A View to a Kilt by Wendy Holden

Author:Wendy Holden [Holden, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784977610
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2019-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Lulu and Vlad sat in the steam room of the Sheep Dip. It was all hot, misty and swirling.

Low, mystical, Enya-esque wailing filled the air, along with a pleasant scent of pine. Three huge stone bowls of steaming water stood on pedestals down the centre of the room, which was ancient and vaulted; the original foundations of the demolished Castle McBang, in fact.

Not that the former medieval denizens would have recognised it now, had they been able to make it out through the vapour. Pine benches ran down either side, and braziers of hot coals stood in each corner, with a wooden bucket and ladle on hand for raising further steam. The walls were indented with a series of niches, each with saloon-style wooden doors.

Staring at the damp stone floor, Lulu wondered what the sticky reddish stain was. She’d have that blast-cleaned when she took possession. And even allowing for her sunglasses, it was murky down here. Some good downward spots would sort that out, though.

But above and below her plans for improvement, her mind ran constantly on the splendours of Flora MacDonald’s corsets upstairs. They were perfect. She had to have them. Vintage was so in, and if South’n could see her sporting the majestic underwear of his fabled ancestress…

Lulu’s eyes suddenly misted over. Their marriage had being going through tough times of late. But here was something to bring them back together. As tightly as possible, until the last breath was squeezed out, in fact. She wondered if the cabinet Torquil had shown her was locked.

Meanwhile Vlad, impeccable as ever in a snowy white towel, was going through the finer points of the sale. She had a tablet to hand and, in between wiping the steam off it, was insisting on listing every last thing Lulu thought she was buying. In Vlad’s view, Torquil McBang was far too slippery to leave anything to chance.

‘As I understand it, madam wishes to purchase the estate, comprising the land, the fishing rights.’

‘On spot,’ nodded Lulu.

‘The restaurant lavatories, including paper and soap. All the lightbulbs. The website address McBang.com. The @Banger Twitter handle. The postbox. The phone box. The bothies. The Wee Cripple pub.’

Lulu tried to concentrate. This would all have to be gone through when she met Torquil over dinner, but her mind kept slipping off to reconsider the perfect stitching, the precise placement of the hooks and eyes. Flora’s corset was exactly her size. It wouldn’t hurt to try it on. See what it looked like. Feel what it felt like. For one teeny-tiny, weeny-winy minute…

Vlad cleared her throat gently but firmly. ‘The mountains.’

With a reluctant sigh, Lulu brought herself back from Flora MacDonald’s underwear. ‘Oh yes. The mountains.’

‘The famous McBang’s Tables,’ Vlad went on. ‘So-called because of their flat tops. They will, if I may say so, make a magnificent backdrop to the estate. Another consideration is that, as few other rock stars appearing at the Land of the Purple Haze actually own their own mountains, they give you the edge, as it were.

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