Page 29 of Christmas Chaos
32 weeks + four.
Third time lucky.
Zoe slowly typed ‘Roryissexy’ into the password box.
Access denied.
Feeling the first flickers of panic, she tried ‘Roryissexy69’, ‘manbear69’, and ‘IlikebigScotsandIcannotlie’.
None of them worked.
She cradled her bump.Breathe slowly in and out. Stress is bad for the baby. A crisis is an opportunity. Christmas is going to be perfect. You’ve got a month. A MONTH? FUCK!
The castle website was their point of contact with the general public, and she was locked out.
‘Everything okay, Zoe?’ Duncan was looking at her with concern from across the estate office.
‘I can’t get into the website.’
‘Can you reset the password?’
‘No. I can’t do anything. Have you been in the back end at all?’
He raised his hands in defence. ‘No way. That’s your domain. I just do whatever Rory tells me.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You mean the jobs he doesn’t want to do?’
He grinned. ‘Fine by me. I’d rather be inside than out in all that.’
She glanced at the icy rain hurling itself at the windows. Winter was beginning to bite. Having Duncan working for them was a blessing and a curse. It helped with some of Rory’s workload, but meant they hardly saw each other. Pregnancy hormones were making her hornier than ever, but a desk quickie was now impossible, and by the time they both returned to the cabin at night she was too exhausted. Her perfect Christmas was also not going according to plan. The bad weather meant lower numbers for the light festival, they were haemorrhaging money on electricity, and the friends of Brad who were hiring the castle over Christmas were more demanding than the love child of Madonna and Kim Jong-un. All ticket sales for the ceilidh were going through the website and now she couldn’t get in.
‘Do you think it’s been hacked?’ Duncan asked.
‘God lord, no,’ she bluffed. ‘We’re not the Pentagon. I’ll ring customer support and see what’s going on.’
Five minutes later, the enormity of the situation sank in. She’d missed updating the site plug-ins and a bot had gained access. As well as locking her out, all the financial details of anyone who’d bought a ticket to the ceilidh had been compromised. It was a fucking disaster.
Duncan wason the phone working his way through the list of people who had purchased tickets when Rory arrived, his cheeks red from cold, his wet hair dripping onto the parquet floor.
‘What can I do to help?’ he asked.
‘Dunc’s ringing anyone who’s bought a ticket and I’m on a live chat with a security company. We can’t risk selling anything through the website so we’re going to have to go old school. Posters up everywhere and tickets on the door or sold through the post office. Can I leave that job to you?’
He nodded. ‘Date, time, location, price. Anything else?’
‘Live band. And make sure they make the posters scream Christmas and party.’
He looked unsure. ‘Any specific instructions? Do you want to see the design?’
She was trying to keep her focus on the online chat. There was no headspace left for another job.
‘We don’t have time. Just tell them to keep it simple. Red, holly, baubles. Anything that tells people it’s a party and they’re going to have fun.’
He nodded again and took out his phone.
Half an hourlater the website was under control and Zoe joined Duncan in contacting anyone whose details might have been compromised. In the background she could hear Rory fighting to keep his cool.
‘It’s a ceilidh. A party… Red, holly, balloons, the usual Christmas stuff… What? Yes, it’s a party. A ceilidh… A party for ceilidh? What? The partyisthe ceilidh…’ He ran his hands into his wet hair, grabbing clumps and tugging them away from his scalp. ‘Look. Just keep it simple. Ceilidh, Christmas, Kinloch Castle. As long as people know where to come and when, and how much it costs, I don’t care what the final design looks like.’ He looked over at Zoe as if seeking her reassurance with this decision. She nodded. ‘And we’ll pay extra for you to put the posters up around Inverness and the villages around Kinloch,’ he continued. ‘You can send the tickets directly to Morag MacDougall at Kinloch post office.’
