Page 87 of One Night in Edinburgh

Suddenly, I hear a giggle and a murmur nearby, followed by a long moan. Calum obviously hears it, too, because he puts a finger to his lips and listens. It’s difficult to make things out in the dark, but the noises appear to be coming from the other side of a tall hedge, several feet away from us.

‘That sounds like two people having sex.’ My hand goes to my mouth in astonishment, my voice almost a whisper.

‘It does.’ Calum chuckles and keeps his voice low, too. ‘I wonder who it is.’

‘Maybe we should allow that to remain unanswered.’

‘How about we head back to the outdoor tables?’ he suggests. ‘They’ll have to come out some time and we’ll be ready to bust them when they do.’

‘What are you? The alfresco sex police?’

‘You’re not even remotely curious?’

‘I don’t know. Kind of figure it’s their business.’

‘Ah, where’s the fun in that?’

Calum lifts my shoes and we creep away, back in the direction of the bar. Once we reach the outdoor seating area, we grab a table and chat away as we enjoy our drinks. It’s pleasant enough, but he’s a bit too smug and nosey for my liking. He’s nothing like Jamie, and I’m beginning to regret coming outside with him. Rather than providing a distraction, all he’s doing is reminding me of everything I miss about Jamie.

About fifteen minutes later, the silhouettes of two figures appear beneath the moon, walking in our direction, chatting and giggling.

‘Here we go.’ Calum sits forward in his seat as if he’s reached the long-anticipated reveal in a gritty whodunnit.

‘You might want to be a little more subtle than that.’ I suggest, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.

The figures approach until they’re within the reach of the outdoor lighting, and we can see them in their full glory. As recognition dawns, I facepalm and shake my head. I should have guessed. The mystery lovers are none other than Anna and the barman from the day before.

Calum looks delighted at having caught them out, and I kind of want to skelp him across the back of the head for being such a loser. At the same time, I want to do the same to Anna for corrupting that poor barman, who hopefully will still have a job at the end of all this. Because Calum, it seems, is not the kind of guy who’s going to keep quiet.

‘Hoi hoi,’ he greets Anna and her ‘conquest’ as they approach. ‘Glad to see someone’s getting some action tonight.’

This ribbing doesn’t faze Anna at all. She simply throws back a ‘jealous, are you?’ at Calum, but the barman looks mortified, and scared out of his wits that he’s going to end up in trouble.

‘I’ll call you,’ he says to Anna before he shoots back to the bar, smoothing out his shirt as he goes.

‘I thought I told you not to corrupt that poor guy,’ I say to her as she takes a seat at the table with us.

‘I tried not to. He’s just so damn cute. Think I might keep this one around.’

I laugh loudly and pin her with a look. ‘Like I haven’t heard that before. Shall we call it a night before we get ourselves – or anyone else – in any more trouble?’

Chapter 28

A week and a bit later, I’m doing better than I was. The opportunities presented by my upcoming promotion and Lizzie’s vote of confidence in me have certainly given me a lift, but Jamie is still on my mind for much of every day. I must be making progress though, because mixed in with the sadness and feeling like someone’s gouged a big bloody hole out of my heart, I’m experiencing intermittent pangs of resentment. Resentment because he bulldozed into my life on Hogmanay, let me fall for him, and then buggered off again. But he’s clearly some kind of crook, and none of it was real in the first place. There are players, and then – it transpires – there’s Jamie. A big fat schemer – who’s not actually fat; he’s totally gorgeous and, frustratingly, I still have ridiculous wedding fantasies about him. I’m so confused, I start to wonder if I’m suffering from the I’ve-been-screwed-over equivalent of Stockholm Syndrome.

‘So, are you and Jamie still broken up?’ Kayleigh asks as she plays with the foam on her skinny latte.

‘Yup, we are.’ I let out a deflated sigh and take a sip from my cappuccino.

It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m engaging in a rare catch up with my sister. Not something I do often, but as we’re unfortunately blood related, I have to make the occasional effort. Plus, she’s been trying to organise it for weeks and there are only so many excuses I can deploy before she has a hissy fit and dobs me in to our parents for being a bad sister. That’s happened before and I did not enjoy the fall out.

‘Have you even heard from him since?’

‘Nope.’

‘Huh.’ She assumes a thoughtful expression. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it? That he’s nowhere to be found on social media. I’ve tried a few times.’

‘Can we talk about something else?’ I fidget with the empty sugar packet in front of me. ‘I’m trying to forget about Jamie and move on, and you’re not really helping.’

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