Page 6 of A Summer House on Arran (Scottish Romances #3)

Olivia’s wide smile rapidly turned into a frown when she stepped out of Prestwick Airport — straight into torrential rain and a cold and howling gale.

It couldn’t have been more of a contrast to the lemon trees, sunshine, blue skies and sparkling aqua waters that she had enjoyed the past few weeks in Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast. She shivered.

Wasn’t it supposed to be summer? She knew that the weather could be changeable in Scotland, but this was more like monsoon weather than a summer shower.

This must have been what Bella meant when she said it ‘pished down’ in the west of Scotland.

Sighing, and reflecting what a great way that was to describe the relentless rain, she turned right back round and into the terminal so she could find her jacket.

It was, of course, buried at the bottom of her bag.

Then, when she felt her stomach rumble, she decided to get herself a coffee and a snack before making the next part of her very long journey.

Olivia ordered herself an oat milk cappuccino and a banana, then found a seat in the corner of the café.

She was tired and irritated and wondered if her decision to come to Scotland had been a bit too hasty.

Perhaps she should have extended her stay in Italy and jumped on a train from Naples to sunnier climes.

She had toyed with the thought of visiting Florence and exploring Tuscany, but ironically had been put off at the thought of the heat.

A further chat with her dynamic aunt Trudy had set the wheels in motion.

Trudy insisted that Arran would be the perfect place to retreat, and it would give her some headspace to think about what she wanted to do next.

Trudy had been privy to only limited but significant details of what happened between Olivia and her ex, Patrick, in the run-up to Olivia’s last-minute decision to go to Italy.

Olivia was grateful that she hadn’t tried to pry for more information.

Instead, she had reassured Olivia that she was there to listen should she want to talk.

Trudy had even managed to sort out this last-minute house-sit for her, which was what had ultimately led her to Scotland.

Not to mention that it meant she didn’t have to dip into her savings — she had no idea when her next job would be.

She knew that she should check her emails and messages about upcoming auditions, but the minute she began thinking about anything normal or everyday she got overwhelmed.

It was too much and made her want to keep running, which she was effectively doing now.

Olivia had gone so far as to pick up a cheap smartphone in Italy so she could stay in touch with her aunt, while keeping her usual mobile switched off.

Based on what Trudy had managed to organise for her in the last couple of weeks, it did seem as though the planets were finally aligning for her.

But now, as she looked out at the pelting rain that showed no sign of abating, she was feeling doubtful.

Especially as she had been travelling for what felt like days, which could quite easily have amounted to a long-haul flight.

After a few weeks in the Italian sun she had managed to get a cheap flight from Naples to Barcelona, then had taken a connecting flight to Prestwick, which was outside Glasgow.

She had been told by Isobel and family that it would be ‘dead handy’ to then get to Arran.

A bus journey and a ferry ride were next.

If only it would clear up, she would feel so much better about this trip.

After draining her coffee, she pulled her bag behind her and visited the ladies, before she embarked on the next stage of the marathon journey.

By the time she made it to the bus stop across from the terminal building, the sky had turned from a pale grey to a light blue and the sun was trying to shine.

Isobel hadn’t been kidding when she said you could get all seasons in a day.

* * *

Three hours later, still pulling her bags, she yawned as she walked along the wide pavement that curved its way along the seafront at Brodick.

The air was tinged with a salty scent, and she could hear seagulls shrieking at each other as they swooped up and down looking for any scraps of food they could steal.

The instructions Trudy had forwarded her said the holiday cottage was about a ten-minute walk from the ferry terminal.

She was glad it wasn’t any further, as the final stretch was up a hill — she was out of breath as she reached the top, a sign she was definitely losing her fitness.

But then she saw the gate, which had a slate sign on it with the words Lilybank Cottage etched in white.

She stopped panting. A frill of blue hydrangea flowers fell over the gate, which squeaked as she opened it into a grassy front garden with stepping stones leading up to the door of a converted old stone steading.

It was an idyllic spot, and she couldn’t help but feel as though she had just walked into an enchanted garden.

Putting her bags down on the step, she took a moment to look around and take in her surroundings.

The only sound she could hear was bees buzzing in and out of the flowers.

It was quite hypnotic. She reached for the key safe by the front door and lined up the required code so that it opened.

Inside were two sets of keys. She tried them both, realising one set was a spare, and popped the extra set back in the box, making sure the numbers were mixed up again.

When she opened the door and walked into the hallway, then the room ahead, she gasped.

It was beautiful. It looked as though it belonged in the pages of a home magazine.

It had clearly been refurbished throughout, with an open-plan layout and sunken sitting room with lots of different seating areas to suit every mood.

Looking around she could see there were love seats in the corner, a large squishy sofa to stretch out on or the chaise longue by the window, which looked perfect for lying on and admiring the stunning view of the sea.

The kitchen was light and airy and had French windows opening out to the decking area.

Wow, thought Olivia, this is so homely and welcoming.

Olivia felt like an excited child as she explored the house, opening all the doors to discover one room after another.

There were three generously sized bedrooms, and all had en suite bathrooms with walk-in showers and baths.

Which one should she choose? Running between them all, she laughed in delight, then dumped her bags in the first one.

It wasn’t that she was choosy ― she would be happy sleeping in any of the rooms. Maybe she would try them all out while she was here. Why not?

Her throat was parched, and she headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

The window by the sink looked out across the garden, which had decking, chairs and a table that would be perfect for watching the sunrise.

It was an incredible spot with views over the sea.

No wonder her aunt had encouraged her to come here.

Now she could completely understand why her aunt and uncle were so taken with the place.

She was so glad she had made the effort to get here.

For the first time in about twenty-four hours she allowed herself a small smile.

That was when she spotted a note that had been left on the kitchen island. She picked it up and read.

Hello!

If you’re reading this note, then you must have arrived in the cottage. I hope you had a good journey over. A very warm welcome to Arran!

I hope you find everything that you need in the house. All the instructions for how stuff works are in the top drawer underneath the kettle and are all fairly straightforward, but just let me know if I can be of any help.

I’m Amy and my sister, Kirsty, and I are just up the road at Meadowbank Cottage. I hope you have a super stay here on the island and love it as much as we do. I look forward to meeting you soon.

Amy x

PS, I’ve left some essentials in the fridge to get you started, and a few other local bits and pieces of produce, including some of Kirsty’s very nice shortbread.

PPS, You’ll have seen the big Co-op (and the little one!) in the village for your groceries.

There are also lots of lovely coffee shops and bars.

If you want to explore further, then the bus is handy and regular.

There’s a timetable in the lounge with all the other leaflets and books that tell you what else you can do during your stay.

Olivia glanced over at the small cardboard box next to the note.

She peered inside and pulled out some oatcakes, a jar of berry jam and another of chilli chutney, along with some ground coffee and a packet of teabags.

There was also a small box tied with a tartan ribbon.

As she opened it, she could smell a sweet, sugary scent and was delighted to find small biscuit squares inside.

She popped one into her mouth. It was buttery and crumbly and delicious.

That must be the shortbread. Kirsty was certainly a talented baker.

Opening the fridge door she found milk, butter, cheese and eggs.

Olivia was quite overcome. How kind! It was such a thoughtful gesture, and one she really appreciated.

She must thank Amy. Turning the paper over, she looked for a business card or a note of her number, but Amy hadn’t left any details.

That meant Olivia would need to go and seek her out to express her thanks.

Yet she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for that, it felt too soon to talk to anyone else after Italy.

Just like that, her mind started to race and the fluttering anxiety started again.