Page 28 of Highland Games
Fiona threw a cushion at him. ‘Yeah, you drove me and Mum mad.’
Jamie threw the cushion back at his sister, and went back to playing a melody that was familiar to Zoe.
‘Earlier, that was you playing? It wasn’t a recording?’
He nodded and started singing. Zoe let the music wash over her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so content. She was full to the brim with food, love, and the sense that she had found her way home. Kinloch was where she belonged.
It was dark by the time she prepared to leave. Morag led her into the kitchen, handed her a pile of warm, clean and folded laundry and filled plastic boxes with the remains of the lunch. Morag was unusually quiet, a little hesitant, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
‘Is everything all right, Morag?’ asked Zoe finally, when her nerves prompted her to speak.
Morag bit her lower lip. ‘Love, I wanted to talk to you without the others around. I’m a bit embarrassed.’
Panic rose in Zoe’s stomach, a fear that something could affect her magical relationship with this family. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Morag rested her hands on the outside of Zoe’s arms. ‘It’s not that bad, sweetheart, we’ll find a way around, it’s just the businesses I had lined up for you to do their accounts have changed their minds.’
Zoe felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘What do you mean?’ she stammered.
Morag looked embarrassed and troubled. ‘I don’t understand it, love. Yesterday, Chantelle and Sally told me they’d had second thoughts, and were going elsewhere. It’s not like them to behave like this. I don’t understand what’s going on.’
Zoe’s head was spinning. What had she done wrong? Why had they both backed out? She looked at Morag’s anxious eyes and pasted on a smile. She would not allow Morag to see how badly this had affected her state of mind and the practicalities of being able to last the winter in the cabin.
‘It’s okay, these things happen. They don’t know me from Adam. I’ll find other work. It’s okay, I’m fine.’
‘I still haven’t got to everyone in the village yet. I’ll find work for you, I promise.’
Zoe needed to leave before she broke down. The bubble of warmth and security she had been encased in all afternoon had just been shattered by an ice pick and she felt cold and vulnerable. She called out to the others that she was leaving. They came through and hugged her with promises to see her in the next couple of days. Zoe knew it might be longer now Duncan was home and Jamie was back to work, so held them extra tightly. She could feel the tension radiating out of her. She saw Fiona give her mother a questioning glance. Morag shook her head, imperceptibly, as if to say, ‘not now’.
As soon as Zoe was out and safely back in her truck, the smile fell off her face and she let out a sigh that was almost a sob. She wanted her mum. She brought out her phone to call home, then stopped. Her mother didn’t need to hear this. It was possible she would take a couple of days off work and drive up. Zoe’s resolve might break and she’d go home with them, her Scottish dream at an end.
No. She would not tell them. She was not going to be upset – she was going to be angry. The only explanation that made sense right now was that someone swayed their minds against hiring her. But who was desperate enough to get her out of Kinloch they could have convinced two important businesses to drop her before she’d even met them? She took a gamble, unlocked her phone and sent Rory a text.
Zoe: How could you stoop so low? Basil is one thing, but cutting off my livelihood? I will never forgive you for what you’ve done.
She put the phone down, and drove off. On the outskirts of Kinloch, it beeped a notification and she pulled over. Rory had replied.
Man-bear, yeti, mutant-redneck-hobbit, hobo: What have I done?
She rolled her eyes.
Zoe: You don’t know? Pull the other one, it’s got fucking bells on. The businesses Morag had lined me up to work for have changed their minds. There’s only one person in this village who is so desperate for me to leave they would resort to this, and that’s you. Congratulations. Once again, you win arsehole of the year.
Once the text was sent, she switched her phone off, needing to get home. If she couldn’t have her parents for comfort, Basil would have to do.
11
Rory stalked into the tiny kitchen where his mother was washing up. He loomed, his head almost grazing the ceiling. ‘What have you done?’
His mother peered at him over the top of her glasses, then turned back to the dishes. ‘Not a lot, dear, I didn’t need to. I called upon an old acquaintance, Francesca Huntington-Smythe. I forgot her estate is only a few miles west of here. Her cleaner is from Kinloch. A frightful gossip, however terribly well informed. The squatter is indeed the progeny of Mary Laing. Apparently the cabin is even more dishevelled than her, and she can’t afford to make the necessary repairs to survive the winter. The women who run the boutique and the cafe in Kinloch had rather ill-advisedly agreed to employ her, but it only took a few well-chosen words from Francesca to make them reconsider their decision.’
‘I told you to leave her alone! What has she ever done to you?’ Rory exploded.
His mother fixed him with a look. ‘I’m more concerned about what she’s done to you, dear.’
Rory ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots, looking around the kitchen for something he could break. When would she ever listen to him?
‘Go and chop some wood, darling, that always helps you work off steam. As soon as she’s back where she belongs, she’ll be out of your head. It’s Lucy you need to devote your attention to. Lucy and the estate. As soon as you’ve confirmed the agreement with Colquhoun Asset Management and set their plans in motion, we can get back to Edinburgh.’
