Page 28 of The Scottish Island Inn

‘When he whipped the scarf off? Yeah. It was… a moment.’ Tam snorted a laugh under his breath.

‘You know Dom.’ Sorrel shrugged.

‘I do. They’re such a great couple. Beth and I used to go in there all the time. I hadn’t been in much, since then.’ He looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Sorry. Is that strange to say? I didn’t mean it to be. They were really kind to her, towards the end.’

‘Of course it’s not strange. I know that everyone had a life when I was away. I’m glad that you all stayed friends.’ Sorrel took his hand and squeezed it.

‘They really missed you. They’d always talk about you. We all did. Beth didn’t mind hearing about you. She was a kind person. She knew that we’d been together from when we were young.’

Tam looked down at their intertwined hands. This time, it was he who extricated his hand from hers.

‘Beth sounds like a really good person.’ Sorrel felt sad at the loss of his touch. They seemed to be having a series of moments when they accidentally touched each other and then one of them would pull away; it felt symptomatic of what had happened between them. Only, she had been the one who had pulled away. Tam had never been anything but sure about her. ‘You don’t have to apologise for talking about her.’

‘All right. Well, anyway, Dom called me up a couple of days ago and said you’d been into the café, and that they were going to plan a special dinner. Asked me to come along. I hope it’s all right that I did.’

‘Again. It’s fine.’ She looked up into his deep hazel eyes, wanting to reassure him. ‘I…’

‘Quiche Lorraine! With a little salad garnish,’ Farid interrupted what she was about to say, leaning between Tam and Sorrel and laying a plate in front of each of them. ‘Sorry, was I interrupting a moment between you two?’ He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Sorrel wondered whether Dom and Farid might not have been doing a little matchmaking this evening.

‘No, nothing at all.’ She smiled innocently at her friend, taking her plate. ‘Farid, you know I love quiche.’ Sorrel was not about to confess her complicated feelings for her ex-boyfriend right here in the middle of a dinner party.

Not least because she had no idea how her ex-boyfriend – her hot, male-model-esque builder-handyman ex-boyfriend with a tragic past who made thoughtful comments about women’s history – argh – felt about her.

Sorrel knew how she felt: it might have been the Kir royale, but she felt distinctly hot under the collar. Sitting next to Tam (she suspected the seating plan was absolutely on purpose) also meant that she had an unfettered view of the way his muscular thighs stretched against his black trousers.

‘Just a little amuse-bouche before I bring out the buttered shrimp with Melba toast, and then it’s lobster tagliatelle, followed by… drum roll,’ Farid continued, catching Sorrel’s eye and winking as she looked up at him and away from Tam’s thigh. ‘If I can have everyone’s attention?’

Heather, Sorrel and Tam began drumming obediently on the table with their fingers. ‘Baked Alaska!’ Farid exclaimed with a grin.

‘We decided we’d do an Eighties-themed menu for you, since we’re on the boat,’ Farid explained to Sorrel. ‘It’s not too retro, is it? We should have all worn fascinators.’

‘Farid. It’s absolutely brilliant. Thank you.’ Sorrel leaned her head towards Farid’s ample torso affectionately.

‘It’s an absolute delight to have you here. We’re both made up.’ Farid clucked. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. ‘And don’t think I didn’t just I-spy what you were just looking at.’

‘Wow. Darling, you have outdone yourself!’ Dom took a bite of his quiche. ‘This is delicious.’

‘Thank you, my angel.’ Farid gave himself the final dish with a quiche on and sat down again.

Heather leaned across the table. ‘This is fun, isn’t it? I haven’t seen Dom and Farid in ages.’

‘It’s lovely. You kept it a secret, though.’ Sorrel grinned at her sister.

‘You can talk.’ Heather raised an eyebrow. ‘Bluebell’s arranged a video chat for tomorrow, by the way. So, it might not be a great idea to have too many Kirs. Not unless you want to tell us your big secret with a massive hangover.’

‘Oh. All right. Thanks. I think I’ll have one more, though. Dutch courage, in that case.’ Sorrel reached for her glass just as Dom got up and went to the drinks cabinet.

‘Top-ups!’ he trilled, coming back with the bottle of blackcurrant liqueur; Farid had also brought another bottle of champagne to the table. ‘Miss Sorrel?’

‘Yes, please.’ She held out her glass. It was a relief to know that tomorrow, her secret wouldn’t be a secret from her sisters any more. But the thought of having to tell them was also deeply nerve-wracking. She took a sip of her refreshed cocktail gratefully, feeling it steady her sudden nerves.

For now, she could enjoy a lovely night with her friends. Her heart was full, just then, and she was grateful. Grateful for whatever devilment that had filled Dom in inviting Tam and seating her next to him; grateful for the lovely meal in front of her; grateful for being included, for being back home.

Tomorrow was another day, as the saying went. Tomorrow, everything might change forever.

FIFTEEN

There had always been a wildfire telegraph-style communication between all six of the Balhennie sisters – when Sorrel had been included in it, that was. Violet was the worst communicator, which was ironic because her literal job was being a beauty journalist, where she wrote and talked about makeup to thousands of people. But she was always the slowest to respond to a group chat or a conversation of any kind.