Page 3 of Christmas Games
Before he met his wife, Rory considered Christmas to be the one day a year he went through the motions if he was with his army unit, or gritted his teeth if he was with his mother. However, as the Earl of Kinloch, pimping out his castle to pay the bills, it appeared he needed to be thinking about Christmas the previous Boxing Day.
It didn’t help that his wife was a believer. No matter what was associated with the holidays, Zoe believed in it all. Santa, the Nativity, mistletoe, stockings, mulled wine, mince pies,carols and Slade. Everything was up for grabs. She might be humming ‘Oh Little Town of Bethlehem’ one minute, then ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ the next. If this level of commitment to what Rory considered a manufactured holiday to celebrate capitalism was exhibited by one of his friends, he would have thought they were deranged. With Zoe, however, he was grudgingly forced to admit it was endearing.
But if his wife loved Christmas, stationery came a close second. These two obsessions had come together and were currently making sweet, sweet love across one entire wall of the estate office. An A3 calendar from Rymans was too insubstantial for what Zoe needed, so she’d created her own with washi tape, Post-its, Sharpies and stickers. Each time a task included her, she stuck a sticker of an angel next to it.
When Rory was needed, she stuck up one of The Grinch.
‘So, in order that you can’t claim I don’t run things by you,’ she began.
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Which of course is nonsense,’ she ploughed on, staring at a point an inch above his head.
Rory cleared his throat.
‘So, I—’ she continued.
‘The Monteith–Kowalski wedding?’ he interrupted.
She grinned. ‘Did you see how much they’re paying? The profits should cover a staff wage for a year.’
‘Yes, I saw. I’m surprised to wake each morning and find you haven’t tattooed it on the back of my hand overnight.’
Zoe’s expression was far too excited at that prospect for comfort, so Rory fixed her with one of his stern looks.
She responded the way she always did, by laughing.
He shook his head with a resigned smile. ‘Okay, get on with it. I need to check on the cows at Alasdair’s farm.’
‘Right! Okay! So, from May, every other weekend is bookedup with weddings, and the rest of the time the castle is open for tourists. It’s great, but you know it only just covers wages and we’re not yet fully in profit.’
Rory nodded. The busier they became, the more staff were needed. But wages were the biggest drain on their coffers, so the two of them were working seven days a week trying to get everything done and keep costs down.
‘This year I want to go all in. We’ve got the ceilidh, which is free for the village, but I want to have another one for the public and charge for entry.’
That made sense, but Rory knew his wife was softening him up for a killer blow.
‘And we’re going to hire out the entire castle to a private party for Christmas week.’
‘What private party? Who are they?’
‘They’re friends of, erm, “He Who Shall Not Be Named”.’
‘Please tell me he’s not going to be there too?’
‘No! No, I promise. He’s shootingFight Dragon Club. Your mum assured me they would be staying in LA the whole time.’
Thank god for that. When Rory had visited his mother and her new husband, he found their lifestyle to be even more irritating and vacuous than he could ever have imagined.
‘I want to do a light installation in the castle gardens starting October half-term and running into December,’ Zoe continued. ‘With wreath-making workshops, mulled wine, carollers et cetera.’
Rory nodded. It would be an insane amount of work, but these were great ideas. However, his wife had a look he knew all too well, and it made the back of his neck tingle.
‘What part of “et cetera” involves me?’
‘Erm, you need to grow a beard.’
‘Why?’ he asked, already fearing the answer.
