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I stand back to admit the Armstrongs, whoever they are, who are quickly followed by another three couples, none of whom I recognize, but all of whom congratulate me effusively on my engagement, before making themselves at home. In my house.
“Mum and Dad have friends everywhere,” whispers Rose, coming to join me as I stand nervously by the window, wondering what to do with my hands. “Even here. Can you believe it?”
By the time I see Dad’s car pull up outside, the house seems to be filled with strangers, and I’m feeling more out of place than ever. One man even mistakes me for a waitress — oh yeah, there are actualwaitresses, supplied by the caterers — and asks me to refill his drink. I’m so taken aback I don’t bother to correct him and just meekly go and get him a fresh glass.
And here was I thinking I was done being an impostor.
“Sorry we’re late, Emerald,” says Mum when I open the door to them. “Yer dad couldnae find his sporran. Why are ye dressed like a waitress?”
I try valiantly to hide my surprise as I hug Dad, who’s wearing full Highland dress. Mum, meanwhile, is resplendent in crimson, complete with a large, feathered hat, which she refuses to take off.
Like me, they have obviously not quite figured out the dress code for this event.
“I hope this is okay,” Mum says, smoothing down her dress nervously. “We dinnae want to let you down, Emerald, but I know we aren’t posh, like Jack’s family.”
“You’re not going to let me down,” I tell her firmly, wondering if I have time to run upstairs and change. “You both look great. And they’re not that posh, anyway.”
“Oh my God, is that akilt?” squeals Rose, appearing behind me and staring openly at Dad. “Did you book a bagpipe player, Emerald? What a brilliant idea.”
“Rose, this is my dad,” I say stiffly. “And you’ve already met my mum.”
“Oops, sorry,” Rose replies, giggling. “I thought you were in fancy dress. No offense.”
“I’ve brought some of my mint chicken,” says Mum, handing over a Tupperware container containing the neon-green meat she calls her ‘signature dish’. And a bottle of your dad’s home brew. You know we never like to come to a party empty-handed.”
“Gosh, how cute,” says Rose doubtfully, as I take the two offerings and tuck them self-consciously under my arm. I glare at the back of her head as we follow her into the living room, wishing I could shoot laser beams out of my eyes.
“Goodness, Emerald, if looks could kill, we’d all be lying here dead,” says Jack’s mum, coming forward to be introduced, her husband right behind her.
I wish.
“That’s just our Emerald’s face,” says Mum, blushing as she shakes hands with them both. “She took a long time to grow into herself.”
“Aye,” agrees Dad, stepping forward. “Ye should’ve seen her when she was a teenager. Old McTavish could’ve stood her in the back field tae scare away the birds. ‘Skin’ I used to call her. As in ‘skin and bones,’ ye ken?”
“Skin?” Kathryn looks at me, aghast. Rose sniggers loudly.
“Ruby. Archie,” says Jack warmly, appearing behind me and giving them both a hug. “Lovely to see you both. Great hat, Ruby. Come and have a seat. I’ll get you both something to drink.”
“That would be most welcome, Jack,” says Mum, trying to sound as “posh” as she evidently finds the Buchanans. “One would very much like a tiny G&T if one has it.”
“Er, coming up,” says Jack, looking confused. “Archie?”
“One’s self will take a wee dram,” says Dad. “That’s the best thing about having a distillery-owner for a son-in-law,” he adds, nudging Jack’s dad so hard he almost knocks him off his feet. “Ye can get blootered any time ye like, without havin’ tae put yer hand in yer pocket. Isn’t that right, Ernie?”
“Bertie,” I correct him, carefully avoiding Kathryn’s glare. I’ve never heard Dad use the word “blootered” in his life before; and every time Jack and I have gone anywhere with them, Dad’s always insisted on paying his way. But now here he is, roaring with laughter while acting like a freeloading drunkard, and I think it’s safe to say that the evening hasnotgot off to a good start for ‘Skin’ and co.
“I think they’re just really nervous,” I whisper to Jack, under the guise of helping him with the drinks. “You know they’re not normally like this at all.”
“I don’t see why they’d be nervous,” Jack replies. “It’s just my family. Anyone would think your mum and dad don’t want to be here.”
“It’s notjustyour family,” I point out. “It’s… well, all ofthesepeople, too. Whoever they are.”
I glance around the room, which is now filled to capacity, with guests spilling out into the hall. This is definitely not the ‘little get-together’ Kathryn led me to believe she was planning. I’m amazed she managed to pull it together so quickly, in fact.
Unless, of course, she’s been planning it since she got here, and just didn’t bother telling me?
“Sorry about that,” says Jack, looking sheepish. “When Mum said she wanted to have a few people over for drinks, I didn’t think she meant this many. I don’t think evensheknows half of them; she just thinks sheshould.”
