Narcissus

Chapter Twenty-Four

It had been five weeks. Five weeks of knocking on the mahogany doors to 'Mackay Castle' as it was called, choking on the icy wind that whipped around me as my mind knew Angus would open the door but my heart yearned for her. Five weeks of intense disappointment as the bearded Gardener opened the door and let me in instead of that blasted woman. Five weeks of pretending to the Isla that I was not in love with her mother.
Because I was. In love with her, that is. Utterly, completely, ruthlessly, dearly, deeply in love with that woman. So deeply in love that I felt it in my very chest - but it was not a pleasant feeling. It was a grasping, wrenching, cold-fisted hand gripping my lungs and squeezing them so that the mere image of her caused me to lose my breath.
Beneath my fingers, the tiles felt soft and welcoming, a sharp contrast to the terror filling me every time I stepped through those doors into this blasted house. A soft, slow and gentle melody filled the house as I waited for Isla to return from getting herself a cup of water. Across from the piano, I watched out of the window as a swallow fought against the harsh Scottish wind to head back to it's warm nest, painting a picturesque scene.
It was beautiful here, it truly was. And it was not what I had expected. Yes, the extravagant building complete with turrets and stained glass windows was not quite beyond Elise Elderflower, but the interior was. Where I would have imagined a black and white, sparkling clean, minimalistic modern home, I received something quite different. The walls were oak panelled and there was not a carpet in sight, perhaps due to the plants that covered the walls and more often than not, the floors.
That was what you noticed first. The plants. They crept up on you, flourishing, clambering in every crack and crevice until you could hardly spot the walls behind them. Simply using their bathroom was tedious, as you had to navigate over various plant pots and shrubbery. Isla was quite nimble, and merely skipped around, never once tripping, slipping or falling. The same could not quite be said for me.
The 'Piano Room', as Isla informed me it was called, was quite breath-taking. I suppose when you're rich you can have rooms specifically for certain instruments. The grand piano, a piano I could only dream of owning, sat directly before an almost floor-to-ceiling semi-circular window overlooking rolling hills covered with chilling fog despite the heat within the home. Various paintings covered the walls, and they were surprisingly good dupes - for they surely could not be originals, as they were such famous, coveted pieces. Amongst the paintings were plants of every shape and size, although they seemed slightly limited in this room, the focus mainly being on the beautiful piano.
Isla returned and I smiled at the young girl. She was beautiful, with the biggest blue eyes; bright and dazzling, unlike the cold harshness of her mothers icy grey. Soft blonde hair naturally curled down dark skin and the cheeky grin on her face as she spilled some of her apple juice was quite contagious. She was going to break some hearts when she was older, that was for sure.
Just like her mother did.

--

"Hmm. I don't understand why I can't just go in black." Rita huffed, glancing in the mirror at her reflection, the egg-shell white dress so typical of Scottish Highland design in its conservative neck-high lace and puffy shoulders.
"You're only saying that because you look fucking ridiculous." I responded, raising my eyebrow at the weird, 80's style dress. Sighing, I glanced at Rita's bored expression - she was so over all the wedding things already, and the pain I felt at how much she reminded me of my childhood friend Rachel was immense.
"Nah. Black would look sick," Rita grinned, "But my sister would never approve."
"Ugh, when am I going to meet this wonderful sister of yours!" I exclaimed, slapping her on the bum as she stepped down from the mirror, walking past me to head back into the changing room, drawing the red curtain shut for modesty.
"Don't, she's bloody mental."
"That makes two of you."
"Shut it," Rita laughed, "I don't want to think about it. I'm going to see her this afternoon, actually, if you're interested? I haven't actually greeted her yet. She must be fuming." Rita snorted gleefully.
"Yeah, I would love to! Where's she staying, the BnB?"
"Gosh, did I not tell you?!" Rita exclaimed, sounding slightly out of breath as she struggled out of the horrible dress, "She's only gone and bought a fucking house!"
"No way!" I exclaimed, picking at my nails, "So she's here to stay, then?"
"Not if I have anything to do with it." Rita grumbled.
"Where's she staying?" I questioned.
"Oh, y'know the one that belonged to that batty old man with the plants," I froze as Rita continued unknowingly, "What's it called again? Oh, yeah, Mackay Castle."