Page 72 of Highland Games
Zoe told them about meeting Rory, about their agreement for him to do up the cabin in return for her doing the website and marketing, about how she didn’t know who he was, and what happened when she found out. She didn’t tell them everything, but there was enough for them to read between the lines. When she finished speaking, they both sat back as if they’d survived a tsunami and needed to catch their breath.
‘Well,’ began Arnold, ‘I didn’t expect that.’
Mary shook her head. ‘This is to do with me and Barbara, love, not you.’
Zoe sat up. ‘What?’
‘You know I always said the earl was a bully? When I was growing up, Stuart MacGinley was a force of nature. He was about ten years older than I was, and acted like the entire world was his for the taking, whether it wanted to be taken or not. Everything he wanted, he got. It didn’t help that he was good looking and could be very charming—’
‘Not as good looking or charming as me, mind,’ Arnold butted in.
Mary looked at her husband. ‘My darling, it’s not possible for anyone to be as wonderful as you.’
Her parents smiled at each other and Zoe rolled her eyes.
‘Anyway,’ her mother continued, ‘if he didn’t get his own way then he could turn nasty. In my twenties, he took an interest in me. I avoided him like the plague, but Kinloch is a small place, and I couldn’t avoid him forever. Barbara was much younger, about nineteen at the time I think, and she’d set her sights on him. She wanted to be the one who finally got him up the aisle. She saw me as a threat, and became obsessed with finding ways to get me out of a picture I didn’t even want to be in. She made me into her nemesis, which was ridiculous as I didn’t even want Stuart. It got totally out of hand. Rumours started, things went missing, and fingers of blame were pointed at me. I could never prove Barbara was behind any of it, but the more I protested my innocence, the worse it got. It got so bad I prayed for some kind of deliverance.’
‘And that was when your knight in shining armour strode down from the glen. A man with rugged good looks, the brain of Einstein and the body of a god,’ Arnold proclaimed before turning to Zoe. ‘That was me, love.’
Zoe giggled. ‘Did you challenge him to a duel?’
‘I did not have to resort to violence,’ her father replied. ‘It wouldn’t have been a fair fight anyway. He may have been the size of Goliath, but I was David.’ Arnold thumped the middle of his chest, causing him to cough. ‘No, your mother and I ran off into the sunset on the number 42 to Inverness, and took the train south. Happy ever after. The end,’ he finished with a flourish.
‘Well, that helps explain why his mum went to such lengths to try and get rid of me. I hope I never see her again,’ said Zoe.
‘You don’t have to see any of them ever again if you don’t want to, darling,’ assured Mary. ‘And if Rory’s anything like his parents I don’t want you anywhere near him.’
Zoe spentthe next couple of days resting, thinking about Rory and re-reading his text message. Was he like his parents? From what he’d told her, he’d spent most of his life trying to run away from his family, not emulate them. Fiona had messaged her every day, trying to encourage her back to Scotland. Fiona didn’t do subtle, but her messages made Zoe feel loved, and she missed her friend.
Wanting a change of scenery, she left the house one morning to walk to the high street to do some Christmas shopping. Everything about the urban environment was so planned, so ordered, so manmade. The pollarded trees, the identical houses spaced evenly out. The concrete, tarmac, metal and paint. And the noise. It was so bloody noisy. She flinched at the squeal of brakes from the buses, the roar of cars so close to the pavement, the sounds of voices in all directions. She’d looked around a couple of shops before the music and crowds had got too much, then ran back to her parents’ house. She craved the quiet and the openness of the Scottish countryside. Could she go back to a life in London she never really wanted in the first place?
Three daysafter Zoe returned from Scotland, Sam finished her block of filming on the soap and was free for the Christmas break. Zoe put on make-up, skinny jeans and a black lace top and took the bus into central London to meet her in one of their old haunts. Sam was late as always, and Zoe sat at the bar, glugging her glass of Prosecco and fidgeting with her bag. The place was packed. Groups of people were out for Christmas drinks and had cranked their partying level up to the max. It was as if she was in the middle of a well-groomed mosh pit, assaulted by glossy hair, cloying perfume and stumbling strangers. She used to love the buzz of nights out, but now it all jarred. She felt awkward, out of place, hemmed in. Someone bumped into her, spilling her drink. She put the glass on the bar and wiped her hand on her jeans. She couldn’t do this any more, she needed to get out and ring Sam.
‘Babe!’
Sam was pushing through the crowds towards her, arms thrown wide. Thank god she was finally here.
They hugged each other, jumping up and down and laughing with joy. Sam held Zoe at arm’s length and looked her over. ‘I’m just inspecting for vermin. Do I need to check for lice as well?’ Zoe shook her hair at her and Sam leapt back in mock horror. ‘Get away! Don’t infect me with the countryside.’
They sat at the bar to catch up, but hadn’t been chatting long when they were approached by two men: city boy clones with slicked-back hair, sharp suits, big watches, and even bigger egos. They had tinsel draped around their necks. The leader zeroed in on Sam. ‘Hey, are you Bethany? FromElm Tree Lane?’
Sam tossed her blonde hair back. ‘I’m incognito. Here you can call me Sam,’ she replied, preening at the recognition.
‘Fuck, man, I knew it was you. Didn’t I say it was her, Brett? Can I get a selfie?’
Zoe stepped down from her stool as Sam’s number one fan muscled in to take her place. Brett, the wingman, held out his hand to Zoe. ‘Hi, I’m Brett.’
‘Zoe.’
She took it and he pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek, then broke away with a chuckle. ‘Sorry about that, you’re just well fit. We’ve just had our Christmas bonuses. Mine’s fucking huge.’
Zoe stood with the bar digging into her back, forcing a smile as she was assailed by Brett’s aftershave, the stench of Jägerbombs, and the details of just how enormous his bonus was. Every part of her was screaming to get away. But wasn’t this the definition of a good night out? Drinks, loud music and the promise of sex with strangers?
Sam clutched her arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear. ‘Are we having fun yet?’ she asked sarcastically. She tugged Zoe away from the men. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen, such a pleasure, but we need to powder our noses,’ she said, winking at them and dragging Zoe towards the toilets.
The door shut behind them with a bang, muffling the sounds from the bar. Sam went to the mirror, pouting at her reflection. ‘Well, I’ve never had that before. When I turned down the offer to autograph his dick, he offered me his right hand to sign so he’d think of me later when he jacked off. Charming.’
Zoe gave a shriek of horrified laughter. ‘Oh my god, is this what being famous is like?’
