‘JACK! No — please don’t — Jack!’
The party was in full swing. The once-crumbling Victorian castle towering over its island in a Scottish loch was alive with lights, music, and glittering guests. The ragtime band Misty Shearer flew in from New Orleans had George pulling Nicole up to dance. Another of Misty’s one-time costars held court by the outdoor stairs, his girlfriend, who wasn’t born when Titanic came out, clinging sullenly to his arm.
Summer and Nicola went into fits of giggles when Jen asked if they knew where the bathrooms were. Maeve convinced Josh that bolt, ya rocket was an affectionate greeting in Scotland. Trudy had somehow cornered both Ryans and appeared to be serenading them.
Misty felt like pinching herself.
She had a home, lovingly restored to far beyond its former glory. She was stepping into a new phase of her career, taking control after a lifetime of waiting to be offered roles that excited her by producing her own biopic about her idol, Mary Pickford. Friends had flown in from all over the world for the world’s first castle warming.
And she had Jack. Twenty years of enduring two marriages, each worse than the last, followed by ghosting, breadcrumbing and betrayal. The plastic surgeon who spent dinner critiquing her face and outlining a detailed plan for making her truly beautiful. The washed-up nineties icon who walked out of her birthday dinner because you made the night all about you. The newly divorced love-bomber who tried to propose on the red carpet after two weeks as she edged away pretending he was talking to someone else. Just as she had given up and flung herself into contented singledom, Misty found love with this incredible man who —
was just about to plunge to his death.
‘Jack, I’m not kidding —‘
‘Go Jack,’ yelled a voice she was almost certain was Leo’s.
Misty turned to glare, but it was too late. Oak beams criss-crossed in an ornate lattice, high above the courtyard behind the castle, thousands of tiny fairy lights twinkling from them like stars. Jack leapt from the second-floor window, free-flying for a horrifying instant before the wrought iron, mock-Medieval chandelier he clutched like a zip line caught his weight. The heavy chain swung wildly, Jack’s feet practically skimming the heads of the assembled crowd until he was silhouetted against the purple Trossach Mountains, posing like Peter Pan.
Guests whooped and cheered the ridiculous stunt. Misty’s heart was in her mouth as Jack came swinging back — literally, swinging from a freaking chandelier — then pantomimed about to go splat against the castle before nimbly landing back on the same windowsill. The crowd broke into applause and the band started up again. Misty caught Nicole’s sympathetic look as she finally laughed and shook her head.
‘I mean, what do I do?’ she chuckled, more than a bit of relief flooding her. ‘He is a grown man.’
‘I never figured it out,’ Nicole grinned.
‘I think I need another drink.’
Misty moved through the crowd, greeting, hugging, and air kissing. Luxurious marble flown in from Italy turned the courtyard from a glorified driveway into an opulent outdoor living space with a fully functional kitchen and bar, stage area, and dance floor. Sofas and armchairs were upholstered with baby-soft, locally sourced wool in mauves, greys, and purples, matching the colours of the Arrochar Alps as the sun sank beneath them.
The same soothing shades drifted throughout the castle in silken rugs, featherlight Tweed, and sumptuous velvet curtains lined every draughty, ornate Casement window. In the weeks since the renovation was completed and Misty and Jack moved in, Misty had spent hours wandering her new home. Trailing her fingers along gleaming walnut window seats, curling in front of roaring fires with cups of tea, watching rain bounce off the slate-grey loch and shroud mountains in romantic gloom.
The weather tonight was nothing short of miraculous. Crisp, dry and autumnal, the faint nip in the air was banished by underfloor heating in the courtyard and multiple cosy fires. Even so, the party planner insisted the band set up in the ballroom indoors just in case, but after just two numbers, they’d jumped from the stage and paraded through the delighted crowd to the outdoor stage, everyone clapping and dancing behind them.
Misty smiled as the skinny young guy who serviced their speedboat did the worm on the dancefloor, cheered on by Jen and Reece. Summer was arm wrestling one of the Ryans, having saved him from Trudy, and that doctor going out with Maeve was deep in conversation with Jane and Lily.
A flush of pure happiness washed over Misty, and she decided to grab Jack before he attempted another death-defying stunt. Dancing with him under the stars, amid their friends, would be the cherry on the icing atop this idyllic cake.
‘Missus Shearer?’
Misty had told their housekeeper Elspeth to call her Misty — or at the very least, Miss Shearer, a thousand times. She’d agreed every time, then continued to call her Mrs Shearer until eventually Misty decided she didn’t care that much. Elspeth’s eyes were worried and Misty prepared herself to hear that one of her handmade Waterford goblets had shattered.
‘There’s somebody at the door.’
‘Well alright, just tell them to come in.’
‘They’re saying you need to come.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Misty spotted Hugh giving Jack a leg up onto the roof of the outdoor bar. Realising she probably didn’t want to witness whatever was about to happen anyway, she gestured to Elspeth to lead the way. Rather than cut directly through the party, Elspeth led Misty through the kitchens and a long corridor of pantries and utility rooms to the side door that opened onto the front drive.
A young woman waited on the drive. She wore a long overcoat over her considerable bulk — though as Misty got closer, she saw that the woman was holding something under the coat. A sliver of unease trickled down her spine — it couldn’t be a bomb? She glanced around, hoping she was being paranoid and also hoping her highly-paid security was somewhere just out of sight.
‘May I help you?’
The young woman’s eyes filled with tears. Her face was pale, and her stringy blond hair was tied severely back in a tight ponytail. ‘I don’t want tae dae this,’ she whispered.
Alarm shot through Misty. ‘Let’s just take a breath,’ she said as gently as possible. ‘Would you like some water, or tea?’ Less than a year in Scotland and Misty had already learned that little couldn’t be solved with a cuppa.
‘No I have tae —’ the woman muttered. ‘I cannae dae it. I thought I could, but it’s too hard. He has tae — I know it’s no’ fair, but it is what it is.’
The woman’s eyes filled with tears and sympathy flooded Misty. She was just a girl. She nodded at Elspeth to rejoin the party.
‘What’s not fair, sweetheart?’ she said as the door closed behind Elspeth, and they were alone. ‘If I can help you in any way, I will be happy to do so.’
The young woman opened her coat, and Misty’s heart flipped. Tucked against the woman’s chest was an infant, maybe three or four months old. Misty’s eyes widened as the woman thrust the baby at her.
‘Wait, what are you doing —‘ Misty had no choice but to take the child lest it fall. It squirmed a little as Misty automatically cradled it, and then it fell asleep again. Misty stared as though it were the bomb she had feared.
‘I can’t, I’m really sorry.’ The young woman was sobbing now. ‘Tell her I’m sorry. There’s a bag there wi’ nappies and bottles and stuff.’
‘I don’t understand — what is going on —‘
‘He needs tae tak a turn. I jist need — I cannae dae it on my ain. I thought I could.’
‘Who needs to — her father? He’s here, is that what you’re saying?’ Misty thought over every male member of the staff. Either of their two chefs, the chauffeur, the wee speedboat guy — ‘Who is her father? Who should I —‘
‘Tell her I love her.’ The woman was backing away now, leaving a stunned Misty, literally holding the baby. ‘Jack,’ she shouted from the edge of the woods. ‘It’s Jack, her dad. I promised him I’d never tell. Tell him I’m sorry too.’
1. how many celeb cameos did you count?!
2. do you believe Jack cheated?
3. what do you think is the actual matter with me?