Page 8 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

Mum agreed that sounded like a better idea.

She surveyed me, sympathy swimming in her eyes. ‘Right, young lady. You need to take a break and forget about things for a bit.’

I rolled my eyes. That was easier said than done.

Mum encouraged me through to the kitchen.’ I’ll make us something to eat and we can have a good natter.’

I pulled a face and stood up. ‘Sorry, Mum, but I’m not very hungry.’

She frowned at me. ‘That’s as may be, but you need to keep your strength up.’ When I didn’t answer, she gave me a nudge with her shoulder. ‘We can have dinner and come up with an action plan for you.’

‘Listen to you.’ I managed to smile, even though my insides felt like mush. ‘An action plan, eh?’

‘You know what I mean. Another job won’t come to you. You’ll have to go out there and find it.’

The very thought of it made my stomach roll. The initial shock was beginning to give way to cold, frightening truth. From going-to-be-a-business-owner to unemployed in a matter of hours.

No more cosy Christmas Crackers to go into every morning. No more being surrounded by festive frivolity every day of the year. What I had created washed away just like that.

I followed Mum into her kitchen, with its heavy farmhouse-style table and chairs and the blond wood cabinet fittings that Dad had been instrumental in erecting. I tried not to stare around the space. There were echoes of him everywhere.

I noticed Mum still kept his coffee mug with his name on it, sitting out by the kettle. ‘Well, you need to be proactive. Get your CV out there.’ She rummaged around in her freezer and produced two fat slices of haddock.

‘I will do. I have no other choice, do I?’

She swung round to face me. ‘I want you to promise me something, Lottie.’ She took both of my hands in hers. ‘Don’t let me hold you back.’

‘What? You don’t. You never have.’

She squeezed my fingers between hers. ‘There’s every chance you’ll have to move further afield for another job. Let’s be honest. There isn’t usually an abundance of vacancies in Craig Brae.’

I appreciated her soft smile and the mistiness in her green-flecked wide-set eyes. ‘Mum, you never hold me back.’ I gave both her hands a playful shake up and down. ‘I don’t want you to worry, ok? Everything will sort itself out.’

Her smile drooped again.

She took a breath and composed herself. ‘I mean it though, sweetheart. If a good opportunity comes up away from Craig Brae, I don’t want you to think twice. I want you to take it.’

‘Mum…’

‘Promise me.’

I let out a frustrated sigh and didn’t say anything.

‘Lottie Grant!’

‘Ok. Ok. I promise.’

‘Good.’

I reached for the cutlery drawer and began to set the kitchen table for two.

Mum wrapped the slices of fish in foil and drizzled them with lemon juice. She set her shoulders. ‘Right. Enough maudlin talk. Let’s make this Christmas a special one. Last year, well, I just wasn’t in a good place.’

I nodded, my throat constricting. I dumped down the cutlery and bundled Mum into my arms. ‘This will be our second Christmas without Dad, but we will make it one to remember for him.’

Her expression melted with memories. ‘Yes. We will.’ She gazed up at me, probably seeing the echo of my dad in my features. ‘He was just like you. Christmas obsessed. He would have had our tree up in July, if he’d thought he could have got away with it.’

A watery smile appeared on my face, thinking of him rigging up the Christmas lights with a huge, excited grin; his cracker party hat on his head at a rakish angle; him pretending to be Father Christmas one year when I was little and almost tripping over next door’s cat. He had been like a big, affectionate bear. ‘We’ll have a Christmas to remember, Mum. Whatever you want to do, we will do it.’