Page 55 of Scotlander

The two shared a smile that, even from his spot outside the fire circle, warmed Finn’s heart. They’d make their peace.

The conversation moved on to everyone’s favourite episodes and Finn’s gaze, once again drifted to Willa. A huge yawn and then another consumed her.

He slid on to the stump beside her. ‘You should head off to your bed.’ Finn nodded towards the stairwell leading up the hayloft. ‘We’ve got another busy day in store tomorrow.’

She stared at him for a moment, then up at the stairs, her eyes glassing over in a way that suggested she was barely able to grasp that she would have to move all the way from here to there.

He knew he’d face ridicule for what his gut was telling him to do but fuck it. It was his first and only fake wedding night. Not to mention it would annoy Trevor, so . . .

He scooped her up in his arms and began to head towards the stairs.

Behind him there were catcalls and whistles from the lads and sighs and requests for the same from a few of the women, apart from Fenella who warned Trevor if he touched her, she’d slap him.

‘They seem to be getting on well,’ Finn said to Willa as she sleepily slid her arms round his neck, nestling into the nook between his shoulder and neck as if she’d done it countless times before.

When he reached the top of the stairs and got the door open, more wolf-whistles rang out. As he entered the hayloft, he was struck anew by what a good job Orla had done. It was pure rural chic versus the epically messy storage room it had been a week ago. She’d worked hard to put this lark together. And she already worked hard before that. Cleaning jobs down the village, anything Dougie needed, the kids, her dad and she still, somehow, made room for the Amateur Dramatic society. Which did beg the question: why was she so driven to stay at Balcraigie Castle Farm when selling the place meant she could put her feet up?

He shoved the thought aside. Thinking about it opened the door to too many other questions he’d long since decided weren’t worth seeking answers for.

‘Are you going to tell me a bedtime story?’ Willa asked when he slipped her under the quilts, clothes and all, after he’d helped her tug her boots off.

‘If you like.’

He sat down on a hay bale and looked at her.

She looked so . . . unguarded. Her features soft and vulnerable in their openness. She was trusting him to be with her in her private space. ‘What would you like your story to be about?’

She snuggled deeper under the covers, eyes closed, forehead crinkling a bit as she thought and then, through a yawn said, ‘You.’

He snorted. ‘Oh, I’m sure there’s something far better. A fairy tale, perhaps?’

‘No.’ She gave him a few sleepy blinks. ‘Though it could be a fairy tale about you.’

He thought for a moment, aware there was a group of people no doubt timing his entrance and exit, then said, ‘Once upon a time, there was a grumpy farmer called Finlay who’d packed his bags and left his home in Inverness during what should have been his tattie holidays.’

‘What’s a tattie holiday?’ she asked through a yawn.

‘It’s the October school break.’ He explained how, back in the day, they used to stop school for two weeks so thousands of children across Scotland could go out into the fields and collect the potato harvest. By the time he finished, about a minute all told, she’d fallen asleep.

He pulled the quilt up and over her shoulders and gave it a soft pat. ‘Sleep well, ma cridhe,’ he whispered, then turned out her fairy lights and silently walked away.

Chapter Twenty

Aubrey Washington: Hey Willz. Do you know where my red blouse with the tiny flowers on it is? I need it for the set visit this afternoon. Jason likes red and I like Jason, you hear me?

Bryony Stokes: Willa? Bryony here. Thanks for the reminder on how to write a segment intro. Do you know anything about a red top for Aubrey? She’s convinced you know where it is, but it seems a bit below my pay grade to find it, so I’m thinking we just order some new ones in? Who authorizes budget for that sort of thing? #NoCashToSplash

Charlie Foster: Willa you sly dog. Taking a vacation in a Highlands spa are you? Is this because of the Bacon Incident? You definitely seemed a bit weird and don’t worry – I’ve confirmed with Ben you’re from Canada so there’s that problem solved. Who’s the new girl on the block? She seems verra verra shiny.

Bryony Stokes: Willa? What’s a running order and why do they keep asking for one for a show two weeks ahead of now? Isn’t news, like, new?

Aubrey Washington: Have replacement blouse, but cld you pls locate red top?

Bryony Stokes: I’ve used Dad’s card to get some curated tops in from my mom’s stylist. Aubrey’s gushing over them, so can you tell me where petty cash is? I only need a couple of k.

Charlie Foster: This ‘Bryony’ creature has snaffled herself a date with one of the supporting actors from today’s set visit. Watch your back, gurl! She’s got talons.

Priya Semple: Hey woman. Priya here. In a miraculous turn of events, I’ve got a window for lunch. Want to meet me at The Grove for some salad and goss? Also . . . who’s Bryony? I’m guessing she’s new at TiTs, but she doesn’t really seem to understand BOUNDARIES. I keep getting a lot of very strange calls from her. Biyeeeeeee. Xoxoxo