by Jenny Kane
Charlie and Kit exchanged knowing glances as Phil and Gervase got stuck into arranging the stacks of crime novels onto the table that had been placed at the side of the Horsemill. The two bookshop owners looked like pigs in clover.
‘Are you ready, Gervase?’ Kit checked the time again. The whole day seemed to have disappeared in a blur of activity, but now there was only half an hour until the three crime writers were due to appear, and an hour until the audience would be assembling in the entrance to the main castle, before they were escorted from the vaulted basement up the spiral staircase to the Long Gallery.
Kit had watched Gwen and her team arrange rows of seats in front of a small table and four chairs in the Gallery earlier, and tried to picture herself welcoming everyone. Despite the beauty of the room, and the way the arched curve of the wooden ceiling captured her words and sent them bouncing to the end of the room without the need for a microphone, Kit had still felt as though her insides had been filled with sherbet.
Gervase waved a piece of paper at Kit. ‘I am indeed. Luckily for you, I have read work by all three of your guests. Are you ready to do the intros bit, to call things to an end, and to usher every single person to my bookstall with their money in hand?’
Kit pulled a face. ‘I’ll do my best.’ She turned to Charlie. ‘Are you sure you can’t do this instead?’
Charlie shook her head. ‘Not if you want me to try and stop Alice fleeing the scene before we’ve got her to the dance. We need to bang her and Cameron’s heads together.’
‘Are you convinced that’s what they want?’ Gervase passed the keys to his portable till to Phil as he addressed the girls, ‘You aren’t caught in some sort of writer-ish need for a romantic ending because it’s Christmas?’
The women tutted in unison before Charlie said, ‘Do either of us ever write sickly endings?’
‘Point taken!’
‘I’d quit that line of enquiry while you still have all your teeth, Gervase!’ Phil laughed, ‘Kit, go and find those writers. They’re bound to be on their way here by now.’
Jeremy Allen bent his huge frame down and engulfed Kit in a hug, before shaking Gervase energetically by the hand. ‘That was superb. I can’t believe you haven’t done that before.’
Kit’s cheeks glowed with happiness. Every chair had been filled, and Charlie had hastily stolen extra seats from the neighbouring room to accommodate some people who’d turned up at the last minute. Now, as the last of the guests trooped back down the spiral staircase and crossed the courtyard to the Horsemill, Kit saw a throng of guests gather around the refreshments and Gervase’s bookstall, with Charlie, Gwen, and Phil in their elements, serving and chatting to the guests while Jeremy, Davy Smith, and their cohorts found themselves swamped with demands to sign newly purchased novels.
When only a few stragglers were left chatting to the authors, Gwen bought a large black coffee over to Kit. ‘Charlie thought you’d rather have an Americano than a glass of wine.’
Kit would have hugged the older woman if it wouldn’t have endangered her cup of coffee. ‘You’re a star, Gwen. How has it gone in here? I can’t believe how fast the hour in the castle went.’
‘We’ve sold all the cupcakes, and there’s hardly a lager left in the place. We didn’t do so well on the red wine, but the white took a clobbering. I don’t suppose you know where Alice got the alcohol, so we can order some more?’
‘I don’t, but Charlie might.’
‘I hope so, because if we got through that much in one evening, by tomorrow night they’ll be none left.’
‘That’ll be the sort of thing Alice was talking about when she said she was needed to make sure the whole event ran smoothly then?’
Gwen watched the happy faces of the writers as they shook hands with Phil and Gervase. ‘If the other events aren’t as good as this one then it’ll be that Alice’s fault. Fancy being as unprofessional as to fall out with Cameron to the point he had to banish her!’
‘I don’t think it was that simple, Gwen.’
‘It never is, dear, but you still have to get on with it, crisis or no crisis.’ Gwen bustled back to help with the clearing up, leaving Kit thoughtfully sipping her coffee.
Crisis … ummm … Kit joined Charlie at the door to wave off the authors, before saying, ‘I think I’ve worked out how to get Alice back here.’
‘But Cameron banned her!’
‘Do you think he meant that, or do you think he is secretly hoping that she’ll turn up anyway?’
A smile spread over Charlie’s face, ‘You’re right. So, what’s the plan?’
Alice wasn’t sure how long she’d be sat for. The crime panel would be over by now. Her crime panel, at her festival, that she’d arranged all because Cameron had begged her to.
Suddenly fuming, she got to her feet and grabbed her luggage, just as her phone buzzed into life. For a moment she was tempted to ignore it, but then changed her mind. ‘Oh hello, Kit, you caught me; I’m about to check out.’
Alice dropped back onto the bed as she listened to the tale of disaster that Kit was detailing in growing disbelief, ‘How the hell did that happen?’
Not bothering to waste time listening to all the other things that had gone wrong at the crime panel, Alice abandoned her luggage, and ran to her jeep in the hotel car park, ‘Sod Cameron Hunter. I’m on my way!’
Cameron, handsome in his jeans and a white shirt, came into the Horsemill as the last guest left. Making a beeline for Charlie and Kit, he thanked them heartily. ‘You guys have been incredible. Sorry I had to miss the panel, I had some calls to make to confirm the catering for the dance. I can tell by the happy chatter I’ve overheard outside that the first night was a hit.’
Gwen was passing Cameron a dram of whisky when the Horsemill’s door was thrown open with a bang.
‘Alice!’ Cameron’s face contorted into a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ‘I thought I said you …’
‘I don’t give a damn what you said! You were the one who asked me to set up this festival. You told me it was the least I could do to make amends for treating you badly in the past, and so I did. I left what I was doing, risked my reputation, lost money on work I’ve turned down so I can be here, so I’m bloody well going to be here. Especially after tonight’s disaster!’
Cameron frowned, ‘What disaster?’
For the first time Alice looked around properly. There was no sign of anything wrong at all. ‘Kit, what’s going on?’
‘A brilliant crime panel was going on. Gervase was a fantastic host, we’ve raised a fortune on refreshments, and Phil sold loads of books.’
Alice’s brow creased. ‘But you said that there was an alcohol crisis, you made it sound as if every champagne cork had exploded in the kitchen and the audience had gone away covered in alcohol! I thought we were going to be facing the world’s biggest dry cleaning bill!’
Kit shrugged, ‘I only exaggerated a bit. I didn’t think you’d come if you knew we only needed to know where to get a restock of drink.’
‘WHAT?’
Charlie took Alice’s arm before she could swivel on her high heels and storm out again. ‘We want you here. We need you here. A fake crisis was the only way you’d swallow your pride enough to come.’
Alice stared from one friend to the next in disbelief as Charlie went on, ‘Tonight was brilliant. You deserve to be here to see the happy faces of the guests and authors. And you think so too, don’t you, Cameron?’
The Scotsman gave Charlie a quick scowl to tell her in no uncertain terms that he’d be talking to her later about forcing his hand. ‘Oh, of course I do. I’m sorry, Alice. I was being an idiot.’
Alice swallowed. ‘So, it went well then?’
‘Like a dream, you should have seen it!’
‘I’m banned from the premises, remember?’ Having avoided looking at Cameron in case her face gave her feelings away, Alice seared him with a glare. ‘I’m only here now because Kit is such a good liar.’
&
nbsp; Phil, who’d been quietly boxing up the books they hadn’t sold, laughed out loud. ‘Sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh, but from what Kit has told me it’s obvious that you two are nuts about each other. Even the angry glares you exchange are hot enough to light a fire! For goodness sake, Cameron, don’t be a love-blind boy for a second time!’
Cameron’s forehead creased into uncertainty as Phil threw a copy of the novel in question off the table into the estate manager’s hands.
Alice swallowed and looked into Cameron’s eyes, seeing understanding dawning just as Gervase swung round to stare at Charlie as though she was a stranger.
‘Cameron? Cameron was the love-blind boy?’
Charlie froze. All she could do was stutter out the words, ‘It’s fiction.’
‘Fiction is never entirely fiction though, is it?’
Numb with shock, Charlie stood helplessly as Gervase walked out of the Horsemill, leaving a horrified hush behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday December 6th
The fantasy panel, held in the beautifully spooky Green Lady’s Room, had been packed with children all desperate to see the woman who’d created the latest teen fiction cult, Zee-world. It had been such a hit that Phil had sold every copy of the books Gervase had provided.
Now, back in the Horsemill, Phil looked up from counting his takings to see Cameron approaching with an end of the evening beer in hand.
‘The man is a total idiot.’
‘That’s the pot calling the kettle black isn’t it?’ Phil retorted.
‘True, but Alice and I have rocky history, and a rocky present come to that, but Gervase … he hasn’t known Charlie long, but you can tell they are totally smitten with each other.’
Phil snapped his moneybox shut. ‘I’m beginning to think that Kit was right. We’ve flown into some sort of Scottish version of a romantic farce.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, come on! We’ve got you and Alice acting like hostile versions of Mother and Father Christmas, yet the tension and chemistry between you is hot enough to melt every ice block in the vicinity. Then there’s Charlie, who wasted years of her life not bothering with men in case they fell for her best friend instead. And now Gervase, who I had down as a pretty level-headed guy, has had a hit of jealousy because Charlie had a thing for you five years ago! Oscar Wilde would have loved this!’
Unable to deny the truth of what Phil was saying, Cameron asked, ‘Do you know where Gervase has gone?’
‘Not a clue. The shop wasn’t open when I went past yesterday.’
‘Well, I hope he sees sense soon, otherwise Charlie is going to start resembling one of the heartbroken characters from her books, rather than one of the heroines if she doesn’t smile again soon.’
Gwen studied her granddaughter as she quietly stacked the dishwater. She’d obviously not slept well, but otherwise she was holding herself together with a professionalism that made her proud.
‘How’s she doing?’ Kit whispered to Gwen as she carried the last tray of empty cups, saucers, and glasses into the Horsemill’s kitchen.
‘Hardly said a word. All I get if I ask if she’s OK is a firm reply asking me not to talk about it, which I respect.’
Charlie pushed her way through the kitchen door, a to-do list in her hand, ‘Hi, all. You ready for the panel tomorrow night, Kit?’
Kit wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m trying not to think about it. I was so nervous just introducing on Friday, I daren’t think about hosting a whole panel. You were great with the kids this afternoon. Thanks for agreeing to take it in turns.’
‘Only fair, especially as you came so far at the eleventh hour and have ended up doing far more than I’d expected. I’m glad we didn’t try and squeeze in an event this evening as well. I want to go home and remind myself of the books I’ve written in case I get asked questions about them tomorrow.’
‘Do you think Alice will help us out with the romance panel now? It was always going to be awkward interviewing each other.’
‘She said she would, but I’ll double-check in case she and Cameron have fallen out again.’
‘I don’t think they’ve spoken to each other long enough to fall out.’ Kit pulled her bag from its hiding place beneath the kitchen counter, ‘and you, Charlie, how about you and…’
‘I’m just fine, thank you. I’m better off on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Charlie scooped up her own bag. ‘I knew it was too good to be true. I mean; an author and a bookshop man. As if that would ever happen!’
As she left the room, Kit spoke under her breath, ‘It works for me.’
Strolling along Banchory High Street, Kit and Phil swung bags of heavily tartanned gifts to take back to their friends at Pickwicks and Phil’s bookshop.
Despite it being late on Sunday afternoon, a light was on in Gervase’s shop. As they came level with the large picture window, Kit saw Gervase sat behind his desk reading.
‘He’s back. Thank goodness.’ Kit peered through the window, ‘I think that’s one of Charlie’s books he’s holding.’
‘Probably the one I threw at Cameron. I can’t tell you how much I wish I hadn’t done that.’
‘You didn’t know the situation.’
Seeing his wife’s need to give everyone a happy ending racing to the surface, Phil put a restraining hand on Kit’s arm. ‘Don’t you think you should let them sort out their own mess?’
‘Of course not. They could be as happy as us if they’d let themselves.’ Kit pushed open the shop door, leaving a resigned Phil to follow her. ‘I didn’t have you down as a chick fiction reader.’
Acting as though he’d been caught out, Gervase blushed. ‘Hello, Kit. Hi, Phil.’ He brandished Charlie’s book in the air, ‘I’d forgotten how engrossing this book is. She’s good.’
‘Don’t let her slip through your fingers, Gervase. Charlie’s a good one.’
The bookshop owner laid down The Love-Blind Boy, ‘I was checking I hadn’t missed something when I read it before. Sadly, I hadn’t. It’s incredible Charlie and Alice are still friends.’
‘I told you, Charlie is one of life’s good guys. Anyway, I don’t think either Alice or Cameron had any idea that Charlie was being hurt back then.’
‘Doesn’t Cameron miss Charlie now? Romantically, I mean.’
‘What do you mean?’
Gervase waved the book at Kit. ‘They were an item in the end.’
‘Oh, Gervase, don’t be an idiot! That’s fiction. This is real life. Charlie and Cameron were never an item.’ Kit pulled the book out of his hands, ‘Just go and talk to her, will you? And soon!’
Chapter Sixteen
Monday December 7th
‘This question is for Erin and Kit. Would you say you wrote romance, or would you say you wrote fiction that just happened to have an element of romance within it? I’ve read all your novels, and there is always much more going on than a love story.’
Charlie had to fight the urge to get up, run across the castle’s High Hall, and kiss Mel for asking such an excellent question. After she and Kit had successfully been interviewed by Alice about life in romantic fiction, the floor had been thrown open to the audience for questions, and the question was a gift to them both, which they tackled with easy humour.
Ten minutes later, Kit was in the middle of giving a quirky reply to what she thought the difference between erotic romance and romance was when Charlie’s mouth suddenly turned sandpaper-dry.
Her concentration evaporated as she saw that Gervase had sneaked into the hall. The Welshman’s deep chocolate eyes levelled on her before he sat at a free chair. Thankful that Kit was still talking so she had a few seconds to compose herself, Charlie tried to steady her breathing. How long has he been there?
The remainder of the panel, after zipping by so fast before, now seemed to take for ever. Charlie’s smile felt fake as she made small talk with the guests while they walked from the castle to the Horsemill.
She h
ad to escape.
The second the last wine-flushed guest had finished explaining why she had to write a sequel to Love-Blind Boy, Charlie slipped out through the door into the cold of the evening. Without bothering to retrieve her coat, Charlie got into her car. With only a mild pang of regret that she’d miss both the dance and talking to Kit and Phil on their final evening at the castle, she headed home at top speed.
Assuming it was Alice or Kit coming to see if she was alright, Charlie pulled the dressing gown cord tighter around her stomach and went to answer the knock on the front door.
‘Oh!’
Gervase stood there, handsome in his kilt and jacket. Apparently not noticing that Charlie was standing before him in robe and slippers, he dispensed with the pleasantries. ‘Do you have time for a walk?’
‘I’m working.’
‘It’s late.’
‘I work long hours.’
‘In your dressing gown and slippers?’ Gervase looked her up and down, and Charlie thought for a second, that she’d seen a suggestive gleam in his eye, but then dismissed it as wishful thinking.
‘Oh, you know us writers; we work in anything, anywhere, anytime.’ Charlie’s fingers itched to reach out and run her hands over him, but she squeezed her hands into fists inside her dressing gown pockets.
Gervase said, ‘Come on, come for a walk. Please. I want to talk to you about your work.’
‘My work?’
‘Yes.’
‘But aren’t you supposed to be at the after-festival dinner and dance?’
‘That’s not important.’ Gervase asked his next question carefully, ‘I’d like to talk to you about The Love-Blind Boy.’
Charlie swallowed carefully. ‘I think I’d better get dressed so we can go for that walk.’
Alone in her bedroom, Charlie suddenly didn’t know what to wear. She could hardly go for a walk with him in her usual dungarees and jumper when he looked so smart. Then, telling herself not to be stupid, Charlie chose jeans, a shirt, and her favourite thick, bottle green jumper.
