Page 4 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

Vivian had dabbled in everything from selling high-end handbags, purses, wallets and wheelie cases to shoes, jewellery and hats, with varying degrees of success. However, stories were rife that she was moving in a different business direction. My mum had told me that on one of her holidays to New York, Vivian had spotted a shop in the Big Apple, which she was certain she could replicate back in her Scottish hometown.

It transpired that she had come across a gorgeous little shop selling anything and everything festive and that it was open all year round.

In fact, it had become rather a celebrity in its own right and tourists would flock to see its bottle-glass windows, bursting with clockwork reindeer and glowing fairy lights, even in the soupy, cloying New York heatwaves.

I was becoming more and more disillusioned with Sanders and the lack of appreciation from my line manager. I had also spent the last six years studying, working and living in Glasgow and felt that returning to Craig Brae might be just what I needed.

So, I applied for the role of full-time retail assistant with Vivian at Christmas Crackers. I think my obsession with anything Christmas-related, together with my interior design degree, was a definite plus.

I was therefore delighted when Vivian told me I had got the job the day after my interview, working alongside part-time Orla Cunningham, one of Mum’s friends from her Zumba class.

I soon found myself making suggestions to Vivian about possible festive promotions we could run, as well as starting social media accounts for the shop and how to set out the shop interior displays for major impact.

I wanted the locals to forget that Christmas Crackers was once an ironmonger’s and hoped they would view it in the same vein as the New York festive shop.

So, I started introducing things like Find the Christmas Pixie competitions for the local children, where they would have to bring their parents into the shop, to locate the naughty pixie who was concealed somewhere.

I also put up pictures in the windows of Christmas Crackers, of famous people, concealed behind Santa beards and shoppers had to guess who they were under the disguise.

I spent so much of my time trawling the internet, researching ideas and innovations that we might be able to adopt in the shop ourselves.

I enjoyed gathering together similar colour schemes of tinsel, lights and ornaments. Sometimes, the windows would be decked out in a rose-gold Christmas theme. At other times, I would opt for electric blue and silver or gold and green.

Vivian Sangster was very wary of social media, so I worked on pulling together ideas for what we could do to launch Christmas Crackers on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Tik-Tok.

When she saw my proposals for things like putting up pictures of an antique Christmas tree of the week, asking customers for their oldest Christmas tree decoration and competitions for the local children to design their very own bauble, she embraced them with relish.

In fact, Vivian thought my suggestions for her new business were so good, that after just twelve months of working there, she appointed me shop manager. She even gave Mum a part-time job helping out Orla, as we needed more hands-on deck.

Christmas Crackers was attracting people from all over Scotland and everything was going so well; it almost felt like a dream.

Cold, hard reality took hold of me again and wouldn’t let go. My shocked mouth popped open. Three years of effort and all for nothing.

Vivian angled her powdered face to one side. I could see tears clustering in her pale eyes. She had suddenly become fascinated with her office carpet.

This was as agonising for her as it was for me.

I thought about all the decisions I’d made, in order to ensure I could afford to buy the business. I had been so careful with the money Dad left me in his will.

I cringed as I thought about my old second-hand car…

And now what? All that effort? It was for nothing? I flopped back in my chair, defeated.

My emotions skittered in all directions.

I threw my head back, as I thought about all the evenings and weekends I had spent on this, setting up social media accounts for the business; working behind the counter; dropping leaflets through doors; even dressing like a bloody reindeer and pounding the pavements in torrential rain!

Mrs Sangster’s cool blue eyes were clamped shut, as if that might help make all this sorry mess go away.

If only it would.

It was as if my dreams had been ripped up in front of me.

I started through the open office door and across the shop floor, where the mahogany shelves groaned and shimmered with our festive ornaments. The lights, laced along the burgundy walls, slipped from electric blue to acid green in an almost effortless manner.

Vivian came hurrying after me, her pointed face brimming with concern.

‘So that’s it?’ I managed. ‘To be told I’m out of a job, just seven weeks before Christmas?’