Page 27 of The Scottish Island Inn

So, it was an aubergine, but it was also an ambush.

Sorrel felt her cheeks blush as Tam stood up, politely, holding out the free chair next to him.

‘Hello, Sorrel,’ he said. ‘I feel like it’s your birthday or something. Happy un-birthday.’

‘Oh… thank you… I don’t have to sit there,’ she said, and then instantly wondered why, of all things, she’d chosen to say that. How rude. ‘There’s two chairs, I mean…’ she trailed off. Now you’re making it worse, she thought. Just. Stop. Speaking.

‘Actually, the place holder says you have to sit here.’ Tam reached over and picked up the little piece of card that had been folded with an exact little crease, on which her name had been written in flawless ink calligraphy.

‘Oh,’ she replied, feeling her blush intensify. ‘Right.’

‘Come in, come in.’ Dom led her in and took her coat; he hung both of theirs up on a series of hooks by the entrance. She sat down between Tam and Farid.

‘This is all such a surprise!’ she laughed, nervously.

‘Do you like it? Dom thought you would. It was his idea to do the abduction thing. Personally, I wouldn’t have gone with the scarf over the eyes, but he wanted to add some drama.’ Farid gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘How are you, petal? You look a bit overwhelmed.’

‘She’s fine, she’s fine. Drinks!’ Dom went over to a vintage mahogany drinks cabinet that could have doubled as a wardrobe, opened it with a flourish and took out some champagne glasses. ‘Kir royale, to begin! Farid, my angel, my sweet, my love, can you get the champers from the fridge?’ He poured a little of the blackcurrant liqueur into each glass and placed one on the table in front of every guest. Farid reappeared and topped each one up with champagne.

‘Welcome to the SS Margaret!’ Dom raised his glass for a toast. ‘And welcome home to Scotland’s most gorgeous prodigal daughter, Sorrel Balhennie!’

They all clinked their glasses together.

‘Can I just say, it’s not actually called the SS Margaret,’ Farid protested. ‘The boat’s official name was The Scottish Thistle, but we both hate that name. So, we’re still trying to think of a new one. All suggestions welcome.’

‘What’s wrong with the SS Margaret?’ Dom asked, in mock outrage. ‘One of the UK’s finest prime ministers.’

‘Dom. Stop.’ Farid swatted his hand towards his partner. ‘I suggested The Julianna Margulies, but Dom doesn’t like it.’

‘It’s not that she isn’t a wonderful actress. I just thought we should have something with a little more clout and glamour,’ Dom protested.

‘She was legendary in ER. Generation-defining,’ Farid pouted.

‘Hmm. I wanted The Joan Collins, of course.’ Dom raised his hands to the ceiling, as if to indicate Joan’s godliness.

‘Too schmaltzy.’ Farid made a noise like a buzzer on a quiz show. ‘Veto.’

‘What about something Scottish?’ Tam asked. ‘Does it have to be a lady’s name?’

‘A boat is always a lady, Tam,’ Dom said, seriously. ‘Everyone, please try the crudités. All locally sourced, apart from the olives.’

‘Of course. My apologies.’ Tam chuckled. ‘Well, what about Mary Somerville? She was Scottish, and one of the first women to be admitted to the Royal Astronomical Society. Or Elsie Inglis. She was a doctor and a suffragist, and she founded a number of Scottish women’s hospitals. She ran hospital units in World War One, I believe.’

Sorrel had forgotten that Tam, who, as well as being annoyingly good at sports, handy with tools, and now ran his own business as a builder and general renovation contractor, and who looked like a Scottish Hugo Boss model – tall and buff in all the right ways, with totally no idea how hot he was – was also a big reader. He’d always loved history.

Damn you, she thought, looking at the napkin in her lap. Why do you have to be so perfect?

‘Or Mary, Queen of Scots,’ Heather suggested. ‘You can’t get more iconic than that.’

‘Those are very good suggestions, you two.’ Farid pointed his finger at them both. ‘See? We want something classy.’

‘You’re right. Maybe we should name it after Heather Balhennie. Always the lady!’ Dom twinkled at Heather. ‘It’s been an absolute age, missus. I hear that nuptials are in the offing? Dare I ask?’ he trilled. ‘And look at the rock!’ He took her hand and held Heather’s engagement ring up to the light. ‘Goodness. Is that real, darling? Because if it is, he’s a keeper.’

‘It’s real, and I’m definitely keeping him.’ Heather giggled, and began telling Dom all about her upcoming wedding.

‘Hello,’ Tam said to Sorrel, shyly, as Farid got up to get some mini quiches that he’d made.

‘Hello,’ she replied, also shyly. ‘Sorry about… you know. Earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just a bit discombobulated, seeing you all here.’