Page 25 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

Mum pulled a funny expression. ‘You’d better not let old man Frew hear you talking about “incomers”. He’ll have a coronary.’

I laughed and picked up my mobile from the top of the counter. I took the opportunity to check the notes I had made on my phone about making sure Christmas Crackers was closed down properly and all loose ends were tied up. ‘We need to tell HMRC as soon as possible that we’re stopping trading. We also need to make contact with our suppliers and close down our accounts with them. Then there are the utility companies, the telephone to be disconnected…’

Mum shot out one caring hand and rested it on my arm. ‘Will you stop fretting, young lady?! Orla here and I can make a start on things like that.’

‘And Bernie says Vivian is still around to answer any questions or help out?’ piped up Orla over the rim of her tea.

‘Yes, she is. She was emphatic about it. Said not to hesitate to contact her, even if she is knee-deep in estate agent quotes for her house.’

‘Well then,’ assured Mum. ‘We can deal with it and if we hit any brick walls, we will speak to you or get Vivian involved, ok?’

‘Ok. Thanks.’

Mum angled her head at me. ‘You just concentrate on your new job and get those log cabins ship-shape for all these tourists.’

Orla cradled her mug in her ringed hands. ‘They sound fantastic. They will be even better after Lottie has finished with them.’ A naughty smile crept across her red lip-sticked mouth. ‘I hear your new boss is a bit of a silver fox.’

‘Orla!’ said Mum. ‘You’re only just divorced.’

‘I know, but when you’re on a diet, you can still admire a Snickers bar.’

I burst out laughing. ‘Thanks for that. Now every time I see Max, I’m going to imagine him as a chocolate bar. And anyway, he’s married.’

‘Story of my life,’ grumbled Orla into her tea.

* * *

Monday morning evaporated, with the four of us occupied by a constant stream of customers.

‘All the mini fibreoptic Christmas trees have now sold out,’ stated Mum with satisfaction.

‘And we’ve only got half a dozen of the ceramic candy cane tree ornaments left,’ added Orla, surveying the hook where a host of them had been dangling.

The swell of eager locals and day-trippers, keen to bag themselves a pre-Christmas bargain, trickled away and by lunchtime it was a good feeling to be able to pause and take a breath.

‘Go and get some lunch, ladies,’ I said. ‘Make the most of a quiet spell while we get it.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Mum.

‘Absolutely.’

‘But what about you?’ asked Orla, shrugging on her camel coat. ‘You need a break too.’

‘I’ll go out for some fresh air when both of you get back.”

‘Well, make sure you do,’ instructed Mum. ‘Can we bring you any lunch?’

I requested one of Mrs Crill’s turkey and cranberry salad paninis and a latte from Sugar ‘n’ Spice.

‘Won’t be long,’ trilled Mum, as the two of them headed out the shop door, all billowing coats and handbags.

When they had gone, I slumped against the nearest wall. The shelves were beginning to look patchy and empty.

I pulled my eyes away. I didn’t want to dwell on Christmas Crackers closing down. It still didn’t seem real.

I straightened my shoulders. I couldn’t afford to brood about it now. It is what it is, I concluded. I had to focus on my new role with the Styleses. They had thrown me a lifeline when everything in my life had felt like it was crashing down.

I moved back behind the counter and located my notebook from my bag. I leafed through a few pages of my scribbles. It would be good to suggest something we could do at the local Christmas lights switch-on, on Saturday, to promote the cabins and get the word out there. All those excited families and loved-up couples filled with festive cheer! It would be a captive market.