Page 64 of One Night in Edinburgh

Once the sommelier has offered some guidance with the whisky and we’ve ordered our desserts – an incredibly difficult task given the delicious options on offer – my family turn their attention back to Jamie.

‘So, Jamie, what is it that you do?’ my dad asks. ‘Steph tells us you’re an entrepreneur, but we’re a little unclear as to what that means.’

Oh great. This is where things have the potential to go south very quickly.

Jamie, however, doesn’t miss a beat.

‘It’s pretty straightforward. I started my own business when I was twenty-five, after taking on a couple of different corporate roles and realising that world wasn’t for me.’

‘It’s not really for anyone,’ says Mikey. ‘We all secretly dream of sticking two fingers up to it one day – preferably after a huge lottery win.’

‘Mikey…’ My mum shoots him a warning look.

‘What?’ He looks at her defiantly. ‘I’d put money on it that’s true. So many folk make out their careers are the be-all and end-all, but that’s because it’s the only thing that makes them feel worthwhile. It’s all a game. Just a way for the most power-hungry people to get rich and satisfy their egos.’

‘That’s certainly a colourful description.’ Jamie chuckles, as my mum continues to aim disapproving looks at Mikey. ‘Though I have some understanding of your perspective on it, Mikey. I felt I was working hard to line someone else’s pockets. Also, some of the senior people I reported to wouldn’t listen to the great ideas of their more junior colleagues, which meant many opportunities were missed.’

‘So you decided to take the initiative?’ my dad prompts, to put Jamie back on track to answering his question.

‘Exactly that. I started dabbling with projects in my free time to see what would stick and I got lucky.’

‘What did you get lucky with?’ My mum leans in, intrigued.

‘That’s the thing. I can’t share specifically because I’m bound by a non-disclosure contract.’

My whole family seem to visibly deflate at this revelation. All other than Kayleigh, that is.

‘That’s very convenient.’ Her eyes narrow slightly. ‘Have you any other successes that you can share with us?’

‘I understand your scepticism.’ Jamie shrugs easily. ‘It’s difficult not being able to talk about my projects. I’m the equivalent of a “ghost writer” in the publishing industry. I produce the goods, but I have an arrangement in place to make sure that the credit goes elsewhere. Businesses come to me to have their proposals turned into reality.’

‘So, you run a manufacturing company?’ asks my dad.

‘That would be the best description for it, yes. Although it’s more than that. I do the R&D, add some creative flare and bring the ideas to life.’

‘R&D?’ My mum appears to search her memory for what this means.

‘Sorry, research and development,’ says Jamie. ‘It’s sort of a scientific process.’

‘And are you even able to share what industry you do this work in?’ asks Kayleigh, not letting Jamie off the hook.

‘It’s a mix really. Once you know a few basic elements, it’s a broad field. I’ve delivered contracts for toiletries, skincare products, soft drinks, all sorts of stuff. If you think of big brands like Unilever, it’s like that but on a much smaller and narrower scale – for more of an artisanal market.’

Kayleigh’s ears prick up at this. ‘Have you produced for any of the market traders at the Edinburgh markets?’

‘I couldn’t possibly confirm that,’ Jamie grins, which immediately gives away that he has.

While my family share impressed nods, I almost burst with pride, while making a mental note to share this new information with Anna later. This’ll finally get her off her quest to out Jamie as some sort of fraud.

Our desserts arrive along with the whisky, the two waiters who bring them offering a detailed description of what’s on each of our plates.

‘Oh, my word, that has to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.’ I take another mouthful of my caramelised pear souffle with salted caramel drizzle, dark chocolate dust and honeycomb pebbles, and sigh with pleasure.

‘You are quite the foodie, aren’t you,’ says Jamie.

‘It’s my guilty pleasure.’

‘I wouldn’t call that something to feel bad about.’

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