Page 17 of A Festive Surprise

Farid left, making his way around the back. A man with long blond dreadlocks was up a ladder, hammering a curtain into a beam. ‘Hello, Blair,’ said Farid. He’d met the joiner on several occasions now. What an amazing talent he had. He’d constructed this wooden shed behind the boat shop in less than a day.

‘Hi,’ Blair said. ‘How are you?’

‘Good. Do you need help with that?’

‘It’s cool, thanks, I’m nearly done.’

‘I came to look around. It’s very interesting.’ In the corner was a large wooden chair and on one wall was a fake, but convincing, fireplace. Bags of decorations littered the floor, including the one with the offensive elf costume he’d thrust at Holly the day she’d arrived.

‘It’ll look better once Georgia and Autumn have decorated it. I’m just finishing this bit, then I’m off. Rebekah and I are going Christmas shopping.’ He jumped off the ladder and rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve obviously not done it properly every other year. I just picked up bits and bobs but she wants an afternoon in Oban.’

Farid winked. ‘You do it then. Keep the ladies happy.’

‘Absolutely.’ Blair dusted his hands together. ‘And I can drop some hints if I see anything I like.’

‘Good thinking.’

Back in the pickup, Farid drove to the wooded area of the estate where he was clearing the dead wood and selective felling the Sitka and Norway spruces. Smaller and less prickly ones might be neat Christmas trees but Archie wanted them off the land to maintain the ancient woodland on the estate. Blair’s father, Mike, was helping with the work along with local forester, Per Hansen. Farid jumped out of the pickup and grabbed his hard hat.

He let out a long, slow exhale, gazing into the distance, focusing on nothing. Both these guys were experienced in the trade, settled and confident. Farid was scrabbling uphill, learning new skills in an industry he knew little about.

He dragged the tools from the back of the pickup, shoulders drooped and his heart heavy.

‘Everything ok?’ Per asked as Farid approached.

He nodded. ‘Ay.’

‘Carl’s dropping by shortly for some offcuts; I thought it was him when I heard the pickup.’

‘No. Just me.’

Per checked up from his clipboard and smiled.

Carl was Per’s youngest son. The warmth in his voice when he spoke of his three grown-up children and grandchildren struck Farid square in the chest. Back home, he had family connections. Generations working and living close by: his father doling out advice – whether or not he wanted to hear it; his mother feeding him up and talking non-stop about everyone else’s business; his sisters squabbling over what to wear or closeted somewhere watching YouTube videos on how to style hair and paint nails.

Working with these men hammered it home. Each night they went back to their families, while he went home alone.

‘I delivered the logs,’ Farid said. ‘You tell me what to do next.’ They guided him. Best way. He was little more than a labourer. His training and experience weren’t in this field. But work was work.

‘We’ll fell this one next.’ Per scanned a fir from root to tip. ‘We need to minimise the impact on the vegetation, so let’s make sure she falls that way.’

‘Yes.’ Farid stalked around the tree, skimming up, then down and calculating the angles. ‘So, work from here.’ He stopped at the spot and pointed forward. ‘Should I work out the trajectory?’

Mike placed his hands on his hips and laughed. ‘I don’t even know what that means and I’ve been cutting trees for over twenty years.’

‘He’s quite right.’ Per’s glasses balanced on the tip of his nose as he made notes on his clipboard. ‘We should work it out. When you’ve done it as long as us, it becomes second nature, that’s all. But even we make mistakes. So, yes, measure it out, please.’

‘Sure,’ said Farid. ‘I have a mathematical background, not trees, so I do what comes naturally.’

‘What did you do before?’ Mike dragged his chainsaw box out of the way.

‘Computer programming.’ Farid pulled out his phone, ready to key in the numbers.

‘Really?’ said Per. ‘You’re a quick learner then. I thought you had forestry experience and that’s why you got this job.’

‘No. I can’t apply for programming jobs. My qualifications don’t work here.’

‘But surely that doesn’t matter if you can do the job. Aren’t computer codes the same everywhere? Or is that me showing my ignorance?’

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