‘You have an odd family set-up, if you don’t mind me sayin’, Tig. At least, compared tae me.’
‘I know I do, but I love Ma and Claudia, our housekeeper, and my sisters just as much as you love your family. I really don’t want Pa’s death to break us all up. He was the glue that held all of us together,’ I sighed. ‘We always tried to get home for Christmas.’
‘Aye, family is everything,’ Cal agreed. ‘We might hate their guts, but if an outsider hurts them, we’ll defend them tae the hilt. If you want tae ask your ma tae come here, that’s fine, and we’ll do our best to make Christmas as . . . Christmassy as we can. Now, I’d better be off back tae my fences.’ He stood up and patted my shoulder as he passed me.
I called Ma later that morning and made the offer of a Scottish Christmas, but she declined.
‘Tiggy, chérie, it’s so sweet of you to think of me, but I feel I can’t leave Claudia by herself.’
‘She’s very welcome here too,’ I offered, ‘although it might be a bit of a tight squeeze.’
‘As a matter of fact, we’ve already invited Georg Hoffman over. And of course, Christian will be with us too.’
‘Right. Well, if you’re sure,’ I said, thinking how sad it was that Christmas at Atlantis would only comprise the staff, rather than any family members.
‘I am, chérie. Now, how are you? And how is that chest of yours?’
‘It’s fine. I’m getting buckets of fresh mountain air, Ma.’
‘Make sure you keep wrapped up warm. You know your chest does not take well to the cold weather.’
‘I will, Ma, I promise. Bye now.’
*
A few days later, I called Margaret to see how she was, and she invited me to have Christmas lunch with her, an offer which I gratefully accepted. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to disturb Cal’s family Christmas, or to be more truthful, deal with the mound of dead roasted bird that would be their lunch, I took Thistle for a walk around the estate. He seemed to have attached himself to me, much to Cal’s amusement, following me around like a witch’s familiar whenever he wasn’t needed for a shoot. I’d even occasionally smuggled him into the cottage when I knew Cal wasn’t there. He’d toast himself by the fire while I brushed burrs and knots out of his rough coat, hoping his master wouldn’t notice. I’d always longed for a dog of my own.
When I got back home, I opened the door to find Cal positioning a small Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room.
He looked up and frowned at Thistle, who had followed me to the door and was now sitting at the threshold with a pleading look in his eyes.
‘Now, Tig, I’ve told you time and again, he’s not supposed tae come in. It’ll make him nesh.’
‘“Nesh”?’ I queried, wondering guiltily if Cal already knew I’d been disobeying his orders.
‘Aye. You’ll turn him soft. You leave him outside.’
Reluctantly, I scooted Thistle out into the courtyard, whispering that I’d see him later, then closed the door.
‘Thought this tree would cheer you and the old place up,’ Cal commented. ‘I dug it up from the forest, roots an’ all, so we can replant it afterwards. Maybe yae could go tae Tain tomorrow and buy some lights and decorations for it?’
Tears pricked my eyes at the sight of the little tree, currently standing at a lopsided angle in its bucket of earth.
‘Oh Cal, that’s so sweet of you, thank you.’ I went over to him and gave him a hug. ‘I’ll go after I’ve fed the cats tomorrow.’
‘Well, make it early, the snow is coming in tomorrow for sure. Them Sassenachs down south are always dreaming o’ a white Christmas, but I cannae remember one Yuletide up here without the stuff.’
‘And I can’t wait,’ I said with a smile.
*
As Cal had predicted, I woke the next morning to the first snowfall of the season. I took the spare Land Rover, which was even clunkier and older than Beryl, and drove carefully into Tain.
With only a few days to go, the small town was bustling with Christmas shoppers and after I’d bought my tree lights and decorations, I chose a soft tartan scarf for Cal and a pink woollen jumper for Margaret. When I arrived home, I noticed there was a beaten-up Range Rover parked in front of Kinnaird Lodge. Beryl had been in a flap for days because Charlie and his family were coming up from Inverness to spend Christmas at the Lodge, before giving it over to the first paying guests for Hogmanay.
By the time Cal arrived home, our own little tree was decorated and lit, and a fire was burning merrily in the hearth. A CD of Christmas carols that I’d bought in Tain was playing on Cal’s ancient portable system.
‘I’m expecting Old Saint Nick himself to fall down the chimney any second,’ Cal chuckled as he hung his jacket, hat and scarf on the coat hooks I’d had him screw in by the front door. ‘We even have the reindeer outside, Tig, look.’
I peered out of the window and saw that the six deer that usually hung around on the lawn by the Lodge had ventured across to see us. All stags, they were tame enough to feed, and Cal had told me that they’d been hand-reared on the estate.
‘Are you feelin’ the spirit o’ Christmas yet, Tig? You wait until you’ve had a taste of my mulled wine. You’ll certainly feel it then. What’s fer supper?’
‘Bean casserole, or you can cook your own kill,’ I retorted as I left the sitting room to go to the kitchen.
‘Aye, go on then. The last one you made was really tasty.’
Over the casserole and a bottle of cheap wine, Cal and I discussed the cats’ progress.
‘At least the pigeons and deer hearts are now disappearing from where I leave them every day, but apart from Posy, the other three are still refusing to come anywhere close to me. I’ll have to get them all checked by a vet soon and I don’t know how I’m going to get near them.’
‘Tig, you cannae force animals to adjust to their new habitat on a timetable.’
‘I know,’ I sighed, ‘but I feel under such pressure, Cal. The mating season starts in January, but they’ve been so unsettled that they’re barely stirring from their separate boxes, let alone spending time getting friendly. And to be honest, I’m not sure they ever fancied each other in the first place. There was no chemistry that I ever saw.’
‘I’m not sure that mating has anything tae do with chemistry. In rutting season, I’ve seen stags mount six hinds one after the other. It’s called nature, an’ you just have tae hope that those boys o’ yours feel the urge.’
‘Some wildlife consultant I’m turning out to be,’ I said. ‘If no kittens arrive by the spring, I’ll feel I’ve totally failed Charlie.’
‘Och, the Laird’s no’ a monster, Tig. I saw him earlier up at the Lodge, and he says he’ll be down tae see you and the cats sometime over Christmas.’
‘Oh my God,’ I groaned. ‘What if they won’t come out when he comes to visit them?’
‘He’ll understand. By the way, I was wanting tae ask your advice, given you’re a girl and Missus Christmas tae boot. I have tae buy something for Caitlin. And I haven’t a clue in my head what.’
‘Caitlin?’
‘My girl. She lives in Dornoch, but she won’t be my girl for much longer if I don’t come up with something decent as a Christmas present.’
I looked at Cal in barely concealed surprise. ‘You have a girlfriend? Wow, Cal, why have you never mentioned her to me before?’
‘Personal stuff, isn’t it? Besides, the subject’s nae come up before.’
‘But you’re always here on the estate. Doesn’t Caitlin get . . . irritated by the fact she barely sees you?’
‘No’ really, because it’s always been like this. I see her fer a weekend once a month and every first Thursday.’
‘How long have you been together?’
‘Twelve years or so,’ he said as he shovelled more casserole into his mouth. ‘I popped the question a couple o’ years ago.’
‘Goodness! Then why isn’t she living up here in the cottage w
ith you?’
‘Tae begin with, she’s a building society branch manager in Tain, which as you know, is an hour’s drive away. What with the weather being as it is, she can’t risk getting snowed up here on the estate. And she doesnae want to be living in a damp dump like this. Mind you, if she saw it since you arrived, she might change her mind.’ He gave his growling chuckle. ‘Now we’re about it, what about you? D’you have someone special in your life, Tig?’
‘There was a guy I met in the lab at Servion Zoo and we had a thing for a while, but it wasn’t serious. I’ve not met “the one” yet,’ I said, taking a slurp of my wine. ‘You’re lucky you have. I’d love to meet Caitlin, Cal. Why don’t you invite her here one evening over Christmas?’
‘The thing is, Tig,’ Cal said with a frown, ‘I may ha’ mentioned that I’m sharing my digs with a prize-fighting bearded woman, not a pretty lassie like you. Yae know what women are like, I’d never hear the last of it.’
‘That’s all the more reason to have her here: I can reassure her that I’m no threat. Anyway, I would like to meet her at some point because she’s your “person”. Oh, and I suggest you buy her jewellery.’
‘She’s a practical sort of a girl, Tig,’ Cal said doubtfully. ‘Last year I bought her a pair o’ thermal bedsocks and some waterproof gloves. She seemed pleased enough.’
‘I promise you, Cal,’ I replied, stifling a giggle, ‘women, no matter how practical they may be – or pretend to be – are suckers for jewellery.’
An hour later, we said goodnight and went to our beds. I felt happy about Cal’s revelation – in my experience, however modern society was these days, the relationship between any male and female who lived together always had an edge to it until the ground rules had been established. Which they just had been by our conversation. Not that there was any part of me that was sexually attracted to Cal, but I definitely felt close to him. The good news was that having grown up with five sisters, Cal could now become what I’d always longed for – a big brother.
*
I looked up at Polson, who was sitting out on one of the wooden platforms above me. He was preening himself in the sun, his rear end pointed in my direction, blatantly ignoring me. I didn’t care. At least he was out of his box and in the open, which gave me hope he was finally recovering from his trauma.
I took a quick photo on my camera, just in case the Laird – as I’d come to call Charlie Kinnaird along with everyone else here – wanted proof that the cats were alive.
‘Happy Christmas Eve,’ I said to Polson, ‘and maybe tomorrow morning you’ll actually deign to look at me so I can wish you a Merry Christmas eye to eye.’
I scrambled back up the slope, thinking that if cats had a reputation for being as haughty and capricious as royalty, then Polson was king. As I looked up, I saw a very slim woman standing at the top of the slope staring down at me. She had long legs like a giraffe, and was dressed in what Cal would call a ‘townie’ ski jacket with a glamorous fur collar. Her thick hair shone white-blonde like a halo in the sunlight, framing a pair of big blue eyes, and lips that looked like they could double as pillows. Whoever she was, she was very beautiful. She began to crunch noisily towards me. At the sight of her, Polson retreated immediately.
‘Er, hi,’ I said as I doubled my pace upwards. Having reached her, we were face to face, or, rather, my eye-line was on a level with her stomach as she towered above me on the slope. ‘I’m so sorry, madam, but this area is out of bounds.’
‘Really?’ she drawled, looking down at me disdainfully. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘It actually is for the moment, because we have wildcats just arrived, you see. I’m trying to settle them in, and they’re very temperamental and don’t like strangers and I’ve just encouraged them to start coming out into the open and—’
‘Who might you be?’
‘My name’s Tiggy, I work here.’
‘Do you now?’
‘Yes. It’s fine if you stay up there. I mean, I know you can’t see much, but the Laird is trying to breed the cats, because there are only three hundred of them left in Scotland.’
‘I know all that,’ she said, and I heard the timbre of a foreign accent, plus the barely concealed antipathy in her words. ‘Well, far be it from me to disturb your little project.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘I’ll do as I’m told and beat a retreat. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye,’ I called to the Claudia Schiffer lookalike as I watched her stalk back up the hill. Instinctively, I knew that I’d just made a mistake.
*
‘I met a woman down by the cats today,’ I said to Cal when he came in at lunchtime. ‘She was blonde with Disney princess lips and really tall.’
‘That’ll be the mistress, then,’ Cal replied as he slurped his soup. ‘The Laird’s wife, Ulrika.’
‘Shit,’ I whispered.
‘Not like you to swear, Tig. What’s up?’
‘I may have been really rude to her, Cal. I’d just managed to get Polson out of his lair when she arrived and made him scarper back inside. So I basically told her to go away.’ I bit my lip and waited for Cal’s reaction.
‘That’ll have gone down like a cup o’ cold sick,’ he said as he wiped a chunk of bread around his bowl then stuffed it in his mouth. ‘That’s probably the first time she’s ever been told tae bugger off by anyone.’
‘Christ, Cal, I was only trying to protect the cats; surely she’ll understand, if she knows anything about wild animals?’
‘All she knows about are the ones she wears on her body, Tig. Right fashion plate, she is. She did some modelling when she was younger.’
‘I should have realised who she was when I saw her,’ I groaned.
‘Whoever she was, yae didnae want the cats disturbed. Never mind, Tig, I’m sure she’ll get over it. I’d reckon she wasn’t coming tae visit the cats anyway, but to take a look at their keeper. Charlie’s probably told her about yae, and knowing what I do about her, she wouldn’t be keen on a young woman invading her territory. Especially one as pretty as you are.’
‘Hah! Well, thanks for the compliment, Cal, but I doubt she’d be threatened by me.’ I indicated my little body that had never sprung the womanly curves it was meant to, covered in my old Aran jumper, with as many holes as it had knitting due to the moths in Margaret’s cottage.
‘I’ll bet you scrub up pretty well all the same. And that’s what you’ll be doing at tonight’s little shindig up at the Lodge. I forgot tae mention that the Laird’s continuing his father’s tradition of holding drinks and a ceilidh on Christmas Eve in the main hall, so you’ll need tae be getting out your glad rags.’
‘What?!’ I looked at Cal in horror. ‘I don’t have any nice clothes with me.’
‘Well, mebbe you can at least have a bath so you don’t go smellin’ of wildcat.’
That night, I realised all I had that was not a moth-eaten jumper was a red-checked shirt and my pair of ‘best’ black jeans. I left my chestnut hair loose instead of scraped back in a ponytail, and added a lick of mascara and a dab of red lipstick.
I gasped in surprise when I joined Cal in the sitting room. He was dressed in a dark-blue-and-green kilt, a sporran hanging from his belt buckle, and a knife tucked into his sock.
‘Wow, Cal, you look incredible!’
‘You’ve spruced up quite well too,’ he said approvingly. ‘Right, let’s go.’
We walked across to the front entrance to the Lodge, where I could already hear the murmur of voices from within.
‘This is the only occasion o’ the year when we peasants are allowed tae cross the main threshold,’ he murmured to me as we stepped inside and I looked up to the lights of the gorgeous Christmas tree that sat in the stairwell. A huge fire was burning in the grate and arriving guests – the men dressed in kilts like Cal, the women sporting tartan sashes – were being offered mulled wine and mince pies by Beryl and Alison.
‘You look very nice, Tiggy,’ Beryl said. ‘Merry Christmas to yo
u.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ I toasted her and took a gulp of my mulled wine as I surreptitiously searched the room for a glimpse of Charlie Kinnaird and his wife.
‘They’re both still upstairs.’ Beryl read my mind. ‘The new mistress always does take a long time to get ready. And she’s preparing to greet her subjects after all,’ she added through pursed lips.
Beryl moved on to serve other recent arrivals, and I wandered across the hall, musing that the majority of guests seemed to be of pensionable age. Then I saw a teenage girl, who stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greying heads. She was standing alone with her glass of mulled wine and looking as bored as anyone her age would at such a gathering. As I approached her, I saw she looked familiar – the same bright blue eyes and unblemished skin as the woman I’d met at the wildcat enclosure this morning, but with a head of wavy mahogany hair cut very short. It was obvious from her sweatshirt and ripped jeans that she’d made no effort to dress up for tonight’s festivities.
‘Hello.’ I smiled as I approached her. ‘I’m Tiggy. I’ve just started to work here on the estate. I’m looking after the wildcats while they settle in.’
‘Yeah, Dad’s mentioned you. I’m Zara Kinnaird.’ Zara’s blue eyes appraised me, just as her mother’s had earlier in the day. ‘You look too young to be Dad’s wildlife consultant. How old are you?’
‘Twenty-six. You?’
‘Sixteen. How are the cats settling in?’ she asked me, seeming genuinely interested.
‘It’s taking time, but we’re getting there.’
‘I wish I could be you, out in the open air all day working on the estate with the animals, rather than being stuck in a classroom doing boring maths and stuff. Mum and Dad won’t let me come and work here until I’ve finished my education.’
‘You don’t have long left, do you?’
‘A whole eighteen months. And even after that, Mum probably expects me to become editor of Vogue or something. I don’t think so,’ she snorted. ‘Do you smoke?’ she whispered to me.
‘No, I don’t. Do you?’
‘Yeah, when Mum and Dad aren’t looking. Everyone does at school. Will you come outside with me so I can have one, and then say you took me off to look at the stag heads in the shed or something? It’s sooo boring in here.’
The Moon Sister Page 5