Page 4 of Winter Magic at Hollybrae Castle

He drags a hand through his hair, stuttering as he tries to find the right words. ‘No, I mean, you’d be perfect. You’re the answer I’ve been looking for without realising what I was looking for.’

‘I think it’s time I ended this video call. Goodby⁠—’

‘Don’t, please.’ He puts both hands up like he can somehow stop me through the laptop screen. ‘I’ve got myself into a situation and talking to you is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve got a chance of getting out of it. Hear me out, please?’

I’m intrigued enough to hover over the ‘leave meeting’ button on the Zoom call without actually pressing it.

So far, Oliver has complimented my portfolio and given me a run-down of the castle he owns in Scotland, and how he’s got important visitors staying for Christmas and needs it decorated for the season, and I’ve had the sense that there was something he wasn’t saying, and this makes me realise I’m right. This is exactly what people warn you about when it comes to strangers on the internet. ‘Go on…’

I’m annoyed with myself for being as intrigued as I am, but his Scottish accent is doing something to my power of rational thinking and I wouldn’t mind listening to it for a bit longer, even if it is while he explains some bizarre plot that would undoubtedly end with me dead in a ditch if I was to go along with it.

‘Okay, so…’ He takes a deep breath and a nervous smile flashes across his handsome face. ‘The people coming to stay are my bosses. I’m an investment accountant, I’m on track for a huge promotion at work, and I may have done something irrevocably stupid.’

Well, we’ve all been there, haven’t we?

He hesitates, like he’s expecting me to end the call, and only continues when, for reasons unknown even to myself, it seems like I’m not going to. ‘I work for Galligan & Brenton – they’re a family-run firm who place a huge emphasis on family values, and when I interviewed for the job, I realised how much I didn’t fit in with that manifesto, and I might have accidentally told them I was married with children, and I might have accidentally been maintaining that ruse for the past few years. Usually, it’s fine. I have plenty of excuses ready for why my “wife” can’t attend company events.’ He pauses again to do the inverted quotes, and he seems flustered enough that I feel a bit sorry for him.

‘Usually, the company takes all employees away for Christmas; however, the guy who arranges it was off this year and the responsibility was passed on to me. I was so pleased about this show of faith in me and overjoyed to get a really good deal on the flights that I failed to double-check one key detail – the year. I accidentally booked this year’s company Christmas getaway for next Christmas. I proudly presented my booking in a company meeting and when my colleague who thinks he’s better than everyone else smugly pointed out the date, I went to pieces. I panicked. Completely. I didn’t know what to do or how to get out of it, so I pretended that the airline had messed up and accidentally invited them all to spend this Christmas at the castle. So long story short, my bosses and their families are coming here to stay with me and my wife and kids… who don’t exist.’

‘So this is not about decorating the castle at all?’

‘Oh, no, it absolutely is. The castle needs to be decorated to within an inch of its life. Every centimetre of it needs to sparkle. I need these people to have the best Christmas they’ve ever had. A storybook Christmas. A Christmas that’s straight out of a festive film, but not one of those ones with Chevy Chase where everything goes wrong. I’ve got a huge promotion depending on this, and if they find out I’ve been lying for years, I’m doomed. Well, I’m fired, and the castle is doomed, because without that promotion, I can’t afford the upkeep it needs.’

Every atom in my body is screaming at me to close the laptop lid, but I can’t ignore the pull I feel, like there’s something inside me that sympathises with him. This is exactly the sort of situation I’d get myself into as well. And I can’t ignore the fact that there really is something about him. Firstly, he’s gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that would have women queuing up to marry him, fake or otherwise, but it’s more than that. He’s well-dressed, well-spoken, and eloquent. And that accent… His accent is to die for. It’s easy to lose track of the conversation because I’m so caught up in listening to his voice that I’m not focusing on what he’s saying.

‘Well, what do you usually do for Christmas?’

‘I go away with the firm and tell them my wife has taken the kids to visit her family in England.’

‘Can’t you just do that again?’

He hesitates. ‘I could, that was my first plan, but I’ve overheard a few whisperings in the office about finally meeting my family, and I’ve got a feeling that’s not going to cut it this time. This is not just about Christmas – this is about a promotion that’s going to change my life. If they don’t meet my wife and kids this time, they’re going to choose the aforementioned smug colleague who actually does have a wife and a couple of perfect children. His family are my other visitors this year.’

I make a noise of sympathy. ‘I’ve had a few colleagues like that too.’

He scrubs a hand over his red face. ‘I have no excuse. I am a mess of a human being and I need help. And you… you’re…’

…perfect. The word appears in my head. After such a bad couple of days, it’s a good word to hear. It’s been a long time since anyone thought that about me. Even coming from a stranger, it’s nice.

‘You’re exactly the kind of person I could imagine being married to. You’re easy to talk to – evidently, because believe it or not, I didn’t intend to spill all this out to a stranger on a video call – and if you’re going to decorate the castle, then you’d be here anyway. You’d just need to stay a few extra days… and let a few people think we’ve been married for the last five years.’

‘Well, what about…’ I struggle for the right words. I shouldn’t even be entertaining this, but there’s a part of me that wants to help him, even though it’s ludicrous and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve lost my grip on reality over the course of this conversation. Have I been hypnotised by his gorgeous voice and endearing blue eyes? ‘Do you have children?’

‘No, but I can borrow some.’

I don’t mean to find it funny, but how simply he says such an abnormal sentence catches me off guard and I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up. ‘Sorry, but the absurdity of that sentence in any other context…’

It sets me off into one of those giggles where the harder you try to stop it, the more you end up laughing, and he laughs too. A deep chuckle that sounds like a burst of relief, like he’s grateful that someone sees the funny side, and I feel something. A sense of camaraderie with this man. An understanding. Someone who’s told a little white lie that’s grown bigger than he expected it to, and who hasn’t done that at some point or other?

But I also feel that he’d understand me. I’ve dressed up for the video call even though he can only see from my shoulders up. Done my hair and put make-up on, even though I’d rather still be hiding under my duvet, and despite his just-finished-work look, I get the sense that he wouldn’t have judged me even if I had put the camera on while still wrapped in my duvet.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says when we’ve both got ourselves under control. ‘I know how this must sound, honestly I do… no, actually I don’t, because I’ve never admitted it out loud to anyone before, but I can imagine how ridiculous it sounds. I’m not a weirdo, I promise… although I guess that’s what all weirdos would say.’

‘I don’t know, I don’t think true weirdos have weirdo-dom on their radar so maybe that’s enough to set you apart…’ I’m trying to stamp down the giggles that want to erupt again.

I’m not going to agree to be the pretend wife of an internet stranger, obviously, but I believe him. He seems earnest and embarrassed and we’re in an oddly similar situation. I screwed up at work too. I go to pieces in front of my boss too. I’ve never pretended to be married with children, but I definitely embellished my CV to get the job at Calloways, and it’s not an entirely different thing. Like embellishing your private life instead of your professional history, and surely everyone has inflated their CV a little bit here and there?

‘I’ll make it worth your time. Whatever your current hourly rate is, I’ll match it on a twenty-four-hour-a-day basis.’