She blurted a loud laugh at this. ‘I’m sure it’s fine if you’re going to a ceilidh. What if you just want a pair of jeans?’
‘There’s the charity shop,’ he said, triumphant. ‘Anyway, that’s what the trains to Inverness are for, I suppose? To whisk you away to the malls.’
‘Doesn’t Switzerland have the most affordable and efficient transport systems in the world?’ she countered smugly. ‘And I’d bet good money on Zurich having more than one place to go out at night.’
‘I’m pleasantly surprised by the Ptarmigan,’ he said, glancing behind at the locked doors. ‘It’s the only nightclub I’ve even been to where entry includes a free morning’s skiing, if used within six months, and,’ he peered at the band on his wrist, ‘one complimentary slope slushie?’
‘I always get blue raspberry,’ she quipped.
‘You ski?’
‘Not really, but I won’t pass up a free slushie. I’ll be in the dry slope queue at ten tomorrow to claim mine.’
He beamed back at her, making her warm all over.
‘You really haven’t been inside the Ptarmigan before?’ she said. ‘On a date, or anything, since you arrived?’ she asked in quite an obvious way, but they were both a few too many margaritas deep to feel any awkwardness now.
‘I’ve stood outside plenty, when I was on duty, helping drunk folk into taxis at two in the morning, but I’ve never gone in. No dates, or anything.’
They fixed eyes; his earnest, hers probably lit up with stars, if the way she felt was anything to go by.
‘What about you?’ he asked.
‘Me? Me what? Are you asking about dates? God, no! Not since…’ She let the sound of the milk float puttering past and a ‘night, folks’ from Big Kenneth in his tuxedo jacket take up the spot where Gray’s name would have been. She didn’t want any part of her ex interfering with this nice, easy feeling she had.
They both waved at Kenneth as he went.
‘Another thing Zurich must have, that we don’t have here?’ she said. ‘A dating scene.’
‘Ah! Right! You’ve got me there. Unless there’s a dating agency on the high street? Mountain Mates? Macdates? That one’s a drive-thru.’
‘Oh God, stop,’ she laughed.
‘Highland Flings?’ he persisted.
‘I think you like it here more than I do,’ she said.
This calmed them a little.
‘I can’t lie; it’s no’ so bad. It has been an adjustment, mind, living and working here. The whole Cairngorms has a population of just eighteen thousand…’
‘And Cairn Dhu probably accounts for about five hundred of those,’ she interrupted.
‘That’s being generous. Are you counting the sheep population in that number? Naw, policing’s definitely different here, with people dispersed across towns and villages and the crofts. Some of the calls that come in are from barely accessible places. God knows how you’d reach them in the snow and ice of winter.’
‘That’s what the mountain rangers and rescue service are for,’ she said. ‘Must be strange after Edinburgh.’ She felt a little tug at her heart at the thought of bustling, lively Edinburgh pulling him back home again, where he belonged.
‘There’s about five-hundred-thousand-odd-folk to police there. You’re no’ kidding; it’s very different. Not that they let me do much policing here in Cairn Dhu, mind.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ally wondered if it had anything to do with that snotty officer from yesterday, the one who’d been rude about Jamie at the station, telling her she was welcome to take him since he wasn’t doing anything useful anyway. She remembered the other officer smirking too.
She didn’t know what they had to smirk about. They were the Mason brothers: one from the year below her at school, the other from the year above; and both as daft and acned as the other, back in the day. If they thought they were any better at their jobs than Jamie, they’d better have another look at themselves.
Jamie hesitated once more, before folding like he’d held this in for too long. ‘I don’t like to complain, not when I’m an infiltrator at the station.’
‘Infiltrator? You mean volunteer? There to help out? Lighten the load?’
‘Pfft! You need to tell that to some of the team. One of them said I was a hobby bobby. It’s OK, I’m not bothered, it’s just frustrating.’
