Chapter 13 #2
‘Yeah, but is it really Christmas without at least one gouging?’ I can’t help laughing as he jumps up and comes over to help me with the lights. ‘I’m more concerned about the fact there are strawberry crèmes left in that Quality Street tub and so far we’ve only had two of them.’
Between us, we get the multi-coloured lights all the way to the top, and start draping tinsel between the branches.
He’s put a music channel playing Christmas songs on the TV, and we’re both singing along and dancing around as Shakin’ Stevens’ ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ comes on, our matching elf socks jingling with every movement.
Watching Ollie get lost in the unique smell of old Christmas decorations and the memories of Christmases past, and seeing how relaxed he is makes me think about the office party and how tense he was there, and it’s not just because we’re safe from rogue mistletoe in his living room.
‘So are you all blankets and fleecy hoodies and jingle bell socks by night, and by day, you’re like a cut-throat banker type? Making deals in a dog-eat-dog financial world and earning rich people even more money?’
He looks at me like he knows I’m wheedling for information because I don’t know much about his job or what it involves.
‘Not really… Kind of…’ He sounds like he’s trying to come up with the right words.
‘I look after people’s investment portfolios.
I find investment opportunities and match them to clients.
I keep track of investments and advise when to pull out or when to invest more.
If I get the timing right, it can be very lucrative for our clients…
I can see you falling asleep already. It really is that boring. ’
‘No, it’s not, it’s…’ I struggle to find the words for what I’m thinking. ‘A lot of those people at the party seemed like real Wolf of Wall Street types, which is nothing like you.’
He shakes his head, but I can’t stop myself pushing it further. ‘Is what Rory said true? You’re making yourself miserable?’
‘I’m fine.’ He turns a bauble over in his hands. ‘No one loves their job.’
‘Of course they do.’
‘Do you?’ He meets my eyes with an eyebrow raised – a clear challenge.
‘Yee-ees.’ I go to answer instantly but lose confidence in the word halfway through.
From the first moment on the video call, I’ve wanted to be honest with Ollie, and answering a simple ‘yes’ would be untrue.
‘I don’t know, Ol. I used to, but things are different now.
It’s irrelevant anyway because it’s not my job any more, is it? Maybe I’ll like the next one better.’
‘What things?’ He’s clearly not going to let it go.
I’m crouched down, tidying up the tree skirt we’ve rucked up, and when I don’t answer immediately, he prompts me. ‘Because you clearly love this. The decorating, the imagination, and bringing a vision to life, the wee touches that make all the difference, the you-ness of everything in this castle…’
Me-ness. In one word, he’s said exactly what’s felt so off about my job in recent years.
There isn’t the slightest hint of me in it.
‘I used to love it. I used to work freelance for smaller shops, and there was creativity and freedom. Every display was a blank canvas, and I was given free rein to use any stock I wanted and tell a story with it. It didn’t have to be big and flashy to draw people in.
I could create magic in windows that would get people talking, even though it wasn’t as many people as you could get talking about a window on Oxford Street.
Visual merchandising is more than just window dressing – my team are responsible for every display across the shop.
We have to entice people to buy everything.
There used to be a lot of thinking outside the box and trying to make everyday objects look appealing, but at Calloways, it’s just following orders.
No one values me because anyone could do it. ’
‘Is thinking outside the box why there’s artificial foliage in teacups in the dining room?’
‘Yep. I found some mismatched Christmas mugs in a charity shop in Campbeltown, and they’re perfect for displays.
You use air-drying clay to hold the stems in place, and they’re quirky and fun and a great way to re-use mugs that are damaged or too small to hold a decent cup of tea.
This is what I loved – using things in ways you wouldn’t usually use them to showcase them at their best. The more challenging or unusual, the better. And doing that here has been…’
‘Fun?’ he offers with a soft smile, holding a yellowed carousel horse out to me that looks like it might’ve been modern in the 1970s.
‘Exactly. That’s what’s missing. The fun and the creativity.
’ I hang the old bauble on a branch. ‘Calloways is a big corporation. Every window has to match every other branch around the country. There’s no room for imagination and inspiration.
Head Office designs our windows. It’s up to us to order the stock and fixtures and fittings and implement their designs, but woe betide any visual merchandising team who puts something a centimetre out of place from their template.
It’s… soulless. And coming here, this place, the freedom and trust you’ve given me, it’s nothing but soul, and it’s making me realise what’s missing. ’
‘It’s been a long time since there was any soul in this castle.’ It’s a mutter that he probably didn’t intend to come out as loudly as it did.
‘No, it hasn’t.’ I meet his eyes and will him not to look away.
He is the soul of this place – his charm and warmth and kindness radiate through the whole building, but I feel like he’s got a grief-skewed view of how special Hollybrae Castle is.
Eventually he mumbles something about another Quality Street and turns away to ram an orange crème into his mouth, and I go back to sorting through the boxes of what could affectionately be termed ‘vintage and retro’ baubles now, wrapped in disintegrating paper.
Between us, we hang them on the tree, and I can’t deny enjoying the little fizzle every time our fingers brush past each other’s, and the way his eyes are twinkling every time I look over at him, like he feels it too and he’s enjoying it as much as I am.
‘What was your favourite thing to do as a child at Christmas?’ I ask eventually, because we can’t keep dancing around each other and humming Christmas songs all night. ‘This must’ve been a wonderful place to spend Christmas.’
‘Aye, the best. My dad was like a big kid when he wasn’t at work.
We used to have slinky races on the stairs every Christmas, even until I was far into adulthood, and he’d buy us a Lego set to build together while he was off for the holidays, and we’d all just…
do nothing, together. Bundle up and go for walks.
Sit in front of the TV and eat all day. And that never changed, right until the last Christmas.
For such a big place, our Christmases were always small and quiet, and that’s what I liked about them. ’
I watch him as he meanders down memory lane, and it renews my determination to bring some of that back this year.
‘Slinkys on those stairs, right from the top and around the corners?’ I ask because it’s given me an idea.
‘We should revive that – get every guest a slinky for Christmas and get them all involved. Have you thought about Christmas presents? Are we supposed to get them something for Christmas?’
‘Oh, God.’ His eyes widen and his voice rises with panic. ‘I have no idea. Are we supposed to get them something for Christmas?’
I look around the room for inspiration and my eyes fall on Ollie’s jingling feet. ‘A slinky each for the annual Hollybrae Castle slinky races. Elf socks with bells on. A box of those locally made chocolates we had the other day. Easy.’
He looks at me like I’ve lost the plot. ‘Lu, Dand and Halston earn in the upper end of a six-figure salary. They don’t want a slinky or elf socks with bells on!’
‘It’s Christmas. Everyone wants a slinky and socks with bells on.
You literally just said it yourself. The best thing about Christmas is the small and quiet moments – the family moments.
What would you get them? The world’s finest caviar and Scotland’s most expensive champagne?
A top-of-the-line games console for each of the kids? ’
‘It’d be a start!’
‘They’re not coming to be impressed by the size of your credit card bill, Ollie.
One thing I learned from your office party is that everyone is sick of travelling and five-star resorts.
They’re looking forward to quiet family time with their families and with ours.
We should get them something we’d buy for our real relatives if they were staying with us over Christmas. ’
He looks doubtful.
‘Seriously, Ol. Something fun, something they’d never buy for themselves but can wear around your cold castle, and you can never go wrong with a box of chocolates. I’ll go into Campbeltown this week and get however many we need. Do you trust me?’
I feel like I’m riding a magic carpet and asking Princess Jasmine to step off a balcony, and Ollie certainly looks like he’s teetering on the edge of a plunge to certain death.
‘Of course I don—’ He meets my eyes and stops the sentence abruptly, and his face contorts as he tries to reason with himself. ‘I don’t want to, but the problem is that since the moment you appeared on my computer screen, I have.’
Butterflies fill my insides instantaneously, so strong that I feel unsteady on my feet because I trusted him instantly too. ‘Good.’
‘Good,’ he echoes.
‘And reindeer antler headbands for everyone!’
‘Lu…’ he says warningly.