Page 48 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

His hot eyes flickered over me. I cleared my throat and clasped my hands behind my back like Prince Charles. ‘So, is the school all set for Christmas?’ I asked Mrs Stritch, keen to talk about something else, other than my dancing. She had been one of those teachers with a quiet, calm and reassuring smile. She was still heavily involved with the school, volunteering on occasion to help out with various events. She was every bit as much a part of the Craig Brae community as Loch Strathe was. ‘I bet it is if you’re involved. You were always so wonderful, organising things.’

‘Och, away with you,’ she beamed, delighted. Then her expression grew more serious. ‘And in answer to your question, we were all set for Christmas,’ she sighed, her smile fading. ‘Unfortunately, Mr Shaw, our janitor, has broken his leg in a five-a-side match. It only happened last night. He always plays Santa for our younger children.’

‘Oh no! So, what are you going to do?’

She raised her gloved hands. ‘I don’t know. The Christmas party at school is tomorrow afternoon, so we have very little time to find a replacement Santa.’ She frowned. ‘Mr Shaw is a former body-builder. He’s such a big, broad chap and so is his Santa outfit, of course.’ She shot a troubled look at her walking compatriots.

Poor kids! It would ruin their Christmas party if Santa wasn’t there. Hang on… Former body-builder… broad build…

An idea popped into my head. Of course! He would no doubt be furious, but it served him right for smirking at me just now and for trying to change the theme of the cabins to some wild west nonsense.

And anyway, he had chosen to move to Craig Brae and this was a close community. If he wanted to fit in and make a life for himself here then he would have to make an effort, and what better way than to help out at the local school Christmas party?

I could do something for my old school, while ensuring the kids weren’t disappointed by their Christmas party – and of course, there was the delectable prospect of getting my own back on the smirking Blake.

He was glancing down at his chunky watch, oblivious to the plan hatching in my mind and the charged glances I was giving him.

‘Right, ladies and gent,’ he announced. ‘Let’s head back to Rowan Moore House now, where I’m told some coffee, tea and mince pies are waiting for us.’

I folded my arms and gave Blake a wide million-dollar smile.

He blinked at me, discomfited. ‘What is it? Why are you grinning at me like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. It’s very unnerving.’

I savoured his apprehension for a few more moments. ‘Santa. You could do it.’

Blake’s dark eyes grew with horror, as the realisation of what I was saying began to sink in. ‘What? No. No. Sorry. No way.’

‘But Mr Dempster, you would be perfect,’ pleaded Mrs Stritch, her expression suddenly alive with hope. ‘What a wonderful idea. You’re a similar build to Mr Shaw: broad-shouldered, muscular…’ My retired headteacher’s eyes were twinkling with appreciation.

‘Yes, and you’ve already got the Santa beard,’ I chipped in. ‘Pity it’s the wrong colour, but hey, you can’t have everything.’

Blake’s cheeks were turning puce. He narrowed his eyes at me, his lips drawn back in a promise of a snarl. That made me smile even wider. Gotcha!

He turned to Mrs Stritch, floundering. ‘I’m very sorry, but—’

‘It would only be for an hour or so,’ she carried on. ‘You would be doing the school and the children such a huge favour.’

Panic shone out of his face. ‘I think I have another ramble scheduled for then. Sorry about that.’ He was fidgeting in his heavy walking boots.

‘Oh, I’m sure you could rearrange it,’ I said. ‘If you explain how community-spirited you’re being, I’m sure your rambling clients would understand.’

He snapped his head round to look at me. His white teeth were grinding through his beard.

I gave him a cheeky wink.

‘Please Mr Dempster,’ implored Mrs Stritch again. ‘I can’t tell you what it would mean to us and the children. If we don’t have a Santa for them tomorrow afternoon, it’s going to ruin their school party.’

I angled my head to one side. I spotted a shred of silver tinsel still in my hair and snatched it out.

Blake appeared to be in mental agony and it wasn’t helping that Mrs Stritch and the three other walkers and I were studying him like a museum piece. My eyebrows rose. ‘It should only take up a small part of your day tomorrow, Blake.’

Blake’s eyes bored into mine.

Perhaps doing something like this for the local school at Christmas would let him see what a warm and welcoming place Craig Brae was. It might also trigger a bit of Christmas spirit in him, although the daggers he was aiming at me right now made me think I was being a tad optimistic on that front.