Page 36 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

As I watched them, a hopeful feeling grew inside of me. I was sure I could make the log cabin business work. I just had to give this everything I had.

A booming, self-important voice blasted out from the makeshift stage further down the street. ‘Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and children. Welcome to the Craig Brae Christmas lights switch-on!’

Everyone turned in unison to see Brian Chiltern, one of the local Christmas Committee fundraisers, addressing the throng. There was enthusiastic applause.

‘Each year, our light switch-on is an even bigger and brighter affair and this Christmas is no exception.’

More crackles of applause rose up over the intermittent wail of crying babies.

‘I’d like to take this opportunity to thank those local businesses that have contributed so generously again this year, making this lights switch-on such a popular event.’ Brian Chiltern scanned the crowd. ‘In particular, we would like to express our deep gratitude to Blooming Lovely Garden Centre, Good Wood Furniture and to Christmas Crackers for their continued support.’ He hesitated. ‘And this seems like the perfect moment to wish Vivian Sangster and Lottie Grant all the best. We will miss Christmas Crackers. It has been a delightful feature of our main street and you have done our little town proud, Vivian and Lottie.’

My smile wobbled as people standing close to me clapped and expressed their sadness at the shop’s closure.

Brian Chiltern waited a few moments for the applause to fade, before beckoning over the provost from the other side of the stage. I noticed Reginald Jay was shuffling from foot to foot like an excited toddler desperate for the bathroom. ‘So, without further ado, I would like to invite our esteemed provost, Mr Reginald Jay, to officially switch on the Craig Brae Christmas lights.’

The provost marched up to the podium in his loud checked suit, where a box had been set up. Jutting out of it was a red switch, tied with a green satin ribbon.

With an exaggerated flourish, Mr Jay raised his arm and yanked down the switch. The sky over Craig Brae was illuminated by rows of lights strung above all our heads. Giant snowflakes, Santa’s sleigh, a glowing Rudolph and dazzling, multi-coloured stars glimmered down on all our upturned faces and onto the stippled roofs of our little town.

Gasps, shrieks and claps echoed around the streets.

I hugged my arms around myself, as pictures of my dad, mum and me leapt into my mind. The three of us would always attend the switch-on every year. Even if it rained, we would huddle together under an umbrella or in one of the other shop doorways, marvelling at the anticipation and the start of the festive frivolities.

I stepped back up onto the pavement again, weaving in and out between the crowd, until I had a clearer view of Christmas Crackers on the opposite side.

Mum and Orla had made the most of the temporary break in customers piling in and were standing out on the street, admiring the decorations. Mum’s expression was wistful and forlorn. I could tell she wasn’t seeing the lights, even though her eyes were turned up towards them. She was seeing my dad.

A brass band struck up by the stage and a rousing rendition of ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’ stirred up the exhausted children even more.

I only had a couple of cabin leaflets left, folded up in my coat pocket, so I wandered around, smiling at people and making polite conversation. I also suggested they take a look at the Magical Occasions Cabins website.

It was as the brass band began playing the haunting carol – and my favourite of them all – ‘Silent Night’, that I paused and drank in the echo of the heart-tugging melody.

Now that I had parted with the last few fliers, I pushed my gloved hands into the pockets of my long winter coat and glanced around. My attention drifted from shiny apple-cheeked children to parents attempting to calm their over-excited offspring and grandparents swathed in thick coats and scarfs.

Susie from Eternal Flame waved at me from across the moving heads of the crowd. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you any work,’ she called, struggling with two wrapped-up toddlers. ‘But your mum tells me you’re all sorted. Congratulations.’

‘No problem at all, Susie. Thank you.’

We both exchanged smiles and she vanished again. Then I caught sight of Vivian and a tall, tanned sandy-haired man, all wrapped up in their winter coats and hugging one another as they admired the decorations shining down on them. That must be Ridley.

They were chatting to another couple.

Vivian made eye contact with me, beamed and gave a cheery wave, which I returned.

I turned away.

Then I stopped. One face jumped out at me again from across the street.

It was him.

Blake Dempster.

He was standing on the pavement close to the barber shop on the other side of the road, his beanie hat tugged down over his dark hair. He was staring up at the illuminated decorations, as families and couples breezed up and down and around him. The silver light from the snowflakes shone down on his upturned face.

He glanced around himself, as though sensing he was being watched. Then he stared right across the street. He had noticed me.

We appraised one another, like one of those Spaghetti Western stand-offs between two cowboys. Then he dropped his gaze, thrust his hands deeper into his puffer jacket pockets and melted away into the crowd.