Page 67 of The Scottish Island Wedding

‘The reason I’m bringing this up today, at my wedding, is because I was always taught that it’s important to believe in things, and to stand up for what you believe in. Of all people, I believe in my great-aunt, and all my family. I was lucky to be born into a group of people who are all fantastically strong, supportive and brilliant in their own ways.

‘My great-aunt was vilified in the newspapers because of her modelling, and that made me angry. I’m not someone who gets angry very often. I don’t like it. I’m a romantic. I wish the world could just be harmonious and beautiful, and I wish that we could all love each other. That’s partially why I always wanted a big white wedding like this. Because it’s a celebration of love and family.

‘However, I was angry about that article. And the reason for me being angry was that the person who wrote that article and dug up those photos wasn’t respecting my aunt’s wishes. She wasn’t asked if she wanted pictures from her past plastered all over the newspapers. Consent is not something that, if given once, lasts forever. Aunt Chrissie might have been okay with those pictures being in newspapers and magazines and posters, once upon a time, but I don’t think she really ever expected to be the subject of press attention at the age of seventy-five.’

‘I’m not ashamed of them, Heather!’ Aunt Chrissie called out.

‘Oh, I know you’re not, Auntie!’ Heather beamed over at her aunt. ‘Neither am I. We’re all so proud of you! My point is that the journalist could have approached you and asked to do a piece about your past, and you could have talked it over. But they just did it without your consent, and made out that your modelling was something to be ashamed of. And it’s not.

‘The newspaper piece about Aunt Chrissie was designed to shame. It was aimed at shaming the Campbells and us. The implication was that Aunt Chrissie’s pictures were something awful. That by sharing that story and those pictures, the press wanted to bring the Campbells down a peg or two. But we simply don’t believe that.

‘Those pictures show that Aunt Chrissie was a strong woman, pursuing a successful career, and being in control of her own body. She was happy and secure in being a sexy young woman.’ Heather held up her finger, to emphasise the point. ‘She was beautiful. She made money from her beauty and her sexual allure. That is not, and will never be, shameful. I, as a woman, refuse to accept that judgement.

‘I am standing here in my wedding dress, in my white dress, symbolic of purity. And I am so very happy to be marrying this wonderful man today. But I am a flesh and blood woman. The idea that a woman has to be “pure” to be of value is one thousand per cent not what I stand here for today. The white is traditional. The white can mean a new start for me, a blank slate for me to write my future on. But I write it. I am an independent woman, making a choice about her future. That’s what today is. A choice, and faith.’

Heather paused and looked around her.

‘I am one of six sisters. My uncle James calls us the Princesses of Balhennie.’ Heather indicated her sisters, sitting watching her. ‘Well, I would suggest that we are all queens. And that every woman in this room is a queen. And that if anyone tries to treat us as less than that, we will revolt. We will push back. We will stand up for ourselves. And the men in our lives should make it their mission to stand with us.’

Heather took a long breath and let it out. She hadn’t intended to be so political or strident; it was unlike her. But ever since that article had come out in the newspaper, it had been playing on her mind. This was what she had wanted to say, all this time. She turned to Matty, who stared up at her with a mixture of awe and surprise on his face.

‘I love you, honey,’ she said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. ‘I want to build a family and a life with you. I want us to spend our lives helping animals and protecting the land. I will do it with love. And I will fiercely protect everything and everyone I love. For always.’

EPILOGUE

EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

‘I know, Lady Bellingham. But I’m sure you’re aware of the pressing need for more medical research to support better women’s health policy, decision-making and education.’

Elizabeth Campbell paced up and down in the spacious, open-plan kitchen diner of Heather and Matty’s brand new farmhouse, with her three-month-old granddaughter, Rose May Balhennie Campbell, over her shoulder.

Elizabeth wore a wireless earpiece, and, while she talked to a new investor for the Glenorchy Foundation on the phone, she patted Rose’s back gently. A cotton square of fabric lay over Elizabeth’s shoulder, protecting her expensive blouse from regurgitated milk.

Bluebell Balhennie sat at a large, marble-topped island in the centre of the kitchen space, tapping away at a laptop.

‘Yes. This does affect us all. I couldn’t agree more,’ Elizabeth said. Rose burped.

‘Oh, I couldn’t say… but, suffice to say, we have several high-profile names in the entertainment industry already committed as spokespeople. Yes. Well, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Excellent. Thank you. If you’d like to have your team contact my assistant Bluebell Balhennie, she’ll take you through the next steps. Ciao.’

‘That sounded positive,’ Heather said. She sat in a comfy, modern mustard-yellow recliner in the corner of the kitchen with her feet up on a footstool.

‘The phone call or the burp? I think she’s still got more in her,’ Elizabeth commented drily. ‘Bluebell, dear, you should get an email from someone in Lady Bellingham’s team about making a donation, and coming to the presentation dinner. If you could send her the usual paperwork?’

‘No problem.’ Bluebell nodded.

‘The call,’ Heather chuckled. ‘Who’s Lady Bellingham?’

‘Nice enough woman. Just started to get involved in philanthropy. She made a lot of money in property.’

‘Not family money?’ Heather asked, reaching for a mug of tea on a side table, next to her.

‘No, surprisingly. One of those noble families that lost it all a long time ago, but she’s been canny. Kept the contacts. Used them. Ah. There we have it.’

Rose let out a long burp, and started to gurgle happily.

‘Aww. Good girl, Rose.’ Heather laid her head back against the chair.

‘How are you feeling today, dear?’ Elizabeth placed Rose carefully in a bassinette, then went to one of the long marble worktops and flicked on the kettle.