Chapter 4
When Rose came downstairs soon after eight the following morning, Isla was dressed in her navy-blue school uniform and just finishing off her breakfast. The kitchen was warm and smelt amazing, but Rose couldn’t help noticing that Houdini was under the table.
“Hi, Rose!” said Isla, her face lighting up at the sight of her new friend. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you, Isla.” Rose had actually had the best night’s rest she could remember in a while. She hadn’t felt the cold, despite Alastair’s warning. She didn’t sleep well at home these days, and she usually had trouble sleeping for at least the first couple of nights in a new place. She guessed it was because she was so tired from the long train journey. Or maybe it was just that the bed in her room really was incredibly comfortable.
She raised her eyebrows and signalled to Houdini.
“He’s sleeping,” whispered Isla. “Mrs Reed hasn’t noticed yet.”
“Hello, Rose. What haven’t I noticed?” said Mrs Reed appearing from the pantry.
“How did you hear that?” groaned Isla as Houdini woke up and got up to investigate what Mrs Reed was carrying.
“Isla . . .” said Mrs Reed, sternly.
“I’ll put him back in his paddock,” Isla said quickly, taking hold of Houdini’s collar and reluctantly leading him outside.
“Goats in the kitchen . . .” Mrs Reed muttered to herself before remembering Rose. “Can I get you anything for breakfast, or would you rather sort yourself out?”
Rose was grateful Mrs Reed gave her the choice. It would have felt very strange to sit and watch Mrs Reed make her breakfast when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself.
She never usually ate breakfast anyway, just a black coffee to get a burst of caffeine in.
“I’ll be fine with coffee, thanks,” she said.
“There’s a fresh pot on the table.” Mrs Reed gestured to a large cafetière. “Help yourself to a mug from the cupboard.”
Rose poured her drink and sat next to Isla’s vacated chair.
“It’s a nippy old morning,” Mrs Reed said. “Why don’t you have just a little bowl of porridge to warm you up?”
Before Rose had a chance to protest, she found a bowl of porridge from a pot she now saw bubbling away on the stove put before her.
“Thank you,” she said, not wanting to appear rude. She’d eat a little to be polite and then get rid of the rest when Mrs Reed wasn’t about. She could never stomach breakfast. She gingerly put a small spoonful in her mouth. And wow! It was absolutely delicious. And so comforting.
“You can have some sugar or syrup on it if you must,” said Mrs Reed. “But there is proper Scottish porridge, cooked on the stove and served with a sprinkle of good salt.”
“How come you never let me have sugar or syrup?” Isla said, coming back into the room.
“Because it’s not good for you. You eat enough sweet stuff as it is,” Mrs Reed replied, firmly.
“It’s delicious without anything added, Mrs Reed. Thank you so much,” Rose said, not quite believing how much she was enjoying it.
“My pleasure. Right, Isla, if you’re all done there, go and get yourself ready for school. We’ll be leaving in five minutes.”
“I’ll see you later, Rose,” Isla called out, leaving the room in a whirlwind.
“What happens with Houdini while Isla is out at school?” Rose asked.
“He spends the day annoying me is what happens.” Mrs Reed sighed. “He has a large enclosure with a warm, dry shelter in the garden which comes up to the back door here. However, it seems to be that little terror’s life purpose to escape and eat anything I’ve planted in the kitchen garden. When it’s raining, I get calls from Isla at school wanting me to go out and check he’s all right.”
“Well, he is cute,” commented Rose.
“And doesn’t he know it,” came the reply.
As if knowing he was being spoken about, Houdini appeared back at the kitchen door and bleated indignantly at Mrs Reed.
“I know it’s time to go! I’m just going to get my coat,” replied Mrs Reed, grumpily. Rose did her best to hide her smile at the housekeeper having a conversation with the goat she claimed she didn’t like.
“Oh, and yes, he travels in the car with us to and from the school,” Mrs Reed added.
Houdini waited, an air of impatience about him, while Mrs Reed put on her coat, whereupon he led her out into the hallway, his hooves clip-clopping on the stone floors.
Rose was left alone in the kitchen. It felt strange but it did allow her to have more of a look around than she’d felt able to before. She got the feeling this was very much Mrs Reed’s territory and that Alastair and Isla, and presumably Isla’s mother, wherever she was, were granted visiting rights with provisos.
She put her bowl and mug in the dishwasher. She still had half an hour before her meeting in the library with Alastair so she went back up to her room where she took her coat and a scarf and hat from her wardrobe. She’d unpacked and organised her clothes the previous evening before settling down in bed to watch art tutorials on YouTube.
She slipped out of the front door and looked out across the landscape before her. The temperature hit her immediately. It was absolutely freezing. Far colder than it had been in London.
The driveway led off into the distance, flanked on both sides by now bare trees which must be resplendent in the spring. Some goats were in a field to the right, and a small wood lay to the left. Even on this dull, slightly drizzly December morning, the view was beautiful. She didn’t have a lot of time to explore but she pulled her coat tighter around her and began walking around the house, trying to get her bearings. She thought she’d worked out which was her bedroom window and which was Isla’s.
The kitchen garden lay to the side of the house. It was obviously not looking its finest at this time of year, but there were still winter greens and the whole area looked well-tended. Maybe by Mrs Reed or perhaps by a gardener. A garden this size must surely need a gardener , Rose thought. Sticking to the path as her trainers were definitely not designed for the mud, she walked around to the back of the house where a stream ran through the lawn with its own charming little bridge over it, and the path split, with one section leading into what looked like a small orchard. She spotted Houdini’s pasture and shelter, slightly incongruous by the back of the house. On closer inspection, she grinned to herself — it looked like a goat version of Fort Knox. How on earth he managed to escape from that was a mystery. Houdini must be one determined goat.
A tyre swing hung from the thick branch of a huge oak tree in the middle of the lawn, making Rose smile. If she could have been sure that no one would see her, she’d definitely have a swing on it.
She looked towards the rear of the house, wondering if she should go back in via the door to the kitchen, which would involve going through Houdini’s enclosure, or the front. As she pondered, she thought she saw a figure at one of the downstairs windows. When she looked more carefully though, they’d gone.
She decided to make her way round to the front door so she could do a full circuit of the house. Her cheeks were stinging with the cold and she picked up the pace; she hadn’t been moving quickly enough before to allow her to get warm.
Opening the front door, she pulled off her shoes and had just enough time to run up to her room and remove her coat, hat and scarf before going to meet Alastair in the library with a notepad and pen.
“Good morning,” she said as she entered the library and found Alastair waiting for her.
“Hello,” he replied. “Did you have everything you needed last night?”
“I did, thank you.”
“And you’re finding everything here, okay?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes, absolutely. Your house is amazing.”
“And were you all right eating with Isla and me last night? It was only afterwards that it occurred to me that you might have preferred to have eaten by yourself, especially as it was your first night.”
“It was lovely of you to include me. I just felt a little bit like I was intruding,” Rose admitted.
“No, not at all. It’s usually just the two of us rambling around here in the evenings. It’s nice to have someone else to chat to. Not that I don’t love talking to my daughter . . .”
“I get it,” said Rose with a smile.
“Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay because . . . I saw that you were upset on the train yesterday. If my demands have taken you away from something, or someone, in London in the lead-up to Christmas I apologise. I know I can be a little too set on getting what I want . . .”
Rose felt her cheeks flushing bright red. So he had noticed her crying! “I’d hoped you hadn’t seen . . .” she muttered.
“I’m sorry to bring it up. I don’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just, if you wanted to go back for a long weekend or something . . .”
“Thank you, but no. This is a wonderful opportunity and it’s so kind of you to welcome me into your beautiful home. Honestly, my getting a bit emotional on the train had nothing to do with coming here. I’m happy to be here. And, frankly, I need the money.”
“Good. I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out.” There was still a hint of unease on Alistair’s face.
“Shall we move on to the Christmas arrangements so I can get started?” Rose suggested, eager to move the conversation on.
“Sure. Christmas is a busy time workwise for me so I’m hoping that you’ll be able to take over completely. I’m really not fussy about decorations or anything, just as long as everything runs smoothly.”
“Sounds good.”
“The most important thing is the two Christmas parties I need to host. One is for all the people who work for me on the estate, so that’s fairly informal. Mairi, who you’ll meet at some point, would usually hire out a restaurant for that and it’s taken care of fairly easily. The second is for my business associates and potential investors. That’s more of a black-tie event.”
“My first concern is that I imagine most venues will have been booked up months ago, especially if you want to host on a Friday or Saturday. Haven’t you left it a bit late to be organising a Christmas party?” asked Rose.
Alastair frowned. “The employee party will need to be on a Friday otherwise I doubt many people will turn up to work the next day. The more formal event should ideally be on a Saturday, which means invitations need to be sent out as soon as possible if we have a hope of people being able to make it. Funnily enough, some of us have things other than Christmas on our minds,” Alastair said, shortly, before checking himself. “Apologies. Mairi has been away on maternity leave. She only got back last week and I want to take as much off her plate as possible. One of the things I was supposed to do, months ago as you say, was to hire an events organiser to sort out all this stuff. I’m not a fan of Christmas, to be honest, and I procrastinated and put it to the back of my mind until Mairi reminded me on Saturday.”
“When you hunted me down in the Christmas shop.”
“Yes. I had the idea that I could pop into the shop — I was between meetings — and could organise an order for some decorations for the house, but I got overwhelmed by the amount of stuff and then helped you retrieve your crown . . . and you seemed like the answer to my prayers . . .” A strange look passed across his face. He cleared his throat. “So to speak . . . Anyway, the gist of it is that I appreciate it’s very late in the day and I haven’t given you the easiest of tasks.”
“I’ll start calling around straight away and get back to you with what I manage to find . . .” Rose said.
“Great. The other thing I need help with is my own Christmas. As I said, I usually work a lot leading up to Christmas. Isla and I go to my sister’s house in Manchester to celebrate so we never bother decorating, but my family has decided to descend upon us this year.”
“You don’t sound very happy about that,” commented Rose. So, no wife presumably then if it was just Alastair and Isla going to his sister’s for the holidays. What had happened to her?
“Like I said, I’m not a fan of Christmas in general, but my sister and her husband will be bringing their twins. My sister and I are close, and she always goes to a lot of trouble for Isla at Christmas, so it’s important to me that they have a good time. And my aunt will be coming. Aunt Helena loves a traditional Christmas and she’ll have plenty to say if she thinks I haven’t gone to enough effort.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll all have a wonderful time.”
“Basically, I need you to help buy and wrap presents for them and organise any activities you think the children would like to attend while they’re here — Santa’s Grotto, that kind of thing.”
“I’ll make a start organising venues and then I’ll think about ideas for decorating the house and report back to you?”
“It’s all in your hands,” Alastair said. “I honestly have no idea about Christmas decorations and, frankly, I don’t want to. If you speak to Mairi, she’ll let you know the budget. You have free rein on my house for the festive period.”
“You trust me to decorate your house however I want for Christmas?”
“Implicitly. Are you happy to use the library as your base?”
“Sure, I brought my laptop with me.”
“Brilliant. Put your mobile number into my phone and I’ll message you the Wi-Fi code — sorry, I should have thought to have done that last night.” He handed her his iPhone.
She put her number in and handed it back, and he messaged her.
“There you go. I’ll be in my office upstairs this morning if you need anything, but I’m sure whatever you decide will be great. Oh, and you’re welcome to use either of the Land Rovers whenever you like. I’ve insured you on both.”
Alastair and Rose both went rather awkwardly up the stairs together, her to retrieve her laptop from her room and he to his office which was the room next to his bedroom, she discovered. She walked behind him on the stairs, doing her best not to check out his perfectly curved bottom. Behave , she told herself firmly. He’s your boss and not to mention he must be so much older than you! He has a twelve-year-old daughter! He didn’t look much above early thirties though . . .
She shook her head to rid her mind of such ridiculous thoughts. They reached the top of the stairs and went their separate ways. Rose found herself giving a little wave to Alastair as he went into his office and flushed once again. Why had she done that? Would her face ever be its normal colour around this man?
* * *
Rose set her laptop up in the library and logged into the Wi-Fi without any problems. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful space she’d ever worked in and the smell of old books and furniture polish was very comforting. The first job she completed was to email Mairi to touch base and get an idea of how much money she had to play with. She was beginning to google local venues when her phone rang.
“Hello,” she said, answering it.
“Hi, Rose, it’s Mairi. I thought it would be easier to call you rather than put everything in an email. I have sent you the budget though. Divide it up as you like. It’s very generous and there’s an accompanying credit card set up for you. Anyway, how was your journey? What impression did Edinburgh make on you in the five minutes you were there?” Mairi laughed.
“It seemed lovely. I hope I have a chance to look around it while I’m here.”
“I would offer to show you around but, I’m not sure if Alastair told you, I had a baby a few months ago, and a whole day out in the city is honestly not going to happen.”
“He did tell me, congratulations!” Rose said.
“Thank you, that’s very sweet. Rory’s wonderful, but definitely a handful and I’m still getting to grips with being back at work, even with me not being full-time now and with Alastair being absolutely brilliant.”
“That’s completely understandable.”
“I still can’t believe that he forgot to book an events organiser until now, mind you,” Mairi said, with another laugh.
“I know, talk about last minute!”
“Do you think you’ll be able to find venues?”
“I hope so,” Rose said. What would happen if she couldn’t book somewhere for Alastair to host his events? Would she find herself out of a job? Presumably there was a section in her contract that if she couldn’t fulfil what was required of her then she’d be out on her ear and on a train back to London. Lucky she hadn’t returned her Elsa costume . . .
* * *
Rose’s stomach rumbled and she checked the time on her phone. It was almost 1 p.m. and she was no closer to finding a venue. Everything had been booked up months ago as she’d suspected, even the places that she really didn’t think were right. She was scraping the bottom of the barrel now.
Mrs Reed had been very sweetly keeping her hydrated and caffeinated with regular cups of coffee and glasses of water, and she’d told Rose lunch was at one in the kitchen. So, when the time came, Rose got up and stretched her small frame, stiff after sitting for so long.
The smell of whatever Mrs Reed had been cooking hit Rose’s nostrils as soon as she opened the library door onto the hallway and she followed it eagerly into the kitchen. Mrs Reed was slicing up a large round loaf of what looked like freshly baked sourdough.
“Hello, dear. Could you give the soup a stir for me, check it isn’t catching?”
“Of course — it smells amazing.”
“It’s just leek and potato. Seems like the right sort of day for it.”
Mrs Reed finished cutting the bread and set it out on a plate.
“Can I get the bowls?”
“Thank you, second cupboard along on your left.”
Rose retrieved them and Mrs Reed began to serve up with a ladle.
“Would you mind running upstairs and letting Mr Duncan know his lunch is ready?”
“Of course, I’ll be back in a minute.” Rose ran up the stairs and knocked on Alastair’s door.
“Come in!” he called and Rose popped her head round the door.
“Mrs Reed says it’s time for lunch.”
He stood up. “I’d better hurry then. It doesn’t do to keep her waiting.”
There was something rather sweet about this huge man of business, an actual laird, rushing to ensure he didn’t make his housekeeper cross by letting the soup get cold.
They walked down the stairs together and back into the kitchen and sat down with Mrs Reed to eat.
“Any luck finding venues?” Alastair asked.
“Not yet, but I’m not completely out of options.” Rose wasn’t technically lying; there surely must be somewhere she hadn’t tried yet. “This is really good soup, Mrs Reed,” she added, hoping to change the course of the conversation.
“Thank you,” said Mrs Reed.
There was a bang at the back door and Mrs Reid sighed.
“Houdini,” Alastair explained. “He’s not keen on the rain.”
The goat knocked again and Mrs Reid got up and opened the back door a little. Houdini gave a happy bleat.
“You are a goat,” Mrs Reid stated firmly. “And if you don’t like getting wet, go in your shelter.” She shook her head. “Wait there a minute.”
She closed the door again and walked into the larder, returning with a large carrot in her hand. She reopened the door and gave it to the still-waiting goat.
“Off with you now,” she said.
Houdini gave a happier bleat and walked off.
As if on cue, a mobile phone rang on the kitchen counter. Mrs Reed answered it. “Hello, Isla, is everything all right? Yes, I know it’s raining. Yes, he’s fine. I’ve just seen him. Yes, I’ll check he has enough hay . . . I’ll see you later.” Mrs Reed ended the call with another sigh. “That child has us wrapped around her little finger.”
Alastair shrugged. “You’re the one feeding her goat carrots when he comes begging at the back door.”
Mrs Reed humph-ed but didn’t contradict him.
Alastair left for some business meetings in Edinburgh once he’d finished eating and Rose helped Mrs Reed to clean up, despite her protestations.
“This is a big house for you to be in charge of,” Rose commented.
“We have some girls who come in to clean. And it’s only Mr Duncan and Isla here now. It’s not as if Mr Duncan entertains like his mother and father used to. They used to hold the most wonderful Christmas parties.”
“Did they?” Rose tried to ignore her body’s reaction to the confirmation that Alastair didn’t have a wife.
“Absolutely, the house would look beautiful all lit up. And the guests were so glamorous . . .”
Rose froze, a plan suddenly appearing in her head. “Oh my goodness, thank you!” she said, surprising Mrs Reed with a hug. “You’ve just given me a wonderful idea.”