15
As Natalie hurried down the hallway towards the stairs, Helen’s door opened.
‘Oh – hello,’ Natalie said, pausing in mid-flight to take in the other woman’s coat and boots. ‘Where are you off to this morning?’
Helen slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder. ‘I’m meeting the tow truck driver. He’s taking me – and my late, lamented hire car – into the village.’
‘I see,’ Nat said, disappointed. ‘Then I don’t expect you’d have room for one more.’
‘Did you need to go into Loch Draemar?’
‘Yes. Rhys has disappeared, and I need to buy,’ she paused ‘something, erm, personal...from the chemist’s.’
Helen smiled. ‘I quite understand. I’m sure we can make room for one more in the truck’s cab.’
Colm was waiting downstairs as they descended the stairs. ‘I’ve come to take you into the village, Miss Thomas.’
‘But...I arranged to ride along with the tow truck driver,’ Helen told him, puzzled. ‘He said I might. So there’s really no need for you to take me. Us,’ she amended as she glanced over at Natalie.
‘Well, you haven’t much choice, I’m afraid,’ Colm informed her. ‘Your car’s already been towed away. Now, ladies, if you don’t mind,’ he added brusquely as he reached for the door, ‘I’ve things to be doing. Let’s go.’
And so it was that Natalie arrived in Loch Draemar a short time later, after agreeing to meet Helen and Colm in an hour’s time. She made her way with trepidation into the chemist’s and winced as the bell jangled over the door.
But after the proprietor called out a pleasant ‘good morning’, no one bothered her, and she found herself alone, studying the assortment of pregnancy kits on offer with a frown of concentration.
She’d no idea there were so many brands available to tell you if you were pregnant or not. It did her head in. How was she to know which test kit was the most reliable?
Was it best to buy this famous one she’d seen advertised on TV? Or the one that claimed to be ‘easy to use’? Or this one over here, that screamed ‘doctor recommended’ in large blue letters?
In the end she went with the famous one. It cost the most...so that meant it was the best, surely?
Just before lunch they piled into the Range Rover and returned to Draemar.
‘It looks like I’ll be depending on the kindness of strangers for another week,’ Helen remarked as Colm turned up the drive that led to the castle.
‘What? Your car won’t be ready until then?’ Natalie asked.
She shook her head. ‘The mechanic says they have to send to Inverness for the parts. I really hate to impose on Tarquin and Wren any more than I already have.’
‘Oh, they don’t mind,’ Natalie assured her. ‘They love the company. But it’s a bit inconvenient for you, I imagine.’
‘A bit,’ Helen agreed, although secretly she was glad of the delay. It gave her time to wrangle an invitation to Northton Grange from Dominic and Gemma, and hopefully, to get the scoop – and photos – of their soon-to-be, not-so-secret wedding.
And while she remained at Draemar castle, she mused, she could do a bit more research into Andrew Campbell’s death, as well.
Natalie eyed her quizzically. ‘What brings you to Scotland, if you don’t mind my asking? Are you here visiting family?’
Colm slanted a glance at Helen in the rear-view mirror, but he made no comment.
‘No,’ Helen answered, ‘I’m a writer. Freelance. I write pieces on spec for women’s magazines.’
‘But that’s fabulous!’ Nat exclaimed. ‘I’d no idea you were a writer.’
Helen smiled briefly but was spared a further reply as they approached the castle. A salt-encrusted Jeep was parked before the entrance as Colm drew the Range Rover to a stop.
‘I wonder who that belongs to?’ Nat mused as she opened her door. ‘It looks as if it’s been through a war.’
‘It belongs to Archibald Campbell,’ Colm replied. ‘Tarquin’s father.’
‘But I thought Tark’s parents were in Corfu,’ Helen said in puzzlement.
He shrugged. ‘They must’ve cut their holiday short.’
‘How odd. I wonder why they’ve come back?’ she mused as she stepped out of the car.
‘Not really your business, is it?’ Colm said.
Before she could form a suitable response, he put the Range Rover in gear and drove away.
Low but charged voices reached Helen and Natalie’s ears as Dominic opened the front door and let them in.
‘What’s going on?’ Nat asked. She glanced across the entrance hall and was surprised to see that the drawing room doors were firmly shut.
‘Tark’s parents are back, that’s what’s going on,’ Dominic hissed. ‘I came down to see what the cook had on the menu for lunch – no haggis, thank God ‒ and I was headed back upstairs when all hell broke loose.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’ Helen asked.
‘I don’t know, exactly,’ Dom confided, ‘but it’s something to do with Tark’s sister Caitlin. I heard raised voices and shouting, then Tark came down the hall and herded everyone into the drawing room and shut the doors.’
Natalie frowned. ‘Why are they all shouting, if the Campbells have only just got home?’
Her question was answered when the drawing room doors flew open and Caitlin, her face red and her eyes swollen with tears, burst into the entrance hall and launched herself towards the stairs.
‘Caitlin Morag Campbell, don’t you dare walk out on this conversation!’ an equally red-faced man called out after her. ‘I’m your father, damn you, and I won’t bloody have it!’
With his ginger hair and beard bristling with anger, Tarquin’s father was an imposing figure.
‘Archie, please.’ A tall, attractive woman laid a hand on his sleeve as she glanced over at Natalie, Helen, and Dominic hovering uncertainly by the front door. ‘We have company.’
‘I’m sorry, Pen, but Caitlin and I didn’t finish this conversation.’ He shook off his wife’s hand and levelled a glare on his daughter.
‘It’s not a conversation,’ Caitlin hurled back as she whirled around to face him, ‘it’s an inquisition! I planned to tell you both everything...but Wren went and spoiled it, like she always does.’ She shot a venomous glance at Tarquin’s wife, who stood in the hallway next to her husband. ‘She couldn’t wait to land me in trouble.’
