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Alec caught sight of her panicked face. He leaned over Finlay. ‘Where exactly are you going?’
‘Scotland.’ It was all she knew.
Alec didn’t even bat an eyelid, he just shouted other instructions to some of the kitchen staff. ‘Louis, find two large flasks and fill them with the soups.’
Finlay still seemed oblivious as he crunched on a cracker. ‘What are the soups?’
Alec didn’t even glance in his direction; he was scribbling on a piece of paper. ‘Celeriac with fresh thyme and truffle oil, and butternut squash, smoked garlic and bacon.’
A wide smile spread across Finlay’s face. ‘Fantastic.’
Ridley appeared anxiously with the hamper already half filled and looked at the stack of food on the counter. He started moving things between the hamper and cool box.
‘Christmas pudding,’ said Finlay. ‘We need Christmas pudding.’ Ridley glanced over at Alec, who let out a huge sigh and turned and put one hand on his hip and thrust the other towards Finlay.
Finlay frowned as he took the piece of paper. Alec raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s instructions on how to cook the turkey that’s just about to go in your cool box.’ He gave Grace a little smile, ‘I’d hate it if you gave the lovely lady food poisoning.’
Finlay blinked then stuffed the paper into the pocket of his long black wool coat. ‘Great. Thanks.’
Louis appeared with the soup flasks and some wrapped bread.
‘We’ll grab the wine on the way past. Is there anything else you want, Grace?’
She shook her head. Had she actually agreed to go to Scotland with Finlay? She couldn’t quite remember saying those words. But somehow the dark cloud that had settled over her head for the last day seemed to have moved off to the side. Her stomach was churning with excitement. Finlay seemed invigorated.
A Christmas with real snow? It would only be a day—or two. He was sure to want to get back to work straight away. And the thought of a helicopter ride...
‘Grace, are we ready?’ He had the hamper in one hand and the cool box in the other.
She nodded.
It seemed as though she blinked and the chauffeur-driven car pulled up outside her flat. Her hand hesitated next to the door handle. This part of London was nowhere near as plush as Chelsea. She felt a little embarrassed to show Finlay her humble abode.
But his phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. She slid out of the car. ‘I’ll be five minutes.’
He nodded as he answered the call and then put his hand over the phone. ‘Grace?’
She leaned back in. ‘What?’
He winked. ‘Bring layers.’
She was like a whirlwind. Throwing things into a small overnight case, grabbing make-up and toiletries and flicking all the switches off in the house. She flung off her clothes and pulled on a pair of jeans, thin T-shirt, jumper and some thick black boots. The pink coat was a must. He’d bought it for her and it was the warmest thing that she owned.
She grabbed her hat, scarf and gloves and picked up the bag.
Then stopped to catch her breath.
She turned around and looked inside at the dark flat. The place she’d lived happily with her grandmother for years. This morning she’d been crying when she left, dreading coming home tonight. Now, the situation had turned around so quickly she didn’t know which way was up.
The air was still in the flat, echoing the emptiness she felt there now. ‘Love you, Gran,’ she whispered into the dark room. ‘Merry Christmas.’
She closed the door behind her. This was about to become the most unusual Christmas ever.
* * *
Grace squealed when she saw the helicopter and took so many steps backwards that he thought she might refuse to fly. He put his arm around her waist. ‘Come on, it’s fine. It’s just noisy.’
Her steps were hesitant, but he knew once she got inside she would be fine. The helicopter took off in the dark night, criss-crossing the bright lights of London and heading up towards Scotland.
Once she’d got over the initial fear of being in the helicopter Grace couldn’t stop talking. ‘How fast does this thing go? Do we need to stop anywhere? How long will it take us to get there?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And where is there? My geography isn’t great. Whereabouts in Scotland are we going?’
He laughed at the barrage of questions. ‘We need to fly around three hundred and eighty miles. Yes, we’ll need to stop to refuel somewhere and it’ll take a good few hours. So, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.’
Grace pressed her nose up next to the window for a minute. But she couldn’t stop talking. It was clear she was too excited. ‘Where are we going to stay? Will your family be there? Can I decorate again, or will they already have all the decorations up?’
