Page 43 of Cooking Up a Christmas Storm
Two hours later the thing that always seemed to happen had happened again. She’d watched parts of seventeen different ceilidh videos on YouTube, and was now, for some reason that she couldn’t entirely explain, reading the Facebook page of an American bluegrass band who were available for private parties in Nashville, Chattanooga and all points in between.
Lowbridge was probably a touch too far away.
Why did Jodie always do this? That wasn’t fair. She didn’t always do this. When she’d been at school she’d struggled, always struggled, with coursework and deadlines but she’d done her schoolwork at the kitchen table while her mum made dinner. Somehow having someone else there, knowing they were expecting her to concentrate, quietened the distractions in Jodie’s mind.
She picked up her laptop from the dining table in the Dower House and made her way into the castle. She’d intended to work in the kitchen, like she had done as a child. Bella was nearly always there, bustling around. Today the kitchen was empty. She made her way across the hallway and knocked on the door of the estate office.
‘Yeah!’ Darcy called out. ‘Come on in.’
Jodie pushed the door open.
‘You don’t have to knock.’
‘I wondered if I could work in here for a bit.’ There was a fairly moth-eaten armchair in one corner. ‘I can just perch here.’
Darcy frowned. ‘You’ve got a whole house and we have about a hundred and eight rooms and you want to camp in my corner?’
What could she say?I can’t concentrate if there isn’t a proper adult around to keep an eye on mewasn’t really an explanation. ‘Sorry. Don’t worry about it.’ She started to back out.
‘It’s fine. I’m joking.’ Darcy called her back in. ‘I get it. When I first came here I found all of this a bit overwhelming. I was used to never being more than three feet away from another human and then I come here and you can spend half a day looking for the people who live in your house. It’s unnerving. You make yourself comfortable, sweetie.’
‘Thank you.’
Jodie settled into the squishy armchair and opened her laptop. Darcy’s fingers were tapping away on her keyboard on the edge of Jodie’s hearing. And so she got to work and quickly found three ceilidh bands within a couple of hours’ drive, and sent an email through the website of the one that had the best testimonials and reviews online.
She braved another look at the real Gemma’s plan. Music, people, venue and refreshment were the four headings under which she’d organised everything. And Jodie had done something about music.
People next. That meant selling tickets. That meant letting people know about the thing. A wave of overwhelm hit her. Where was she supposed to start? Jodie closed her eyes for a second. Darcy was still tap-tap-tapping away. Facebook. She could start on Facebook. She could search for groups about life in the Highlands and visiting the Highlands and share word of the event there. That would mean she would need a graphic. Suddenly she was on fire. The sounds of Darcy working a few feet away drifted into white noise and Jodie was wholly occupied creating images to share far and wide advertising the upcoming Hogmanay Gala.
She was putting the finishing touches to her image when an email pinged in.
Thanks for getting in touch. Normally we’d be booked up for Hogmanayby now, but you’re in luck. We weren’t planning to play this year forfamily reasons but it turns out we are available so we would love tocome over to Lowbridge.
Cen ‘The Ceilidh Guy’
Jodie scanned the rest of the email confirming the price and the timings she’d suggested were acceptable and replied straight away.
That’s fantastic. You’re booked. Is it OK to take pictures and infofrom your website for our promotions?
Cen was clearly still online because his reply popped up less than a minute later.
No problem.
She added the band’s details to her graphics and set about posting them everywhere she could think of – Facebook groups, Instagram, Bluesky and Threads – and then she edited together a series of images for TikTok. Next up, the tourism websites. Over the next hour she sent details of the Lowbridge Hogmanay Gala to listing sites, travel bloggers and vloggers, the local tourist board and every Scottish community or visitor guide she could find.
Her flow was only broken by Darcy pointedly clearing her throat. ‘Are you coming for dinner, sweetie?’
Jodie laughed. It was barely past lunchtime. She’d only just sat down. All she’d done was send a few emails while Darcy was at her desk. Only Darcy was standing by the door. Jodie rubbed her eyes. ‘Sorry. I didn’t hear you get up.’
‘I got up an hour ago, honey. I’ve been in the kitchen with Bella.’
Jodie finally checked the time on her screen. Twenty past six.
‘You were engrossed.’
‘Yeah. That happens sometimes.’ It used to drive Gemma up the wall – those moments when Jodie disappeared into a task and was oblivious to the world around her. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I saw the Instagram post. It looks like you got lots done.’ She smiled. ‘Come on. You can tell us about it over dinner.’
