Castles In The Sky

A love from the past is discovered in this engaging short story by Sharon Gosling.

CAN you believe it, Graham? I bought a castle!” Graham Spencer grinned at the delighted look on Zoe’s face. They were standing on the wind-swept approach to Carswell Grange, Zoe Marshall’s latest acquisition.

Of all the projects she had brought to him over the decade they had worked together, this was by far the most ambitious.

Somehow, between the two of them, the plan was to turn this sprawling hodgepodge of mediaeval fortress and later architectural additions into a luxurious home in which some multi-millionaire would want to live.

“It’s a castle, all right,” he agreed, letting Zoe’s enthusiasm wash away his concerns for a while.

“I can imagine you up top there, lording over us lesser folk while we scurry around making sure the place doesn’t fall down.”

Zoe wrinkled her nose. “Never! You know me. I always love a chance to use a power tool.”

Graham nodded, sobering slightly.

“Well, I reckon you’re going to have plenty of chances for that.”

She sighed.

They didn’t have many disagreements – they were usually on the same page, and that’s what made their business partnership work so well.

But Carswell Grange had been different.

Zoe had had to talk Graham into the idea, and if he were honest, he still wasn’t sure his decision that his building company would take on the work had been the right one, at least not financially.

This place was going to be a challenge.

One of the reasons he’d stuck with her for so long was that Zoe was impeccably honest, and always paid on time.

But he knew how far she’d put herself in hock with the bank, and if things went wrong . . .

On the other hand, this was Zoe Marshall. He’d watched her work tirelessly for 10 years, always willing to get her hands dirty and pitch in.

The thought that he wouldn’t be around to help at Carswell Grange – that she’d find someone else to realise her dream of this place – had done something unexpected to his insides.

“I know you still think this is a crazy idea,” Zoe said quietly.

“It’s not crazy,” he told her. “It’s just . . .”

“Insane?”

He offered a smile, watching the wind lift her dark hair away from her face.

She had lines that he couldn’t remember noticing before.

Her green eyes still startled him as much as they had the first day they’d met, when she’d arrived at their meeting with brick dust smeared across cheekbones sharp enough to carve stone.

Graham had often found himself wondering why, in 10 years, she hadn’t ended up finding some smart lawyer or doctor to settle down with.

She’d turned forty a few months before, and he’d bought her a good bottle of Bowmore that she had accepted with glee and immediately insisted on sharing with him.

A love of Islay whisky was a shared appreciation between them, like the joy each found in bringing old houses to a new age of glory.

“Do you have a torch?” she asked abruptly. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Graham followed her through a wooden door into the oldest part of the building.

The power was on, so at first he didn’t understand why she had wanted the torch, but then she led him to another door, beyond which was a stone flight of steps leading down into darkness.

He flicked on the torch and she took it from him.

The temperature dropped as they went lower.

Zoe clearly knew exactly where she was going, despite the maze of old stone rooms that

Zoe and Graham’s latest project was the most challenging yet . . .