Chapter 35
I find Luna in her room, packing her suitcase, and not looking remotely like the daring, undercover spy Lord Glenmuir accused her of being just a few hours ago.
Still, she is technically the reason he’s spent the last few days attempting to terrify me, and I’m hoping she feels just guilty enough about that to help me out with tonight’s launch party.
‘But, I don’t understand,’ Luna says, a few minutes later, once I’ve finished explaining my plan.
‘I don’t work for Sabrina any more. She fired me.
I quit. Well, she fired me and I quit, I suppose.
I was just about to try and walk to the village to see if any of the trains are running, so I can get out of everyone’s hair. ’
‘Oh, they’re not running today,’ I say, remembering what Sabrina told me. ‘The trains are all cancelled because of the storm. And you won’t be able to get to the village, anyway: the road’s blocked by the fallen tree.’
‘But there are people out there clearing it now,’ Luna protests, glancing out of the window. ‘I can see them.’
I quickly flick the curtain shut.
‘I know,’ I say sympathetically. ‘But they’re all mad as brushes, Luna. You’ve seen them. They’re determined to get home at all costs, but you can’t seriously try to follow them.’
‘Maybe,’ Luna says doubtfully. ‘But I can’t stay here, Rosie. Sabrina must hate me for all those things I said to her. And I don’t expect Dante and Hunter will be particularly impressed either, now they know I’m . . .’ her voice drops to a whisper ‘. . . a traitor.’
‘Oh, Dante and Hunter will be fine about that,’ I lie. ‘And Sabrina doesn’t hate you at all. She said you’re her best friend, in fact.’
This part, at least, is true. But it sounds so unbelievable that for a moment I think Luna’s eyes might pop out of her head.
‘Her what?’ she says, astonished. ‘Her best friend? She called me Linda for the first six weeks of my contract. I’d be amazed if she even knows what my surname is.’
‘I, er, don’t think she has a lot of friends, somehow,’ I say quietly. ‘And I think she’s genuinely upset to have lost you as an assista— friend.’
‘An assistafriend?’ Luna frowns, clearly unconvinced.
‘Luna, she was eating chocolate cake,’ I tell her. ‘Without even cutting it into slices, first.’
‘Whoa.’ Luna puts down the jumper she’s holding, and sits down on the edge of the bed. ‘Chocolate cake? Really.’
‘Really.’
I take a seat beside her.
‘Look, there’s no excuse for the way she’s been treating you,’ I say truthfully. ‘We’ve all seen her, and you’re absolutely right; she’s a terrible boss. But I think she’s genuinely sorry. So . . . maybe if you just gave her a chance to apologise?’
A ghost of a smile flits briefly across her face, igniting a tiny spark of hope in my chest.
‘I was a really good assistafriend,’ she says, picking at a thread on her jeans. ‘Sabrina was lucky to have me, really.’
‘She was. Maybe you should just talk to her?’ I suggest. ‘I’m sure Zara would help you draw up a new contract. If Sabrina apologises, that is.’
Luna nods, almost imperceptibly.
‘The thing is,’ she says shyly, ‘I do like the job. I want more responsibility, though. I want to have my own projects and teams, and not just spend all my time making Sabrina’s coffee and buying her verruca cream. I think I’d be good at it.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ I reply, hoping she doesn’t have to apply the verruca cream as well as buying it, although nothing would surprise me. ‘But you won’t know unless you try, will you?’
This is almost what I said to Hunter last night, but luckily Luna’s a bit more receptive to my pep talk.
‘You’re right,’ she says, getting up. She walks over to the window and flicks the curtain open again.
‘About that, and about me not being able to leave today, with the weather like this; it still looks pretty wild out there, doesn’t it?
So maybe I will have time to help you plan this party, Rosie.
If Sabrina doesn’t insist that I leave anyway, that is. ’
‘I don’t think she will, somehow,’ I reply. ‘Why don’t you go and find Zara? She’ll know how to deal with Sabrina.’
I leave Luna to unpack her suitcase again and head back downstairs, where I find Hunter in the lobby.
Time to put the next part of my plan into action.
‘Bad news,’ I tell him, trying to sound as normal as I can, even though just being close to him makes my heart flutter dangerously in my chest. ‘The power company are saying they definitely don’t think they’re going to be able to repair the fault tonight after all.
The weather’s really hampering their progress, apparently. ’
‘Really?’ says Hunter with a frown. ‘It looks like it’s clearing up to me. Who told you this?’
‘Luna,’ I say, crossing my fingers behind my back. Well, she did say it looked wild out there, didn’t she? Which is kind of the same thing. ‘She must have called them.’
‘Maybe I should speak to them myself?’ says Hunter doubtfully. ‘It seems strange that it’d take them so long to repair the fault, even with all the damage the storm caused. I’ll try calling the person who messaged me earlier.’
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and I leap forward and snatch it out of his hands, knowing perfectly well that if he tries to make that call, it’s my phone that’ll start ringing – because I’m the person who messaged him this morning pretending to be someone from the power company, responding to his earlier enquiry.
‘Er, no, don’t do that,’ I say quickly, as he blinks at me in confusion. ‘I’ll call them for you. From my own phone,’ I add, passing his back as quickly as if it’s one of Ian’s hot potatoes from last night. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate right now with the tree. And, well, the angry mob.’
‘Yeah. I don’t think they’re going to welcome the news that the power’s staying off,’ replies Hunter, still looking vaguely bewildered by my erratic, phone-grabbing behaviour.
‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind double-checking with the power company, I guess I’ll go and speak to the mob.
Might as well get it over with, I suppose. ’
‘Oh, I’ll do that too,’ I offer quickly, spotting an opportunity to do some more of that bridge-building. ‘They’ll take it better coming from me.’
This isn’t, as it turns out, strictly true.
When I squelch my way down the rain-soaked driveway to where the giant tree trunk lies straddling the road, Ian snorts in disgust at the news, Callum lets out a strange, wolf-like howling noise and the men they’re with all immediately start bickering over whose fault it is, while making plans to boycott the power company.
‘Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it,’ says Ian, once the shouting has died down. ‘As soon as this road’s cleared we’ll be heading home, as planned.’
‘But that’s just silly, Ian,’ I point out. ‘Especially when Hunter’s offered to let you all stay here in the hotel. Where there’s electricity. And food. And a swimming pool and hot tub at your disposal.’
The men standing next to Ian visibly brighten.
‘The lass has a point,’ says one of them.
‘I was never in favour of trying to make it back in this weather, anyway,’ says another. ‘I was just going along with it because everyone else was.’
‘Can we really use the spa?’ asks Callum eagerly. ‘What about the treatments? I could really use a deep tissue massage.’
‘We all could,’ says the first man, who doesn’t look like he’s been near a massage table in his life.
‘Well, you’re in the right place,’ I reply brightly. ‘I’ve sampled the spa treatments myself, and I can tell you, you’re in for a treat. A free one, too.’
‘No, we’re not,’ says Ian in a decisive manner. ‘We’re going home. All of us.’
‘Who put you in charge, Ian McBride?’ says the man who wants a massage. ‘We don’t all have to do what you say, you know.’
‘Um, did I mention there’s stovies?’ I say quickly, before things can get out of hand. ‘Izzie’s got the hotel staff making them. I’d hurry if I were you, or there’ll be none left.’
The two men immediately throw down their tools and head for the hotel, passing Hunter on the way. He watches them go, then comes over to join us, his expression guarded.
‘What’s going on?’ he asks, looking from me to Ian, then back again.
‘Some of the villagers have decided to stay after all,’ I tell him, choosing not to mention the bit where I offered them free spa treatments as a bribe. ‘Now that they know the power’s not going to be back on for a while.’
‘Right.’ Hunter looks less than thrilled by this.
‘Some of them have small children, or elderly parents,’ I add, when he doesn’t say anything else. ‘So we obviously don’t want them going home without power.’
‘Well, no. Obviously not. And you?’ He directs his question at Ian, who pretends to have found something very interesting to stare at on the ground.
‘My family and me will be leaving as planned,’ Ian says stubbornly. ‘Even if me and Callum are the only men left to clear the tree.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ says Callum. ‘I’m going for a massage. My back’s killing me after all that chopping.’
‘Massage?’ says Hunter, as Callum follows in the footsteps of the other men, towards the hotel. ‘Who does he think’s giving him a massage?’
‘Millie,’ I reply, improvising. ‘I think she likes him,’ I add in a voice I hope is low enough for Ian not to hear. Ian, however, is too busy glowering at Hunter to listen to anything I have to say.
‘So,’ he says gruffly, the axe he’s still holding making him look a lot like Jack Nicholson in The Shining – a comparison that doesn’t exactly set my mind at ease. ‘It’s just you and me, then. That’s if you’re still willing to help me get my family out of here, Yer Lordship?’
‘I will if you stop calling me that,’ says Hunter, squaring his jaw. ‘It’s Hunter, thanks. And I have to clear the road whether you’re planning to use it or not, so if you helping gets it done faster, then you’ll get no objection from me.’
‘Right then, Laird Hunter,’ Ian replies, with a smirk.
‘Um, how about we make things a bit more interesting?’ I suggest, seeing my plan start to fall apart before my eyes. ‘Why don’t you have a competition?’
‘A competition? What do you mean?’
It’s Hunter who asks the question, but both men look equally confused.
‘Er, yes – a chopping competition,’ I say, making something up on the spot. ‘First person to chop all the way through the tree trunk is the winner? What d’you say?’
‘I say, what’s the prize?’ Ian says, his voice loaded with suspicion. ‘What am I supposed to be winning?’
I think quickly.
‘If you win, Ian, Hunter will sit down with you and discuss how the hotel could work more closely with the village,’ I say. ‘Buying your produce again, that kind of thing.’
‘And if I win?’ asks Hunter, his mouth a thin line of displeasure that makes me doubt for a minute whether I should really be pressing ahead with this hastily concocted idea.
‘If you win, the villagers have to accept whatever decision you make about the hotel,’ I tell him. ‘And stop calling you a bawbag.’
‘I feel like they have a lot more to gain here than I do, somehow,’ Hunter says wryly, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes in a way that makes my heart give a traitorous little flutter.
‘Do you want to make it up to me for not telling me who you were or not?’ I reply, hoping the answer to this will be yes – and not just for the sake of the ‘competition’.
Hunter’s throat bobs as he swallows. ‘Fine,’ he says gruffly. ‘Let’s get it over with, then.’
Ian uses the blade of his weapon – I mean axe – to cut a small line in the middle of the tree trunk.
‘You take that side o’ the line,’ he says, pointing. ‘And I’ll take this. Rosie, if you wouldn’t mind timing us?’
I pull my phone out of my pocket, open up the timer and hold my finger above the start button.
‘OK, on three,’ I say. ‘One . . . two . . . three . . . GO.’
Without another word, Ian and Hunter start chopping as if their lives depend on it, and I take the opportunity to slip away.
My work here is done – for now, at least.
But there’s still more to do.