Page 5 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘I’m so sorry,’ croaked Vivian for what seemed like the twentieth time in the last five minutes. ‘I really am.’

She bundled me into her arms. She smelled of lavender. We stayed that way for a few moments, clinging onto one another.

Dear God.

I was twenty-nine years old. What was I supposed to do now? My stomach felt like it was full of lead. I thought of Mum and Orla and how devastated they would both be at the realisation that Christmas Crackers would have to close.

I eased myself out of her arms. She looked like someone had just stomped on her toes. ‘So, come December 31st, that’s it?’

She winced and struggled to look at me. ‘Yes. They have said they want to get cracking on renovating and redecorating come the start of January.’

I couldn’t stem my disbelief. Closing down on Hogmanay. When everyone is supposed to be gearing up and looking forward to the future. I wanted to let out an incredulous bark of laughter.

I dragged a frustrated hand down my face.

It was already November. What were my prosects of securing another job, with Christmas just around the corner? I had bills to pay. I had a mortgage. The money Dad had left me in his will had been generous, but it wouldn’t last forever and I didn’t want to end up frittering that away.

I reckoned the chances of me finding another suitable job right now would be zero, unless I could get a temporary, seasonal post?

Vivian gazed at me, tears glittering. ‘I know it won’t be much comfort, but I’ll make sure you, your Mum and Orla receive an extra generous Christmas bonus.

‘You’ve done wonderful work for me, Lottie, and Christmas Crackers would not have been able to achieve the sales and publicity it has without you.’ Her words were appreciated, but I was struggling to pay attention.

I stared around myself at all the glossy, glittery ornaments and lights.

Everything was happening so fast. It was like my life was out of control all of a sudden and all I could do was stand there like an idiot and watch from the side lines.

Shakin’ Stevens had started crooning ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’. Not great timing.

Vivian moved on to talking about supplying me with a glowing reference. ‘What with your interior design degree and the amazing work you have done here and in the department stores you worked in before… you should have no problems getting another job.’

I know she was trying to make me feel better, but the thought of being out of work and facing job hunting, made my stomach sink further. It wasn’t as if I could stroll into a top job at Apple or as if Elon Musk would recruit me as his right-hand woman. Where were there interior design-related vacancies in Craig Brae? It was a small town an hour and a half away from Glasgow, so most of us knew each other. It was also a very popular tourist destination, thanks to its spectacular scenery, salmon ladder, the stunning vista of Loch Strathe and the treacherous but captivating mountain, Ben Linn. But as for an abundance of high-profile jobs, you could forget it.

I felt that if Christmas were an actual place, Craig Brae would be it, with its cosy community spirit and the glow from sitting-room windows winking out from the cottages.

I dragged my attention back and caught sight of a couple of intrigued tourists gazing through the shop window.

The woman, sporting a bobbly red hat, pointed at one of the illuminated thatched cottages drizzled in snow.

I dropped my voice. I didn’t want to scare off a potential sale, especially when the shop was on borrowed time. We were known for our friendly and excellent customer service and I wasn’t about to allow that to change.

Pictures of Mum and Orla flitted in front of me. There was still the horrible prospect of telling them. ‘Don’t say a word to Mum or Orla about any of this. I’ll tell them.’

‘No, I can do that.’

I shook my head so much, I almost cricked my neck. ‘Thank you but no. It might be better coming from me.’

How could this be happening, after all the hard work we put in? The business was going to be mine.

After we had agreed on the sale, I had finally felt like my life was beginning to move on again. All the evenings I had slaved over a hot laptop, pulling ideas together and working on social media posts, studying catalogues for new stock, drafting adverts.

Mum and Orla had been so conscientious and loyal. They didn’t deserve to be treated like this. None of us did.

I took a steadying breath. I had to try and keep it together for now, especially in front of the customers. Me banging about, bursting into tears or throwing things wouldn’t help anyone.

I plastered on a smile for the lingering customers outside, keen to still do the job that I loved while I had the chance.

They started to make their way in through the shop door.