Page 61 of The Scottish Island Inn

‘I’m sure you would,’ Bluebell replied.

Okay… this is going to be tough.

‘So, you know that I met my biological father today,’ Sorrel began, her heart pounding with nerves. Bluebell’s opinion meant so much to her, and she desperately wanted them to be friends. ‘It was a bit out of the blue, but Aunt Joan gave me some information and… I dunno. I decided to go over there. Heather took me.’

‘Good old Heather.’ Bluebell rolled her eyes.

‘Blue. Whatever you think about all this, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You’re still my sister. I still love you. This is… I guess it’s just part of my story that I have to discover for myself.’

‘Great. Enjoy.’ Bluebell picked up her drawing and walked away to the end of the garden. Sorrel followed her, not knowing what to say.

‘Bluebell. Please talk to me.’

‘No.’ Her sister got to Catriona’s rose bushes at the end of the garden and turned to face Sorrel.

‘No?’

‘No.’ Bluebell crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You didn’t talk to me for ten years, even though I never stopped trying. See how you like it.’

She walked past her older sister, handing her the sketch of the robin as she did so.

‘Here. Since you like my drawing so much. Have it. I don’t care any more,’ she said, storming off towards the caravan.

‘Blue…’ Sorrel called after her, but Bluebell didn’t turn back.

Well, that went well, Sorrel thought.

THIRTY-FOUR

Sorrel was standing in the Inn’s dining room, watching the decorators put the new wallpaper up.

It was difficult, being at the Inn, because Tam was there. She’d tried to talk to him in the past couple of days after their night at the B&B, but Tam was closed off. He was polite and professional, but there was no warmth there, and every time she tried to start a conversation or explain about Simon, Tam found somewhere else he needed to be. The awkwardness was palpable, and Tam’s energy was abrasive, as if he wore a coat of spikes.

Today had been the same. Sorrel had got to the Inn at around nine thirty, bringing her laptop to work on some designs and follow up on some emails. She’d seen Tam working with the builders on the outside of the Inn and waved him over when she’d come in, but he’d pretended he hadn’t seen her.

Fine. Be like that, she thought. She was hurt by his behaviour; it felt exactly like a spike pushing into her heart every time he ignored her or answered her briefly, then turned away.

The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that, despite his promise to leave Skye, Simon seemed to have become friends with James and taken up an offer to stay at the castle for a few days. She knew that James was assuming she was pleased to see Simon; she knew that James was being kind. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she didn’t want Simon there.

The fact that Tam hadn’t come in to say hi was telling.

If he bothered to talk to me, I could tell him about me and Simon, she thought. But she was too stubborn to force the issue. I’ve tried, several times, she thought, as she answered her emails. I give up.

‘Goodness, I hate seeing everything so upside down.’ Catriona walked in and sat opposite her at the kitchen table. It was covered with plastic to protect it from the paint and dust; much of her parents’ furniture was in storage, but Sorrel had asked that the table be kept in the Inn so that she had somewhere to work. ‘It makes me sad! It doesn’t feel like home.’

Sorrel had a lot of memories about that kitchen table. It had been there for countless family meals, birthday parties, late-night sessions with her sisters, gossiping and putting the world to rights.

‘I know, Mum. But we’re getting there slowly, and it’s all going to look amazing when it’s finished. Better than it was before.’ She nodded. ‘What did you think of the plan for the new bathrooms?’

‘The baths are lavish!’ Catriona gushed. ‘I want to have a bath in one as soon as possible. A big, deep bubble bath!’ she exclaimed, excitedly. Sorrel was relieved to see that her mother was happy; she wanted Catriona to be pleased with the renovation and the repairs. She’d always tried so hard to make her mother happy: it was ingrained deep in her by now.

‘So, you texted me. You wanted to talk?’ Sorrel asked, cautiously.

Catriona opened her mouth as if to reply, but at that moment, Tam walked in.

‘Oh. Didn’t know you were in here,’ he muttered, brusquely. ‘Hello, Mrs Balhennie.’

‘Tam, dear. Catriona, please.’