‘You had me there, Chloe.’ she gasped, ‘ I didn’t realise that you were such a joker…’


Get A Life!

By Susan Brown

Chapter 14

Previously …

I made a snap decision and hoped that I wouldn’t regret it or that things would go pear shaped.

‘I don’t think that financing will be a problem.’

‘Its always a problem; we have to fight for every penny…’

‘Not any more.’

‘Why, have you been up to the mountain and found a gold deposit?’ she laughed.

‘No,’

‘Then spit it out girl!’

‘You see, I own the island,’

‘WHAT!’

And, och aye the noo; the story continues…

Gulls were frightened off by her loud voice and the air was filled with flapping wings.

A dog dropped the ball on the beach in alarm, whilst its owner clutched at her heart.

A man on the prom was lighting his pipe and snapped through its stem.

I merely jumped a few feet and grimaced. Sally’s voice should carry a government health warning.

She gave me a searching look and then smiled. The smile turned into a chortle and the chortle into a full on laugh.

‘You had me there, Chloe.’ she gasped, ‘ I didn’t realise that you were such a joker…’

I waited until she calmed down a bit and then once she had recovered and her colour had returned to normal, I continued.

‘I know that its hard to believe Sally, but its true.’

She looked at my face with concern.

‘Erm Chloe; has there been, and I say this with your interest’s at heart, erm, any insanity in your family? Mother thinking that she’s a teapot; mad aunt living up in the attic and setting fire to the house or maybe you thinking that you own this island, that sort of thing?’

I sighed, this was going to take time.

‘I am not mad or have bats in my belfry. Right, you know my name?’

‘Yes, Chloe McKerrell.’

‘Well my surname is my mothers. My father had a row with his father and it resulted in a breakdown in communications between my parents and grandparents. A breach that was never healed and we changed our name, I suppose in protest.’

I could see that I had her attention and all signs of mirth had gone from her face, to be replaced by a puzzled look as she tried to take all of this in.

‘What has this got to do…’

‘Please let me explain my way. I went up to The Manor earlier the gates were open and I went in to have a snoop and maybe introduce myself to the owner… ’

I explained all that occurred between Claire Templeton and myself; how she fainted at the sight of me and then the incredible news I received about my inheritance and finally, I gave Sally details about the letter my grandfather left for me to read.

‘So,’ said Sally, ‘let me get this straight, you are in fact Chloe McKay?’

‘Sort of.’

‘What do you mean, sort of?’

‘Well I need to change my name back to McKay and I intend doing that, as the only reason why we were called McKerrell was because of a stupid row, a row that is now irrelevant.’

‘So you will be Chloe McKay when you get it changed by deed pole or whatever?’

‘Not strictly, well yes I will be but not only that…’

‘What are you blathering about girl?’

‘Erm, I will also be known as The Lady Peploe; that is because of my grandfather being a viscount, marquess or something. I’m not sure of the details; I might even be a viscountess because of some exemption to the rules handed down from James the sixth, who was evidently pals and bosom buddies with one of my ancestors; but the lawyers, according to Claire, will look into that. Do you know that most titles are only handed down via the male line?’

‘What!’

‘For now, you may call me Ma’am.’ I said with a straight face and then I couldn’t hold it and giggled.

It took a while to sink in. I think that Sally thought that it was all some sort of wind-up. Then I showed her a few of the papers about the estate that Clair gave me and then, finally, she believed.

‘You’re a lady? ’

‘Yes.’

‘You own the Manor?’

Yes.’

‘And most of the island?’

‘Correct.’

‘Bloody hell!’

‘I said “gosh” when I found out.’

‘You would’

Sally looked at me keenly.

‘If all this is a shock to me, how do you feel?’

I considered for a moment.

‘I’m not sure that its not all some sort of dream and that I might wake up and find out that its all not true. Then I pinch myself, that hurts by the way, and I know that this is reality.’

‘Do you want this?’

I looked at her and shrugged.

‘Yes and no; I don’t want to let people down and I know that will have to make decisions that might not please everyone. And then there is the case that certain people on the island won’t like the decisions that I make, but I suppose that comes with the territory.’

‘I take it that we will have to look for another tourism officer.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, you have another job now; you know, being the big boss and head honcho, that sort of thing.’

I thought for a moment and then smiled.

‘What are you grinning about?’

‘I can still do my job.’

She looked at me as if I was mad.

‘You can’t; whatever gave you that idea?’

‘I’m not being silly…’

‘Listen, you appear to be as rich as Crassus…’

‘Not quite,’ I protested.

‘Well, maybe not. Let’s at least agree that you can give most rich people in Scotland a run for their money. So you don’t need a job, any job, except the running of the estate.’

‘Its not about need, its about want. Ever since I have been here, not long, I know, but I have felt an affinity with the place. Call it mysticism; call it blind faith or whatever you like. Anyway, I want to help drag this lovely place up out of the doldrums. I can help. I know about holidays and what holidaymakers want. I have a staff (I can’t believe I’m saying that, but its true) and as Claire told me, it’s good to delegate. I can let Claire and her team do the day running of the estate and that will leave me with time to do what I can to help. Does that make sense?’

‘Well…’

‘I can carry on what I’m doing and see what needs to be done to attract people here. If I see anything that can be changed or improved, I will try to accomplish it, without anyone but a select few knowing about it. I’ll be a sort of Robyn Hood type person. I think, at the moment anyway, that my involvement in any of the changes should be kept as secret as possible. Otherwise I will be inundated with silly requests and I know of at least a few people would try to take advantage of me.’

‘You, never.’

I laughed.

‘Was that a hint of sarcasm I heard in your voice?’

‘Chloe, you can’t help being nice, sweet person, it’s in your nature.’

I shrugged, ‘ I am what I am. Anyway enough of the character assassination, what do you think?’

‘Will you want paying?’ she asked slyly.

I laughed.

‘I don’t think that that will be necessary.’

‘You know that tongues will start to wag and the jungle drums will get hot with use?’

‘People will think what they like, but I won’t be telling them anything yet. Not until I am happy about them knowing anyway.’

‘And what about Alistair?’

‘What about him?’

‘You haven’t told him, I take it?’

‘Not as such.’

‘Does that mean no?’

‘Sort of,’ I answered awkwardly.

‘Why won’t you tell him?’

I thought for a moment before replying.

‘I want him to love me for who and what I am. I don’t want him to think that I’m different now.’

‘How are you different?’

I looked at her with surprise.

‘Derr… Look at me? I now am so different from what I was before. I’m rich, have a title and probably own the very ground we are standing on. That is what I call different.’

‘Chloe, you silly moo. Your circumstances have changed and you have had a bit of good fortune, but you are still the same. You have a lovely personality and I know that you won’t let all these riches go to your head. Underneath you haven’t changed. Anyway, Alistair will love you no matter what and if he does not, he isn’t the man for you and it would have never worked. You can’t keep this away from him because lovers should have no secrets, well not important ones anyway. Hubby doesn’t know half of what I get up to, but that is beside the point. Important things we do not keep from each other and you should not do it either.’

‘What if he hates my being Lady Peploe or God forbid, a marchioness? What if he doesn’t like me being richer than him or having more property? What if…’

‘What if nothing; you have to tell him or your relationship is doomed.’

I knew, in my heart that her words made sense; although I dreaded the outcome when I told him.

My phone chirped.

‘Hello?’

‘There you are Ma’am. I have spoken to the solicitor, Mr Campbell and he will be here in three hours. Will you be able to come to The Manor for a meeting?’

‘Three hours, that’s quick.’

‘He will use a helicopter. The estate has use of one on a contract basis and it is always, with its pilot, of course, on standby. Although it isn’t used much, it is cost effective. Both Mr Campbell and myself agree that the sooner we get things moving, then the sooner it’s settled.’

‘All right, I will come up in three hours. Claire, whilst you are there, I might as well tell you that I have told Sally and I will be telling my erm, friend Alistair, but I will tell them to keep everything secret for the time being.’

There was a pause.

‘To be honest, I expected you to tell people close to you. Let us hope that others don’t hear of it before we are ready to let the cat out of the bag. Do you want Douglas to come and pick you up?’

‘Douglas?’

‘He is our gillie and has use of the Range Rover. He is very discrete and his family have been on the estate as long as mine.’

I thought for a moment and Sally pointedly looked the other way, trying to ignore the conversation; although I could tell that she was dying to know what was going on.

‘It would be better if I come on Pinkie.’

‘Who is that, a horse?’

‘No,’ I laughed, ‘it’s my little scooter. If I’m seen being driven about in a big car, it might make people think that there is something going on.’

‘OK, you’re the boss.’

‘I am, aren’t I?’ I replied, realising that this was the first of many decisions that I would probably have to make.

‘It might be a good idea to get you a car, perhaps from the mainland. You won’t want to ride about on erm, Pinkie if the weather gets bad, as it sometimes does.’

‘We’ll talk about it later.’ I said, ‘see you soon.’

‘Bye.’

I put my phone away and Sally looked at me.

‘Well, things are moving.’

‘You heard that?’

‘Well, Claire does have a rather loud voice and my hearing is 20-20.’

‘I thought that was for sight; you, know 20-20 vision.’

‘Lets not quibble.’

‘Hmm; anyway, you are right, things are moving along rather quickly. I still think that I am dreaming and I will wake up in the tent at the cottage with that damned sheep, Dolly or whatever her name is, head butting me and pinching me on the bum through the tent walls…’

‘Rather a disturbing picture that,’ said Sally, ‘anyway you are awake and this is no dream. You have decisions to make and rather quickly. I will be here to help you if you like.’

‘Would you? It will be nice to have a friend to lean on.’

‘What are friends for,’ she said smiling, ‘and anyway, you are important now and I do like to suck up to near royalty; I could do with a new TV...’

‘You aren’t shallow at all, are you Dear Sally?’

‘Who me?’ she replied shrugging and looking innocent.

We both giggled.

I went back to Auntie’s place and she was luckily out. I say luckily, because although she was about a hundred and twenty years old, she was as nosy as anything and I believed that she was a member of the grapevine movement, where everyone knows everything, quicker than a rat goes up a drainpipe.

I was not as convinced as I should by her deafness; perhaps it was selective.

As usual, the rain and damp weather had turned into a gloriously summer day. After putting Pinkie to bed in her little shed, I hung up my wet weather gear on the line outside in the garden and it steamed slightly as the hot sun dried it all out.

I realised that as I would be going out in all weathers, it would be a good idea to take up Claire’s offer of a car. Pinkie was lovely to pootle about on in the nice weather, but I didn’t think that she would be very practicable in the depths of winter.

Maybe I would get that BMW I lusted after…

After returning to my room, I found myself looking in the mirror; I was not a happy bunny. I would have to change and also wash my hair. I looked like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Sighing, I stripped off and then grabbing my silky robe, I slipped it on, as the last thing I wanted was to give Auntie a heart attack if she arrived home suddenly.

I went along to the passage to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I would have liked a shower, but there wasn’t one and so I had to make do with the narrow as a coffin bath.

The water gurgled in the pipes as the tub filled and I took the time while I waited to text Alistair.

We need to talk – soon Love C xxx

I received a reply almost straight away.

C? is that you Clarisse, or maybe Charlotte – no it must be Camilla…

Giggling, I replied, It’s Chloe, you bonehead!!!

Oh, sorry Chloe is it? Are you the one with the knockout legs and knockers?

No, bandy-legged and small knockers. I do have a large rear end though.

That’s good; I always was a bum person.

‘Enough, you idiot. Can we meet tonight?

Why, do you want to do something naughty but nice?

I would love to, but not until we have a little chat first. Business before pleasure.

I’m thinking, covering you all over with chocolate sauce and licking it off…

Down boy; chocolate is fattening. Mind you strawberry source sounds yummy.

I would get fat for you darling. OK meet you at 8 if that’s all right.

Sounds great, see you then. Got to go, my bath is calling me.

Calling you what?

Dirty.

I love it when you talk dirty

Go away.

Gone.

I giggled as I put my phone down. I was getting very giggly in my old age; it must be the fresh country air or something in the water.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I was pleased with the result. In view of the business type nature of my meeting with the solicitor at The Manor, This was not a Pinkie transport occasion and as a result, I had booked a taxi, which was arriving in a few minutes hopefully.

I had taken the opportunity to posh up and as a result I had put on one of my only two nice frocks. This was a Karen Millen dark blue stretch cotton dress. It had short sleeves with cut-out detail at the back. It was truly scrumptious and had cost me an arm and half a leg to buy.

With the carefully applied makeup, perfect nails and hair brushed to within an inch of its life, I thought that I looked rather nice, even though I say so myself!

No way would I ride on Pinkie with that dress on!

I slipped on my sandals (low heeled, as I didn’t want to trip over myself in business mode) picked up my bag and then finally, I was ready.

I heard the beep-beep of a car horn downstairs and picking up my cardi (just in case) I went downstairs.

‘There you are Helen. Going out?’

How had she crept in the house without me knowing?

‘Its Chloe; I’m erm, going out to meet someone?’

‘Well be careful, there’s a war on. Be back before curfew.’

‘Erm, right; see you later?’

‘Isn’t that skirt a bit short?’

I looked down; it covered my knees – just.

‘It’s the new style.’

‘What about your hat?’

‘What about it?’

‘You aren’t going out without a hat on or at least a scarf.’

‘Umm, I don’t need a hat or scarf where I’m going.’

‘Cant abide these new fashions, in my day…’

The taxi hooted me again.

‘Sorry Auntie, I have to go. Don’t wait up.’

‘But Helen…’

I rushed out with a quick wave before she finished her sentence. The sooner I made alternative arrangements the better.

The taxi driver looked about 12 years old, but as I got older young adults started to look younger…

God I was only 29; I was beginning to sound like my mother, God forbid!

He opened the door for me and said something in unintelligible Scots I smiled and got in. The car was quite old and I think that it was a Ford under all that dirt. This was another thing that I would have to look at; transport on the island. Luckily the inside was clean enough for me to sit on the faux leather seats, so my lovely dress was not going to get dirty.

As we drove off he started to talk to me, but his language was so broad, I couldn’t understand a word that he was saying. I just nodded and smiled and said the occasion ‘mmm’. Mind you, the exhaust had blown and the engine sounded as if it had gone around the clock several times, so conversation would have been strained even if I could understand him…

I needed a car, if all the taxis were like that one. I had seen the occasional bus on the island, but they too were ancient and on one, I swear that I saw a sheep looking out of the window at me, or that might have been an optical illusion…

Miraculously, we arrived at The Manor, more or less in one piece, apart from a piece of the tailpipe that clattered off when we hit a particularly vicious hump.

With a screech of brakes, we pulled up outside the house and with some difficulty, as the door was creaky and jammed slightly, I got out. With a shaky hand, I paid him.

I think he said that he would come and pick me up when I had finished but I declined his kind offer.

He replied ‘Och Wheel.’ And then drove off with a cheery wave.

Perhaps the Gillie would give me a lift if I asked him nicely. To hell with the secrecy thing; I wanted to live for a bit longer.

Claire came out and greeted me. I gave her a hug that she didn’t expect. She had to realise that I was a touchy-feely person and she would have to get over it.

‘Mr Campbell is in the study,’ she said, after I had put her down.

I looked to my left and I saw a helicopter on the lawn I wondered in passing how much all this sort of thing actually cost; then I shrugged. I would have to get out of my miserly mind-set and start thinking a bit more positively.

Mind you money doesn’t grow on trees…

I gave my self a mental slap around the face with a metaphoric wet kipper. I was in danger of being of the stereotypical mean Scot; the way things were going. Now did I bring the key to the padlock on my purse?

Mr Campbell, apart from being in the dreaded clan, hated by one and all bereft Scots who had ancestors at Glencoe, seemed like a nice man and I wasn’t one to hold grudges anyway.

He was tall, dark haired, about thirty and had a bright smile that showed that he cleaned his teeth after every meal or had a very good dentist. He looked yummy, but I was taken for…

‘Lady Peploe, how nice to meet you, at last,’ he said as he came over and shook my hand.

‘Hello Mr Campbell, I bet that you are surprised to see me.’ I squeaked, my voice sounding uncharacteristically Mini Mouse like.

‘Truthfully, yes I am, I was expecting someone, erm different.’

‘A man perhaps?’

He had the grace to look embarrassed and then laughed.

‘You have me. Anyway, it is nice to finally see you, Lady Peploe.’

‘Please call me Chloe and don’t give me that look Claire.’

‘I’m saying nothing Ma’am.’

I turned back to the solicitor.

‘Anyway, should you be calling me by my title. Have I got to go in front of the queen to confirm it and by the way, do I have the right to the title as I am still, physically anyway, a male?’

‘All questions will be answered, I hope; but first, shall we sit?’ he asked, ‘Claire has, with her usual efficiency, managed to scramble up some tea, I see.’

The ritual pouring of the tea took a few moments and once we all had settled down Mr Campbell or Hamish as he insisted on being called, finally got to the point.

‘Well Chloe, to answer your question first, any title automatically goes to the next in line. Your parents are regrettably dead and therefore the title goes to you. Your father would have been The Marquess of Peploe and would have been addressed as Lord Peploe. If you were in, shall we say male persona, you would be called the same. As you present as a woman and indeed are transitioning, I believe, it would not be too much of a problem for you to be referred to as The Marchioness of Peploe or Lady Peploe.’

‘What if I just want to be known as Chloe McKerrell or perhaps McKay?’

‘Within reason and with the use of a deed pole you can be called whatever or maybe whoever you like. For example you could refer yourself as Chloe McKay, Marchioness of Peploe, although that is a bit of a mouthful.’

‘Are you considering a change to McKay?’ asked Claire.

I shrugged.

‘I’m not sure, I might even go double barrelled; you know McKerrell-McKay?’

‘That’s even more of a mouthful.’ laughed Hamish, ‘anyway, for the moment lets keep it simple, would you mind being called Chloe McKay, Marchioness of Peploe, then everyone will understand that you are a member of The Family?

I thought for a moment. After the fallout with my parents, the name McKerrell did not have the same meaning to me as before. I had never known any of my relatives on my mother’s side, so being known as a McKay might smooth things for me.

I nodded.

‘OK, I agree to that; can you get the ball rolling?’

‘Yes, I will get some paperwork for you to sign and also, if you can give me the details of your bank and other people you need to tell, I will arrange everything. We will need to get your drivers licence and passport sorted out. Your birth certificate might be a tricky one to change, but we will get to that at a later time; any questions?’

‘No, that seems straight forward enough. Now what about the estate?’

‘Much of the work has been carried out; taxes have been paid and all we need to do is for you to sign some papers. Then, as far as you are concerned, you are the owner of the estate, portfolio and to be honest, much of the island. You also own several parcels of land in England and Scotland, have a rather large house in The Hamptons…’

‘Where is that?’

The USA, to be exact, The Hamptons, Southampton, New York, an exclusive and rather expensive place to live, I understand. You have a number of other properties in London, Rome, Paris and Berlin, I will be sending you details of those shortly.’

‘I don’t understand, why is the family so rich and how did we pay for all this?’

Hamish shrugged.

‘Shrewd investments, getting out at the top and buying at the bottom; knowing somehow when the market is about to crash. Your ancestors, almost to a man and woman were pretty good at making and almost more importantly keeping money. They always backed the winning side.’

‘So, what happens next?’ I asked, not wanting to know how they had managed the winning side thing and whether there had been much blood spilt in achieving their aims. Scotland’s history was a bloody one.

‘You sign lots of papers, I go away and do what I do and then, its all sorted out.’

‘Do you have the papers?’

‘Yes; they have been ready for some time. All I have to do is fill in the name where needed and then you sign and that is it.’

He looked at me and smiled.

‘I must say that you are the image of your grandmother; its almost eerie.’

‘So Claire was telling me.’

‘She was a lovely warm and generous person and I can see that you are in a similar mould.’

I went red, as I always did when being flattered.

‘Do you always flatter your clients? I think that you need glasses.’

‘Only to see you better.’

We looked at each other for a moment more and then both burst out laughing.

‘I think that I have the measure of you Mr Campbell.’

‘And I don’t think that many people can put one over you, Lady Peploe.’

Claire looked on at this verbal jousting with an indulgent look on her face.

‘Hamish, I will be having a word with your wife unless you are very careful, and Chloe, you should be ashamed of yourself; Alistair would not be impressed.’

‘What did I do wrong? I protested.

‘It was more the way that you were looking at Hamish.’

Both Hamish and I looked sheepish. I hadn’t gotten used to the man-woman-flirting thing and I immediately felt guilty about such carnal type thoughts. I had no idea what Hamish thought, but assumed by the look on his face that he had similar thoughts.

We spoke more about things that needed to be done; red tape and other boring stuff to everyone except the legal profession. Eventually, the end result was that I was, in fact, the legal owner of all I surveyed and that I had a number of titles, all of which evidently made me what the paparazzi would call, a member of the A list.

Hamish, Claire and I agreed to meet up again in a few days, to tie up a few loose ends and then we could make more concrete plans for the future. I said that I would ask Sally and Angus to come too, as I wanted their input as to what could be done in the wider community.

Douglas, the gillie, complete with kilt and a wicked looking sporran and even wickeder dirk, gave me a lift back into town. If anyone asked, I would just say that I hitched a ride. I had no idea how long my big secret would actually stay that way, but I would try my hardest not to make it easy for the nosy islanders to find out what was happening.

I thanked Hamish for the lift and as I only got a grunt in reply (he was not what you would call a talkative man), I just smiled and waved as he went off in the Land Rover.

‘Is that you Helen?’ asked Auntie as she came out into the hall.

‘Its Chloe.’

‘It is cold dear; how you can wear such thin clothes I dinna understand.’

I gave up. Having a conversation with Auntie was like talking to a brick wall; only you would get more sense out of a wall.

‘I’m just going upstairs; I will be going out later.’ I replied.

‘Aye, the sun might be out soon,’

I just waved and went upstairs.

When I was back in my room, I sat down on the bed for a few minutes. A lot had happened today and I must admit that I didn’t take everything in at the time, but now it was sinking in and I hoped that I was up to the various tasks and decisions that I had to sort out.

‘Oh blast,’ I said, remembering that I had to go to the little shed where Pinkie lived when she was not in use. It kept her clean and dry when the weather was a bit iffy.

I recalled that I had left the key in the ignition and my front door key was on the ring too. If I was late back, I would have to let myself in, so I decided that I had better go and fetch my keys, whilst it was still on my mind.

Auntie had her TV on loudly and so I didn’t have to run the, ‘is that you, Helen?’ gauntlet.

As I walked around the back, I wondered what I should wear when I met Alistair. It wasn’t a date as such, more of a meeting to tell him my news. I did hope that he wasn’t one of those jealous; I want to be the breadwinner Neanderthal types.

I suppose I was thinking in terms of eventual wedding bells and maybe I was being a bit presumptuous but I had a feeling in my water that he and I were made for each other and I wanted desperately for things to work out between us.

I had more or less decided to have the dreaded operation so that (if he asks) and that happy time comes, we could marry as man and woman and enjoy more or less normal sex, but that would have to wait That made think about whether he would have a title, if we ever did get hitched?

All these thoughts were going around in my head as I went to the shed and pushed the door open; it wasn’t locked, it never was. I was usually a bit wary about going in there, due to the distinct possibility of spider attacks, but this time I had other things on my mind.

There was Pinkie, on her stand, eagerly waiting for me to get on her and go for a little run somewhere, her tail pipe wagging in anticipation. Maybe I was anthropomorphwhatsitting a bit, but I didn’t care…

There was something wrong.

I walked over to Pinkie and gasped. Her seat had been ripped to shreds and on the handlebar was taped a note made with cut out letters from a newspaper.

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To Be Continued...

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