She touched the page. ‘You’re beautiful now, of course. But you’re so young!’

‘Ha. You don’t need to sugarcoat it, dearie. I’m old now. But I was young and lovely once, just like you.’ Chrissie smiled affectionately at her great-niece. ‘I was younger than you, there. Twenty or so. It was 1970 when I started modelling. That was actually quite late. A lot of the girls started in their teens.’

‘I had no idea,’ Bluebell commented, as Chrissie turned the pages of the album. ‘Look at all of these pictures! You look so good!’

‘Ha. Oh, I thought I was the bee’s knees, let me tell you,’ Chrissie chuckled, looking over at her youngest great-niece. ‘But I was a rebel. My father forbade me from modelling, but I’d been discovered, you see. Joan and I were shopping in Glasgow one day and a man came up to us. He gave me his card and he said he was a model scout, and that with my looks I could have a successful career. I didn’t know anything about anything then. I was cock-a-hoop to be chosen, and he made it sound so exciting. A life of fur coats and Berni Inns, Cinzano and being squired around by racing car drivers.’

‘Is that what happened?’ Blossom asked.

‘In a way, darling. I suppose nowadays you might expect me to tell you how terrible it was, that I was abused and disrespected and all my money was stolen by some kind of immoral talent manager. But the truth of it is, I had a wonderful time.’ Chrissie looked misty-eyed, as she danced among her memories. ‘I moved away to London quite soon after I signed my contract. I was just twenty when I started. It was wonderful down there. My manager Alf put me up in a flat with three other girls in Warwick Avenue, which was a very chichi part of town then. We had a driver and we got paid well. I spent so much money on clothes. Biba, Selfridges, the King’s Road. We had boys coming out of our ears, so to speak.’ She giggled.

‘Did they take you to… what was it you said? Berni Inns?’ Bluebell frowned. ‘I don’t know what that is.’

‘It was a sort of restaurant chain, years ago,’ Catriona explained. ‘I think we thought it was posh at the time.’

‘Haha. Oh, yes. We had a lot of steak dinners and sparkling wine. We got taken to all sorts of lovely discotheques and clubs, and wonderful restaurants. I still think of the dessert trolley at Annabel’s and drool,’ Aunt Chrissie added. ‘Now, that place really was posh. I think it’s still there.’

‘Well, that’s brilliant!’ Heather exclaimed. ‘I don’t know why you don’t talk about it more, Auntie. If I were you, I’d be so proud!’

‘Oh. I am.’ Chrissie nodded. ‘I was an independent young woman and I was loving life. But then Alf suggested that I start doing some topless work. That was where the real money was, you see.’ She took in a deep breath and let it out. ‘Now. To be clear, I still don’t think what I did was wrong. The photographers I worked with were very polite and professional, and I never felt that I was being taken advantage of. I enjoyed that work as much as I did anything else, and I had a talent for it. And it paid very well.’

‘Okay. So…?’ Violet asked. ‘No harm in that.’

‘Well, you might not think so now, my dear.’ Chrissie sighed. ‘But when my father got wind of what I was doing, he lost what was left of his temper. He rang me up on the phone and ranted at me all about how I was sullying the family name, how he would disown me if I didn’t stop posing topless, that I was a disappointment, a slut.’ Chrissie whispered the last word, her cheeks flushed. ‘I was so shocked to hear that word come out of his mouth. He wasn’t a bad man at all, and he’d always been a loving father. But he was so very upset by what I’d done, and I couldn’t bear it. So, I went home.’

‘You stopped modelling?’ Violet asked again.

‘Yes.’ Chrissie paused. ‘Of course, Alf tried to get me to come back. There was a contract in the offing for a lingerie brand, and they wanted me as the face of it. But I said no.’ She looked so deeply sad that Heather let out a little cry and enveloped her elderly aunt in her arms.

‘Oh, no! Auntie!’

The idea that Aunt Chrissie had given up on her dreams was awful to Heather.

‘It’s all right, dear. All a very long time ago.’ Chrissie sighed. ‘Sometimes I still think about what my life would have been if I’d followed that path. But I don’t know that I would ever have got over losing my relationship with our father. I rebuilt his trust in me, over the years. And I’m glad that I was able to be home when he died, a few years later. He was terribly young. Heart attack.’

Heather gazed at her great-aunt in consternation; Chrissie’s face crumpled. ‘I’ll always wonder if…’ She shook her head.

‘What?’ Heather asked, gently. Her heart was breaking for her great-aunt, because she understood the emotional turmoil of being faced with such a difficult choice.

‘If what I did… if it contributed to his heart attack, in some way,’ Chrissie whispered. ‘I’ve always felt responsible.’

‘No, Auntie! Never think that!’ Heather cried. That her great-aunt had given up on her dream was bad enough, but the idea that she had been haunted by the fear that her modelling had in some way caused her father’s death was terrible.

‘Dear. We’ve spoken about this. It wasn’t your fault. Father had a bad heart, and he smoked like a chimney.’ Aunt Joan patted her sister’s hand. ‘Please don’t upset yourself.’

‘Auntie, listen to me. You were in no way responsible for that,’ Primrose agreed firmly. ‘He must have had heart disease to have an attack so young. He’d probably had heart problems for a long time. Like Aunt Joan said.’

‘I don’t know, dear. I mean, he probably did, but hearts are funny things. I still wonder if it was me that did it.’ Chrissie looked sad. ‘Anyway, I’ll meet him again one day soon.’

‘Not for a long time, I hope,’ Primrose replied. ‘We all hope you’ll be with us for a very long time to come, Auntie.’

Aunt Joan cleared her throat.

‘And you, Auntie.’ Bluebell added. ‘Neither of you are going anywhere for a long time. You’re indestructible!’

‘Cheers to that!’ Matty clinked his glass with Heather’s. ‘I wish I had an aunt as cool as you, Chrissie. Good for you for pursuing your dreams. Dreams are important.’