Page 63 of The Scottish Island Wedding

‘Yeah. It’s gorgeous. But that snow must be a foot deep!’ Heather felt the panic coming back, and then she felt Elizabeth’s hand on her arm.

‘Don’t worry, Heather. I’ve got this. I promise.’ Her mother-in-law-to-be reassured her. ‘There is no way on earth that this wedding isn’t happening because of a bit of snow. I’m going to have the roads gritted in the next two hours and the drive cleared. I’ve spoken to the local police, and the protestors for the golf course have cleared, since I had someone go down there and take down the signs for the development, and explain to everyone that it’s not happening,’ Elizabeth added. ‘So that’s one less thing to worry about. I was concerned that a crowd of those well-meaning do-gooders would get in the way of anyone driving up to the wedding.’

Heather had messaged her sisters on the group chat the night before when she’d got home about the gift of the land, and the news that the golf course wasn’t happening. It hadn’t felt right to announce it in front of everyone the night before; Heather felt that would have implied that everyone knew the golf course was a bad idea to begin with, and it might have made Elizabeth feel bad. Now that Heather understood more about her mother-in-law, she had decided to feel protective – and proud – of her, rather than antagonistic.

‘And if I have to, I will go into Portree myself in the car and bring back all the food and flowers WITH MY BARE HANDS. You don’t have to worry about it, dear. I will not have my daughter-in-law worried about anything. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Violet stepped back, visibly impressed.

‘Okay,’ Heather said quietly. ‘Thank you, Elizabeth.’

‘It’s quite all right. This is what I do.’ Elizabeth gave Heather a surprisingly maternal smile, and then turned to the six beefy, black-suited security guards that were now standing by the door. ‘Hey! I don’t pay you to stand there looking useless. You four – get out there and clear the driveway. The laird can tell you where to get equipment,’ she ordered. ‘Then I want all the cars absolutely spotless and free of snow. Ben, Christopher, you’re with me.’ She swept off towards the study, with two of the burly men following her.

‘We find it best to do as she says.’ Estella, still dressed in her pyjamas, slippers and a fluffy jumper over the top, appeared from the nearby dining room. ‘When she’s in El Generalissimo mode, that is. Come and have something to eat.’ She ushered them into the dining room, where there was a fire burning in the large stone fireplace, and Claire the housekeeper had laid out a feast of a breakfast: kippers, fried potatoes, kedgeree, crusty bread, fried eggs and a vat of creamy porridge. Gold and red garlands hung from the ceiling, and a woman with a sultry voice sang Santa Baby, slip a sable under the tree for me on the castle’s sound system.

‘I am actually quite hungry,’ Heather admitted, as she sat down at the dining table.

‘Happy wedding day, Heather.’ Estella poured some hot coffee into a mug for her and placed it in front of her. Heather stirred in two sugars, distractedly. ‘And, Happy Christmas! I’m sure it’s going to be a lovely day.’

Is it? Or is it going to be an absolute disaster? Heather worried, as she sipped her coffee, watching the snow outside, which continued to fall.

‘Hold still, Heather. You’re wriggling,’ Violet muttered as she pinned a long hank of Heather’s thick blonde hair around a large curler. ‘If we don’t get all of these done quickly, they won’t have time to dry.’

‘I thought you were going to use that special setting spray?’ Heather looked in the mirror at her twin, who had her tongue between her teeth and held a hairbrush and a comb between the fingers of one hand.

‘I am! Don’t stress. It’s supposed to be amazing.’ Violet held up a spray bottle. ‘Natural curls, all day hold,’ she read aloud. ‘Strength and softness where you need it most. Sounds like the ideal man, eh.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Primrose made a face. ‘Never saw the appeal. No offence, Heather.’

‘None taken. Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian,’ Heather chuckled.

‘Statistically, we are having the most orgasms.’ Primrose was eating a mince pie and had her feet up on the vintage pink hamper at the end of Heather’s bed. ‘However, women are still humans. There can still be bullshit.’

‘How disappointing. I thought we were the good ones.’ Violet sighed.

‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. Women’s bullshit is still very low on the overall bullshit-o-meter.’ Primrose laughed. ‘The emotional maturity is, in general, at a much higher level. Still, I’ve been ghosted recently. That wasn’t an optimal experience.’

‘Sorry, Primmy.’ Bluebell had been taking pictures of the sisters getting ready, but she stopped and hugged her sister. ‘Who wouldn’t want you? You’re the coolest.’

‘Aww. Thanks, Blue.’ Primrose hugged her sister back.

‘My god. I can’t imagine what it must be like to ask someone to do something and have them… actually do it.’ Blossom sat at the dressing table next to Heather, doing her own make-up. ‘What bliss that must be. Maybe I’ll get on one of those apps for women.’

‘You know that you do actually have to do the sexy stuff with a girl, though, right?’ Primrose raised an eyebrow. ‘You can’t just be in it for the shared housework.’

‘Pah. I guess.’ Blossom sighed. ‘I’d be willing to try, though.’

‘How are things with Tom?’ Catriona asked, opening a bottle of champagne. ‘Is he behaving himself?’

The cork popped, and Catriona poured seven small glasses, handing them to her daughters. On a table in the middle of the room there was a whole feast of snacks: as well as the champagne and mince pies – handmade by Claire – there were cheese straws, a large stack of toasted sandwiches cut into star shapes, a stack of thick slices of fruit cake, and a large plate of cinnamon cookies.

‘I don’t want to talk about it, if that’s okay.’ Blossom shook her head. ‘This is Heather’s day.’

‘Right… well, you know I’m always here to listen.’ Catriona frowned.

‘I know, Mum.’ Blossom was sticking on some fake eyelashes. ‘For today, I just want to have a lovely time.’

‘Well, you look gorgeous,’ Violet said. ‘He’s a bloody idiot.’