Chapter 3
Rose and Alastair exited the train together.
“May I help you with one of those?” Alastair asked, indicating Rose’s suitcases and then, in contrast, his small holdall.
“Thank you,” she answered gratefully. She did have a lot of luggage, but she was going to be in Scotland for three and a half weeks, and she’d heard it could get pretty cold. She’d packed every jumper and pair of tights she owned as well as some smart trousers and shirts for when she was in ‘work mode’ . . .
“There’s a taxi waiting for us on Market Street,” Alastair said, checking his phone. “It’s this way.”
Rose followed his lead through the station and out into the grey, drizzly December afternoon. She took in as much as she could of the city as they walked in silence to a black Ford Galaxy with a small woman who looked to be in her fifties standing beside it. “Duncan?”
Alastair nodded.
“The boot’s open,” the woman said, getting into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks.” Alastair opened the back of the car to put his own bag in before slotting the first of Rose’s cases in alongside it. He relieved her of her second case. “Would you like to go in the front?” he asked, courteously.
“I’ll be fine in the back.”
“Okay, the doors are unlocked.”
“Hi, I’m Louise,” said the woman as Rose climbed into the car.
“I’m Rose. Good to meet you.”
Alastair climbed into the front passenger seat. He was so tall he looked all scrunched up.
Rose wished she’d thought to sit behind Louise, who was far smaller.
“You can move your seat back a bit if you like,” she said, “I’ve got plenty of room.”
“Thank you. I’m fine though. You know where we’re going?” he checked with Louise.
“Yes. Looks like it’ll take about an hour to get to the estate.” Louise started the car.
“That’s right. It’s south of Peebles.” Alastair took out his phone.
Alastair was working and Louise was silent so Rose watched the changes in the landscape, enjoying seeing the city dissolve into countryside.
She felt her eyes close and tried to resist but failed.
* * *
“Rose? Rose, it’s time to wake up.” It was Alastair’s voice.
Rose jolted awake. They’d stopped moving and Alastair was holding open the car door. Her stomach sank. How embarrassing. She surreptitiously wiped the back of her hand across her face in case she’d dribbled. It seemed she was in the clear.
“There are a few things I need to do before dinner,” Alastair explained, a smile threatening the corners of his lips. “My housekeeper will show you to your room and answer any questions.”
“I’m staying in your house?” said Rose, getting out of the car. It had got dark since they’d left Edinburgh behind and there was a chill breeze which made her shiver.
“Yes, didn’t I mention that?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“And Mairi didn’t either?”
“Nope.”
“Oh. I apologise. I assumed you’d be given this information. A large part of your workload will involve the house. I tend to work from home when I can, rather than from my office, so it made sense to have you based here. As you can see, we have plenty of room.”
“You certainly do.” Rose’s eyes widened at the large building before her. She hadn’t found photos of his actual house in her googling. It should have been obvious that his home would be impressive, but . . . wow. The sixteenth-century building was three storeys high and draped in ivy with numerous chimneys on its roof. There was a single storey addition on its left. Light shone through the windows on either side of the doors, but most of the other windows were in darkness. She gave up trying to count them all.
“Would you rather I found you alternative accommodation? We have some cottages on the estate, but the couple that aren’t inhabited are in need of work and—”
“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” said Rose. “It’s not a problem. I was just surprised. As you say, it looks like there’s plenty of room.”
“You’re quite sure?” asked Alastair, poised by the open boot of the taxi.
“Absolutely.” Rose sounded far more certain than she felt. Would it be really awkward to be living with her boss? But it wasn’t like they’d be stuck in a tiny house together . . .
The air smelt fresh and clean as Rose turned her attention back to Alastair’s home. She wished it was earlier in the day and that she could see it clearly. The house appeared to be very remote. From what she could make out, only countryside surrounded it.
She couldn’t begin to imagine having a house like this for your home.
Alastair thanked and paid the driver. A small, late middle-aged woman with grey hair and an apron around her waist came out of the house as the taxi headed off back down the drive to the road.
“Mrs Reed, this is Rose, our Christmas events organiser. Rose, this is Mrs Reed. I’ll leave you in her very capable hands.”
With introductions complete, he left them and walked to the house, going inside through the slightly imposing double doors and closing them behind him.
“Hello,” said Rose to Mrs Reed shyly.
“Welcome, Rose. It’s lovely to meet you. Let me take a case for you.”
The front door opened and two black Labradors bounded excitedly out to make their greetings. Behind them came a very tall girl with long dark hair — she looked around eleven or twelve years old. The group was joined by another dog who came running from around the back of the house. Relief flooded through Rose at the knowledge that of course there were other people also living there.
Rose bent down to pet the dogs and was surprised to find the friendliest animal, and the one being the most demanding of her attention, had little horns — and was actually a small white goat.
Seeing her surprise, Mrs Reed sighed good-naturedly and said, “Yes, he’s a goat. His name’s Houdini because he escapes from wherever you put him. I’m not sure how he got out from his pasture now.”
“He’s my goat,” said the girl, reaching the group. “And of course, he wanted to say hello. I bottle-fed him when his mother wouldn’t accept him. Now he thinks he’s one of the dogs,” she explained, with a laugh. “Mrs Reed loves him really.”
“Oh, do I?” responded Mrs Reed.
“Yes,” confirmed the girl. “He’s not allowed to live in the house so he’s always escaping and coming to find me.”
“He’s not allowed in the house because he destroys everything and he should be with other goats.”
“He’d rather be in my room with me,” muttered the girl.
Rose remembered from her research that one of Alastair’s businesses was run from the estate itself. He kept goats whose wool was spun and dyed and made into socks, hats and gloves which were, according to the reviews on the website, very warm and comfortable, as well as pretty pricey.
“Your father had a special shed made for him,” Mrs Reed pointed out.
“Houdini hates being all by himself in a cold shed!”
The goat gave a bleat of agreement before wandering off to join the dogs who were sniffing around a large pot with some sort of ornamental tree in it.
“Your father looks after all his animals impeccably, as you well know. He’s not cold!”
“He might be lonely though.”
“You know he can go and be with the other goats if he wants to. It’s just he thinks he’s better than them. Which is why he has his own little paddock for when he’s being annoying.”
“He is better than them,” the girl retorted.
Mrs Reed didn’t appear to have an answer for this. She turned back to Rose and said, “Apologies, Rose, this is Mr Duncan’s wayward daughter, Isla.”
“Hello, Isla,” said Rose.
“Hello! Dad said you’re going to be organising Christmas for us!”
“That’s the idea.” Rose smiled at Isla’s excitement.
“Can I help? I’ve got loads of good ideas . . .”
“Now, Isla,” interrupted Mrs Reed, “Rose is going to have a lot to do for your father organising the Christmas events for his work. You’re not to get in her way.”
“Oh, I’m sure there are things you can help me with,” said Rose, kindly. She was rewarded with a big grin from Isla.
“I can show Rose where her room is if you like Mrs Reed,” said Isla. “I know you’re in the middle of cooking supper.”
“Thank you, that’s very helpful. Is that okay with you, Rose?”
“It’s fine with me,” Rose replied with a smile.
“Houdini needs to stay outside though,” said Mrs Reed, firmly. “Put him in his paddock and then you can help Rose take her bags to her room.”
Rose looked like she was going to argue, but presumably, the set of Mrs Reed’s mouth made her rethink.
“I’ll just be a minute,” said Isla to Rose, and she took hold of the collar around Houdini’s neck and led him away, muttering darkly to him about what a terrible lot he had in life.
Rose followed Mrs Reed into the house, them each carrying a suitcase, and into a large, double-storeyed entrance hall. “Why don’t you wait here for Isla? I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” Mrs Reed said, leaving the suitcase she held at the bottom of the beautiful central staircase. She headed off, presumably towards the kitchen, followed by the dogs.
Rose looked around the space, beginning to envisage how she would decorate it. It was large and elegant with pale walls, heavy with ornate cornicing and large portraits of very serious-looking people. A pair of antlers hung over the front doors. Somehow it didn’t feel imposing. Maybe it was the little touches like the pair of shoes left by the door that made it feel a home rather than a laird’s manor house.
The events she’d previously helped to decorate for had been in large halls or marquees, not divided up like the rooms in this house. She’d need a theme she could carry through all the rooms.
The front doors reopened and Isla walked in. “Houdini’s in his shed,” she said. “Let me show you to your room first. It’s really nice. The windows look out over the drive so you can see anyone arriving.”
“Thank you,” said Rose.
She followed Isla up the wide central staircase, the luggage divided up between them. At the top of the stairs, they turned right and continued down a corridor lined with panelled doorways. Isla stopped at the third doorway on the left and opened the door.
“Here we go,” she said, turning the overhead light on and throwing her arms out dramatically.
Rose stepped into the room. The bedroom was square and painted a pale, pale blue. Thick damask curtains in a darker blue hung at the huge bay window ― and there was an actual four-poster bed. There was an ornate pine dressing table against one wall and a large wardrobe against another. She thought servants were usually kept out of the way in the attic rooms. Rose giggled to herself.
“Do you like it?” asked Isla, anxiously, putting the suitcase she carried down by the bed. Rose placed the one she carried next to it.
“Of course, I do,” Rose said. “It’s gorgeous!”
“Good,” Isla said, smiling. “My dad’s bedroom is just across from yours if you need anything and the bathroom is down the corridor on the right.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like me to show you around the house?” Isla looked so hopeful, Rose couldn’t help but say yes even if she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed and could honestly do with some time to decompress.
“Let me take you to my room first.” Isla led Rose back to the staircase and they continued to the corridor on the other side of the house. Isla’s bedroom was similar in size to Rose’s but with wallpaper dotted with tiny flowers. It also looked out over the front of the house. It was extremely pink and girly.
“What do you think? Isn’t it cool?” Isla asked.
“It’s amazing!” said Rose, honestly. “This would have been my dream bedroom when I was your age.”
Rose was shown the bathroom she would use and they returned downstairs and said goodbye to Mrs Reed who was leaving for the day.
As it was already dark, Isla couldn’t give Rose a tour outside, but she took her around the downstairs of the house. It was beautiful; full of fireplaces and big squishy armchairs with thick rugs on the floor and cosy corners perfect for reading in. Rose tried to take in as many of the ornate details as she could as they walked and chatted and continued her earlier planning of how she could decorate the place. The high ceilings gave her lots of scope and she was determined to make use of the picture rails which ran around a lot of the rooms. A huge tree in the entrance hall would be the first thing she’d focus on.
The house was undoubtedly large and grand but not ridiculously so. She knew she could make it feel homely and cosy for the festive season.
Isla was showing Rose the impressive library with its perfect mahogany shelving and actual rolling ladder when Alastair, now dressed in jeans and a thick wool jumper, came to find them. He put an arm around his daughter and kissed her on the head.
“Are you two ready for dinner?” he asked. “Mrs Reed said it would be done around now.”
“I’m starving,” said Isla.
“Come on then,” replied her dad.
She’d be eating with the family then, Rose realised with surprise.
Rose followed behind the pair, watching how easy they were with each other. She’d never known her father. He hadn’t been interested when her mother told him she was pregnant, to the extent that he then disappeared and neither of them ever heard from him again.
She’d honestly never felt the loss; her mum had been a great enough parent that she’d never needed anyone else. But it was fascinating to her to see this young girl so comfortable with her father, who clearly adored her and, for possibly the first time, Rose wondered if she’d actually missed out on something.
She didn’t like to ask where Isla’s mother was; no one else had mentioned her so far. Maybe she was working late or was away for the weekend. Or maybe she’d be joining them for dinner and just hadn’t been introduced yet.
That theory was put to rest when they went into the substantial country-style kitchen and Isla began laying the large scrubbed pine table for the three of them while her father pulled a tray of roasted broccoli out of the oven. Rose was surprised; she’d imagined they’d eat in the rather grand dining room and had been a little intimidated by the idea.
Rose felt like a third wheel watching the pair work together so seamlessly and was grateful when Alastair asked if she could fill a jug up with water and fetch some glasses from the cupboard.
The cottage pie and roasted broccoli that was served up a few minutes later were delicious.
“Isn’t Mrs Reed a great cook?” asked Isla in between mouthfuls.
“She certainly is,” said Rose with a smile.
“She’s been with us since before I was born,” continued Isla.
“You’re very lucky to have her,” said Rose.
“Have you got everything ready for school tomorrow?” Alastair asked his daughter.
“Yes, Dad. My bag’s all packed.”
“And your sports bag? You’ve got football tomorrow, haven’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Any problems with your homework?”
“I struggled a bit with some chemistry, but I sorted it.”
“Do you want to go over it with me?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
They finished eating and loaded the dirty things into the dishwasher.
“We usually make popcorn on Sunday evenings and watch a movie. Would you like to join us?” asked Isla.
“Oh, that’s really nice of you . . .” began Rose. She couldn’t invade their special family time any more than she already had. She’d never imagined that she’d be eating dinner with just Alastair and his daughter and that had felt awkward enough without her joining them for their family movie night.
Alastair swooped in to save the situation. “Rose is probably tired after her long trip. Why don’t we let her have some time to herself, eh?”
Isla looked disappointed but Rose quickly said, “I am tired — but I’ll definitely need your input into how to decorate the house when you get home from school tomorrow.”
Isla’s face lit up. “I have loads of ideas!” she gushed.
“We’re not having a giant inflatable snowman outside the front door,” Alastair said, mock sternly. “We’ve discussed this before.”
“Oh,” Rose said, pretending to sound disappointed, “but that was going to be the centrepiece of my designs!” She grinned, making Alastair smile. He looked quite stern a lot of the time, but when he smiled his whole face relaxed.
“That would be amazing,” said Isla, laughing. “But I think my dad would stick a pin in that snowman as soon as he saw it.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Rose. “I’ll head up to my room and unpack a bit before an early night, I think. Thank you for dinner.”
“Our pleasure,” Isla said, politely. “It’s going to be so fun having you here.” She came over and gave Rose a hug and Isla felt her heart melt.
“Good night,” Rose said.
“Good night,” replied Alastair and Isla in unison.
“I’m going to choose the movie,” Isla said to her father, heading out of the kitchen.
“Is there anything you need before you head up?” Alastair asked Rose. “Please feel free to use the kitchen whenever you want, and let Mrs Reed know if there’s anything you’d like got in for you. Tea and coffee are over here.” He showed her the cupboard above the kettle. “Would you like a drink now? I’m going to make myself some tea.”
“Sure, that would be nice.”
“Camomile or regular?”
“Camomile, please.”
Rose stood awkwardly while Alastair filled the kettle and put it on and was grateful when he broke the silence by saying, “Isla seems to really like you.”
“I’m glad. I like her too. She seems like a great kid.”
“She is, though she’s twelve going on fifteen . . . do let Mrs Reed or me know if she’s getting in your way.”
“I’m sure she’ll be a great help.”
Alastair gave a little snort as he put teabags in two mugs and added hot water before handing one to Rose, handle first.
“Thank you. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yes. How about we meet at nine in the library so we can go over stuff and you can get started?”
“Sounds good.”
“Oh, and Rose?” Alastair said, as she headed out of the door. “The house can get quite cold at night. There are plenty of extra blankets in the trunk at the end of your bed.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then.”