Sealed With a Kiss

by Rachael Lucas

  ‘Fiona is fine,’ said Roderick. ‘But we’re not – well, we went our separate ways a few months ago.’ He looked pained. No matter what he said, he must still have feelings for her.

  Kate stood up. ‘Melanie, have you got many other animals in at the moment?’ Her voice sounded brittle and higher than normal.

  ‘Yes, we have eight grey seals that came in earlier in the season, and a common seal that was found about half a mile from the sea, shuffling along the main road.’ She poured a foul-smelling, yellow-grey sludge into a container, mixing it expertly. ‘This is what we feed them – it stinks, but it does the trick. Let me get this little chick sorted and then I’ll show you round.’

  Melanie and Mark worked together as a team, seemingly knowing what had to be done without using words. One held down the pup, and the other manoeuvred the feeding tube down the throat of the startled seal.

  ‘It’s easy enough when they’re quiet, but when they get a bit bigger, mealtime is a bit hairy,’ said Mark, holding the pup steady as the liquid poured down her throat. After a few moments of struggling, she remained still.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s an electrolyte supplement. After that, she’ll go onto a combination of fish oil, high-protein milk supplement and a vitamin mixture. It’ll build her up pretty quickly; she’ll be catching fish on her own before you know it.’ Melanie gently pulled the tube out. ‘There you are, little one. We have to stop off the tube as it’s coming back out, to make sure no liquid makes its way down into the lungs.’ She picked up the seal pup and placed it in a pen. ‘There you go, darling.’

  ‘Look at that – she’s picked up already.’ Mark smiled at the pup, beckoning Kate over. ‘What are you going to call her, Kate? It’s the finder’s privilege.’

  Kate looked into the seal kennel. The seal’s dark, liquid eyes were brighter already. As she watched, the pup rolled onto her side and began sucking on her flipper.

  ‘Flora.’

  ‘A good Scottish name,’ nodded Melanie. ‘Now let’s give her a bit of peace, and I’ll show you round.’

  Melanie and Mark offered to put them up for the night, but with no bag, and feeling worried about Willow, Kate really wanted to get home. With promises of daily updates on Flora’s progress, they left the mainland, managing to catch the last ferry home with seconds to spare.

  If I’m honest with myself, Kate thought, what I want to do is lie on the couch with a glass of wine and my nice fire, and contemplate ways to bump off the vile Fiona.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts?’ said Roderick, interrupting her daydream.

  ‘I was just thinking about, um . . . ’ Kate plucked an idea out of her head, desperately, ‘. . . New Year.’

  ‘Mmm. It should be good.’ Roderick looked over at her. ‘You will come back for it, won’t you? I’d like you to see a proper island Hogmanay.’ Seemingly not thinking, he said, ‘You think Bonfire Night was something. Wait until you see the islanders really let their hair down.’

  Kate’s eyes widened, as Roderick realized his mistake. They looked at each other for a never-ending awkward moment. She decided to bluff her way out of it and continue with the fabrication that nothing had happened.

  ‘It sounds interesting.’

  ‘That’s one word for it.’ The relief in his tone was evident as he continued, ‘It’s the biggest night of the year here on the island, and you’ll be expected to be suitably impressed.’

  Pulling her cold hands inside her sleeves, Kate thought for a moment. ‘I’m not going to get away with not coming to it, am I?’

  ‘Nope.’ He smiled at her. ‘If you don’t get back up here by the thirtieth of December, Jean will be beetling down the M1 to collect you herself.’

  10

  Christmas in Cambridge

  Bruno’s cafe was decorated for Christmas. The ceiling was adorned with crepe-paper hangings in vibrant, clashing colours, and he had Elvis’s Christmas Album on a constant loop on the Wurlitzer. Behind the Formica counter, he was making coffee, wearing a Father Christmas hat.

  ‘I’ll be home for Christmas,’ he crooned, looking up at Kate. ‘When are you away?’

  ‘Tomorrow, on the 6 a.m. ferry.’

  ‘Early tae bed for you tonight?’ He passed over her coffee with a flourish.

  The froth on the top was decorated with a swirl in the shape of a Christmas tree.

  ‘How do you do that?’ marvelled Kate, as was expected of her. ‘No, not an early night. Susan and Tom have invited me round for Christmas drinks. Worst-case scenario, I can sleep on the train down to Cambridge.’

  ‘Just mind ye take a bit of water wi’ it – that ferry is no fun wi’ a sore heid. Believe me, there’s no an islander that wouldna say the same.’

  Kate saluted him, laughing. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And ye’ll be back for Hogmanay?’ Bruno wiped an invisible speck from the worktop with a bar cloth.

  ‘I don’t have any choice. Jean has issued an edict.’

  ‘Best ye’re back here in plenty of time, hen. I wouldna cross that one – she’s fierce.’

  The hedges outside Susan and Tom’s house were woven with fairy lights, which sparkled in the dark. On the icy footpath, tiny waxed paper bags, each one with a tea-light in the base, lit the way to the front door, which was decked with a huge, simple wreath of holly, hung on a deep-red ribbon. Kate opened the door and was hit with a blast of cinnamon, cloves and something alcoholic.

  ‘Hello, stranger.’ Tom kissed her cheek. ‘You’re freezing. Come in, let me take your coat. Susan’s making mulled wine.’

  In the kitchen Susan was standing, half-empty bottle of brandy in hand. Morag was at the table, holding a drowsing baby Mhairi. Through the hall Kate could hear the shouts of Jamie and Ted playing a game of tennis on the Wii.

  ‘I’m afraid my hand slipped when I was adding a tot of brandy to the mulled wine,’ said Susan, with a conspiratorial grin. ‘It’s now like rocket fuel. D’you want some?’

  ‘I’d love some. I’ve been warned by Bruno that I’m not to drink too much, though, or I’ll be dying on the six o’clock ferry in the morning.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ted, coming into the room with Jamie on his shoulders. ‘But a hungover ferry journey is a rite of passage. We’ve all done it, haven’t we?’

  The room filled with groans of reminiscence.

  ‘I’ll just have one,’ said Kate firmly. She was trying to ignore a slight feeling of disappointment. Half of her had been hoping that Roderick would have been there, given his close friendship with Tom and Susan. But perhaps, she realized, they hadn’t invited him, knowing it might be awkward.

  Morag put the baby down to bed. Tom lifted a protesting Jamie off Ted’s shoulders, saying, ‘Bed for you too, young man.’

  Kate blew Jamie a kiss. ‘I’ve a special present in my bag for you – I’ll leave it under the Christmas tree. You can tell me what you think when I get back from England.’

  Jamie, eyes heavy with sleep, blew her a kiss back. ‘Night-night, Katie-Kate.’

  ‘Right then,’ said Susan gleefully, ‘Let the party commence.’ She ladled the steaming hot mulled wine into huge, heavy glasses, each of which appeared to be wearing a little woollen coat. Kate took her drink and peered at the woollen attachment.

  ‘It’s Helen’s idea. It keeps them warm for longer,’ explained Susan, laughing. ‘Wait till you’re outside watching the fireworks and you’ll see the point of them.’

  ‘Fireworks?’

  ‘Aye, it’s our little tradition – Christmas Day is for the children, so we take it in turns to have drinks at someone’s house the week before. The fireworks started off as sparklers, but somehow over the years it snowballed.’

  ‘Is that your idea of a Christmas pun?’ Kate groaned.

  ‘Ha. No, but it’s a good one,’ said Susan.

  There was a soft knock at the door, and suddenly the long hall was full of more visitors. Finn, a box under his arm, leaned over and kissed Kate hello. His f
ace was cold. Remembering his recent half-proposition, she blushed.

  ‘All right, gorgeous?’ He gave her a wink.

  ‘Roddy, will you take my coat?’

  The voice filled Kate with horror. Oh please, no, she thought, looking past Finn. But oh God, yes, it was. Standing in the hall with a fur hat on top of her golden hair, thin-lipped mouth pouting (not a good look, thought Kate) was Fiona. And behind her . . .

  ‘Kate.’ Roderick, strangely, looked pleased to see her. He leaned forward and kissed her in greeting. It was the first sign of affection he’d shown since his return from Oxfordshire, and the briefest kiss on her cheek made her stomach disappear through her feet.

  Perhaps he’s got a weird firework-fetish, she thought, and started to giggle.

  ‘Are you all right?’ He looked at her, puzzled.

  ‘Fine. Sorry, I was thinking about something.’

  ‘I’ll have a vodka and tonic,’ announced Fiona breezily, as she walked past Kate.

  Kate looked round to see if there was anyone else at whom she could have been aiming the request, but the hall was empty. Finn was standing in the kitchen with Morag, and the others had made their way to the sitting room.

  ‘I don’t think there is any – at least, I don’t know where it is. There’s mulled wine,’ said Kate, trying to be helpful.

  ‘Well, don’t you think you should find out that sort of thing at the beginning of the night?’ snapped Fiona.

  ‘Fiona! This isn’t Kate’s house. Why on earth would you expect her to know where the drinks are kept?’ Roderick looked over Fiona’s shoulder at Kate, pulling an embarrassed face.

  ‘Is she not working tonight?’

  Hello, thought Kate, I am actually standing right here.

  ‘Kate?’ Roderick burst out laughing. ‘Why on earth would she be working here? She’s friends with Tom and Susan – she’s here as a guest.’

  ‘Oh. I assumed, with what she was wearing,’ Fiona looked Kate up and down, taking in the black jeans and black polo neck, ‘that they’d borrowed her from you for the night.’

  Kate snorted. Roderick, sensing mutiny in the ranks, ushered Fiona through into the sitting room, throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder as he did so.

  ‘That bloody cow!’ Kate stormed into the kitchen, pouring herself a large top-up of the now-cooling mulled wine. She gulped it all, and slammed down her glass.

  ‘Fiona,’ said Finn and Morag in unison.

  ‘She’s vicious.’ Kate held out her glass.

  Morag filled it to the brim, her face thunderous. ‘Aye, well, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of her.’

  ‘Do you think she and Roderick are back together?’ The thought make Kate feel quite ill.

  Finn shook his head violently. ‘I can’t see it. But let’s face it, the stakes are fairly high with Roderick. She’ll not give up that easily.’

  Morag nodded. ‘And that’s what worries me. Fiona doesn’t want Roddy because she loves him; she wants the house and the land and the cachet of being the laird’s wife.’

  ‘Right enough,’ nodded Finn. ‘I tell you what, Kate, we were so pleased to get shot of her when she got the job on the mainland, I wanted to fly over to Glasgow and thank the newspaper editor myself.’

  ‘Och now, Finn, she’s not a bad girl at heart. She’s just spoilt.’ Morag gave him a little poke in the ribs. ‘Mind you, the local paper has been a much nicer read since she gave up as editor,’ she admitted. ‘If I wanted an exposé every week, I’d read the red-tops.’

  Kate, by this time halfway down her third mulled wine, was feeling distinctly light-headed. She twirled the cinnamon stick in her drink, watching the dark whirlpool, daydreaming.

  ‘Kate?’

  ‘Hmm? Oh. So Fiona left to work for a national paper?’

  ‘Sandra was over the moon,’ said Finn. ‘Fiona was determined that Roderick would come with her and get someone in to run the estate day-to-day. But he dug in his heels and refused, so she upped sticks and went to Glasgow without him.’

  ‘So why is she back now?’

  ‘Well, I think her plan fell through.’ Morag continued the tale. ‘I think she thought she’d storm off and Roderick would follow her. But she underestimated his love for this place.’

  ‘And the fact that he probably thought he had a lucky escape,’ added Finn, in an undertone.

  ‘There’s that as well,’ Morag laughed. ‘Finn, your glass is empty. Here you go.’ She topped it up.

  ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

  ‘Behave yourself, Finn McArthur.’

  ‘Can’t blame me for trying. You’re a good-looking woman for your age.’ He winked at her.

  ‘Bloody hell, Finn,’ laughed Kate, the wine loosening her tongue. ‘I can’t believe I fell for your lines. Talk about cheesy.’

  He pulled her into his arms, grinning hugely, and bent her backwards in a parody of a stage kiss, so that she gasped as his laughing mouth was almost on hers. ‘Admit it, you want me.’

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ said Fiona crisply. ‘I only came to find out if there was any chance of getting a drink around here. It was Christmas drinks that we were invited to, after all.’

  ‘Fiona, my dear,’ Morag sloshed some mulled wine into a glass, scooping in some fruit and a cinnamon stick. ‘How thoughtless of Kate.’

  Fiona sniffed disapprovingly in Kate’s direction. The humour in Morag’s voice was lost on her. ‘I’ll take a drink for Roddy. Where on earth are Tom and Susan? It’s supposed to be their party and they’re nowhere to be seen.’

  ‘Probably sneaked upstairs for a quickie, knowing them,’ whispered Finn as Fiona stalked out of the room, glasses in hand.

  ‘We can’t hide in the kitchen all night.’ Kate unwillingly put her glass on the worktop. ‘Plus Fiona thinks I’m the hired help.’ Brightening at her own joke, she pulled a face. ‘I need to get in there and refresh the glasses.’

  The sitting room looked beautiful. Susan had strung fairy lights around the windows, and each of her huge, abstract paintings was festooned with swathes of pine, which together with the enormous tree in the corner filled the room with the smell of Christmas. The log fire was crackling, and an excited Jamie had already hung stockings by the fireplace, complete with strange little offerings. Kate bent down to look at a letter, held in place by a Playmobil knight, a marble and a small wooden box full of paperclips.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ laughed Susan, who appeared out of nowhere, crouching down to join Kate by the fireplace. ‘Every night Jamie leaves a little note for Father Christmas, and a collection of assorted tat. We’re running out of hiding places for all the stuff, and Tom’s on strike and refusing to write any more letters back from Santa.’

  Kate stood up. Roderick was sitting in the corner of the sofa, with Fiona perched over him on the arm of the chair. She was flirting hard, playing with her hair, flicking imaginary specks of dust off his shirt, twirling the cinnamon stick in her drink to show off her beautifully manicured scarlet nails.

  ‘Poor bugger looks terrified, don’t you think?’ grinned Finn, joining her by the fire.

  As they looked over at them, Kate watched Fiona lean across Roderick, whispering something in his ear. His face registered surprise. He caught Kate’s eye, then his glance darted across to Finn and back again. Fiona sat up, looking at Kate with a satisfied smirk.

  ‘Right, everyone, the little ones are sleeping – let’s see how long it takes before we wake them up with my fireworks display,’ said Tom, coming in from the hall.

  Morag had settled herself by the fire and looked distinctly unexcited at the prospect. She was dragged, mock-grumbling, out of her chair by Ted.

  ‘I should have gone up to the big house with Jean and the dogs. She’s up there by a roaring fire watching It’s A Wonderful Life on DVD,’ she muttered to Kate as they stood in the field behind the cottages. Kate glanced through the darkness at her friend. Strange to think that the big house, and the land they were standing o
n, all could have been Morag’s. Now wasn’t the time, but one day she’d ask how it felt.

  ‘What about the ponies?’

  ‘They’re in the far field – they won’t hear a thing. Especially as I’ve stuffed their lugs with cotton wool.’ Morag clinked her glass against Kate’s and laughed.

  Tom’s fireworks weren’t on the same scale as the huge display up at the hotel, but the Christmassy atmosphere and the ever-flowing mulled wine and port kept everyone warm and happy. Kate couldn’t help noticing that Roderick was keeping his distance from her, and that the vile Fiona was draping herself across him at every opportunity. She was even insinuating her way into his arms; Kate could see her shivering ostentatiously and cuddling up to him.

  ‘You’re away in a dream,’ said Morag, taking her arm. ‘Thinking of home?’

  ‘Yes,’ lied Kate. ‘It’ll be nice to see my mum, and to catch up with Emma and Sam.’

  Actually she hadn’t given it much thought, once the tickets had been booked. It had been cheaper to go by train than to drive, and the prospect of a few hours daydreaming against a train window was far nicer than hurtling down the motorway in her little car. But Cambridge seemed like another planet, not just a city a few hundred miles away. Island life was so far removed from reality, it was hard to remember that elsewhere life was going on as normal. Mind you, thought Kate, for us island life is normal. She turned to Morag, surprised at herself.

  ‘How long have I been on the island?’

  ‘Oh, let me think,’ Morag frowned. ‘It seems like forever to me. September, October, November, December – is it really only four months?’

  ‘And in that time I’ve sorted out the renovation of two cottages, accidentally kissed my boss, got caught with a half-naked man, drunk about a gallon of whisky and seen two firework displays. Not bad going, really.’ Kate looked up. Fiona was entwined around Roderick in a python-like fashion. If she carried on much longer she’d be inside his clothes. ‘I think I’ll go back inside. I’m freezing.’

  Finn was adding logs to the fire in the sitting room. Ted, predictably, was ‘resting his eyes’ in the big armchair by the fire, legs stretched out on the coffee table. Kate curled up on the sofa, pulling a cushion over her knees and hugging it. She felt suddenly out of place.