Flower Of Scotland

by Emma Blair

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

A family's triumphs and tragedies, from life as privileged distillery owners to the horrors of the trenches in France. Charlotte becomes engaged to Lieutenant Geoffrey Armitage as the Great War breaks out,. The war takes its toll on all her fmaily, as the men become soldiers and the women nurses. Charlotte's brother Andrew is in Ireland and involved in the 1916 Easter uprising. When his girlfriend and her family are killed by an Irish militant, he kills the man and his family, as well as six others. As the war ends, they return to Scotland a different family and now must cope with the changes that have happened and those still to come . . .

Release date: September 1, 2011

Publisher: Piatkus

Print pages: 572

Sample

He was quite simply the most gorgeous man she’d ever clapped eyes on. Just the sight of him had the amazing effect of sending
a thrill through her entire body, a phenomenon she had never experienced before. She found the inside of her mouth had gone
suddenly dry.


‘Charlotte, may I introduce my colleague Second Lieutenant Geoffrey Armitage,’ her brother Andrew said.

Geoffrey gave a small bow of his head, then held out a hand. ‘Delighted to meet you, Miss Drummond.’

‘And to meet you, Lieutenant.’

He smiled as they shook. ‘Geoffrey please.’

‘Then you must call me Charlotte.’

She reluctantly released his hand, furious with herself to find she was blushing, something she rarely did. And never where
men were concerned.


Andrew Drummond noted her blushing with amusement. Well well, he thought. This was a turn up for the books.

He turned towards his younger sister who was standing a little apart. ‘And this is Helen,’ he declared.

Helen, shorter than Charlotte and plumpish, also shook hands with Geoffrey. ‘May I too call you Geoffrey?’


‘Of course.’

‘And what’s all this formal Helen nonsense? It’s been Nell since I was a child,’ she admonished Andrew.

‘Nell’s far nicer. More you somehow,’ Geoffrey stated.

Nell beamed. ‘Thank you.’

Andrew rubbed his hands together. ‘Now what about a dram after that journey, Geoffrey. I know I could certainly do with one.’

‘The family whisky naturally.’

‘Naturally.’

Andrew moved to a long oak sideboard on top of which were various decanters and glasses. ‘Girls, will you take sherry?’

Charlotte glanced at the ornate grandfather clock situated in a corner of the room. It was just past three in the afternoon.
‘A little early for me, but why not?’ She decided to shock this Geoffrey Armitage who had just walked into her life and from
whom she could hardly tear her eyes. ‘Make mine a dram as well.’


Geoffrey was momentarily taken aback, then laughed. ‘By Jove!’

Nell wasn’t to be outdone, emulating her elder sister as she so often did, or tried to do. ‘Same for me, Andrew.’

Charlotte crossed to a red velvet-covered chaise longue and sat, her mind whirling and filled with confusion. There she rearranged
the ankle-length skirt of the white cotton day dress she was wearing, already mentally flicking through her wardrobe wondering
which gown she would choose for that evening. Something stunning; she wanted to look her best for Geoffrey. She glanced coyly over at him. About five foot nine or ten she noted. With raven black hair
and matching eyes. He was broad shouldered, his body suggesting exceptional physical strength. He appeared to be roughly the
same age as Andrew, who was twenty-six.


Geoffrey produced a silver cigarette case. ‘May I?’ he asked Charlotte.

‘Carry on. Pa smokes, though in his case it’s a pipe.’

‘Tried smoking once but found it beastly,’ Andrew declared, handing Charlotte a cut crystal glass. He then gave a second one
to Nell, now sitting on a chair adjacent to the chaise longue.


‘Did McPhie pick you up from the station?’ Charlotte enquired of the men. McPhie was the family chauffeur.

‘No, we came in Geoffrey’s car. It’s quite a corker!’ Andrew replied enthusiastically.

‘A Humber T. Splendid machine,’ Geoffrey declared.

‘I’m going to ask Pa to buy me one. It would be so convenient to tootle around in,’ Andrew said, passing Geoffrey his drink.
He raised his own glass in a toast. ‘Chin chin!’


‘Chin chin,’ Geoffrey echoed, and they all took a sip.

‘I say, this is sheer ambrosia,’ he declared, black eyes shining.

‘Twelve-year-old Drummond single malt. Pa says there isn’t another in all of Scotland to beat it.’

‘I must agree. Wonderful stuff.’

‘We’ve been brought up on it. It’s like mother’s milk to us,’ Nell informed him.

‘Really.’

‘Oh yes. I can’t remember when I had my first drop.’


Charlotte laughed. ‘Nell, what will Geoffrey think of us after such a confession?’

Nell was instantly dismayed. ‘But it’s true.’

‘That’s all very well. But it makes us sound so … awful I suppose.’

‘Not at all, Charlotte,’ Geoffrey hastily reassured her. ‘It is the family business after all.’

‘And a damned good business it is too. We’re all extremely proud of our whisky,’ Andrew declared. ‘As for the girls being
brought up to take a dram, that’s a family tradition. My mother had one every single night before going off to bed.’


His face momentarily clouded. ‘God rest her soul.’

‘She died in childbirth,’ Charlotte softly explained to Geoffrey. ‘A baby some years after Nell which was stillborn.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Geoffrey sympathised.

Andrew stared into his glass, then quickly saw off the remains of his drink. It was still painful for him to think of his
mother of whom he had such fond memories. It hadn’t been quite so bad for the girls who’d been extremely young at the time,
but he, several years older than the girls, had known her a great deal better. In his mind’s eye he quite clearly saw a vision
of Louise Drummond, she and Pa together, the pair of them laughing as had been so often the case. His father had been inconsolable
when she’d died and had never looked at another woman since.


‘How about the other half?’ he queried of Geoffrey.

‘Rather.’

‘Not for me. One is quite sufficient at this time of day,’ Charlotte smiled.


‘For me also,’ Nell said.

Geoffrey finished his dram, Andrew taking his glass and refilling it along with his own.

‘Pa and Peter won’t be home till six. You’ll meet them then,’ Andrew said.

‘Jolly good. I’m looking forward to that.’

Peter Drummond was the eldest of the Drummond children and worked with his father at the distillery which he’d eventually
run by himself and inherit.


‘Pa has a car which he bought last year,’ Nell piped up, making conversation. ‘A Rolls-Royce.’

‘I say!’ Geoffrey exclaimed.

‘A Silver Ghost tulip back limousine with a body by Lawton,’ Andrew elaborated. ‘It’s his pride and joy. ’

‘I can well understand that.’

‘He doesn’t drive himself. McPhie does that.’

‘Have you driven it?’

Andrew gave his friend a conspiratorial wink. ‘Several times though Pa doesn’t know. He’d have a fit if he did. As I said,
it’s his pride and joy.’


‘How long are you home for?’ Charlotte casually inquired of her brother, holding her breath as she awaited his reply. What
she really wanted to know was how long Geoffrey would be with them.


‘A week.’

A whole week! That was wonderful indeed. It would give her time to get to know the fascinating Geoffrey better. There would
be walks, and conversations, and … She experienced an inner shudder of delight at the prospect.


‘It’s my first time in this part of the country,’ Geoffrey stated. ‘Perthshire is quite new to me.’


‘And where are you from?’ Charlotte asked.

Geoffrey pushed back his hair which had partially flopped over his forehead. ‘Glasgow.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m a town chappie, I’m afraid.’

‘I went to Glasgow once,’ Nell said.

‘And what did you make of the Dear Green Place, which is what Glasgow means.’

Dear Green Place! That was a joke. She’d thought Glasgow horrid but of course couldn’t say so as that would have been rude.
‘Interesting.’


‘Very different to what you’re used to.’

‘Very,’ Nell agreed.

‘I love it there. But it’s what you’re brought up to, I suppose. And you, Charlotte, have you been to Glasgow?’

‘On several occasions with my father when he had business there. I enjoyed the shops.’

‘What you really need is to be shown the city by someone who knows it back to front as I do.’

Her heart leapt. ‘Is that an offer, Geoffrey?’

‘It would be an honour to escort you, Charlotte,’ he beamed in reply.

‘Perhaps some time then,’ she murmured.

He nodded. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

‘Now,’ Andrew declared, their glasses empty once more. ‘How about a stroll, Geoffrey? I need to stretch my legs after that
car journey.’


‘Excellent idea,’ Geoffrey answered, trying to put enthusiasm into his voice. He’d much rather have stayed with Charlotte, a spiffing girl if ever there was. Quite a stunner in his opinion. He was glad he’d come to Drummond House.


Charlotte was also disappointed, wishing him to remain, but at least his absence would give her a breathing space in which
to regain her composure.


‘Are you all right?’ Nell asked when the men were gone. ‘You seem somewhat flushed.’

Charlotte fixed her sister with a level stare. ‘Do you believe in love at first sight?’

Nell gaped in astonishment.

‘I must say, old boy, your sister Charlotte is a corker.’

The two of them had just left the house, an imposing edifice of grey stone topped with slate and many chimneys. Andrew glanced
sideways at his friend. ‘I thought you were taken.’


‘Quite bowled over. Quite. Is she spoken for in any way?’

Andrew laughed. ‘She’s entirely free. Most of the eligible young bachelors in the area have been after her to no avail. She
hasn’t been interested in any of them.’


Geoffrey sighed with relief.

‘Smitten, eh?’

‘Smitten indeed.’

‘And she seemed rather taken by you,’ Andrew mused, remembering how she’d blushed.

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Believe me, I know my sister. She was interested all right. I’ve never seen her so thrown by an introduction to a chap before.’

Geoffrey couldn’t believe his luck.

*

‘And whereabouts in Glasgow do you live?’ Murdo Drummond inquired of their guest, tucking into poached salmon which was a
great favourite of his.


‘Park Crescent, sir.’

Murdo nodded his approval. That was an excellent address. He turned his attention to Charlotte, resplendent in a black silk
sheath dress inlaid with narrow strips of blue satin that fell elegantly to her ankles where it flared slightly. Directly
below her bust was a matching blue ribbon tied at the back from where the remainder of the ribbon dangled. ‘What’s wrong with
you, gel, you’re not eating?’


‘I don’t have much of an appetite, Pa.’

‘Unlike you. You usually eat like a horse.’

Charlotte blushed bright red, the second time in one day.

‘Hate to see good food wasted,’ Murdo grumbled.

‘I’m sorry, Pa.’

Murdo beckoned to the maid in attendance to replenish their glasses. ‘And what does your father do?’ he enquired of Geoffrey.

‘Senior partner in an accounting firm, sir. He wanted me to follow him into the firm as Peter has done with you, but accountancy
held no attraction for me.’


‘Not exciting enough, eh?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

Murdo grunted.

‘Would you like me to show you round the distillery tomorrow, Geoffrey?’ Peter smiled. He too sported the auburn hair which
ran in the family, the exception being Charlotte who was golden blonde, though in Peter’s case it had begun to recede. He
also had the beginnings of a double chin, unlike his brother who had a firm jawline and finely chiselled features. Peter’s were becoming rounded and fleshy.


‘I’d like that, thank you.’

‘Not very exciting, mind,’ Murdo said drily, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Though I’ve always found it so.’

‘I’m sure I will too, sir.’

Charlotte found herself mesmerised by Geoffrey’s hands, wondering what it would be like to be touched, caressed by them. What
it would be like to …


Rousing herself from her reverie she had a sip of wine.

‘Any news of the regiment being posted?’ Peter asked Andrew.

‘None. At least not that I’ve heard.’

‘Let’s hope it isn’t India. That’s a long posting,’ Murdo said.

‘Five years.’

Five years! Charlotte thought in alarm. An eternity.

‘Did you go straight to the Watch from Sandhurst?’ Peter queried of Geoffrey. He was referring to the Black Watch, Andrew
and Geoffrey’s regiment.


Geoffrey shook his head. ‘I was with the Middlesex for some time and was only transferred several months ago. Much to my pleasure,
I might add. Nothing wrong with the Middlesex but I’d far rather be with a Scottish regiment.’


‘Well said,’ Andrew declared.

Geoffrey glanced across at Charlotte who was being very quiet, having contributed hardly a word to the dinner conversation.
Was she always this quiet? He doubted it. God, she was beautiful.


For a brief couple of seconds their eyes met and locked, then Charlotte, with a small cough, looked away.


‘I made my mind up during dinner, I’m going to marry Geoffrey Armitage,’ Charlotte informed Nell.

Nell was stunned. ‘But you don’t know him,’ she protested.

‘This is going to sound silly, I appreciate that, but it’s as though I’ve known him all my life. We were meant for one another,
I truly believe that with all my heart.’


Nell shook her head. This was so unlike her sister. Charlotte was acting completely out of character. ‘You’re mad,’ she said
softly.


‘No I’m not. I’ve never been saner in my life. It’s as if I’ve been waiting for Geoffrey, and now I’ve found him I’ll never
let him go. He’s mine, now and for ever.’


‘He’s certainly handsome, I’ll give you that,’ Nell conceded.

‘Isn’t he just!’ Charlotte beamed.

‘But what of his character? You’ve still to find that out.’

‘His character’s fine. A gentleman through and through. And I love him.’

‘Suppose he doesn’t want you?’

‘Oh he does all right. I could see it in his eyes tonight.’

Nell had a sudden thought. ‘It’s possible he already has a girlfriend, he might even be engaged.’

‘He isn’t. I had a quick word with Andrew before dinner. Andrew thought it highly amusing and laughed, but I got the answer
I was hoping for.’


‘Will you like being an army wife, Charlotte? It can be quite hard by all accounts. You could end up in the most God-forsaken
of places.’


‘It won’t bother me,’ Charlotte declared defiantly. ‘As long as Geoffrey and I are together, that’s all that matters.’


‘You won’t always be together, there are bound to be separations.’

Charlotte’s lips thinned in a grim line. ‘They’ll have to be endured somehow.’

‘Oh, Charlotte!’ Nell sighed. ‘In a way I’m quite jealous of you.’

Charlotte went to her sister and clasped her by the arms. ‘Don’t worry, dear Nell, your prince will come.’

‘I’ve never had anything like the suitors you have. Just Willie McCall come to think of it, and he’s awful with smelly breath.’

True, Charlotte thought. Willie’s breath did stink.

‘I’m plain Jane compared to you, and fat …’

‘You are not fat,’ Charlotte interrupted.

‘I am. It’s horrible.’

‘A trifle chubby perhaps, but certainly not fat.’

Nell slowly exhaled. ‘Chubby,’ she muttered. That was a nice way of putting it. But there was more to it than chubbiness and
being plain; she didn’t have any allure. Men simply weren’t attracted to her. She lacked that something which Charlotte had
in abundance.


‘You’ll be my chief bridesmaid of course,’ Charlotte said.

‘I think you’d better get him to propose first before you start making plans like that,’ Nell counselled.

‘I’ll get him to propose all right. You can count on it.’

She would too, Nell thought. Charlotte had a long history of getting what she wanted.

*

Nell woke with a start to find her face and forehead slick with cold sweat while her body was shaking almost uncontrollably.
She’d come out of a nightmare that had been ghastly beyond belief.


She gulped in a deep breath, the scenes of carnage in her mind still crystal clear.

Men in khaki uniforms, thousands of them, engaged in a dreadful war. Men being blown to smithereens, men missing arms, legs,
others shrieking in agony.


Guns flashing and booming, shells whistling through the air to land with mighty explosions. And hanging over it all a terrible
pall, the rank smell of fear.


Nell shook her head and the ghastly pictures began to fade, till at last they blipped into nothingness.

‘Dear God,’ she whispered. What a nightmare. It had all been so very real, as if she had actually been there. What did it
mean?


It resembled one of her waking visions, only this time she’d been asleep. Visions that had been with her for years but which
she’d never told anyone about, not even Charlotte, in case they thought her insane.


Visions that had always been set in the past, unlike this nightmare which she was certain was of the future.

Reaching out she picked up the glass of water by her bedside and greedily drank, noting as she did that her shaking had subsided.
As she snuggled back down into bed a cold, dark tremor of deepest apprehension and despair ran through her.


It was hours before she finally drifted off again to sleep.

*

Charlotte didn’t sleep well that night either, rising from bed and putting on her negligée as dawn was breaking. She shook
out her long blonde hair that reached almost to her hips and crossed to the window.


‘Geoffrey,’ she murmured, and a smile crept onto her face. She’d never been more sure of anything than that she and he were
fated. She wondered if he’d slept well and hoped he had.


What time would he go down for breakfast? she further wondered, for of course she wanted to take it with him.

‘Mrs Geoffrey Armitage,’ she said aloud, her smile widening. What a grand sound that had to it. ‘Geoffrey and Charlotte Armitage.’
That sounded even better.


It was going to be another fine day if she was any judge, a day with Geoffrey after he’d completed his visit to the distillery.
Pity about that. But afterwards …


A plan began to form in her mind.

‘This is a mash tun,’ Peter explained to Geoffrey. ‘The dried malt is ground into a coarse flour, or grist as we call it,
which is mixed with hot water as it is poured into the tun. The mash is then stirred helping to convert the remaining starches
to sugars …’


Geoffrey was only half listening, though trying to give Peter the impression he had his full attention. He was really thinking
of Charlotte who’d been absolutely radiant at breakfast.


He couldn’t wait to get out of the distillery and back to Drummond House, and her.

*

‘He seems a personable enough young chap,’ Peter commented to his father on rejoining him in the large office they shared.


Murdo glanced up from the figures he was studying as Peter sat at his desk. ‘It went all right then?’

‘Oh aye. Gave him the usual tour and a dram afterwards. I have to say though, he did seem a bit keen to be on his way.’

Murdo couldn’t resist the jibe. ‘Maybe he found it boring.’

Both men laughed.

Murdo tapped the sheets of paper in front of him. ‘If this keeps up, and I can’t see why it shouldn’t, 1912 is going to be
our most profitable year in the history of the distillery.’


‘We’re only half way through the year, Pa, don’t tempt fate.’

‘Aye,’ Murdo agreed. ‘Maybe I am being a bit hasty.’

They fell silent as each got on with the work in hand.

Charlotte was furious with her brother who’d got to Geoffrey first on his return from the distillery.

‘Fishing,’ Geoffrey mused. That wasn’t what he’d had in mind at all.

‘There are some excellent salmon to be caught round here this time of year. I’ll kit you out and have Cook pack a hamper.
Now what do you say?’


‘I, eh … don’t fish, old bean. Never handled a rod in my life.’

Andrew was relishing this, having purposefully suggested the fishing expedition just to annoy Charlotte. The look on her face
told him he’d succeeded.


‘Not to worry,’ he enthused. ‘I’ll soon teach you the rudiments. I’m certain I can promise you a fine day of sport.’


How could he get out of this? Geoffrey wondered. ‘I’m not sure, Andrew, fishing has never really appealed.’

‘How do you know you won’t like it unless you try?’

He was sunk, Geoffrey thought disconsolately. He’d so wanted to spend the rest of the day with Charlotte. Now this damned
fishing nonsense had been proposed. Damn and blast!


Andrew was laughing inwardly.

‘What will you be doing, Charlotte?’ Geoffrey queried softly. Perhaps she might care to come with them.

‘I had thought of having McPhie drive me into Pitlochry. That’s a small town not too far away. I have a few things to pick
up from the shops there.’


Geoffrey’s face brightened. ‘I’ve heard of Pitlochry. It’s supposed to be lovely.’

‘Oh, it is.’

Geoffrey rounded on his friend. ‘Look here, Andrew, don’t take this amiss, but I’d much rather trot along with Charlotte to
Pitlochry. If she doesn’t mind that is.’


‘No of course not,’ she replied swiftly. ‘I’d enjoy some company.’

‘What about Nell?’ Andrew suggested, keeping the pot boiling. Oh, this was fun.

‘She’s busy,’ Charlotte snapped in reply.

Andrew pretended astonishment. ‘You must do as you wish, Geoffrey, you’re our honoured guest after all. But I find it incredible
you’d rather go to some pipsqueak little town where there isn’t all that much to see as opposed to an afternoon’s salmon fishing. Particularly on such a perfect day, what?’


‘I would rather,’ Geoffrey replied.

‘Oh well, that’s up to you then.’

Relief washed through Charlotte. ‘I shall leave in half an hour. Is that all right with you, Geoffrey?’

‘I’ll be ready and waiting. But say, instead of McPhie driving us, why don’t we go in the Humber?’

Better still, Charlotte thought. That way there would be just the two of them.

‘Good idea. I’ll meet you right here in half an hour.’ And with that she swept from the room before there was any more discussion.

Andrew turned away so that Geoffrey couldn’t see the broad smile he couldn’t keep from his face.

Wonky was dumbfounded. ‘She’s what?’

‘Intent on marrying this Geoffrey Armitage.’

Wonky sat and stared at her cousin who’d just dropped this bombshell. ‘Are we talking about the same Charlotte?’

Nell nodded.

‘I don’t believe it. You’re pulling my leg. It’s some sort of joke. She only met the man yesterday.’

‘Love at first sight, according to Charlotte.’

‘But … the whole thing’s preposterous!’

‘I entirely agree. But you know Charlotte, once her mind’s made up there’s no changing it. She’s adamant. She says she’s in
love and going to marry him.’


Wonky, whose mother was Murdo’s younger sister and father the local minister in Dalneil, simply couldn’t believe this. It
had quite taken her breath away.


‘Love at first sight,’ she said slowly. Their Charlotte!


‘What’s he like?’ she queried, thinking he must be really something to have swept Charlotte off her feet. She couldn’t wait
to meet him.


‘Handsome of course.’

‘He must be an Adonis.’

‘Hardly that. But certainly handsome.’

Wonky listened wide eyed as Nell launched into a description of Geoffrey Armitage.

Charlotte had never felt so much at ease in a man’s company as she did in Geoffrey’s. Everything was so natural between them.
It was as though she’d known him all her life.


When they reached Pitlochry they parked and together went shopping for the items Charlotte had referred to earlier. Items
that weren’t really urgently required but which Charlotte had used as an excuse to lure Geoffrey away from Drummond House
and to be alone with her without fear of interruption.


‘Well, that’s that,’ she declared eventually, handing Geoffrey the final parcel.

‘I say, how about some afternoon tea?’ he suggested.

Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. ‘That would be most agreeable. There’s a teashop just down the street that does mouth-watering
cream cakes.’


‘Then that’s the place for us.’

In The Atholl they chose a table and sat, Geoffrey placing their order with the waitress who was almost immediately in attendance.

‘So,’ Geoffrey smiled when the waitress had departed.

Charlotte returned his smile. ‘I want you to tell me all about yourself. And I mean all.’


They remained over tea for two hours that flew by.

During the drive back Charlotte reflected that she couldn’t remember ever being so ecstatically happy.

‘And this is our cousin Wonky Comyn,’ Charlotte declared.


Charlotte and Geoffrey had just returned from their outing.

Geoffrey extended a hand. ‘Delighted to meet you, Miss Comyn.’

He was a dish, Wonky thought. ‘And I to meet you, Lieutenant Armitage.’


‘Geoffrey, please.’

‘And I’m Wonky.’

Geoffrey raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘It’s a rather strange name, is it not?’

She laughed. ‘My real name is Veronica which when I was small I pronounced as Wonky and it’s stayed with me ever since.’

Not unattractive, Geoffrey mused, though not a patch on Charlotte. He could see the family resemblance, however.

Wonky noted how Charlotte was staring at Geoffrey. A look of admiration and far more. Yes, it was love all right. Anyone with
two eyes in their head could see that.


‘Wonky arrived earlier and is staying to dinner,’ Nell announced. That at Wonky’s insistence, as she had no intention of missing
the chance to meet Geoffrey. ‘I’ve already informed Cook.’


‘How did your trip to Pitlochry go?’ Nell now enquired.

‘Excellent. Tip top,’ Geoffrey beamed, glancing fondly at Charlotte.

It had obviously gone extremely well, Nell thought. Just look at the pair of them, like a couple of love birds. She wouldn’t
have been at all surprised if they’d suddenly started billing and cooing.


‘We took tea in The Atholl,’ Charlotte stated.

‘Ooh, those scrumptious cream cakes,’ Nell sighed.

Geoffrey produced his cigarette case. ‘May I?’

‘Of course you may,’ Charlotte replied, having to stop herself at the last moment from adding, darling.

‘And what did you think of Pitlochry?’ Nell asked Geoffrey.

‘Charming.’ In fact he’d hardly taken anything in having had eyes only for Charlotte. What a truly splendid gel she was.

After a while of idle chatter Geoffrey reluctantly excused himself to bathe and get dressed for dinner.

‘Nell’s told me your news,’ Wonky declared excitedly when Geoffrey had left the room.

‘And?’

‘Not only cream cakes can be scrumptious.’

The three young women laughed.


‘Did it really happen just like that?’ Wonky queried, snapping her fingers.

Charlotte nodded. ‘A bolt completely out of the blue.’

‘Heavens,’ Wonky breathed.

Charlotte had a sudden thought that made her laugh again. ‘Andrew wasn’t the only one who went fishing this afternoon. I’ve
well and truly caught my fish, now all I have to do is land him.’


She paused, then added, great determination in her voice, ‘Which I most certainly will.’

Murdo was sunk deep into a leather chair, morosely puffing on his pipe, with a large whisky balanced on the arm. He was in
his study which was forbidden to the rest of the household, with the exception of the maid who cleaned it. He was thinking
of his wife Louise.


He glanced over at a photograph taken the year before she’d died, his most treasured possession. Picking up his glass he silently
toasted her.


‘To you, darling,’ he whispered. And in his mind he heard her voice replying.

He’d never get over the loss of her. She hadn’t only been his wife and lover, but dear friend and companion. He missed her
dreadfully.


He suddenly gasped and clutched at his chest, spilling some of the whisky in the process. Damn these pains, crushing ones
that always left him breathless afterwards. He felt sweat pop onto his brow.


He really should go and see Dr McAllister, he thought when the pains had finally subsided. They were becoming more frequent. When was the last attack? The previous month he recalled.


He decided to call on McAllister, a lifelong friend, during the next couple of days.

‘Hmmh,’ McAllister murmured on completing his examination. ‘I think the best thing for you, Murdo, is for me to refer you
to a specialist in Glasgow.’


Murdo frowned as he began rebuttoning his shirt. ‘Is that necessary, James? Can’t you do something to help?’

‘It’s your heart, Murdo, and dealing wit