Page 8 of One Night in Edinburgh

We up our pace, pushing our way through the boisterous crowd towards the Christmas market that skirts the Royal Scottish Academy and fills the whole of East Princes Street Gardens. As we cross Princess Street, I look in the direction of the West End, and the sight before me lifts my spirits: thousands of noisy, excited revellers already making the most of the biggest night of the year. This scene is perfectly framed by bright, colourful festive lights with Edinburgh Castle perched majestically on Castle Hill in the background: the understated showpiece of the evening.

On entering the Christmas market, my senses are heightened further as a waft of grilled bratwurst, crepes, mulled wine, freshly made churros and hot chocolate teases my nose and tastebuds.

‘I literally want to devour everything in sight,’ I say. ‘With all that’s gone on today, I’ve barely eaten a thing.’

‘Better get something to line your stomach then. Keep some room for the booze though, yeah?’ Anna gives me a little wink.

We take a quick tour round the wooden stalls and I eventually decide on fried potatoes topped with melted Swiss raclette. Once I’ve got my food, I find a spot at a standing table while Anna gets us a couple ofkirschweinsfrom the authentic Germanglühweinstall. She returns soon after with two steaming mugs and a ginger snap wedged between her teeth.

‘I love the free biscuits they give there.’ She plonks the mugs down on the table and demolishes the ginger snap, before lifting her own drink again. ‘Cheers.’

‘Prost.’ I opt for the German expression to match the experience, clonking my mug against Anna’s, some of the wine slopping over the sides as I do.

‘Let’s do a selfie for my Insta.’

Normally I’d protest such a request, being a bit camera- and social-media-shy; however, the atmosphere seems to dull my sense of insecurity. We strike a pose and Anna completes her post; then we sip away at our hot drinks – the alcohol adding an extra comforting heat – while I enjoy my food. It’s another companionable silence, which unfortunately my over-reflective mind takes as permission to switch into high-gear again.

To distract myself, I look around at the nearby stalls and watch the people enjoying their evening. As I do this, I unintentionally make eye contact with a man standing at another table, two along from ours. He’s tall and athletic-looking, with kind eyes and a sort of lop-sided grin. He’s wearing a cute woollen beanie hat and a puffer jacket to rival the Michelin man, which I expect is bulked up by him also wearing several layers underneath it. He holds my gaze until awkwardness overwhelms me, and I look away.

‘You OK?’ Anna asks.

‘Yeah, why?’ I try not to show that I’m flustered.

‘Your face has turned bright red, and you look out of sorts. If this is too much for you, we can head back to yours and have a quiet one. It’s no problem at all.’

‘That’s the last thing I want.’ I grimace at the thought of letting my mind roam free for the rest of the evening. ‘I just caught some bloke’s eye by mistake when I was people watching, that’s all.’

‘Ooh… where?’ Anna turns in the direction I’m facing.

‘Don’t look,’ I hiss, but I’m too late.

‘Ding ding, he’s a bit of a hottie, isn’t he? Love the beanie.’

‘Stop it. He already caught me looking when I wasn’t reallylookingat him. Don’t want to give him a big head.’

In my discomfort, I involuntarily glance at the man to see if he’s clocked Anna, and accidentally make eye contact all over again.

‘Shit. What is wrong with me?’

‘Nothing.’ Anna chuckles. ‘He’s super cute.’

We continue eating and drinking, and sharing crap chat until unexpectedly, the man with the beanie appears at our table.

‘Hi, ladies. How’s your evening?’

He has a sexy west Scotland accent, which immediately has Anna fawning all over him with her ninja flirting skills.

‘It’s great, thanks,’ she purrs, her false eyelashes flapping at the rate of a hummingbird’s wings. ‘Even better now you’ve joined us. I like your hat.’

‘Want to try it on?’ He grins at her, and she reaches up and plucks it from his head, revealing a tumble of brown man curls.

Anna pulls on the beanie, then gets her phone out and takes another selfie. ‘What do you think?’

‘Suits you,’ says the man, who then turns his attention to me. ‘And how about you? Good night?’

I shrug. ‘Tasty food. Mulled wine. Good atmosphere. What’s not to like?’

I’m caught in a strange dimension between thinking this man is super-hot and kind of wanting him to leave because I’m heartbroken and only just holding it together.

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