Page 93 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

“I promise,” said Amber. “But this is so exciting!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The journey back home was an odd affair.

Normally, I would’ve been excited at the prospect of a few days off, relaxing in the warm and cosy festive surroundings of my old family home. But without Marcus, it wouldn’t be the same.

As I drove along the network of quiet country roads, which were bursting with holly, ivy, and glistening berries that the blackbirds were busy feasting on, my thoughts flicked from my brother to Zach.

What would he be doing on Christmas Day? Would he be spending the day with someone special? Family members or … someone else?

I refused to expend any more energy thinking about him. I was sure he wasn’t thinking about me half as much as I kept thinking about him. If someone could walk away like that and refuse to talk to me about it… I didn’t want to be with someone like that anyway.

And to think I’d started to believe there was something growing between us. Yeah, fungus, snorted my head.

The car radio was blaring upbeat Christmas tunes and although I wanted to switch it off, the empty silence would’ve been even worse. I was just relieved to arrive home before the snow started to coat everything in ethereal dustings of white.

Mum and Dad tried to jolly me along, but we were all upset by the absence of Marcus. When Mum was out of earshot, Dad pulled me aside.

“Marcus definitely isn’t coming for Christmas,” he said with a grim look. “I managed to get hold of Anthony, that chap he plays squash with.”

It wasn’t a surprise, but disappointment still kicked me in the stomach. “Marcus won’t be on his own, will he, Dad? I couldn’t bear it.”

“No, he won’t be alone. Apparently, he’s decided to go away with a couple of friends to a rented cottage up by Inverness.”

I began to fiddle with one of the white ribbons on the nearby tree. “But Dad, Marcus doesn’t know the whole story. If only⁠—”

Dad gently took my upper arms in his hands. “Marcus is hurting, darling. Give your brother time and he’ll come around. Then the three of us can talk to him and explain, ok?”

I gazed up at my dad and sighed. He was like a cooling breeze on a blistering hot day. “Yes. I suppose so.”

But the next day, Christmas Day, carried on in the same anti-climactic way, with me, Mum and Dad sharing tales about past Christmases, Dad regaling us with stories from the golf club and Mum trying to interrogate me about Ezra, while flapping over Ezra’s party. I just missed Marcus.

The roast turkey lunch was delicious, but once Mum had indulged in one too many glasses of Moët, her tongue loosened.

“I wish I’d seen through Declan and all that Irish charm. I wish I hadn’t taken him at his word. Then you wouldn’t have run away from here and your duties.”

“I didn’t run away, Mum. I wanted a new start, away from everything.” I eyed her across the expanse of sitting room. “And as for my duties, I have a duty to myself. To my own happiness.”

“What did I do to deserve such feckless nearly-weds for my children?” growled Mum to herself. “Neither of you can be trusted to make good choices.”

“Vanessa,” warned Dad.

“Oh, it’s true, Henry,” she scoffed, gulping another mouthful, as the fresh logs in the fire grate spat and crackled amongst the flames. “We knew Anastasia was making a mistake, but we did nothing to stop it.”

Dad made us both jump by banging his glass down on the coffee table.

“Just stop this, for Christ’s sake! It’s upsetting at the best of times, but not on sodding Christmas Day!” My mum stared up at him in shock over the top of her glass. “For heaven’s sake, Ness! I thought we were trying to put all that behind us, not drag everything up again. I know our daughter is.”

But before Mum could reply, I’d already leapt up from the sofa and strode off to fetch my hat, coat, and scarf from the cloakroom.

I needed to escape into the gardens for a walk.

If Marcus had been here, he would’ve been my ally. We would’ve been too busy laughing and gossiping to take any notice of our mother’s alcohol-induced psychotherapy.

It was a relief to get away from the family tension. I realised how much I liked the life I had built for myself, on my own terms, out of their sphere of toxic influence.

I huddled deeper into my winter coat and reached inside one of the pockets for my mobile phone. The mid-afternoon light was growing tired already and there was an icy hush.