Christmas at a Highland Castle

Chapter 30

The next few days passed in a blur, whizzing by so quickly that the arrival of Christmas Eve took Jess by surprise. But there was no escaping the date which showed front and centre on her phone, the white letters and numbers clearly visible over her artful cover photo.

She’d been really pleased with the result when she took it: a low-down shot angled up at the grey granite of the castle, with a bank of snow in the foreground, and Digby snuffling around right on the edge of the frame. It sat perfectly on the phone screen, icons on the snow, the time and date clear against the granite walls. If you looked carefully, you could make out a gargoyle at the very top of the castle, where granite crenelations gave way to a slash of blue sky.

But today she had very little time to admire her amateur photography with everything she still needed to prepare for Christmas Day lunch, and with the mince pies and other bits and bobs she’d decided to make for the Christmas carol recital the following morning. She supposed she could have asked someone to drive her to the closest supermarket, could have bought a whole load of frozen mince pies and party food, but – apart from the financial implications – she wanted to use the opportunity to show the locals how appreciated they were, how keen the family was to welcome them into the castle. And nothing said welcome like a homemade mince pie, did it?

It was also a way for her to say thank you to them all – to Dorathy Keel for making her feel so at ease, and for popping in like a fairy godmother with just the right emergency supply at just the right moment; to the Macwarrens for looking after her aunt so well; and to Vivi for, well, for being Vivi. There didn’t need to be any other reason, although the Aga lessons had been much appreciated.

Sebastian had offered to help with the cooking, so long as Jess didn’t give him anything too complicated to make. And so, with Sebastian deployed with some shortcrust pastry and a bowl of grated cheddar mixed with smoked paprika to make some cheesy whirls, Jess got on with mixing some fillings for the vol-au-vents she’d baked earlier. Very nineteen-eighties they might be, but they were one of Vivi’s favourites, especially the ones filled with prawns and Marie Rose sauce.

She swirled around, multitasking with the pastry goods as well as the preparations for the following day. She had potatoes still to peel and parboil, the dreaded sprouts to sort and the challenge of how to correctly prepare the neeps – which she’d discovered was essentially mashed swede, although she was sure there was more to it than that and so would be speaking to Dorathy Keel to make sure she got it right. Jess hardly noticed when Sebastian completed his tasks and headed out of the kitchen to ‘make some calls’. She didn’t blame him; the kitchen looked like a bomb-site, the windows were running with condensation from all the steam, and with the radio blaring Christmas carols in the background he’d probably developed a headache. Grateful for small mercies, Jess reminded herself that Christian had arranged to take the whole family out for dinner, so at least she would have time then to sort out any last-minute dilemmas.

So, when an envelope addressed to Jess materialised on the kitchen table at some point after midday, Jess assumed it was a Christmas card – probably dropped in by Dorathy Keel when she’d been out of the room. But when Jess tugged open the flap, there wasn’t a red-breasted robin or a laughing Santa Claus in sight. Instead, she was holding a handwritten invitation to dinner, from Sebastian, requesting her company in the music room that evening, at eight.

She turned the card in her hand, realising it was the first time she’d seen anything handwritten by him – and, as with everything he did which allowed for artistry, the writing was beautiful.

What Jess hadn’t been expecting was the effort he had gone to for the evening. As the time on her watch ticked over to eight o’clock, she left her room and headed through the picture gallery, realising as she walked that the only lights switched on in the main part of the castle were those draped on the enormous Christmas tree. Her path was further lit by tea lights, and the sound of the piano guided her way.

Sebastian stopped playing when he heard her, twisting on the piano stool to greet her. Jess caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He was wearing black tie, the jacket slung carelessly over a chair, leaving him in his shirtsleeves, a moss-green bow-tie at his neck. The invitation had suggested formal wear, and she’d slipped into the dress Vivi had given her, thankful for her aunt’s seeming foresight, and then suspicious about the fortuitous timing. She swept the feeling aside, unable to take her gaze away from Sebastian. She’d never seen anyone wearing black tie in real life, hadn’t been prepared for how the formal quality of his clothes, the effort to dress up especially for her, would make her feel.

She’d almost decided against wearing the dress this evening, but after all the tea lights and the bottle of bubbly with a pair of glasses she could see on a tray on top of the grand piano, she was pleased she’d made the effort. No, that wasn’t true. It was the expression on Sebastian’s face which made her feel she’d made the right decision.

‘You look stunning,’ he said, rising from the stool and meeting her halfway across the room, his gaze unapologetically covering every inch of her. His attention did something strange to Jess’s belly, even as she pulled awkwardly at the unfamiliar neckline of her dress. Jess was reminded of the day Sebastian had played ‘Für Elise’ for her. The desperate urge she’d felt to kiss him. The way she’d stopped herself. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to be so strong again, especially when he looked so very handsome. Time to get a grip. Just because she felt completely unsettled by him didn’t mean anything; it certainly didn’t mean he felt the same way. He was simply putting a bit of effort into a dinner for her, a thank you before her time at the castle came to an end and they both moved on with their lives.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ she countered, taking her thoughts and burying them as she smiled at him.

He handed her a glass of champagne and she tried not to sip it too quickly, tried to get her tumble of thoughts and emotions under control as he clinked her glass.

‘ Slàinte Mhath ,’ he said.

‘Cheers?’ she said, although it came out as more of a question.

‘Yes. Cheers.’ He grinned, the formality of her entrance gone as he took her hand and twirled her around. ‘That dress is really gorgeous, Jess.’

‘I knew Vivi was up to something,’ she countered. ‘She never does anything for no reason.’

‘In her defence, she was always going to give you the dress for Christmas, but she decided to give it to you a bit early, in case you might need it.’

‘Need it for what?’ Jess frowned. ‘Did she organise this evening?’

He shook his head vehemently. ‘No. Absolutely not. She simply suggested I might like to show you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for the family.’

‘Really?’

He pressed his lips together. ‘OK. That might not be exactly what she said.’

‘So, what did she actually say?’

‘She told me to remember you’re only here for another couple of weeks. And that sometimes we’re so busy focusing on one thing – in my case the problems with the estate – that we fail to see what’s staring us in the face.’ He took a deep breath. ‘She said I didn’t look particularly stupid, but that if I let something important, something I really want, if I let it slip through my fingers, then she would revise her opinion, because looks could be deceiving.’

The frown which flurried across his face and the way he took a gulp of bubbles suggested he was nervous.

‘I don’t think I understand,’ she said.

‘I don’t think I did either, for far too long.’ He looked around the room, swallowing hard. ‘Maybe this was a mistake.’

‘No. I meant this is a lovely idea, but I don’t understand why you’ve gone to so much effort for me.’

‘Don’t you?’ He left the words hanging in the air as he topped up her glass. Jess’s stomach flipped. Then his expression lightened. ‘I thought we could have dinner in the breakfast room,’ he said. ‘I know that sounds weird, but I’ve always liked that room far more than the formal dining room. And there was no way I was taking you to dinner in the kitchen.’

‘Busman’s holiday,’ she said, grateful that the conversation had gravitated towards safer ground.

‘Exactly. And I would have taken you out, but I wanted you to experience the castle when it’s quiet.’ He glanced around. ‘It comes to life when it’s full of people, but there’s also something special about being here like this. Just you and me.’

It almost sounded like Sebastian was presenting a sales pitch, on behalf of the castle, but Jess was beginning to understand what he meant. She’d imagined a space as huge as this would become increasingly intimidating with fewer people to fill it, but instead it was showing its ability to feel intimate.

‘It’s as though the castle is wrapping itself around us, like a cloak,’ she said, brows furrowing as she waited for his reaction. Did she sound insane?

Sebastian’s expression matched hers, and Jess thought she’d got her analogy completely wrong until he smiled. ‘I’d forgotten how warm this place could feel. I spent a long time convinced of its coldness, but now I realise that wasn’t the building’s fault.’

‘I love it here,’ Jess said, the words spilling out before she could check them. It was a truth too far, but it was the truth. To cover her tracks, she added, ‘I mean, I’ve loved my time here. Scotland is an amazing place.’

‘And you’ve only seen a fraction of it,’ Sebastian said, taking her hand again and heading for the breakfast room. ‘Are you hungry?’

The champagne had gone to her head, that much was clear, probably because she’d hardly eaten all day. Which was ridiculous, as she’d been knee-deep in food for most of it.

Sebastian held her chair for her, and as Jess slid into it, she took in the room. More tea lights adorned the space, lighting up every corner. The whole space danced in the candlelight.

‘What’s on the menu?’ she asked, wondering if it was only her aware of the weak double entendre. Heat swarmed up her neck and into her cheeks, but Sebastian didn’t seem to notice.

‘It’s a surprise,’ he said. ‘Back in a mo.’

The moment took so long that eventually Jess picked up her glass and headed for the kitchen. Maybe he needed help after all. Maybe he’d dropped all the crockery like she had that very first day; maybe there’d been a disaster and this time their roles would be reversed.

The truth wasn’t far off, but the problem had nothing to do with Sebastian having dropped anything. He glanced up as she entered, the colour high in his cheeks as he grimaced at the mess, then at Digby.

‘Oh, no,’ Jess said, instantly understanding what had happened. ‘Digby, you didn’t …’

‘Yes. Yes, he did,’ Sebastian said. ‘You know you told me that you had to watch his diet quite carefully, and that I shouldn’t be feeding him any of my toast? Well, I’m not sure the memo about laying off the carbs has reached Digby.’

Sebastian had left a basket of baguette slices on the kitchen table. Presumably he’d assumed they were safely out of reach of the relatively small dog. But someone had also left a kitchen chair set at a jaunty angle to the table – the perfect stepping stone, especially for a cockapoo with lofty aspirations. Or the waft of freshly baked baguette in his nostrils.

‘Oh Digby, you are the very devil,’ Jess said. Digby belched, then took himself off to his mat as Jess did her best to squash a giggle. ‘I’m so sorry. He’s so naughty. I should have warned you.’

‘He’s not going to die, or anything, is he?’

Jess smiled, shaking her head. ‘Possible tummy ache, but nobody will have the slightest sympathy.’

‘That’s a relief,’ Sebastian said, dumping what was left of the ruined baguette into the bin. ‘Anyway, at least he couldn’t get at the rest of it.’

With a flourish, Sebastian opened one of the doors on the Aga, and a billow of black smoke issued from within, engulfing his entire head for a moment. He stepped back, coughing and flapping at the smoke with an oven glove.

‘That’s the hot oven,’ Jess said.

‘I thought it was the warming oven,’ Sebastian said, back at the door and peering inside. ‘I just needed to keep it warm.’

‘The warming oven’s on the other side,’ Jess said, pointing at the identical door on the left side of the range.

‘Bloody hell,’ Sebastian muttered as he pulled out a tray of something burnt beyond recognition and dumped it on top. ‘Bloody Aga. Maybe I should have taken lessons from Vivi too.’

‘What was it?’ Jess asked, lifting a spatula and prodding at the charcoal moonscape.

‘Does it even matter?’ Sebastian said, his tone suddenly forlorn. ‘Spanish chicken with chorizo and peppers. Chef at The Old Goat put extra cherry tomatoes on it for me, too.’

Jess abandoned the spatula to the weak gravity of the tray. ‘We could always go to the pub instead,’ she said. ‘See if he has any left.’

Sebastian glanced down at his attire. ‘Looking like this? I don’t think so.’

‘You could always take it off.’

It was meant to be a joke. But something happened to Sebastian’s breathing, he sounded as though he’d not long finished running a marathon.

‘I don’t think I can do this much longer,’ he said. ‘That’s the second one this evening, Jess.’

‘Second what?’

‘When you asked what was on the menu earlier – do you remember that? – I almost said, “me”. Like I was fifteen again and trying to impress someone while tanked on alcopops.’

She laughed, then the levity slid away as she saw the intensity of his gaze. Her lip caught between her teeth.

‘Oh, holy Christ, Jess. I’m not going to be able to hold it together if you do that thing with your lip.’ His expression intensified. ‘There’s something I need to tell you, something I’ve been wanting to say for a while. And it’s that—’

Sebastian didn’t get to finish his sentence, though, because Digby chose that moment to vomit, very loudly and very productively, his stomach contents spewing in all directions.

‘Oh no,’ Jess said, both of them taking a step backwards, even though they were nowhere near the source. ‘Disgusting dog.’

Sebastian gave her a wry smile.

‘What were you going to say?’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘Timing is everything. Do you want a hand clearing it up?’

Jess wrinkled her nose. ‘Not sure I want to get anywhere near it myself, let alone rope anyone else in to help. Certainly not in this dress. I’d better go and …’

‘Take it off?’ he said, the twinkle in his eye unmistakeable, but the moment was gone.

‘I was going to say get changed, but I guess it’s much the same, under these circumstances.’

She changed swiftly into pyjamas with a soft jumper over the top, gathering up her hair into a messy bun and wrapping a scrunchie around it as she grabbed some cleaning products. Sebastian had left the kitchen – and who could blame him. At least Digby had got rid of most of the bread from his system – otherwise she’d have been worrying about him all night, she supposed. It was cold comfort, as she scrubbed at the floor.

Once equilibrium had been restored, she shoved the burnt pan from Sebastian’s ruined attempt at dinner into a sink full of water to soak, washed her hands and flicked off the lights. She supposed she should go to bed – get some decent sleep before the bedlam of Christmas Day arrived. But something Sebastian had said was doing laps in her head. If I let something important, something I really want, if I let it slip through my fingers , he’d said, suggesting it would be forever a mistake.

It was easy enough to locate him. Jess could hear the sound of the piano coming from the music room. He was in there and she could go to him right now. Nobody else was in the castle. Nobody need ever know except the two of them. And she didn’t want to let this slip through her fingers, either. She didn’t want to let Sebastian slip away.