Читать книгу Mother of the Bride - Caroline Anderson - Страница 4

SHE looked wonderful. Tired, with deep smudges under her eyes, but wonderful.

She wasn’t asleep, just resting her eyes, but it meant he could look at her out of the corner of his eye without being seen. And he wanted to look at her. Ridiculously badly.

She looked just the same, he thought with a twist to his heart. Well, no, not just the same, because she was thirty-nine now and she’d been eighteen when they’d first met, but the years had been kind to her and if anything she was more beautiful than she’d been twenty years ago.

Her skin was like rich cream, smooth and silky, dusted with freckles, and he wondered if it would still smell the way it had, warm and fragrant and uncomplicated. Her hair, wild and untamed, was still that wonderful rich red, a dark copper that she’d passed on to Jenni but which in their daughter was mellowed by his dark- haired gene to a glorious auburn.

She had the temper to go with it, too, the feistiness Jenni had reminded him of. It was something that fortunately neither of them had handed on to their daughter, but although at first they’d had stand-up fights that had ended inevitably in bed with tearful and passionate reconciliation, by the end there’d been no sign of it. And he’d missed it. Missed the fights, missed the making up. Missed his Maisie.

He sighed and turned into the car park of the café overlooking the top of Loch Linnhe, and by the time he’d cut the engine she had her seat-belt undone and was reaching for the door handle.

She straightened up and looked around, giving him a perfect back view, her jeans gently hugging that curved, shapely bottom that had fitted so well in his hands …

‘This looks nice.’

He swallowed hard and hauled in a breath. ‘It is nice. It’s owned by the people who run the hotel in the village. They’ve got a local produce shop here as well, selling salmon and venison and cheese and the like.’

‘And insect repellent?’

He chuckled, remembering her constant battle with the midges. ‘Probably.’ He held the door, and she went in and sniffed the air, making him smile.

‘Oh, the coffee smells good.’

‘It is good. What are you having?’

‘Cappuccino, and—they look tasty.’

‘They are. Do me a favour and don’t even ask about the calories.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ she vowed, making him laugh. ‘I’m starving.’

He ordered the coffees and two of the trademark gooey pastries, and they headed for a table by the window. He set the tray down and eased into the seat opposite her, handing her her cup.

‘So, how did the wedding go yesterday?’

A flicker of distress appeared in her moss- green eyes before she looked down at her coffee. She poked the froth for a moment. ‘OK. Lovely. Very beautiful. Very moving. The bride’s mother’s not well—that’s why I couldn’t hand it over.’

He frowned. ‘Why didn’t they postpone it?’

‘Because she’s about to start chemo,’ Maisie said softly. ‘They had to rush the wedding forward, and the last thing I could do to them was upset them at this stage. They wanted me, they trusted me, and I’d promised.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t appreciate that at the time. I can quite see that you had to stay, and I’m sorry if I implied that anyone else could take over from you. Of course that isn’t true, especially under those circumstances. You had no choice.’

She blinked. He’d really taken her comments on board, if that was anything to go by, but she wasn’t surprised. He’d always been one for doing the right thing—even when it was wrong.

‘You’ll be wanting to send them the images.’

‘I’ve done it. I downloaded them on the train and posted them at Euston. Just in case.’ She sighed softly as she broke off, biting her lip and thinking of Annette.

‘Poor woman,’ he murmured. ‘It must have been hard for the family, dealing with all those emotions.’

She nodded, but then she went quiet, sipping her coffee, absently tearing up the pastry and nibbling at it. ‘Rob, this wedding—are you sure it’s right for them? They’re so young.’

‘Not that young.’

‘They are! Just like we were. We were far too young.’

‘You can’t compare them to us. They’re three years older than we were—’

‘No. I was eighteen, she’s twenty. That’s only two years.’

‘She’s almost twenty-one. She’ll be twenty-one by the wedding, and Alec will be twenty-four. And those years make a lot of difference. You were only just eighteen and pregnant, and I was twenty- one and committed to the navy for six years, and we didn’t know each other nearly well enough.’

‘We still don’t.’

‘No. Jenni said that on Tuesday, and I think she was right. But they’re different, Maisie. They know each other through and through. They’ve been friends ever since they were children, and this has been growing for years. They’re genuinely deeply in love, and it’s great to see them together. We didn’t stand a chance, but they do. I think they’ll be very happy together.’

‘You don’t think they should wait?’

‘What for?’

Good question. She stared out of the window over the gently rippling waters of the loch and sighed. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘To be more settled?’

‘They are settled. Alec’s got a good job—’

‘One you’ve given him. Rob, you are sure about him, aren’t you?’ she asked, her anxiety surfacing. ‘You don’t think he’s using her?’

Rob frowned. ‘Using her? Of course he’s not. They’ve known each other for years!’

‘That wouldn’t stop some people.’

‘Maisie, Alec’s not like that.’

‘So what is he like? Tell me—I’m worried, Rob.’

‘You don’t need to be. They’ve known each other since they were children—he taught her to ride a bike, for heaven’s sake. They used to play together when she came up in the holidays, and they’ve always got on. He was born in the cottage his parents still live in, and his father was my estate manager until he retired five years ago. He worked for my father, and my uncle before him, and his father before him, so he’s the third generation to look after Ardnashiel. It’s in his blood, even more than it is in mine, and I can’t think of a safer pair of hands either for the estate or for Jenni. He’s kind and decent, honest as the day is long, and he really loves her. You honestly don’t need to worry.’

She nodded slowly, reassured by his measured assessment of his future son-in-law. ‘And your mother? How does she feel about him?’

‘She likes him. She’s very fond of him, actually.’

‘Really? Even though he’s one of the estate employees? I’m surprised she thinks he’s good enough for her.’

His brows scrunched together in a frown. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well, they made it clear I wasn’t good enough for you—or was that just my lack of morals?’

He gave a harsh sigh. ‘You don’t change, do you?’ he said. ‘You always were a little too quick to judge.’

‘I wasn’t judging her, she was judging me! That’s unfair!’

‘Is it?’ he said softly, his eyes searching hers. ‘You didn’t give my father the benefit of the doubt, you rebuffed all my mother’s offers of friendship and you walked off and left me. That was unfair.’

She opened her mouth to argue, thought better of it, here in this public place, and shut it again. She’d tell him another time—maybe—just what his mother’s offers of friendship had consisted of. And as for his father, there was no doubt to give him the benefit of. He’d hated her, despised her, and he’d made sure she and everybody else had known it. And she hadn’t left him, she’d left the castle, and he’d let her go, made no attempt to follow her, to find out what was wrong.

‘This is neither the time nor place to go over all of this,’ she said, equally quietly. ‘And anyway, it’s time we got on. I’d like to see Jenni now, she’ll be wondering where we are.’

And without waiting to see what he did, she got to her feet and walked out of the café, leaving her coffee half-drunk and her pastry in shreds all over the table.

Stifling a sigh, Rob threw down a few coins for the tip and followed her out, wondering how on earth they were going to get through all the inevitable meetings and discussions and tantrums that would eventually culminate in the wedding.

Ten and a half weeks, he told himself as he unlocked the car and held the door for her, and it would all be over and she’d be gone, and everything would get back to normal.

For some reason, that didn’t feel comforting.

The road to Ardnashiel was painfully familiar to Maisie, and they travelled it in a tense and brittle silence.

The first time she’d driven it with Rob all those years ago, it had felt very different. They’d been laughing and holding hands as he drove, their fingers linked on his thigh, and he’d been telling her all about it, about the huge, sprawling estate his father had inherited ten years before from an uncle.

He loved it, he’d told her. He’d loved it as a child, coming up with his parents to visit his widowed uncle, not realising at first that one day it would be his, and he was looking forward to showing it to her. ‘Since it’s going to be mine. Not for years and years, though,’ he’d added, laughing. ‘I’m not ready to bury myself up here in the wilderness yet, by a long way, but one day, I suppose, the time will come.’

That day had come sooner than he’d imagined, when his father had died in a shooting accident eight years ago and he’d left London and moved up here for good. She’d never been back, though, not since the day she’d left and vowed never to return.

The road hadn’t changed at all since then, she thought, taking it in as her heart knotted ever tighter in her chest. A quiet, winding road that ran between lush green fields with fat cattle grazing contentedly. It was calm, bucolic, and it should have been beautiful, but it was coloured by association. The last time she’d travelled it, she’d been in a taxi, leaving it behind, and part of her was still the lonely, desperate young woman that she had been then.

He reached a junction and turned onto a narrow switchback of a road that clung in the gap between the edge of a loch and the wall of rock where the land met the water. It was an appalling road, and yet the fact that it existed at all in such a tight space was a miracle of engineering in itself.

The loch turned into a river, then the road widened as the land levelled out into a flat bowl around the harbour mouth, houses clustered along its walls, fringing the sea and running up towards the hills, and then beyond the small community, set up on its own on a rocky outcrop above the beach, was Ardnashiel Castle.

Built of stone, grey and forbidding, even with the sun shining on it there was a look of menace about it that chilled Maisie to the bone.

Just as it was meant to, really, since it had been built as a fort, but an ancestor had extended it two hundred years ago, creating a more civilised living area and carving gardens out of the woodland that had encroached on it. He’d added little turrets with tops like witches’ hats, and made the windows bigger, and the first time she’d seen it she’d thought it was straight out of a fairy-tale, but then things had changed. It had ceased to be a safe haven and begun to feel like a prison, and looking at it now brought the feelings of suffocation crashing back.

And maybe Rob realised it because, as they crossed the stone bridge and drew up in the stable- yard by the coach-house, he glanced across at her for the first time since they’d left the café and sighed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I realise it’s not your fault you don’t know Alec, but give him a chance. Please. And my mother. I know you didn’t always see eye to eye, but she’s worried about seeing you again, worried you’ll still dislike her.’

‘I didn’t dislike her, Rob,’ she corrected him quietly. ‘She disliked me. And I’m sorry if you felt I was being unfair to Alec. I will give him a chance, of course I will. I’ve always liked what I’ve seen of him, but—I’m just worried for Jenni, Rob. She’s my little girl, and I’d hate to see her make a mistake.’

‘It’s not a mistake—and she’s my little girl too, remember,’ he said with a twisted smile that cut her to the heart. ‘Just because she lived with you doesn’t mean I didn’t love her every bit as much as you did. And I know you feel I’ve stolen her from you, but she feels at home here.’

She opened her mouth to argue, to say of course she didn’t feel that, she knew he hadn’t stolen her, but then shut it again, because she did feel like that, did feel that he’d stolen not only her daughter but also her wedding, all the planning and girly excitement she’d seen so often in other young brides and their mothers, the tears and the tantrums and the laughter.

Which was ridiculous, because she was here now, for exactly that, and she would be here for as long as her daughter needed her.

‘Rob, it’s fine. Let’s just move on, can we?’ she said, and then the car door was snatched from her hand and Jenni was hurling herself into the car and hugging her, sitting on the sill and cupping her face, staring at her searchingly.

‘Are you all right? I know you didn’t want to come, but—’

‘I’m fine,’ she said softly, and gathering Jenni into her arms she hugged her hard. ‘It’s fine. And it’s going to be loads of fun. Come on, let’s go inside and we can start planning!’

‘Brilliant, I can’t wait. Here, look, my ring!’

She held her hand out, eyes sparkling, face alight with love and happiness, and Maisie looked at the ring, a simple diamond in a white gold band, nothing flashy but perfectly suited to her uncomplicated and slender daughter, and she smiled.

‘It’s lovely. Did he choose it?’

She giggled mischievously. ‘I might have hinted a little,’ she confessed, and Rob snorted.

‘Only slightly,’ he said. He was out of the car, taking her bags out of the boot by the time she’d disentangled herself from their daughter and climbed out, and she scraped her windswept hair back out of her eyes and reached for her camera.

Rob was there first. ‘I’ve got it. You go on in with Jenni, I’ll put this lot in your room.’

And she was led inside, Jenni’s arm round her waist, and it was only as they went in that she realised things had changed.

The house was warm, for a start. Warm and bright and welcoming. It had never felt like that, not even in the summer, the year she’d had Jenni. And Jenni had taken her in through the front door, instead of round the side and in through the kitchen, the way Rob had always taken her in.

Through the tradesmen’s entrance?

She was being ridiculous. He’d treated her as a member of the family instead of a visitor, but Jenni—Jenni was treating her as if she was special, a treasured and valued guest, ushering her in, smiling and laughing and hugging her, and as she led her into the drawing room, so familiar and yet so different, Helen Mackenzie got to her feet and came towards them. Older, stiffer, but still beautiful, still the elegant, dignified and aloof woman she’d always been.

‘Maisie—welcome back,’ she said softly, and held out her hand.

Maisie shook it, glad she hadn’t kissed her or embraced her. It would have felt wrong after all the bitterness of the past, and the formal, impersonal contact was enough for now. More than enough. She found a smile and wished she wasn’t wearing jeans and had had time to drag a brush through her hair.

‘Thank you, Mrs Mackenzie,’ she said politely, and then foundered, but it didn’t matter.

Rob’s mother simply smiled, said, ‘Please, call me Helen,’ and took up where she’d left off and asked if she’d had a good journey, and if she’d like a drink.

‘Tea? Coffee? Or something cold, perhaps?’

‘Actually, I’d love a glass of water.’

‘Of course. I always get very dehydrated when I’m travelling. There just don’t seem to be the opportunities to drink anything civilised. Jenni, my dear, would you ask Mrs McCrae if she could find us a bottle of spring water? Still or sparkling?’

‘Sparkling would be lovely. Thank you.’

How stilted. How formal and civilised and polite, when all Maisie wanted to do was head off with Jenni and hug her and hear all about Alec’s proposal.

‘Maisie, do sit down. You must be exhausted. I don’t suppose you slept a wink on that wretched train. I know I never do.’

‘It was very comfortable.’

‘But not restful. It’s not the same as a decent bed.’ She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers slightly, then met Maisie’s eyes again, her own, so like Rob’s and Jenni’s, troubled. ‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ she said frankly. ‘I did wonder if you would, but for Jenni’s sake, if not for anyone else’s, I think we should try and put the past behind us and move on—let bygones be bygones.’

She opened her mouth to speak, found no words that she was prepared to say out loud, and then was saved from answering by Jenni coming back into the room with Alec.

She got up to greet him and found herself wrapped in a warm, firm hug. ‘Hi. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived, I was just welcoming a group of guests, but I saw you drive by and gave them some flannel about checking on the nesting golden eagles and left them to settle in.’

His eyes sparkled mischievously, and Helen gave a rusty chuckle. ‘You’re a terror, Alec Cooper. Will you stay and join us for a drink, or do you have to be somewhere?’

‘Checking the nesting eagles, for instance?’ Maisie teased, and he laughed.

‘No, I don’t have to be anywhere. The guests have all been before, so they know their way around. They’re all heading off to the pub for lunch, and I’m free for a while.’ He took her hand in both of his, his eyes serious. ‘So, will you forgive me? I’m sorry I didn’t manage to talk to you, too. I did try, but your mobile must have been off, and I didn’t leave a message. It didn’t seem to be the sort of thing I could say to a machine, but— well, I know you’ve had reservations about me, and I really wanted your blessing, too.’

‘Oh, Alec, of course I forgive you,’ she said, guilt washing over her. He had tried to ring—the missed call from a number she hadn’t recognised. ‘And it’s not that I have reservations, Alec. I don’t really know you, and I just want you both to be sure, but Jenni knows you much better than I do, and you probably know her better than I do, come to that, so I have to trust your judgement. I just want my daughter to be happy, and she does seem to be, so of course you have my blessing. But look after her, Alec, treat her right. That’s all I ask.’

‘Of course I will. I love her, Maisie. I love her more than anything or anyone in the world. I’ll do nothing to hurt her.’

Maisie’s eyes filled, and she hugged her soon- to-be son-in-law hard, then reached out for Jenni, drawing her into the hug as well. Please let it be all right, she prayed, and then let them go, just as Mrs McCrae came in, set down the tray and engulfed her in yet another hug.

‘Good heavens, lass, let me look at you. You don’t look a day older! Oh, it’s good to see you again.’

She laughed, delighted to see the kindly housekeeper who had been her saviour and only friend in the dark days after Jenni’s birth. ‘Oh, Mrs McCrae, how lovely to see you again, too! You haven’t changed, either. I would have known you anywhere!’

‘A few pounds heavier, mind, but my grandchildren keep me fit now when I’m not here running up and down stairs after this lot!’

She heard a door open and close, then Rob came in. ‘Sorry to be so long. I was held up by a guest—something about nesting golden eagles?’

Alec chuckled. ‘Ah—a little poetic licence. I wanted to greet my future mother-in-law, but it’s not a problem. I’ll tell them they can’t be disturbed, and, anyway, we have got nesting eagles.’

‘Have we?’

‘Aye. I saw them this morning when I was out on the hills checking the deer. We’ve a stag needs culling, by the way. He’s been injured—can’t put one hind leg to the ground. It’s the big old stag with the broken antler and the scar on his rump.’

Rob nodded. ‘I wondered about him. He was lame yesterday, I was going to check on him. Can I leave him to you?’

‘Sure.’

That dealt with, Rob turned to Maisie, scanning her face for any clue as to her mood, but she was smiling and talking to Mrs McCrae about her grandchildren and giving his mother a wide berth.

Oh, hell, it was all so complicated, he thought, feeling twenty-two again. If only she’d stayed, if only he’d tried to convince her to come back instead of letting her go without a fight. Or gone with her. They hadn’t needed to live up here, they could have lived in London or Cambridge—anywhere, really, that she chose, but she’d chosen to leave him, to take his daughter away, and deny his parents the chance to see their beloved little granddaughter grow up. She’d even done it behind his back, while he’d been at sea, and asked his parents to tell him and give him her letter—a letter that had told him what he’d already known, that she didn’t want to stay. She hadn’t even had the guts to do it to his face. That, more than anything, had hurt.

He checked the thought and turned to his mother, concentrating on the practicalities. ‘So— what time are we aiming to have lunch?’

‘Whenever we’re ready. Mrs McCrae, how long will lunch take to prepare?’

‘It’s all ready, Mrs Mackenzie, you just tell me when you want to eat. The bread’s fresh out of the oven and I just need a few moments to heat the soup.’

‘Ten minutes, then?’ Helen said, and Rob wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, or if it was desperation that flickered briefly on her face before Maisie masked it.

‘I think,’ he cut in smoothly before anyone could argue, ‘that Maisie could probably do with a few minutes to freshen up. She’s been travelling all night. An hour, maybe?’

He hadn’t imagined it. Her eyes met his with relief, and she gave him a grateful smile.

‘Thank you. That would be wonderful—if you don’t mind, Mrs McCrae? I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

‘Och, of course I don’t mind! I made cock-a- leekie for you, hen,’ she said, beaming at Maisie. ‘I know it’s your favourite soup, and there’s homemade oat bread, and some wonderful Mull Cheddar to follow. You always liked the Mull Cheddar.’

Maisie’s face softened, and she smiled warmly at the elderly housekeeper. ‘Thank you. That sounds lovely. Fancy you remembering I like cock-a-leekie.’

‘I’ve never forgotten you, pet. I’m making roast beef for you tonight, for Alec’s parents coming up. Just to welcome you home.’

She bustled off, and for a moment there was silence while the word ‘home’ seemed to reverberate around the room, but Rob cut it off swiftly.

‘I’ll show you to your room,’ he said, and opening the door he ushered her out and closed it softly behind them.

‘Thank you,’ she said. That was all, but it spoke volumes, and he dredged up a smile.

‘My pleasure,’ he told her, wishing that it wasn’t a lie, that every interaction between them, no matter how brief or businesslike, didn’t seem to be flaying him alive. ‘I’ve put you in the room you had before. You always used to sit there in the window and look out at the sea. I thought you might like it.’

Maisie felt a chill run over her. She’d wept so many tears in that room, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask for another, any one, it didn’t matter which, just not that room, but then she stopped herself and nodded. She had to get over this silliness. They had a wedding to plan, and she couldn’t allow herself to keep harking back to the past.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and followed him up the magnificent old stone staircase to the landing above. He fell into step beside her, hanging back as they reached the room, and she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding with dread.

The door was standing open, and she went in and stopped in her tracks.

It was different. Lovely. The colours were soft and tranquil, muted blues and greens, pale cream, a touch of rose here and there to lift it. A great black iron bed was heaped with pillows and cushions and dressed with a pretty tartan throw so soft she wanted to bury her face in it and sigh with delight.

When had it been changed? And why? Not for her, of course. It would be a favourite guest room, with that gorgeous view out over the sea to the islands, and she realised in surprise it now had its own bathroom off it, in the little room that had been Jenni’s nursery.

Progress, she thought in astonishment.

‘It looks … ‘

‘Different?’ he murmured, and she turned and met his eyes.

‘Yes.’ Very different from the room she’d been installed in after Jenni had been born. That had been cold and forbidding, but this …

She ran her hand over the throw, fingering its softness. ‘This is lovely.’

‘It’s a pastel version of the Mackenzie tartan,’ he told her. ‘Jenni’s idea. There’s one in every room—mohair, to keep out the cold.’

‘It’s warm in here, though.’

‘Well, it is April. The heating works better now, but the wind still sneaks in in January.’

His smile was fleeting, and made her heart ache. She’d loved him so much …

‘And an en suite bathroom. That’s a bit luxurious,’ she said, turning away as if to study it, just to get away from those piercing eyes.

‘It was twenty years ago, Maisie,’ he reminded her gently, as if she needed reminding. ‘Things have changed. All sorts of things.’

Him? She said nothing, and after a moment she heard a quiet sigh. ‘I’ll see you downstairs. Come and find me when you’re done—I’ll be in my study.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Bottom of the stairs, turn left, follow the corridor round and it’s at the back, by the gun court. Just yell, I’ll find you.’

He went out, leaving her alone, and she closed her eyes and thought longingly of the bed. It looked so inviting. So soft and warm and welcoming. And she was shattered.

Later, she told herself. Shower first, then lunch, then talk to Jenni—and maybe later, before dinner, she’d snatch five minutes.

Anyway, her luggage was on the bed, waiting, and she’d have to deal with it before she could lie down.

‘Shower,’ she told herself sternly, and unzipping her case she pulled out her wash bag and headed for the bathroom.

She didn’t dawdle. Lunch was calling her, and she was more than ready for it by the time she’d tamed her hair, pulled on some clean clothes and tracked Rob down in his study overlooking the sea.

He was deep in thought, staring out of the window, feet propped up on his desk and his brow furrowed when she went in. He dropped his feet to the floor and swung round, greeting her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Lovely, thank you. Much better,’ she said with real gratitude, and he got to his feet and ushered her through to the drawing room where his mother, Jenni and Alec were waiting.

He’d gone into the study deliberately, she realised then, to wait for her so she didn’t have to come in here alone and face them all. She could have laughed at that. If only he’d realised that he, of all of them, was the biggest stumbling block.

‘I’ll tell Mrs McCrae we’re all ready,’ he said, and left her with Jenni, striding down the corridor away from the scent of soap and shampoo and something else he recognised from long ago. Something that dragged him right back to the beginning, to the times when she would come to him smelling like that and he’d take her in his arms and hold her close and breath in the scent of her.

He went down to the kitchen, wishing he could escape, go out onto the hills where the fresh air could drive the scent from his nostrils and bring him peace. But he couldn’t, because he had things to do, things that only he could do. His daughter was getting married, and he had to hold it together until then. And dragging Maisie into his arms and breathing her in wasn’t an option, either.

‘We’re all here now,’ he said to Mrs McCrae. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘Aye, that would be kind, Robert. You can stir this while I put the bread out.’ And having trapped him so easily, in a trap he’d walked into with his eyes wide open, she then started on him in her oh, so unsubtle way.

‘She’s looking tired.’

‘She is tired. She’s been travelling all night. She looks better now she’s had a shower and changed into fresh clothes.’

‘She’d look better still if she’d come home and let me feed her up a bit,’ she said, wielding the bread knife like a weapon. ‘Poor wee thing.’

‘I’m sure Maisie’s perfectly capable of feeding herself,’ he said firmly, drawing the pot off the heat and closing the lid of the range. ‘And she has a home in Cambridge,’ he added, reminding himself as much as Mrs McCrae as he glanced at the bare table. He frowned. ‘Where are we eating?’

‘In the dining room,’ she said, her eyes flashing with indignation. ‘Robbie, she’s come back, wherever you say her home might be! She can’t be eating in the kitchen—not today.’

He opened his mouth to argue, shut it again and sighed softly in resignation. ‘I’ll carry this,’ he said, and followed her up the stairs.

‘Here we are, hen,’ she said, setting the bread down on the table as Maisie sat down. ‘And mind you eat plenty!’

She did. She was still starving, the half-eaten pastry just a memory now, and she had two bowls of the delicious hearty soup, a good chunk of cheese and two slices of the soft, warm oat bread that was Mrs McCrae’s forte. And while she ate, Jenni took the opportunity to fill her in on the wedding plans to date.

‘OK. I’ve had a few ideas,’ she said, making Alec splutter into his soup, which earned him a loving swat from his fiancée. ‘You’re not here for long, Mum, so I thought we should spend today planning and having a brainstorming session, and then tomorrow we’re going to Glasgow to look at dresses. I’ve made some appointments, and I’ve made sure they know that there’s only two months, but the places we’re going all have samples which they can sell us, so we won’t have to go through the business of ordering them, which takes ages. Now, they’ll probably need altering, so … ‘

Rob watched her in wry amusement. She’d been planning this for ages, he knew, and Alec’s proposal had been like a breath on a hair trigger. He just hoped that Maisie was ready for it.