Page 57 of Winter Magic at Hollybrae Castle

‘I have no idea, but they seemed happy.’ He leans even closer so he can whisper into my ear. ‘I hate golf. I’ve been pretending for years but I still have no idea what I’m doing. I hit the ball and wait for their reaction to tell me whether I’ve done it well or not.’

‘Oh, Ollie.’ I scrunch my nose in sympathy. Every part of his working life is a lie, from the big things to the small and seemingly insignificant things. ‘Tell me one thing your bosses know about you that’s actually true?’

‘My name?’ he says with a shrug.

And even that’s not true, is it? Oliver at work, Ollie at home. I’m becoming more and more convinced that’s a choice to keep some part of himself separate from what he does, otherwise his job would swallow him completely.

I think about telling him what the wives said about his likelihood for the promotion, but when I go to say it, the words get stuck in my throat, and Hamish bustles in before I can work out how to say them.

Ollie and I spring apart like we’ve been caught doing something illicit, and Hamish’s look addresses the elephant in the very small room: why are you still pretending when no one’s watching?

19

‘This is exactly what the castle should be like.’ Nancy’s wide smile is contagious as she sings Christmas songs while my mum and I help with the Christmas Eve dinner prep. ‘Glowing with festive cheer, and filled with happiness. People chatting and laughing, just like when Ollie’s parents used to host lavish dinner parties and have friends and families over. It was never quiet at Christmas, and it’s been too quiet ever since. It’s a joy to see it so full of people, noise, and life again. It hasn’t had this much merriment in years, and everyone’s having a wonderful time.’

‘Of course they are. Look at how much preparation Ollie’s put in to ensure they would.’

‘Oh, I don’t think it was just about them.’ She gives me a knowing look. ‘He’d forgotten what the castle could be. I think you’ve reminded him of a few things he’d forgotten lately. I’ve a feeling this Christmas is exactly what he needed. I might be an old Scottish bat, but my feelings are never wrong!’

Mum cosies up to her conspiratorially. ‘I think it might be exactly what Lula needed too.’

‘I am listening, you know!’ I say, even though it warms me to my core, and I hate to admit that she might be very right indeed.

We all share a Christmas Eve dinner in the dining hall, and afterwards, Hamish dresses up as Santa and sneaks past the windows while jingling bells for Rocco and Clint’s twins. The teenagers roll their eyes, and Maisie plays along with it even though she was quick to inform me that she and Rory are far too old to believe in Santa.

The little ones go to bed having put mince pies and carrots out for Santa and the reindeer, and Hamish has also volunteered to add some glittery reindeer hoofprints to the driveway later. While everyone is distracted with getting younger kids to bed and deciding on something to do – between arguing over the TV, reading, playing board games, or in the case of Dand, Halston, and Clint, being attached to their work laptops with a glass of Scotch whisky – I see an opportunity to escape for a moment and slip out the door.

The giant nutcracker watches from the doorway as I take my cup of tea and walk down to the gate and lean on the wall beside it, looking out at the hills of winter-browned ferns and the silhouette of mountains beyond.

It’s a rare night that’s cold and free of drizzle and cloud, and above me, I can see what is surely every star in the sky, glittering in unison, and it’s so quiet that I can almost hear the tinkling bells of every twinkle. If I was young enough to believe in Santa, I’m certain that I would see his sleigh fly across the sky at any moment.

I’m wearing the cream cardigan that Ollie lent me on my first day here and I breathe into it. It’s probably psychosomatic but I’m convinced it still smells of his aftershave, even though it’s been washed several times since then. I pull it tighter around myself, trying to memorise every moment, every feeling, every sight, every smell, because I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have spent December here, and I’m never going to spend Christmas Eve in such a magical place again.

I turn at a noise behind me, and I can’t ignore the thrill of butterflies that fill me when I see Ollie step out of the door.

Even in the darkness, I see the width of his smile and I raise a hand in greeting and turn back to the view as he comes down the driveway to join me.

‘I was hoping you’d be out here.’

‘You always say that.’

‘I always am hoping I’ll find you, wherever I go.’ He puts the cup of tea he’s holding down on the wall next to mine and slides his arms around me. His body moulds against mine from behind and he breathes a sigh of relief into my neck, like he’s been desperate to do that and I feel it too.

The five minutes in the cloakroom was the only moment we’ve had alone all day and I miss him, and I don’t want to think about what it means for the end of this. If I miss him with a castle full of people between us, how much am I going to miss him with five hundred miles between us?

I lose track of time as we stand there, doing nothing but relishing a hug from the best hugger I’ve ever met.

‘Just trying to appreciate it while I’m here,’ I murmur eventually. My voice comes out hoarse and quiet, like it’s the middle of the night and I’ve been asleep for hours.

‘Yeah, I haven’t done that in a while either. Appreciated it.’ He curls tighter around me and nuzzles into my neck, but I don’t think he wants anything more than comfort on a cold night after a busy day.

‘It feels like there’s magic in the air on Christmas Eve. Not the sleigh and reindeer type, just a time for making wishes and believing they’ll come true.’

‘What would you wish for?’ he whispers.

I don’t mean to answer without thinking about it, but I feel safe and warm in his arms and the words pop out before I can stop them. ‘To always feel as happy as I do right now.’

He makes a noise of yearning and my fingers tighten on his arm when he presses a kiss into my hair and stays with his chin resting there.