One More for Christmas

“You’re turning us into a film set now?”

“That’s on my list to discuss. A company from Edinburgh is coming to see us early in January. If we pass, they’ll start recommending us.”

“So we’ll be overrun with lights and cameras, and if the movie is a success we’ll be overrun with tourists coming to see the place the movie was filmed. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of the money.”

“This is our home. Our home!” Kirstie was on the verge of tears.

“And we need money to be able to keep this home. It’s a big, drafty place and the cost of upkeep is enough to make eyes water. Have you taken a look at the accounts lately?”

Kirstie swallowed. She didn’t dare look. “No. That’s your area, not mine. You know I’m not good with numbers.” She’d struggled her way through school, and it was only his help and patience that had got her through her exams with reasonable marks.

“Happy to walk you through it anytime.” His expression was grim, and she shook her head and shifted the subject away from the scary topic of money.

“So is Samantha bringing her husband? Partner?”

“No partner.” He adjusted his gloves and picked up armfuls of the holly he’d cut earlier. “Also coming along are her sister, brother-in-law and niece, aged four, I think. Or maybe it was five. Her mother, too.”

“Five? That’s young.” Kirstie frowned. “We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t fall into the loch.”

“She won’t be going outside by herself.”

“They’re city people. What if they hate Bear?”

“Just because they live in a city, doesn’t mean they hate dogs.”

“A child that age will be bored here. No shops or theme parks.” She knew she was behaving like a toddler in a tantrum, but she was raw inside and out. Why was life so unfair? She needed to hit out, and he was the only one she could hit.

“We’ll teach her to love the outdoors. She can ride Pepper and feed the reindeer.”

“No one has ridden Pepper for years.”

“Then it will be a refreshing change for him.” He stripped off spiky leaves from the bottom of the holly. “I thought we could use this around the fireplaces. Make it festive.”

“Why not? You could add mistletoe, in case your Americans are feeling romantic.”

“They’re not ‘my’ Americans.”

“It’s your idea.” Kirstie hesitated. “I caught Mum crying in the kitchen. She said she’d been chopping onions but that was a lie.” It made her feel helpless, and she hated feeling helpless.

“She’s the reason we’re doing this. This is the only home she has ever known. Why can’t you understand that?”

“But will it even feel like home when it’s overrun by strangers?”

“One family, Kirstie! If it doesn’t work, we won’t do it again.” There was a note of exasperation in his voice. “One family can’t overrun anything. It will be personal. Intimate. We’re offering a family Christmas, not a free-for-all.”

“Exactly. A Family Christmas. Except, they’re not our family, are they? Instead of sitting round and spending time together the way we usually do, we’ll be working in the kitchen to feed people we don’t know. What if they argue? What if they’re difficult people? The problem with a small, intimate group is that if they’re boring or rude, you can’t dilute them.”

“Then it will be a Christmas to remember. Can you manage those logs or do you need my help?”

She threw him a look.

“Do you know how it feels to be making our house festive for someone else?”

“For all of us. You’re living in it too, Kirstie. It’s going to feel the same way it always feels, only possibly less disorganized. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it. It’s a matter of attitude.”