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Ten minutes later we’re sitting at a small table on the patio at the back of the house, looking out over the immaculately mown lawn, which sweeps all the way down to Loch Keld, and Jack’s private boat dock.
The sun has finally emerged from the clouds, Jack has opened yet another bottle of champagne, and it’s the picture-perfect “meet the parents” scenario.
Well, except for the fact that no one’s talking to me, obviously; not even my fiancé, who, aside from a muttered “We’ll talk about this later,” hasn’t said a word to me since that terrible scene back in the office, which makes my toes curl with embarrassment every time I think about it.
Leave it to me to introduce myself to my future in-laws by accusing them of hating me.
“Well, isn’t this wonderful?” says Jack’s dad, who looks a lot like a older, slightly more rumpled version of his son. “You’ve made an excellent job of the old place, my boy. I must say, I wasn’t expecting it to be so—”
“Civilized?” puts in his wife, raising a groomed eyebrow. “We had no idea what we were walking into, did we Bertie? Rose’s message said there were sheep wandering down the high street. Sheep!”
She gives a short, humorless laugh, and I look at her curiously. Unlike her husband, Kathryn Buchanan bears no resemblance to Jack at all. She looks a bit like Joanna Lumley, actually: all tall and (dyed) blonde, and sophisticated, in a way that would’ve made me feel instantly intimidated, even if our first meetinghadn’tbeen such an unmitigated disaster.
I can see where Rose gets it from.
“Oh, nonsense, Kate,” says Bertie good-humorously. “You know perfectly well that Rose exaggerates.”
Everyone laughs, and I twist my hands nervously in my lap, the brief mention of Rose and her messages threatening to send my mind spiraling into paranoia again.
The best thing I can do here is to say nothing at all. Just don’t speak. Because if I speak, I’ll say something stupid; and I’ve made myself look stupid enough already without—
“Emerald, my mother asked you a question; would it be too much to ask that you answer her?”
I look up at Jack, my bottom lip already starting to tremble ominously. He’s never spoken to me like that before; not in the entire time I’ve known him. Then again, he’s never been accused of lying to me, or being “involved in something dodgy” before either, so I guess this is a first for both of us.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice trembling. “I didn’t quite hear. What was the question again?”
“I was asking about your parents,” Kathryn says frostily, looking like there’s nothing she could possibly be less interested in. “Might we get to meet them soon? We should at least be introduced to them if they’re going to be marrying into the family. And I should hate to be accused of intentionally avoiding anyone else.”
She says it as if my parents are notorious social climbers whose application will have to be thoroughly vetted before they’ll be granted admission to the far superior Buchanan clan. Even though I’m supposed to be keeping quiet, and trying my best to make up for my earlier faux pas, I find myself having to bite back a suitably sarcastic retort to this. Maybe one about how she should have made the effort to come and meet us all sooner, if it was so important for her to approve us.
“Um, I suppose so,” I say, stumbling over even this short sentence. “They’re, er, very excited about the wedding. Mum’s bought a hat.”
“How charming.”
Kathryn’s tone makes it clear that this is quite possibly the least charming thing she’s ever heard of, and my next words — which were going to be about the bow tie Mum’s bought for Jude Paw, their poodle — die a short, but painful, death before I can utter them. It’s probably for the best.
“We’re very excited too,” says Jack’s dad, smiling at me kindly. I grin back, gratefully. Robert Buchanan — Bertie — is quite a bit older than his wife, and, from what I’ve seen so far, he’s quite a bit nicer, too. Which wouldn’t be hard, mind you, because Jack’s mum hates me. Even more than I currently hate myself; which is really saying something.
“Coo-ee! Where is everyone?”
Rose suddenly appears from around the corner of the house, treating us all to her signature shrieks of excitement as she launches herself at her parents. I take advantage of the commotion to try to catch Jack’s eye and mouth an apology at him for earlier, but he’s determinedly avoiding looking at me, in a way that makes my stomach sink with dread.
“What did you think of your surprise, Emerald?” Rose says, disentangling herself at last. “Wereyou surprised? You didn’t guess, did you? It wassohard trying to keep you at that weird little cafe place this morning while Jack picked the parentals up from the airport! I couldn’t believe it when the flights got changed last night at the last minute; it took me absolutely ages to re-book them!”
So that’s what she was doing at The Wildcat when I thought she was trying to stall me. And presumably what she was doing on her phone last night, too.
Okay, now I feelreallystupid.
“I was very, very surprised,” I say honestly, wishing I hadn’t accused her of being “a bit off” in front of her brother and parents earlier.
“We all were,” adds Kathryn in a tone that almost strikes me dead on the spot. “It was all most… surprising.”
“Oh, good,” says Rose, beaming. “I’m so pleased. I’ll have some of that, Jack.”
She reaches for the champagne bottle, which Jack pours for her, his face still looking like it’s been carved out of marble. I sip my drink nervously. If he was actually speaking to me right now, I would be counting this as our first proper argument. But instead, he studiously avoids me as he tops up everyone’s drinks, and I find myself wishing wewerearguing — at least it would be better than this stony silence, which is making the warm day feel unseasonably chilly.
