Page 27 of Christmas Games
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.
‘Good 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. Zoe had missed updating the site’s 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 total disaster.
Duncan wason the phone working his way through the list of people who’d purchased tickets when Rory arrived, his cheeks red from the cold and 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 the posters scream Christmas and party.’
Rory looked unsure. ‘Any specific instructions? Do you want to see the design?’
Zoe 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 hour later,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 aceilidh. 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 a hand 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.’
Rory 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,’ Rory continued. ‘You can send the tickets directly to Morag MacDougall at Kinloch post office.’
Zoe finished her call as Rory ended his. He opened his arms, and she was drawn into his warmth and security.
‘Thank you,’ she said into his chest.
‘How can something that simple be so hard?’ he grumbled.
‘Did they not know what a ceilidh was?’
‘They weren’t Scottish, so I presume not. And it sounded like there was a TV in the background playing Formula One, so I think that’s where their attention was.’
‘We could always try another company?’
He shuddered. ‘No way. One call like that is enough.’ He hugged her tighter. ‘Do you need anything else, or can I go back to repairing a fence in the rain?’
‘You’d rather do that than stay with me?’ she teased.
‘If Duncan wasn’t here, I’d stay,’ he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her curly hair. ‘You could always come with me?’
‘I can’t. There’s too much to do.’ She sighed. ‘There’s always too much to do.’
7
December first. Thirty-four weeks
