Lingerie Wars (Invertary 1)

“I feel like I’m in the remake of Highlander,” Lake grumbled.

“Terrible movie. Bad Scottish accents, and to have Sean Connery play a Spaniard was an abomination. Honestly, what were they thinking? The only decent accent in the whole movie and we’re supposed to think he came from Spain? And don’t even get me started on the guy who played the hero!”

He was sorry he’d brought it up.

“This is what’s happening,” Dougal said. “I’m going to make an announcement and you’ll come on stage.”

Lake held up a hand.

“I gave you the plan, remember? I’m the one in charge here.”

The two of them took a step towards him. For the first time, Lake began to think there was something behind the Romans’ reasoning when they built Hadrian’s Wall to keep the Scots out of England.

Kirsty knew as soon as she entered the pub that it was some sort of setup. The place was packed like a sardine can and yet, miraculously, there was a free table beside the stage just for her. She followed Caroline, her mother and the women of Knit or Die to the table, and they squeezed in around it. The women were all dolled up for the party. Each one of them trying to outdo the other with glitter, hairstyles and cleavage. Kirsty felt quite dowdy beside them. She was wearing a plain blue dress that her mother had made for her. It was gorgeous and she loved it, but it was hardly up to the standards of New Year’s Eve in Invertary.

“Don’t you feel underdressed?” she asked Caroline.

Caroline looked down at her pale green retro dress and back to Kirsty.

“I thought I was dressed up,” she said.

Kirsty patted her hand. She was dressed up. For Caroline. In fact she looked gorgeous with her strawberry-blond bob and Doris Day dress.

“You’re gorgeous,” Kirsty told her.

Caroline beamed at her.

“I still feel underdressed,” Kirsty said. “You can count the number of people in here that aren’t wearing tinsel on one hand.”

Caroline looked around.

“I can nab you some if you like,” she offered.

Kirsty shook her head. From the corner of her eye she could see her mother empty her bag. Out came a Dundee cake, a tiny bottle of whisky and a piece of coal. She placed them all on the table in front of her.

“For good luck,” she announced.

“Aren’t you supposed to take that to someone’s house when you first-foot?” Caroline said.

“Better safe than sorry,” her mother replied.

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Kirsty and Caroline shared a look, then shrugged. This was what Kirsty’s life had come to. She was spending New Year’s Eve in Invertary’s only pub, wearing her only dress and partying with a woman who had coal in her handbag.

People were jostling them and the noise grew louder the closer to midnight it became. On the TV in the corner of the room a generic magazine programme counted down the minutes to midnight. In front of her was a long, thin stage. Kirsty hadn’t seen it before and assumed it’d been made for the evening. There were posters on the wall behind the stage advertising the local dance school. Suddenly Dougal appeared. He tapped his microphone. There was a squeal of feedback. People shouted. Dougal signalled to someone before tapping the microphone again.

“Welcome to Invertary’s famous Hogmanay get-together, here at The Scottie Dog,” he boomed.

There was a cheer.

“This year we have a special treat. Please welcome the Invertary Dance School senior class. Remember to behave yourselves—some of these girls are up past their bedtimes.”

There was more cheering as Dougal disappeared. Lights flashed on. The music changed and eight kilted teenage girls started dancing the Highland Fling. As the girls performed the classic dance, Kirsty scanned the room. No sign of Lake yet, but she knew he was there somewhere.

She narrowed her eyes and waited.

Lake peered out through the small glass window in the door that led to The Scottie Dog’s kitchens. The place was jumping. He was pretty sure that everyone in Invertary was in the room. There was a plethora of clashing tartans, sparkling sequins and gold lamé. It honestly hurt his eyes to look at them. The music had changed and the girls were now performing a modern number. The loudspeakers blared out ‘80s rock band Run Rig, who were singing in Gaelic. People cheered and raised glasses full of whisky or warm Scottish beer. Lake nabbed another sausage roll from the tray beside him and Betty followed suit. In a nod to the occasion, she’d finished off her look with a cheap plastic tiara and a length of pink tinsel around her neck.