Christmas at a Highland Castle

Chapter 9

Jess answered her phone as she closed the dishwasher, setting off an entire load of breakfast tableware which had made it, unbroken, through another mealtime. It had been three days since the incident with the tea tray, and she was getting rather good at not destroying the castle’s dishes, even if she did say so herself.

She had, however, burnt the bacon when she’d tried to grill it in the Aga and got the timings spectacularly wrong.

‘And there was me thinking you were at least part-way proficient in the provision of people’s breakfasts, Jess.’

Aunt Vivi was taking no prisoners this morning – although, if Jess thought about it, Vivi was never one to beat around the bush.

‘It wasn’t totally ruined,’ she said. ‘And some people like their bacon really crispy.’

It was a thin defence, and she knew it as Vivi pounced on the doubt in her voice.

‘Yes, but there’s a vast difference between crispy and cremated, as well you know.’ Her tone softened. ‘Haven’t they got a griddle pan you can put on the hotplate? Cook the bacon on that instead.’

‘How do you know these things?’ Jess asked, aware she should really be quizzing Vivi about her hip as she poked around in the cupboard to the side of the Aga and dragged out a cast-iron griddle. It was so heavy she had to leave it propped against the cupboard until she could lift it with both hands.

‘My grandmother had an Aga. They’ve been around forever, last forever and when you get the hang of it, you can cook anything with them, pretty much.’

‘Do you fancy recovering in the Highlands? You could be my cooking guru.’

Vivi laughed. ‘Love to. How’s it all going up there? How’s my favourite nomad doing?’

‘I’m fine – it’s certainly been an interesting start to a job. There’s plenty to get to grips with. The new earl is an amazing piano player, as well as being a bit of a grumpy sod.’

‘Language, Jess. Remember you’re representing Home From Home up there. Do have a go at trying to make us look good.’

Jess grimaced at the memory of the confrontation she’d already managed to initiate. She supposed Vivi did have a point. ‘I’m doing my best.’

‘Hmm. Yes. That’s what I’m worried about.’

‘If it gets me brownie points, I’ve already been drafted into the local choir.’

‘Dear Lord, are they desperate?’ Vivi said, and for the first time since she’d answered the phone, Jess began to smile.

‘Rude.’

‘Or honest. Depends on the standpoint.’ Vivi sniffed, her tone softening further. ‘I’m glad you’re singing again, Jess. And for the record, they’d be bonkers not to have you.’

‘Thanks.’ Although she’d sounded combative, Jess was well aware that Vivi was the one person in her life who remained unyielding in her support.

The conversation concluded with Jess’s firm promise that Digby was doing very well and was loving all the fresh air, and yes, he was wearing his special jacket on walks. Speaking to Vivi had brought a smile to Jess’s face: a genuine, unfiltered, happy smile. Jess hoped that when she was Vivi’s age, she’d be similarly blessed with such redoubtable spirit and humour.

‘That was your Vivi, Digby. She’s doing really well. Digby? Where the heck are you?’

The smile faded as Jess realised Digby wasn’t where she’d left him. His mat in the kitchen was empty. When he wasn’t to be found in the basket in her bedroom either, Jess felt the vestiges of her good humour leaching away and a variety of under-her-breath swear words replaced the earlier sunny comments.

With a fruitless circuit of the downstairs completed, Jess headed outside. It didn’t take many seconds to work out where the dog had gone, even if she was none the wiser as to how he’d exited the building in the first place. But a peal of snorty barks coming from the general direction of the keeper’s cottage had Jess stomping down the path. She’d gone halfway before she’d clocked the fact it was raining, so not only was the dog up to no good, but she was going to get soaked through in the process of retrieving him.

The rain intensified as Jess slipped her way down the final part of the path and shot across to the keeper’s garden. It was lashing down in torrents by the time she’d reached Digby. Her fingers slipped on the slick leather of his collar, and a few expletives also slipped out as she made to grab at the dog again.

Thankfully it didn’t take much longer to get a hold of Digby; it was possible the dog was weighted down by the amount of water sluicing its way off his sodden fur. His back legs shook and, for once, his usual perky demeanour was gone.

They were both soaked, so Jess lifted Digby, turning to hurry him back to the castle. The usually substantial little dog felt strangely small and cold in her arms. Typical, after she’d only just promised to keep him safe.

Before she was out of the garden, the cottage door opened, and Robbie was calling her inside. A gentle warm light framed him in the doorway and Jess was only too grateful to make for the shelter of his kitchen.

With a huge towel around her shoulders, and instructions to stand next to the range cooker while he sorted the dog out, Jess watched as Robbie placed Digby on the mat, rubbing at his fur with another towel. It was difficult to tell whether Digby was still shaking with cold, or if it was simply the firm actions from Robbie’s hands, rubbing at every inch of the dog’s fur to remove as much water as possible. His care was doubtlessly appreciated by Digby though, because he usually growled at Jess if she did so much as try to clean his muddy paws with a cloth.

Then Robbie zipped Digby into what looked like a cross between an oversized onesie and a towelling bag, telling him to sit and stay by the heat of the range. The dog complied, licking his lips, then yawning in appreciation. Picking up another clean towel, Robbie turned to Jess.

‘Right, your turn,’ he said, his gaze glittering with amusement as Jess jinked away from his lifted arm. Then she paused. Maybe she shouldn’t pull away from him, even if he was pretending he was going to use the same technique on her as he had the dog. Perhaps she should allow him to towel-dry her hair, see where it led …

His expression changed, became more intense, but only for a second, then he held out the towel. ‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘Before you drip much more water all over my floor.’

Jess glanced down, then grimaced. There was a series of small puddles at her feet, and her shoes squelched as she shifted her weight. ‘How is it possible for so much rain to leave the sky so quickly?’

‘You’re in the Highlands.’ It seemed no further explanation was required, and Robbie checked the kettle for water before setting it on one of the hotplates. ‘I think the wee man should stay here until he’s warmed up properly. We don’t want him going down with a chill, especially living in that tomb of a building.’

Jess knew he was referring to the castle, but he tilted his head in its direction to make his point. Then he stared at her again, his grin sliding away and his focus on her claiming all her attention.

‘But you shouldn’t stay in those soaking clothes for longer than necessary, either.’

Jess swallowed. What was he suggesting? Her mind flitted through a number of scenarios, taking no more than a couple of seconds to visit everything from the boring but practical, all the way through to the very naughty. Because while she probably looked a mess, with her soaking hair glued to her head and what little makeup she had applied probably running all down her face, Robbie looked good with a capital G. Handsome. Appealing. Very appealing, in fact.

Her stomach contracted as he moved, his gaze never leaving hers as he drew closer. When he stretched his fingers towards her face, his sudden proximity had Jess reaching up on her toes, tipping her face towards his. If he was about to kiss her, she wanted to be ready, because she was sure it was going to be good.

But then Robbie was sidestepping her, his handsome features marred by a look of confusion as he reached past her and pulled a couple of mugs from the mug tree behind her.

‘I was going to make tea,’ he said. ‘The shower is upstairs. It’s the door on the left if you want to use it – quickest way to warm up, I always think. I’ll find some spare clothes for you, and you can get them back to me whenever you like.’

Ah. Right. Massive misjudgement on her part. Not trying to kiss her, then. Jess wasn’t sure whether annoyance or embarrassment had gained the upper hand. She felt her cheeks flare with heat. ‘Thanks. Yes, a shower would be good.’ The thought of a pummelling under a stream of hot water did sound very welcome, as was the idea of peeling off her soaked jeans, even if she would be doing it herself, without the help of a rugged outdoorsy man.

Showered and dressed in an assortment of clothes which were too big for her, but were dry and gloriously warm, and with her own wet clothes in a bag ready to be carted back to the castle, Jess settled at Robbie’s kitchen table with a mug of tea in one hand and a shortbread biscuit in the other.

‘Is this one of Kitty’s?’ she asked, before taking another bite of the biscuit perfection.

‘Aye, that’s right. My aunt makes the finest shortbread this side of Fort William,’ Robbie said.

‘Kitty is your aunt?’ Jess made the mental calculations as Robbie nodded. ‘That means Mrs Keel is—’

‘My mother.’

‘Right.’ Jess began to grin.

‘What?’

‘That would explain why she’s the only one who seems to call you Robert, then?’

‘Aye. Always makes me feel guilty, even if I know I haven’t done anything wrong.’ He laughed. ‘You’d think by now I’d be able to cope with my own mother, but she’s a strong woman, no doubt. Doesn’t hold back if she thinks something needs saying. Doesn’t take no for an answer very easily, either.’

‘No. I get that. Before I knew what was happening, she had us roped into the village choir practice last night.’

‘Us?’

‘Sebastian on piano, me on vocals.’

‘Really?’

‘I can hold a tune,’ she said, crossing her arms in mock defensiveness.

‘I don’t doubt it. I’m just a bit surprised Sebastian’s braving the village already.’

‘Why? He does own the place.’ Jess wasn’t sure why she felt like she needed to defend Sebastian, especially after he’d all but ignored her on the walk home from the village.

‘Aye, he owns the buildings. But not the people.’ There was an edge to Robbie’s tone, a harshness she hadn’t heard before. She supposed her comment had been a bit crass. Then he shook his head. ‘And how did you like the Kirkshield Choir?’ he asked, a glint of amusement creeping into his expression.

‘Well, I was surprised not to see you there. How have you escaped your mother’s enlistment skills?’

‘You haven’t heard me sing,’ he answered. ‘I sound like bagpipes before the tune starts up. Groaning like a zombie, that’s me.’

Jess almost spat out her mouthful of tea as she began to laugh. ‘A zombie?’

‘Aye. Awful. Especially in my mother’s hearing.’ He winked at her.

Another name floated to the forefront of her mind, from the conversation Sebastian had had with the pub’s landlord – who must be Robbie’s uncle. Jess had wondered about it ever since.

‘So, Catriona. Is she another relation?’

‘She’s my little cousin. Lives in Aberdeen now with a policeman, apparently. Playing happy families.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m pleased for her, of course, but it just makes for more pressure from my mother. “When are you going to settle down; you’re no spring chicken any longer, Robert. No fine young woman is going to want someone your age. You need to get out and find yourself a lass before it’s too late.”’ Robbie had slipped into an admirable impression of his mother, and it made Jess laugh.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, without thinking. ‘I don’t think you’ll have much trouble finding a “fine young woman”, if you should want one …’ Her own impersonation was abysmal. A classic, if awful, attempt to mimic the accent.

‘Och, thanks. Thanks a lot.’

Robbie mirrored her terrible accent, and Jess was grateful they’d glossed over her rather clunky admission when he added, in his normal voice, ‘It’s hard to explain to her that’s not what I want. Never have.’ He spoke slowly and didn’t explain further, his words hanging in the air, full of unspoken meaning.

‘Oh. You mean you’re …’ Jess buried the remainder of the sentence. Was he gay? That made more sense – explained why a beautiful man might be living all alone like this. Perhaps he had a boyfriend, but their relationship was discreet. And if he was gay, that would explain why he’d remained unmoved by her awkward attempts to kiss him. There was no need to make him spell it out. Jess took a sip of tea, frowning at the cliché that the most handsome ones were always unavailable for one reason or another.

‘Were Catriona and Sebastian involved?’ In a clumsy attempt to move the conversation away from Robbie’s sexual orientation, she’d asked another over-personal question, realising she could have been a whole lot subtler about it when Robbie tugged in an awkward breath.

‘They were both very young. Lots of water has passed under the bridge since then.’ Robbie swilled the last of his tea around his mug before draining it and standing. He crossed to the window. ‘Weather has eased, if you need to get back.’

‘Right. Yes. I probably should.’ Jess tipped away the remains of her drink and rinsed her mug.

Robbie had unzipped Digby, releasing him from the mummy-like towelling robe he’d been enjoying, if the wag of his tail was anything to go by. His fur was also well on its way to drying and was toasty warm to the touch as Jess lifted him alongside her bag of wet clothes. ‘I’ll carry him back, I think. Can’t cope with the embarrassment of him running off again.’

‘He’s welcome any time,’ Robbie said, standing close enough when he opened the door for her to be able to catch the scent from his body spray as he smiled at her. ‘And so are you, Jess.’

Sebastian had been in the library, doing some more staring at pieces of paper covered with negative amounts of money, when he’d noticed the downpour. It had been dramatic enough for him to leave the desk, and the new sheaf of papers he’d dragged from one of the lower desk drawers, to stare through the windows as the water cascaded down.

He’d forgotten how heavily the rain could come down here. So heavily that visibility dwindled to a few feet of grey, and everything with any sense sought shelter and waited it out. Sebastian shivered, thankful for once to be inside the castle.

Back at the desk, he began to leaf through the papers, which seemed to have been shoved into drawers without any sense of order. It was going to take weeks to sort through all of this. And, in the meantime, roofs were leaking and would only continue to do so through the weather a Highland winter would throw at them, while the lion’s share of the villagers would continue in their muted disapproval. He didn’t altogether blame them, but he wasn’t sure opening up his precious music room to the local choir would do anything more than rub their noses in the situation. He was still smarting from Jess’s suggestion – who did she think she was? She’d only been here for a few days and was already trying to reorganise everything.

Maybe he should ring round, see if any of his nearest neighbours with large houses needed a temporary housekeeper. That way, he could reduce the outgoings by moving her sideways, rather than having to let her go. Because even though she seemed set on antagonising him, somehow trying to find a way to dismiss Jess was beginning to feel disingenuous. It didn’t sit well with him.

Sebastian pulled another pile of documents from a drawer. On top of this pile was a credit agreement with a Land Rover dealership. Jesus Christ. Even the almost-new Range Rover Evoque – his father’s vehicle which currently resided in pride of place in the garage – even that had a shedload of money owing on it.

He supposed that was an easy enough fix and made a note to call the garage to ask if they could dissolve the agreement. That would fix one financial leak. Sebastian wondered if the Audi his mother drove or Olivia’s Land Rover had money outstanding on them, too. What about the estate four-by-fours? God, he’d been so naive, had assumed the cars had been bought with actual money, not on finance agreements.

At least he knew his little VW was clear of any finance. Not surprising, really, as it was a good eight years old, and he’d bought it second-hand with money from his orchestra salary. It was due a service, though – the brakes had been a bit squeaky on his drive north.

More expense.

With a sigh, Sebastian glanced back through the window. The rain had finally let up, and rather than leaf through any more depressing paperwork, Sebastian decided to be proactive. He trudged up to the attic and emptied out the buckets – just in time, as it turned out: some of them were brimming.

Then he made for the kitchen to let Jess know he’d taken care of that chore.

Jess was humming a Whitney Houston song when Sebastian threaded his way through the kitchen, following the source of her voice into the scullery. With her back to the door, she jinked from side to side, hips swivelling as she shoved a bundle of clothes into the washing machine, dancing to her own rhythm as she blasted a perfectly pitched line from the song in the direction of the window.

Her oversized checked shirt and rolled-up jeans were a deviation from her normal clothing style. They didn’t look like they belonged to Jess at all, and as Sebastian was about to clear his throat to make his presence known, he realised he knew where he’d seen that shirt before.

That shirt belonged to the gamekeeper. And by the looks of the turn-ups, and the way they were cinched in at the waist, so did the jeans.

It was none of his business why the temporary housekeeper should be wearing Robbie Keel’s clothes, none of his business how she came to climb out of her own and need – or indeed, want – to put on some of his, instead. Nor was it any of his business why she was currently so cheerfully uninhibited and why it was a song about knowing whether a man was in love or not that had worked its way to the front of her mind.

If she and Robbie were becoming involved, then Sebastian should be pleased for them. There didn’t need to be any more to it than that. And he should interrupt her singing, tell her what he’d come her to say but, as Digby twisted to look at him, Sebastian decided he didn’t have the energy for another possible confrontation, so he turned and left the room before the little dog could alert Jess to his presence.

It might have been a bit of a guilty pleasure to continue to wear Robbie’s clothes long after she’d returned to the castle, but it was one which made Jess grin. Inappropriateness? She wasn’t averse to a bit of that, plus, if she pulled up the shirt’s collar and buried her nose in it, she could smell him.

The fact that he’d all but admitted he wouldn’t find her attractive, even if she were the last woman left on earth, didn’t alter the fact that Jess enjoyed his company, or mean that she couldn’t look forward to spending time with him and having him make her laugh. A sense of humour was something which was sorely missing from the inhabitants of Kirkshield Castle, but that didn’t have to mean she too had to spend the next six weeks wearing a poker face. And as she was going to launder the items before she returned them, she might as well get some wear out of them in the meantime.

A trip up to the attic shortly after she’d finished tidying the kitchen left Jess confused. The buckets had recently been emptied, for which she was grateful, but she wondered why whoever had done so hadn’t let her know. Shrugging the mystery off, she decided to head to the drawing room with some wood polish and a couple of dusters.

She’d never attempted to keep a house of this size clean and was secretly hoping she could ignore most of the rooms: perhaps implement a closed-door policy to keep down the need for dusting and vacuuming, especially in the rooms infrequently used. After all, how dirty could a house like this become in a few weeks? There was no way anyone could expect her to keep the whole thing pristine, certainly not on her own, anyway. And there was plenty of space for the dust to spread out, if it had any sense of decency, and remain undetected until she’d left.

Before Jess could arm herself with the spray polish and head out from her territory, Olivia breezed into the kitchen.

‘Ah,’ Olivia said. ‘Just the person I was hoping to catch.’

Jess smiled. She wondered who else exactly Olivia might have thought she’d run into in here.

‘I’ve had an idea,’ Olivia said. ‘I think it would be nice to throw a house party for Seb, you know, to properly welcome him home. Get some local friends to come for dinner, remind him that Kirkshield can be fun.’ Olivia took a step closer, her elegant features creasing into a frown. ‘Thing is, he always takes everything so seriously, and since he’s come back, he’s been stomping around like inheriting a castle is some kind of a disaster. I’ve decided we need to remind him that being back here is a good thing. What do you think?’

Olivia wasn’t really asking Jess what she thought, and Jess knew this because there was no space for her to provide any answer before Olivia pulled out her phone, scrolling and turning the phone for Jess to look.

‘This. This is what I want,’ Olivia said. ‘Nothing too mad, but it needs to say “glad to have you back, brother”, you know – but in an understated way.’

Jess perused the list. She supposed the kernel of the idea made sense and was thoughtful. But there seemed to be an awful lot of requests on the list which Jess wouldn’t necessarily assume went hand in hand with an understated welcome-home dinner party. A whole Iberian ham for the canapé table, for example. A case of Mo?t & Chandon.

‘When were you thinking of having it?’ Jess asked.

‘Next week. Everyone gets so busy in the run-up to Christmas, and it’ll be on the day of the next shoot, so I’ve already sent out the date. I know everyone is just desperate to welcome Seb back.’

‘Right. OK. And will he mind it being so soon after your father’s funeral?’ Jess was probably pushing the bounds of the questions she should be asking, but Olivia hadn’t given her a whole load of notice of her plans – and Jess wondered if Sebastian was the kind of person to enjoy something being sprung upon him so soon after his arrival.

Olivia reclaimed her phone, tapping on it before she handed it back, the number keypad now illuminated onscreen. ‘Oh, that’s not a problem. They never really got on, so …’ She threw Jess a brilliant smile. The Barclay-Brown siblings really did have the monopoly on fantastic cheekbones, and Jess found herself thinking they probably originated from the razorblade sharp lines of their mother’s features.

‘Let me have your mobile number,’ Olivia continued. ‘I’ll send the list through so you can have a proper look. We’ll probably need six guest rooms made up, no more than that – I’ll give you a guest list once it’s confirmed. And – this goes without saying, obvs, but just in case – not a word about any of this to my brother. Total surprise, OK?’

Before Jess could reply, Olivia swept round and was gone. A few moments later, a text pinged from an unknown number, with the list attached. Jess eased herself into a chair, before she took a more careful look at the requests.

The biggest challenge would be the cooking and serving of a dinner for twelve/fourteen/sixteen – the number yet to be confirmed, Jess supposed. Especially if she was expected to do it all on her own. She wondered if she could ask Mrs Keel to help. Or, better still, get the chef at The Old Goat to cook it all and cart it up here. Jess allowed herself a wry smile. That would be cheating.

Either way, her closed-door policy on cleaning had just been blown out of the water. If that many people came to dinner, with some staying over, then they would be in and out of all the main rooms, as well as the spare bedrooms Jess had hoped she could leave untouched. Gathering up the wood polish and a larger handful of dusters, Jess drew in a deep breath and left the kitchen.