a little bit of Christmas from the book

The hedges outside Susan and Tom’s house were woven with fairy lights which sparkled in the the dark. On the icy footpath, tiny paper bags, each one with a tealight in the base, lit the way. The front door was decked with a huge, simple wreath of holly, hung on a deep red ribbon. Kate opened the door, and was hit with a blast of cinnamon, cloves and something alcoholic.

‘Hello stranger,’ Tom kissed her cheek ‘You’re freezing. Come in, let me take your coat. Susan’s making mulled wine.’

In the kitchen Susan was standing, half empty bottle of brandy in hand. Morag was at the table, holding a drowsing baby Mhairi. Through the hall Kate could hear the shouts of Jamie and Ted playing on the Wii.

‘I’m afraid my hand slipped when I was adding a tot of brandy to the mulled wine,’ said Susan, with a conspiratorial grin. ‘It’s now like rocket fuel. D’you want some?’

‘I’d love some. I’ve been warned by Bruno that I’ve not to drink too much though or I’ll be dying on the six o’clock ferry in the morning.’

‘Ah,’ said Ted, coming into the room with Jamie on his shoulders, ‘But a hungover ferry journey is a rite of passage. We’ve all done it, haven’t we?’

The room filled with groans of reminiscence.

‘I’ll just have one,’ said Kate, firmly. She was trying to ignore the slight feeling of disappointment she was feeling. Half of her had been hoping that Roderick would have been there, given his close friendship with Tom and Susan. But perhaps, she realised, they hadn’t invited him, knowing it was might be awkward.

Morag had put the baby down to bed. Tom lifted a protesting Jamie off Ted’s shoulders, saying ‘bed for you, young man.’

Kate blew Jamie a kiss. ‘I’ve a special present in my bag for you – I’ll leave it under the Christmas tree. You can tell me what you think when I get back from England.’

Jamie, eyes heavy with sleep, blew her a kiss back. ‘Night night, Katie-Kate.’

‘Right then,’ said Susan, gleefully, ‘Let the party commence.’ She ladled the steaming hot mulled wine into huge, heavy glasses, each of which appeared to be wearing a little woollen coat. Kate took her drink, and peered at the woollen attachment.

‘It’s Helen’s idea. It keeps them warm for longer,’ explained Susan, laughing. ‘Wait till you’re outside watching the fireworks and you’ll see the point of them.’

‘Fireworks?’

‘Aye, it’s our little tradition – Christmas Day is for the children, so we take it in turns to have drinks at someone’s house the week before. The fireworks started off as sparklers, but somehow over the years it snowballed.’

‘Is that your idea of a Christmas pun?’ Kate groaned.

‘Ha. No, but it’s a good one,’ said Susan.

There was a soft knock at the door, and suddenly the long hall was full of more visitors. Finn, a box under his arm, leaned over and kissed Kate hello. His face was cold. Remembering their night together, she blushed. He gave her a wink.

‘Roddy, will you take my coat?’

The voice filled Kate with horror. Oh god, please, no, she thought, looking past Finn. But oh god, yes, it was. Standing in the hall with a fur hat on top of her golden hair, thin lipped mouth pouting, (not a good look, thought Kate) was Fiona. And behind her –

‘Kate.’ Roderick, strangely, looked pleased to see her. He leant forward and kissed her hello. It was the first time he’d come anywhere near her since bonfire night, and the briefest kiss on her cheek made her stomach disappear through her feet.

Perhaps he’s got a weird firework fetish, she thought, and started to giggle.

‘Are you alright?’ He looked at her, puzzled.

‘Fine. Sorry, I was just thinking about something.’

‘I’ll have a vodka and tonic,’ said Fiona, breezily, as she walked past Kate.

Kate looked around to see if there was anyone else at whom she could have been aiming the request, but the hall was empty. Finn was standing in the kitchen with Morag, and the others had made their way to the sitting room.

‘I don’t think there is any – at least, I don’t know where it is. There’s mulled wine,’ said Kate, trying to be helpful.

‘Well, don’t you think you should find out that sort of thing at the beginning of the night?’ snapped Fiona.

‘Fiona! This isn’t Kate’s house. Why on earth would you expect her to know where the drinks were kept?’ Roderick looked over Fiona’s shoulder at Kate, pulling an embarrassed face.

‘Is she not working here?’

Hello, thought Kate, I am actually standing right here.

‘Kate?’ Roderick burst out laughing. ‘Why on earth would she be working here? She’s friends with Tom and Susan, she’s here as a guest.’

‘Oh. I just assumed, with what she was wearing,’ Fiona looked Kate up and down, taking in the black jeans and black polo neck, ‘that they’d borrowed her from you for the night.’

Kate snorted. Roderick, sensing mutiny in the ranks, ushered Fiona through into the sitting room, throwing an apologetic look back over his shoulder as he did so.

‘That bloody cow!’ Kate stormed into the kitchen, pouring herself a large top up of the now-cooling mulled wine. She gulped it down, and slammed down her glass.

‘Fiona,’ said Finn and Morag in unison.

‘She’s vicious.’

‘She is indeed,’ said Morag. ‘And you don’t want to get on her wrong side.’ She swiped at the kitchen table with a cloth. Kate was surprised to see the usually equable Morag so angry.

‘I don’t understand. Why has Roderick brought her here tonight – are they back together?’

Finn shook his head violently. ‘I can’t see it. But Fiona’s a bit like lichen on a rock. She clings on for grim death. And let’s face it, the stakes are fairly high with Roderick.’

Kate looked up at Morag, whose expression said it all.

‘And that’s what worries me. Fiona doesn’t want Roddy because she loves him: she wants the house and the land and the cachet of being the laird’s wife.’

‘Right enough,’ agreed Finn. ‘I tell you what, Kate, we were so pleased to get shot of her when she got the job on the mainland. I wanted to fly over to Glasgow and thank that newspaper myself.’

‘Och now, Finn, she’s not a bad girl at heart. She’s just spoilt.’ Morag gave him a little poke in the ribs. ‘Mind you the local paper has been a much nicer read since she gave up as editor,’ said Morag. ‘If I wanted an expose every week I’d read the News of the World.’

Kate, by this time halfway down her third mulled wine, was feeling distinctly floaty. She twirled the cinnamon stick in her drink, watching the dark whirlpool, daydreaming.

‘Kate?’

‘Sorry, I was just thinking. So Fiona left to work for a national paper?’

‘Sandra was over the moon,’ said Finn. ‘Fiona was determined that Roderick would come with her and get someone in to run the estate day to day. But he dug in his heels and refused, so she upped sticks and went to Glasgow without him.’

‘So why is she back now?’

‘Well, I think her plan fell through,’ Morag continued the tale. ‘I think she thought she’d storm off and Roderick would follow her. But she underestimated his love for this place.’

‘And the fact that he probably thought he had a lucky escape,’ added Finn, in an undertone.

‘There’s that as well.’ Morag laughed. ‘Finn, your glass is empty. Here you go,’ she topped up his glass.

‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

‘Behave yourself, Finn MacArthur.‘

‘Can’t blame me for trying. You’re a good looking woman for your age.’ He winked at her.

‘Bloody hell Finn,’ laughed Kate. ‘I can’t believe I fell for your lines. Talk about cheese.’

He pulled her into his arms, grinning hugely, and bent her backwards in parody of a stage kiss, laughing mouth almost on hers.  ‘Admit it, you want me.’

‘Don’t mind me,’ said Fiona, crisply. ‘I only came to find out if there was any chance of getting a drink around here. It was Christmas drinks that we were invited to, after all.’

‘Fiona, my dear,’ Morag sloshed some mulled wine into a glass, scooping in some fruit and a cinnamon stick. ‘How thoughtless of Kate.’

Fiona sniffed disapprovingly in Kate’s direction. The humour in Morag’s voice was lost on her. ‘I’ll take a drink for Roddy. Where on earth are Tom and Susan? It’s supposed to be their party and they’re nowhere to be seen.’

 ‘Probably sneaked upstairs for a quickie, knowing them,’ whispered Finn as Fiona stalked out of the room, glasses in hand.

‘We can’t hide in the kitchen all night,’ said Kate. ‘Plus Fiona thinks I’m the hired help. I need to get in there and refresh the glasses.’

The sitting room looked beautiful. Susan had strung fairy lights around the windows, and each of her huge, abstract paintings was festooned with swathes of pine, which together with the enormous tree in the corner, filled the room with the smell of Christmas. The log fire was crackling, and an excited Jamie had already hung stockings by the fireplace, complete with strange little offerings. Kate bent down to look at a letter, held in place by a Playmobil knight, a marble, and a small wooden box full of paperclips.

‘Don’t ask,’ laughed Susan, who appeared out of nowhere. ‘Every night Jamie leaves a little note for Father Christmas, and a collection of assorted tat. We’re running out of hiding places for all the stuff, and Tom’s on strike and refusing to write any more letters back from Santa.’

Kate stood up. Turning around she could see Roderick was sitting in the corner of the sofa, with Fiona perched over him on the arm of the chair. She was flirting hard, playing with her hair, flicking imaginary specks of dust off his shirt, twirling the cinnamon stick in her drink to show off her beautifully manicured scarlet nails.

‘Poor bugger looks terrified, don’t you think?’ said Finn, joining her by the fire.

As they looked over, Kate watched Fiona lean across Roderick, whispering something in his ear. His face registered surprise. He caught Kate’s eye, then his glance darted across to Finn, and back again. Fiona sat up, looking at Kate with a satisfied smirk.