Page 32 of Christmas Games
‘Everything now better in Rory-land?’ Charlie asked. ‘Has my crisis line worked?’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘Excellent. Now just focus on Zoe and don’t worry about Christmas. It’ll all work out fine.’
December tenth.Thirty-five weeks + two
Duncan: There’s only one cracker left in the box
Rory: On my way
Enteringthe back door of the castle at a run, Rory leapt up the stairs. This latest message from Duncan informed him that things were extremely suboptimal in his wife’s world, and he could hear the anguish in her voice carrying down the corridor as he strode towards the estate office door. God only knew how she’d react when she saw what was in his jacket pocket.
‘How are they meant to have chestnuts roasting on an open fire when the chestnuts are already cooked, peeled and vacupacked?’ Zoe yelled into the phone as Rory entered the room.
He nodded at Duncan, who beat a hasty retreat. On the floor were cardboard boxes filled with provisions they’d ordered for Brad’s friends, who were arriving in just over a week.
‘And I orderedmincepies, not minced beef pies,’ she continued. There was a pause. ‘No! Mince pies as in the dried fruity things. You’ve sent sodding Fray Bentos ones with actual mince in them. And a bog-standard fruit cake is not, I repeat,not, an acceptable substitute for Christmas cake!’
Rory took Zoe’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘You don’t seem to understand how important this is,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘How important Christmas is. It’s going to be ruined.’ Her chin started to wobble. ‘I’ll call you back.’
She hung up and sobbed into his chest. ‘It’s a complete disaster. I can’t seem to get anything right.’
‘It’s not your fault. We can order pies and cakes from Margaret at the bakery.’
‘We can’t. They wanted ones that came wrapped in cellophane and had some poncey label on. Honestly, Rory, I can’t please them.’ She raised her head. ‘What are you doing back?’
He took a deep breath. It would be better if she found out in private.
‘It’s not the end of the world, but—’
‘Oh my god, what’s happened?’
‘Shhhh, it’s okay.’
He pulled a folded poster from his jacket pocket. It was advertising the Christmas ceilidh, and he’d found it stapled to a telegraph pole.
‘This one’s on me, Zoe. I’m sorry. The printers well and truly cocked it up.’
She opened it out. ‘A ChristmasKayleigh?!’
The location, date and time were all correct, but the poster appeared to be advertising a little girl’s birthday party. The baubles they’d discussed looked like balloons, and the background was more bubble gum pink than Santa red.
‘I’m sorry, Zoe, it’s my fault. They didn’t seem to know what a ceilidh was and I didn’t spell it for them.’
‘Do the tickets say the same thing?’ she asked faintly.
He nodded. ‘I went to the post office. They’ve just been delivered and they all say Christmas Kayleigh.’
Zoe sank her head. ‘The Courieris going to have a fucking field day with this one. They’re going to blame me because I’m English.’
‘I’ll tell them it was me.’
She sighed. ‘They won’t care. I don’t think there’s any way we can spin this.’
Rory pulled out his phone and rang Clive, the owner of Kinloch’s only pub, who was supplying the bar for the ceilidh. He put it on speaker so Zoe could listen in.
