A Christmas Wish on Arran (Scottish Romances #4)

Chapter Three

Six weeks later and Beth had packed up her life in London, then celebrated Halloween with a crowd of rowdy pensioners in her dad’s retirement complex. She didn’t think she would ever forget the particularly gutsy version of Michael Jackson’s Thriller that had been sung, and also danced , in the communal living area. The residents liked to gather there to celebrate everything and anything, play cards or drink tea, wine and brandy and debate the state of the world. Those robust discussions had given her quite the insight into the minds of some of the senior members of the population. She had learned a lot . It was fair to say that many of them were devoted Daily Mail readers, which made for interesting discussions with those who were on the opposite end of the political spectrum.

She quickly realised that her dad, Barry, and his friends all seemed to enjoy a celebration regardless of the date or time of year. They were always making excuses to bring out the whisky or pour a wee brandy and toast someone or something. Plans were already being made for the festive season, with a countdown of events that kicked off on the first of December. Beth had always loved the magic and sparkle of Christmas, but even she was exhausted when her dad ran through the schedule. It featured mulled wine tasting, festive wreath making, a reindeer rodeo — she had no idea what that was and wasn’t sure she wanted to — and antler aerobics.

Beth had been staying with her dad for the past few days before she started her new job on Arran. She still had to keep pinching herself as she couldn’t quite believe that she had actually landed the job at the newspaper. She didn’t think it would sink in until she was there on the island and inside the office. It had been nice to have this time with her dad, who she quickly learned had a very specific routine he liked to stick to; chess on Wednesdays, line dancing on Thursday nights and pétanque on Friday mornings at the nearby park. There was also chat of a new book club starting up. When Barry, dressed as Elvis, invited her to join him and his friends for the Halloween party, she had politely declined and said she’d be happy to watch TV and leave them to it. But then Barry’s neighbour, who had recently moved in — a twinkly-eyed woman called Margaret, or Granny Margaret as she was also known — insisted that she join them. She had come bustling through the front door wearing a blonde curly wig and a very tight dress singing, ‘ Working nine to five. ’

‘No guesses for who you’re going as,’ said Barry, who was wearing a white jumpsuit and black wig.

‘That’s right, you guessed it. Maybe we could do a wee duet later. Islands in the Stream ?’

‘Aye, why not?’

Margaret chuckled.

Beth was momentarily horrified by their exchange. Was her dad, dressed as Elvis, actually trying to flirt? At his age? He was almost eighty for goodness’ sake.

‘I mean, I know he’s a bit younger than me but I reckon I could just about get away with it.’

‘What are you talking about Barry?’ Margaret stood with her hands on her hips.

‘David Beckham. Him and his missus did that duet. I saw it on Netflix.’

‘Och away with you Barry. You couldn’t even pass for Kenny Rogers. He had far more hair than you.’

Beth chuckled. Her dad’s hair, or the wisps he still had, were also completely white.

‘Aye, but I’m still handsome, aren’t I? Especially with this wig on. It knocks the years off me. I’m always being told I look much younger than I am.’ He grinned.

‘Whoever says that is lying and they’re after something.’ Margaret smiled. ‘Or else they need to go to Specsavers.’

Watching the banter between the two had been quite something to witness these past few days. She actually didn’t mind their relationship as much as she thought she would. Beth’s mum had died suddenly from a heart attack five years ago, just as she and Barry were about to move out of the family home and downsize to the retirement complex. Looking back to that dark time, she realised that perhaps it was then that her life started to disintegrate, as she tried her hardest to sweep her grief aside and focus on building her own family unit. She didn’t even stop to think about her dad and how lonely he must have been. Especially as she was his only child, and she hadn’t exactly been attentive these past few years.

‘Right love, what can we dress you as?’

Beth felt herself backing into the corner of the room, hoping a hole would appear that she could disappear into.

Margaret wiggled her finger at her and put on her best southern drawl. ‘Come on now. We need more powerful women in the room.’ She winked at Beth. ‘D’you get it? Powerful women? That song she did with that Pitbull chap.’

Dear God. Surely, Margaret wasn’t expecting her to dress up as that American rapper.

‘Is that not the name of a dog breed?’ Barry scratched his wig, momentarily dislodging it from position.

Margaret shot him a look. ‘ Tsk . Honestly you know nothing . Barry, you head downstairs. Me and Beth will see you down there. Beth, come with me. I’ll get you sorted in a jiffy. You’re going as Cher.’

Beth looked at her dad, her eyes pleading with him not to leave her. But he turned on his heels, whistling A Little Less Conversation as he disappeared out the front door.

Margaret shook her head. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You just want to stay in and watch Bridgerton or Outlander and eat a tub of ice cream. But you need some fun dear. Ice cream and the telly have their place, but it’s not what you need tonight. Let’s have a laugh, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Come on next door and I’ll get you sorted.’

Five minutes later she was sat on a stool in Margaret’s bedroom with a glass of wine in her hand, which she was quickly draining. Margaret had hauled a pile of clothes out of a bag. ‘I knew these would come in handy. I found them in the loft when I was getting ready to move and wondered about chucking them. But then my Isobel borrowed them for a party and I thought they might be useful.’

Beth watched in fascination as Margaret held up a bright polka-dot polyester jumpsuit, then a pair of bell bottom jeans, a pair of gold hotpants and some corduroy flares. ‘Right, I reckon all of these will suit you just fine. You’re about the same size as Isobel.’ Margaret chewed her lip thoughtfully, then disappeared back inside the walk-in wardrobe. ‘Tada!’ She held up a wig. ‘I’m glad I kept hold of these wigs as well.’

Beth chuckled at her enthusiasm. She was a breath of fresh air, and seemed to know exactly what to say and do at the right time. When Beth thought back to last Halloween, she shuddered. She remembered the countless nights where she would wake gasping for breath as her splintered heart ached. ‘Well,’ she began tentatively, ‘it has been a while since I got dressed up, and I suppose it could be fun.’

‘Great.’ Margaret clapped her hands in delight. ‘That’s my girl. Good on you. Do you trust me to do your make-up for you?’

‘Oh . . . kay.’ Beth swallowed the rest of her wine.

‘I’ll have you sorted out pronto and we’ll go down and join the party.’

True to her word, Margaret busily applied make-up to Beth’s face, then pulled the long dark wig over her scalp.

‘Perfect.’ She was clearly very pleased with her work.

Beth looked at herself in the mirror, bracing herself to be shocked. But she was pleasantly surprised at what she saw. Margaret had done an amazing job. ‘Wow. How on earth did you do that?’

‘Just one of my many hidden talents.’ She cackled. ‘Now you just need to go and choose something out of that lot to wear.’ She pointed at the collection on the bed. ‘I’ll give you some space.’ She shook her blonde curls and rearranged her amply padded bosom. ‘Come out when you’re ready.’

Beth grabbed the flares and a halter neck top, quickly pulling them on. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she burst out laughing. This was all very surreal, but she had to admit it was also a lot of fun.

‘Look at you,’ exclaimed Margaret as Beth walked into her lounge. ‘You’re her absolute double. Come on then, let’s get this party started.’ She jumped up from her seat and linked her arm through Beth’s. ‘ Babe . . . I got you babe ,’ she sang loudly.

Beth felt her eyes tear up as she realised how much she appreciated the older woman’s support tonight. She squeezed her arm and the two women, dressed as Dolly Parton and Cher, made their way into the corridor and down to the party.