Page 51 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘Lovely,’ I murmured.

I was relieved to see that the ladies’ toilets were empty, so I threw off my clothes, slid them into my bucket shoulder bag and pulled on the offending outfit.

I cringed at my reflection in the full-length mirror. My cheeks were hot and flaming, clashing with the screaming loudness of the green outfit and my ponytail was a mess.

I tugged on the stripey tights next. Dear God. If I had my face painted green, I could have passed for Princess Fiona’s sister.

I shook out my ponytail, letting my hair fall down my back and plonked the jangly hat on my head. The green and red slippers were a little too big for me, so I slipped my socks back on. Not perfect, but it would have to do.

I fiddled with my tunic and smoothed down the frilly white, Peter Pan-style collar. I looked more terrifying than festive. I would be giving the kids nightmares for the next month.

I raked about in my bag and reapplied my lipstick and a slick of mascara in the vain hope that might improve the overall look of the outfit. It didn’t make that much of a dramatic improvement. To be honest, I think setting fire to the whole damned thing wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

I lurched around the ladies’ toilets, tugging at the tunic again and running one finger inside the scratchy white collar. I couldn’t loiter in these toilets any longer. It would be Christmas at this rate by the time I plucked up enough courage to head back outside.

And I was not prepared to give Blake the satisfaction of thinking that I was trying to hide out here in the ladies’ toilets, rather than face him.

I puffed out my chest and threw my bag back over my shoulder. ‘Right. Let’s do this,’ I said, my voice echoing around the vacant cubicles. ‘If I can make over four log cabins, I can bloody well go out there and humiliate myself for an hour, dressed like Kermit!’

I strode with what I hoped was a confident gait back around the corner and into the school hall again.

Blake was chatting to Mrs Stritch. On seeing her smile over at me, he turned. His dark eyes danced with amusement. He let out a gale of laughter. ‘Well, well. Look at you, Ms Grant.’

My plan had been to ignore him, but Blake was intent on enjoying himself and exacting revenge. His white teeth flashed through his Santa beard.

I tried not to fidget on the spot.

‘Nice legs,’ he whispered, sauntering past in his red jacket and trousers. ‘Even in those tights.’

My cheeks burned. Idiot!

Mrs Stritch guided us over to the opposite alcove on the other side of the hall, where pretty fairy lights and dangling streamers surrounded a high-backed chair, which was woven with gold tinsel. Beside that sat a large brown sack, bulging with wrapped presents for the school children.

‘We’re just going to play a couple of short party games and then start to bring the children through to you both in small groups,’ whispered Mrs Stritch. ‘We won’t be long.’

Blake flicked out his wig and arranged himself on his ‘throne’.

I stood to the left of him, grinding my teeth. Something told me he might be beginning to enjoy himself – at my expense.

‘Having fun?’ he twinkled, turning round to look up at me.

‘Absolutely. It will be great. I love doing this sort of thing. Very rewarding.’

He appraised me from head to toe. ‘I’m actually pleased now that you talked me into doing this.’ His lips twitched through the trailing false beard. ‘Are you always so persuasive?’

My cheeks now matched the ridiculous red stripes on my tights. I clapped my hands together and ignored his comment. ‘I can’t wait to see the kids’ faces.’

One of Blake’s brows rose up to the hairline of his white wig. ‘Yes, their faces are bound to be a study when they see you.’

I scowled at him from under my elf hat. A couple of moments later, the first of the children, guided through by a couple of teachers, appeared in Santa’s grotto.

I stepped forward and ushered them in, with an enthusiastic smile and a ‘Merry Christmas!’

Blake took one look at the expectant round little faces of the children. I heard him clear this throat. He angled himself round. There was a flicker of panic in his dark eyes.

The children gawped up at him and then at each other. There was a stony silence.

I expected Blake to say something, but it was like he had developed a bout of stage fright. He opened and closed his mouth.