Christmas at a Highland Castle

Chapter 5

After Jess had dealt with breakfast, and with Digby securely attached to his lead this time, she set off in the direction of the gamekeeper’s cottage. Her visit to the attics with Mrs Keel had revealed the need for another bucket to add to the collection up there, and apparently Robbie – or Robert, as Mrs Keel had referred to him – was likely to have one going spare.

Mercifully this morning the rain clouds and fog of the previous twenty-four hours had made themselves scarce and instead weak sunshine lit the imposing granite of the castle walls. The place almost looked attractive.

In the daylight, Jess also spotted a pathway which led from the castle in the direction of the cottage she’d stumbled across the previous evening. Set between box hedging, the granite pavers were far kinder to the state of her shoes than the muddy route she’d taken before. The path opened out onto an area of tarmac, separated from the castle by shoulder-high laurel hedges, and across which Jess assumed was the front door of the keeper’s cottage. Low profile and whitewashed, the building looked like every archetypal Scottish cottage she’d seen on TV. Although the romantic Victorian crofter vibe was rather compromised by the muddy four-by-four parked outside.

As she knocked on the door, it occurred to her that Robbie might not even be here – he was probably out doing whatever it was gamekeepers did all day. Then his dogs began to bark from their kennels in the back garden and as she bent down to hush Digby a bolt was drawn on the door and it creaked open.

‘Sorry about the squeaky hinges,’ Robbie said as she straightened. ‘Most folks come round the back.’

In the fresh light of morning, Jess did a double take as Robbie’s features crinkled into a smile. She’d been right about his age, she thought – he was somewhere close to forty. He was also tall, lean and far more attractive than she’d realised in the gloom of the fog. Jess swallowed. It had been a while since she’d had such an undeniably strong reaction to a man.

‘Mrs Keel suggested I should come,’ Jess said to the gamekeeper.

‘In that case,’ he said, his grin broadening as he held the door wide.

She glanced at Digby.

‘Aye, he can come in, too,’ Robbie said, ushering them inside and closing the door. ‘Just don’t be telling my gang out back – they’re only allowed inside on very special occasions.’

‘Did you hear that?’ Jess said to Digby, praying he didn’t embarrass himself while they were inside the cottage. ‘Behave yourself, yes?’ she added, pointedly.

In the kitchen, Robbie clicked on the kettle while Jess took in her surroundings. This place was the absolute antithesis of the castle: small, with ceilings low enough for Robbie to be acutely aware of where every beam was, and cosy, with deep-silled windows filled with nick-nacks. The small kitchen table had a mismatched quartet of chairs around it, a pair of easy chairs covered in colourful throws stood in front of the Rayburn, and there was evidence of Robbie’s role on the estate everywhere she looked. Dog leads hung from an upright beam beside what Jess assumed was the back door, photos of groups of men dressed in tweed and Barbour jackets hung on the wall, and a collection of rosettes and cups were set haphazardly on a shelf.

She turned to some of the little silver cups. ‘What are these for?’ Her curiosity was piqued, by more than the items she was staring at.

‘Those are for clay-pigeon competitions.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything much about that, except somebody shouts “pull” and clay discs fly up into the air.’

‘You’ve pretty much nailed it,’ Robbie said. ‘The more you hit, the better you do. Not much more to it than that.’

‘And how many do you have to hit in order to win?’ Jess said.

‘All of them,’ he replied, as though that level of accuracy was nothing special. Jess doubted she’d be able to hit a barn door, even if she was stood directly in front of it.

‘Is tea OK for you?’ he added.

‘Tea’s lovely, thanks – but I only popped in for a random request. Mrs Keel said I should ask you for a bucket.’

‘A bucket?’ His smile was now edged by a deliciously quizzical look. Then his eyebrows arched. ‘Oh. Another one for the roof?’

‘You know about the roof?’

Robbie laughed. ‘I think the only ones who don’t know about the state of the castle roof are the people living there.’

Jess frowned. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense. They need to get it fixed.’

‘Aye. Along with plenty of the other estate properties.’

‘How many houses belong to the Kirkshield Estate?’

‘Most of the village. Plus the shop and the little village hall. There are also the tenant farms, the estate manager’s cottage and this one. Not a modern roof or new window between them, and they’re not getting any younger.’ He grinned. ‘A bit like their occupants.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she didn’t think he was doing too badly, but Jess managed to stop herself. Flirting with the gamekeeper might turn out to be fun, but she reminded herself she was only here for a few weeks.

He frowned as he passed her a mug. ‘I suppose things will change now the young earl is back. I just hope they change for the better. He hasn’t been here for almost a decade – left his mother at the mercy of that man for far too long.’ Robbie sucked in a breath, then shook his head. Jess got the impression he thought he’d spoken out of turn. His expression eased as he returned to safer ground. ‘The estate manager has been tearing his hair out with all the maintenance which needs to happen. There’ll be plenty places crying out for attention. Let’s hope Sebastian is up to the job.’

As Jess sipped at her tea, she wondered what it would be like to be faced with such a huge task. The worst she’d had to deal with in her own flat was getting someone to replace the catch on a window when she managed to pull it off. And that had cost her an arm and a leg, even though the bloke had only taken about twenty minutes to fix it. The situation at Kirkshield Castle, though, was infinitely bigger. She wondered how Sebastian was going to deal with the challenges.

But perhaps she was projecting her own view of the situation onto someone she barely knew. The Barclay-Browns probably had more money than they could shake a stick at. Sebastian could simply wave a magic wand and the estate would sail back into a state of glory, with new roofs and windows – and hopefully heating systems – for everyone. Or perhaps he was like his father and would renege on his responsibilities and let the community continue to struggle.

‘I’ll find you a bucket.’ Robbie broke through her thoughts and left the room. She drained her mug and rinsed it out while she waited.

With a bright yellow plastic bucket in one hand, Digby’s lead in the other and the promise from Robbie of a warm welcome whenever she wanted a cup of tea and a chat, Jess headed back to the castle. She couldn’t shift the naughty thought which nestled at the back of her mind, and she scolded herself as she walked up the path. Finding out what else Robbie might have on offer was something she wasn’t going to do. It wasn’t going to happen.

If she kept repeating it enough, she was sure she’d manage to banish that stray thought. At least, she was probably sure. Maybe she’d manage to ignore it. Jess nipped her bottom lip between her teeth in an effort to stop the silly grin which was doing its best to spread across her face.

OK, she admitted it – the gamekeeper was really hot.

Sebastian saw Jess through the kitchen window. The way she was grinning, with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, did little to raise his spirits, even though there was no denying she had a great smile. But it would take more than that to bring sunshine into Sebastian’s cloudy day. He’d finished his meeting and, to be honest, after Ben – the estate manager – had run through all the building maintenance schedules, plus all the land and forestry work which had been neglected over the last decade, he was even more overwhelmed by the estate’s problems than before. It seemed that while Sebastian had been away, his father had done nothing except enjoy himself.

With a shake of his head, Sebastian tried to push away the negatives. But it was hard to chase away the niggling feeling that he himself had spent the last decade doing the same – in his case pursuing his lifelong dream of becoming lead violinist in a professional orchestra.

And he’d been so close to achieving it.

Jess bundled in through the scullery, dropping the dog’s lead as she fastened the door and perched a bright yellow bucket on the edge of the Belfast sink.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said, her grin sliding away as she unzipped her coat. Sebastian felt as though his presence had disrupted her train of thought, that she was irritated to find him in the kitchen. ‘Digby, come away,’ she added as the dog beelined for his feet.

‘We made friends earlier,’ Sebastian said, ‘I popped into the kitchen and couldn’t see you anywhere, so I made myself some toast, and we …’

Jess frowned, interrupting him. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Should I take it that I’m supposed to stay in this room until everyone has presented themselves for meals?’

She sounded annoyed, as though he’d criticised her, and heat spiked beneath his collar. ‘No, I … Not at all … I was just going to say we bonded over the corner of a crust. And I wanted to check it was OK for me to have given it to him.’

‘I’d rather nobody fed him except me, if it’s all the same. I need to watch his diet.’

Jess’s cheeks coloured as she spoke, her words tight. Perhaps the dog had major medical issues and Sebastian really had put the little dog in danger, albeit unintentionally. Or perhaps she should have made them aware of any special doggy dietary requirements. He felt scolded in his own house.

‘Understood,’ he said, his own tone brisk and sharp as irritation took the upper hand. ‘It won’t happen again.’

She hung her coat on the back of the door and scooped up the bucket, the frown still embedded on her forehead.

‘What’s that for?’ he asked.

Jess sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as though making a decision. She sucked in a breath. ‘If you follow me, I’ll show you.’

With three flights of stairs behind them, Sebastian shadowed Jess into the roof space. He hadn’t been up here in a good fifteen years. He used to come up here in the school holidays, playing hide and seek with school friends, and sometimes friends from the village. Once he’d decided to practise hockey up here, using some boxes as a goal. A glance around confirmed the window he’d broken was still patched with a piece of hardboard. He wondered if the hockey ball was still on the roof.

Perhaps the fact that window had never been mended should have been his first clue as to why Jess was up here with a bucket.

She didn’t speak as she led him to what at first glance looked like an infestation of brightly coloured buckets, as though they’d somehow grown from the floorboards like mushrooms. As the new bucket was added to the ensemble, set on a darkened patch of floor, Sebastian drew in a long breath.

‘I see,’ he said.

‘Do you?’ she said. ‘People have been emptying these buckets for your family for, well, I don’t know for how long, but they’ve been looking after this problem as best they can while in return, they get treated like they don’t matter.’

Her tone spiralled, and Sebastian felt his temper rise to match her sudden outburst.

‘What on earth are you talking about? This is the first I’ve known about there being a problem with the roof.’

Jess crossed defiant arms. ‘And it’s not just your roof. There are other people having to deal with dodgy roofs and windows and goodness only knows what else. People who rely on you.’

‘Who the hell do you think you are, to speak to me like that?’ The words were out before he could filter them, and for a moment Jess looked as though he’d slapped her.

But she didn’t back down, instead her eyes narrowed, her anger – or maybe it was her prejudice – surfacing as she said, ‘And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Right there. Thinking you’re special, better than the rest of us.’

‘I don’t think anything of the sort.’ He huffed out a harsh breath. ‘I’ve been back here for five minutes, and suddenly I’m the devil incarnate?’

‘I just think that the lack of maintenance on the estate says more than you realise about the lack of respect you have for the people who have been living here all the time you’ve been away, never mind how little you care about the buildings they’re living in.’

What the hell had the gamekeeper been saying? The change in Jess’s attitude had completely thrown Sebastian. And it wasn’t even true; the things she was accusing him of weren’t his fault. They lay squarely at the feet of his dead father, not him.

He should keep the rest of his thoughts to himself, but her flare of irritation, the way she was freely criticising him for something he’d barely found out about, lit something in Sebastian, and he glared at her.

‘I think, Miss Wight, it would be better if you allowed me the time I need to adjust to my new role, rather than lambasting me about issues I wasn’t even aware of. We’re all here to do a job. Perhaps you should concentrate on doing yours and leave me to mine. If you’re not happy to be here, please feel free to leave. I’ll be happy to give you a reference.’

Miss Wight? What a pompous sod, Jess thought as she watched him sweep out of the attic space and clump down the stairs. Maybe she should call him Mr Brown. Drop the pretentious Barclay bit, remove the protection of the double barrel and get down to the brass tacks. Jess pursed her lips at the thought, then felt a hot wave of embarrassment roll over her. Why had she felt the need to be so inflammatory? What was she trying to achieve, apart from doing herself out of the job she’d only just begun.

He would be downstairs, right now, phoning the agency to complain about the awful woman they’d sent. Demanding a replacement. News would reach Vivi in no time that she’d failed again.

When was she going to learn to keep it buttoned, rather than spill her thoughts all over people as though she had no filter? To be fair, her filter hadn’t ever been particularly efficient; Jess had always been one to say it how it was. Some people called her blunt – others were less kind.

Sighing, Jess pulled her mobile from her pocket, speed-dialling Amina. Her number clicked through to answerphone – no doubt because Sebastian was already speaking to her – and Jess left a penitent message, explaining and apologising if she was causing her friend extra paperwork, promising to do better at her next deployment.

Not for the first time, she wondered if she was really that difficult to be around. Maybe it explained the series of foster homes she’d rotated through until she’d stumbled on Vivi – or rather, until Vivi had scooped her up and taken her in when she was at a particularly low ebb. Perhaps the only thing tethering Jess to this existence was Vivi, and now she’d gone and let down the most important person she’d ever known yet again.

She headed for the flight of stairs Sebastian had clattered down earlier, then took the staff staircase down to ground level to avoid running into anyone from the family before calling Digby to join her in her bedroom.

‘I think under twenty-four hours might be a record, Digby,’ she said, pulling her bag from the base of the wardrobe. ‘I suppose we could just spend Christmas at my place. Or with Vivi if she’s still speaking to me after this disaster. Not that I’m sure how I’ll pay the rent this month – or next, for that matter – if I’m not working. But at least we’ll be warm. And I won’t have to empty buckets of dirty water every five minutes, either.’

Jess should book a taxi, check on train times before she got too carried away with the thought of heading south. But, even if it would be with her tail between her legs, the prospect of returning home did have its benefits, she decided.