Authors: Davie Henderson
Half a dozen other proposals followed, most of which Archie Cunningham had to dismiss out of hand as they fell into the same category as the movie idea: long-shots you wouldn’t want to stake your future on. The most promising was the idea of a craft collective, using the Internet for marketing. Kate knew it had some potential—she could
use Kate’s Crafts as a US outlet—but, even without looking at Archie’s face as he scribbled the idea in his notebook, she knew it was the sort of thing that could only make a small difference, not transform the fortunes of the estate. Experience told her that the effort needed to produce craft goods was rarely reflected in the price people would pay for them.
When a long silence signalled that nothing more would be forthcoming, Kate said, “I think it’s perhaps time to turn to the food which Miss Weir and Finlay have prepared.” Trying to hide her disappointment at the fact that nothing promising had emerged from the brainstorming session, she added, “Thanks again for coming along tonight. And remember, any ideas you have in the days ahead will be much appreciated, so I hope you won’t hesitate to bring them to my attention. You never know, they might make all the difference.”
There was some half-hearted applause, then the hall was quickly filled by the sound of chairs being pulled back and conversations starting up.
Kate turned to Archie and said, “I’m sorry nothing more positive came out of this, Mr. Cunningham. I hope you don’t feel I’ve wasted your time here tonight.”
“I hate to say it, but I think
you’re
wasting your time, Lady Kate. I sincerely hope you can prove me wrong, but nothing I heard tonight leads me to believe you can.”
Just then Cameron came over, and the solicitor said, “So, what do you think of your cottage, Mr. Fraser?”
Before Kate could hear Cameron’s reply, her attention was distracted by the approach of a stocky, swarthy man with a thick moustache.
“Lady Kate?” he said in a deep but quiet voice.
Kate smiled and reached out a hand for him to shake.
“I wonder if I might have a word?”
Sensing the crofter wanted a little privacy, Kate said, “Of course,” and took a couple of steps to the side.
The man hesitated, then said, “I have a favour to ask.”
Absurdly, for some reason Kate felt like Marlon Brando at the start of
The Godfather,
and suddenly pictured a succession of crofters approaching her one after the other, toying nervously with flat tweed caps as they asked her to execute troublesome neighbours, pronounce judgment on blood feuds and the like. So although she said, “Go ahead,” the smile that went with her words was a little strained.
“I know you have enough on your mind at the moment, Lady Kate, but … it’s my daughter, Pamela. She wants to get married.”
Kate wondered what that had to do with her. She remembered reading somewhere that back in olden times the lord or lady of the manor had to sanction any marriage among the locals.
Surely that can’t still be the case,
she thought.
“I don’t know quite how to put this,” the crofter said, “but time is of the utmost importance, if you see what I mean.”
Kate knew exactly what he meant, but couldn’t figure out why he was telling her about it.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not holding a shotgun to the
laddie’s head. Thank goodness I don’t have to …” His voice trailed away, then he said, “A wedding in Inverness is beyond our means, Lady Kate. It probably still would be even if I had time to save up, because I wouldn’t have the money to save up with.”
Kate thought she was about to be asked for a loan she could ill afford to give, but instead the man said, “So I was wondering if they could get married in your chapel, here in Greystane.”
“Of course,” Kate said, relieved. “I’d love that.”
Kate’s relief was nothing compared to the crofter’s. “Lady Kate, I don’t know how to thank you,” he told her. “I don’t know what I would have done. The churches in Inverness charge money to hold a wedding; then there would have been the cost of one of those fancy limousines, or else she’d have been crammed into my car, her dress all creased and crumpled by the time she got out.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about any of that. The chapel’s at your disposal, Mr….”
“Sandy,” he told her, “but I’m also known as Double Ecky.”
“I’m trying to work out how ‘Sandy’ could become ‘Double Ecky’, but I’m not even coming close,” Kate told him, bemused.
“Eck’s short for Alec in these parts, and my name is Alexander Alexander.
Kate smiled. “Well, Sandy—Double Ecky—it would be a pleasure.”
“Her mother’s going to be so relieved,” Sandy said. He turned to face a nervous woman who stood beside a tall, gangly youth and a plump teenage girl with a pale face and raven black hair that fell down past her shoulders. The two teenagers made an odd couple because of the difference in their height, but something about the way they held hands made Kate think they were a good fit.
Kate got the feeling Sandy was giving his wife a reassuring smile. His face still had a trace of worry on it when he turned back, however. Kate found out what was bothering him when he said, “The only thing is that they really couldn’t wait too long, Lady Kate. Pamela kept things to herself until she could barely hide it any longer, the daft wee thing.”
“I understand. Just say when, and the chapel is yours.”
He hesitated, then tentatively said, “Would a week on Saturday be too soon?”
Kate shook her head. “It’d be fine.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s nothing,” Kate said.
“No, Lady Kate, it’s everything. I’d been trying to think of what else I could do. I’d even thought about seeing if I could persuade a minister to hold the ceremony in the old church at the far end of the lochan, and convince Pamela and young Ross that it would be romantic. I know they’d have smiled to make me feel better, but deep down they’d have felt a chill because it’s an unholy place to the people of this glen.”
“I can understand why,” Kate said, remembering Hamish backing away from the door, the sigh of a Bible page being caught by a breeze that seemed to come from within the old building and not without, and the whispering of old leaves—or something even older—from among the pews. “Anyway,” she told the crofter, “there’s no need to worry. It won’t come to that.”
“Aye, thanks to you it won’t.”
“It’s a privilege to be able to help two people get off to a good start, even just in a small way.”
“Sorry again that it’s such short notice.”
“That’s all right. It doesn’t leave you much time to arrange the reception, though.”
“That part of the wedding’s no problem. We’ll just have it in the croft.”
Kate had been in some of the crofters’ cottages the day before when she was arranging the meeting, and had seen how small the rooms were. “That’ll be a tight squeeze,” she said.
“We’ll put some tables and chairs out the back.”
“What if it rains?”
“Hector next door’ll help out and take some of the people in his place.”
On the spur of the moment—looking around the banquet hall and remembering what Finlay had said about the windows rattling, the floorboards shaking and the chandelier swinging as a Highland fling was danced—Kate said, “Why not hold the reception here?”
“That’s very kind of you, Lady Kate, but I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you like that.”
“Maybe I won’t be able to save the estate in the long run, Sandy, but I won’t feel quite so bad if I know I’ve helped out with some things like this in the short run.
“Besides, from what Finlay’s told me, my family owes the people of Glen Cranoch some happy days.”
“We couldn’t afford—”
“We could use food from the estate, and Miss Weir could do the cooking. I’ll help her, and no doubt learn a thing or two in the process.” The more Kate considered it, the better she thought it could be. Without realizing it, she was thinking out loud rather than talking to the man in front of her: “Finlay could be the piper, and I’m sure Cameron would agree to take some photos.”
For a few moments Sandy said nothing. When he finally spoke, it was to say, “God bless you, Lady Kate.”
Kate smiled, thinking it was probably a very long time since anyone from the glen had said that to a lord or lady of Greystane. She put a hand on the crofter’s shoulder and said, “It’ll be my pleasure, Sandy. I haven’t been to a wedding for ages, and I’ve never had a chance to organise a reception, except in my imagination.” She couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of her voice when she said that. “I’ve done it a hundred times in my mind, Sandy. I’d love to find out if it’s anything like as much fun as I imagined.
“Besides, it’ll be doing me a favour: a distraction from worrying about the estate, and the happiest kind of
distraction, at that.”
Sandy Alexander reached for Kate’s free hand and took it in both his own, before saying, “You can’t imagine what this’ll mean to Pamela and her mum. You can’t imagine what it means to me. I thought I was going to have to disappoint her, and it was breaking my heart. I never dreamed I could delight her.”
“You’re most welcome Sandy. Just let me know how many people will be coming.”
“This is the guest list, Lady Kate,” Sandy told her, half turning to take in the assembled people with a sweep of his arm. After taking a deep breath, as if unable to believe it all, he said, “You are sure about this?”
“Completely certain. There’s just one condition.”
“Just name it, Lady Kate. In fact, you don’t even have to; I agree to whatever it is. I’d do anything to make Pamela happy.”
“It’s actually something I want Pamela to do: when she throws the bouquet over her shoulder, could you tell her to throw it in my direction?”
Sandy smiled and said, “I’ll do that, Lady Kate.” Barely able to conceal his excitement, he looked at his wife, daughter, and Ross, and said, “Can I tell them the good news?”
Kate nodded. “Tell the world, Sandy. I’d want everyone to know if
I
was getting married. In fact …” she stopped him as he was about to turn away “… why not make an announcement now, and invite everyone to the reception while you’re at it.”
“I wouldn’t like to invite people into a house that’s not my own.”
“Ask Finlay to make the announcement, then—if you can prise him away from the sandwiches for long enough. He’ll be glad to do it, especially with the thought of a wedding feast as a prospect.”
“If you’re sure …”
“Yes, Sandy, I’m sure.”
Sandy reached for her hand and kissed it in a spontaneous gesture.
Cameron turned away from Archibald Cunningham a moment too late to see that. All he saw was Sandy hurrying away, and Kate beaming.
“You look like you’ve just had some good news. Has someone come up with a bright idea?”
“Yes,” she told him, “me!”
“Something that might turn the estate around?”
“No, just something that’ll make a few of the people who live in it very happy. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve kind of roped you into it, too.” Seeing the puzzlement on Cameron’s face she said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. All you have to do is take some photos.”
Before Cameron could ask any more questions the chime of silver teaspoon on crystal glass rang out three times. All eyes turned to the head of the table, where Finlay stood with Mr. and Mrs. Alexander and the little-and-large couple.
By the time the echoes of the third ring died out,
Finlay had complete silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please,” he said. “It is my happy duty to inform you of a forthcoming wedding in the glen.” Gesturing to the small, raven-haired girl and the gangly young man, he said, “Miss Pamela Alexander, and Mr. Ross Anderson.”
There were a few wolf-whistles, some cheers and a round of applause. Then someone shouted out, “We’re going to have Pamela Anderson living in Glen Cranoch, then!”
When the laughter died down, Finlay continued. “Furthermore, I’ve been asked to invite one and all to the wedding ceremony, in Greystane’s chapel, a week on Saturday—and to a reception afterwards, here in the banquet hall.”
There was more applause.
Miss Weir appeared at Finlay’s side, holding a bottle of whisky in each hand.
Finlay said, “Now, if you’ll bear with us while we charge the glasses, I think a toast is in order.” That got even louder applause.
Miss Weir worked her way down the crowd on the left of the table with one of the bottles, while Finlay used the other one to fill the glasses on the right. He poured a couple extra, and brought them over to Kate and Cameron. “You’ve done a fine thing, Kate Brodie,” he said. “A fine thing, indeed.”
Finlay turned and walked back to Sandy Alexander, whispered something in his ear, then rang teaspoon on glass for silence again.
Sandy looked down at the floor for a few moments.
Then, in a voice that was close to breaking, he turned to his daughter and son-in-law to be, raised his glass to them, and said, “To Pamela and Ross.”
“Pamela and Ross!” echoed around the room.
Sandy next raised his glass to Kate in a quiet salute.
Kate raised hers in return. Turning to Cameron she said, “You don’t mind taking the wedding photos, do you.”
“No,” Cameron said, smiling at her and looking like he was trying not to laugh.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You’re glowing.”
“It’s just great to think about doing something that’ll make people happy, rather than worrying about having to do something that’ll make them sad. And besides, I’ll get to arrange a wedding. Even if it isn’t my own.”
“Now it’s my turn to say I hear the sound of distant violins.”
“A whole string orchestra,” Kate said, laughing at herself as she said it.
“Are you sure you can afford to do all this?” Cameron asked.
“It won’t cost much. The more I thought about it, the more I realized we already have pretty much everything we need. We can put on a pretty fantastic meal with food from the estate—salmon and venison and the like. Finlay plays the pipes, so we’ll have music; and we’ve got a great venue right here in the banquet hall. It’s exactly the sort of thing it was built for, after all.” Thinking about the wild
flowers Cameron had given her, she said, “We’ve even got flowers for the bouquets.”