Christmas at the Castle (2 page)

‘Massive top-up of caffeine, madam?'

‘Extra massive, with a few coffee beans to chew on the side, please!'

Peggy, who'd been witness to her friend's writing process for years, as Kit usually penned her novels at Pickwicks, smiled. ‘What's up?'

‘You know that literary festival I've been persuaded to go to?'

‘The one in Scotland?'

‘The very same. My writer friend Erin – well, I say friend, we've never actually met. We chat on Facebook and stuff, share the same publisher, and …'

Knowing her time could be cut short at any second by the arrival of another Christmas shopper eager for refreshment, Peggy held her hand up to stop Kit mid-flow. ‘I get it. Erin, the writer friend you've talked about?'

‘Yes, well, she's had to pull out of helping run the festival and has recommended me to her fellow organiser, Alice Warren, as a replacement!'

Peggy clapped her hands together in excitement, ‘That's fantastic! Go for it. Can you imagine how good that will look on your writer's CV?'

Taking a comforting draught from her giant coffee cup, Kit felt her insides clench with anxiety, ‘I've never organised anything in my life!'

‘Of course you have! You helped organise the auction we did here.'

‘I only helped out a bit. I hardly did a thing.'

‘But surely they'll only want you to help a bit? And what a gorgeous place to get new ideas and fresh inspiration. A Scottish castle! When is the festival again?'

‘Fourth until the seventh of December. My bit, the romance writer's panel, is on the seventh.'

‘Well, there you go then. Most of the arrangements will have been made by now. You'll just be there for last-minute stuff. It'll be an adventure. What does your lovely husband think?'

‘I haven't told Phil yet. The email only just came through.'

‘I bet he'll say go for it –' Peggy was about to say more when a group of bag-laden shoppers came in and she waved her friend a hasty temporary goodbye.

Kit stared at her computer screen. She'd thought Erin was nuts to get involved in running a literary festival so close to Christmas, especially when she was doing so well with her books and their publisher was snapping at her heels to deliver an extra novel before the following spring. Somehow, though, that didn't seem enough of a reason for Erin to duck out for the festival.
Perhaps
, Kit thought to herself,
I don't know her as well as I thought I did.

It had been a long time since Kit had been faced with a new challenge.
It could be fun
. Perhaps she should agree to help – but only online, from home. After all, the north-east of Scotland was quite literally another country, with different money and accents that Kit loved but didn't always understand. Plus, she had a family; she couldn't just take off, even if she wanted to.

‘Are you mad? Of course you should do it!' Phil topped up Kit's glass of wine, and pushed it across to her side of the kitchen table as they shared a late supper.

‘But …'

Used to his wife's lack of faith in her own abilities, Phil stopped Kit before she could list all the excuses that were about to leave her lips.

‘It's the perfect time for you to do this. You finished your latest book yesterday, and decided not to start a new one until after Christmas so you could travel up to Banchory to do this romance panel anyway. But let's face facts, love; you're a workaholic, and any minute now you'll be getting itchy fingers and want to start a new book. Even two days off work will drive you mad. So do this festival thing instead. Be busy before “no novel” syndrome kicks in! Like you said, it can probably all be done from down here anyway.'

Blowing Phil a kiss across the table, Kit said, ‘I'll email this Alice after supper. Although I'm not sure I'm going to like her. She came across as one of those frighteningly efficient women that scare the hell out of me.'

‘Oh my God!' Kit almost spilled her coffee as, back at her work station in Pickwicks the following morning, she read the reply from Alice, which must have been shot back the moment Kit's email landed in her inbox.

Peggy delivered a piping hot, thickly buttered cheese scone to Kit's table, ‘What's new on the Scotland front?'

Kit grimaced towards the computer. ‘Last night I told that Alice woman that I'd help with the festival from down here via the internet. I've been sent a to-do list that would make your hair curl!'

‘Not my hair, hun!' Peggy flipped her poker-straight black ponytail over her shoulder. ‘What's she asked you to do?'

‘Plenty! I'm not sure I want to do it anymore.'

‘Why ever not?'

‘Because she hasn't
asked
me to do anything. She's
told
me what to do, though.' Kit swivelled the screen around for Peggy to see. ‘Do you see a single please or thank you?'

Peggy shrugged sadly. ‘What do you know about her? I'm guessing youngish, executive, go-getting, frequent gym-goer, blonde, successful, and has spent her whole life being popular.'

Kit's mouth dropped open. ‘That's precisely how Erin describes her. How did you know?'

‘Told you many times, hun. Student of life, me! You can't run a café for any length of time without being able to read people instantly. It makes me sad sometimes.'

‘What does?'

‘The way people hate being thought of as clichés or stereotypes, and then do their utmost to become clichés or stereotypes.'

Kit laughed. ‘Sometimes I wonder why you don't write books.'

‘And give up this life of luxury!' Peggy gestured around her busy café. ‘No chance. So, are you going to do what Alice wants or are you going to tell her to stuff it?'

Taking up her soup bowl of a coffee cup, Kit sighed, ‘I'll do it. Although I'm nervous about appearing on the romance panel, I kind of want to prove to myself that I can do it. If I annoy this Alice woman I may not get the chance.'

‘And you've finished your novel and have itchy fingers?'

‘That's what Phil said!'

Four hours later Kit had designed and emailed off sixteen different flyers, one for each of the authors taking part. She had to admit it, she was impressed by the names. This Alice may not be particularly polite, but she knew how to get the top people in. Maybe being brusque was the way to succeed?

Not only was she blunt, but Alice was evidently efficient. Only minutes after Kit had finished and was hailing Peggy for more caffeine, a fresh email landed in her inbox.

Kit, these flyers are excellent. We need you up here. I will pay for your flight. You can sleep in the guest lodge at Crathes Castle. All other expenses will be your own, but if you keep receipts I will see what I can do about repaying you if the festival makes a profit. There is a flight from Heathrow to Aberdeen on Monday 23
^rd
at 7 a.m. Please confirm you will be on it. Alice.

Gulping, Kit found herself marvelling that the word ‘please' was included as she exhaled slowly. She hadn't been due to fly up for another ten days.

Before Kit had time to call Phil, a further email arrived.

I should have said, now that Erin Spence is not involved, you will be required to host the romance panel rather than appear as a guest. I am assuming this is OK with you as you're taking over all of Erin's other duties. Again, please confirm ASAP. Alice.

It hadn't occurred to Kit that anyone would want her to be more than a guest. One of the joys of writing was that it was a safe, comfortable, and non-confrontational way of life. How on earth could Alice imagine she could host a panel that only consisted of two guests, of which she was one?

‘Peggy!'

‘Do I detect another note of panic in that bellow, your writership?' Peggy automatically picked the jug of hot coffee back up as she headed towards Kit.

‘Alice only wants me to host the romance panel. I can't do that.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because I was already terrified about being a guest. I'm not even sure I'm brave enough to do that yet.'

Peggy dramatically smacked her palm against her forehead in mock despair, ‘But you can, Kit. It's you and your friend Erin on the panel, isn't it? Just turn it into a chat between you, her, and the audience.'

‘Assuming Erin is still guesting, then yes.' Kit smiled at Peggy, ‘I'm sure I was only asked to go in the first place because Erin is a nice person and we've always wanted an excuse to meet. Presiding over a panel, keeping the conversation going, holding a microphone; that's something else entirely. What if I dry up?'

Peggy's supply of patience dried up in the face of Kit's persistent lack of self-belief. She simply said, ‘You won't.'

‘What if the audience doesn't want to ask questions in the Q&A bit at the end? What if there is no audience? Ticket sales aren't good, and …'

Peggy held up her hands in surrender, ‘Alright, I get it, you're apprehensive, but honey, you are a bloody good writer.'

‘But Erin is …'

‘Erin is equally good, but you're good in different ways. That's the point of a panel, isn't it? To have different sides of the same genre represented? You'll have different stories to tell; and if that isn't a good starting point for your questions I don't know what is.'

Feeling thoroughly told off but very grateful, Kit nodded meekly. ‘Thanks, Peggy.'

‘You're welcome! Now, write those questions and get sorted, otherwise you'll only dwell on it all day and get nothing else done.'

Kit had scribbled down a few ideas when another thought hit her. For a while now she'd been writing contemporary fiction and romance under her own name, but prior to that she had written erotica under a pseudonym, Katrina Penny. Would she have to talk about
that
as well? Would people like it, or would there be pitchforks and burning torches outside the castle gates on her arrival?

Knowing she was in danger of becoming irrational again, Kit picked up her mobile.

‘Phil. Help!'

Chapter Three

Sunday November 22
^nd

Cameron Hunter rocked back on his desk chair and stared out across the estate grounds of Crathes Castle. From where he sat he could see the sweep of the formal gardens that huddled neatly around the foot of the sixteenth-century tower house, and on to the woodland beyond.

He still couldn't believe he'd managed to land a job in one of the most picturesque places in the country. On crisp winter mornings like this one, when the fallen russet leaves crunched underfoot and the evergreen leaves shone with the spidery touch of Jack Frost, it seemed madness that he'd actually hesitated before applying for the estate manager's post.

Returning to the pile of paperwork on his desk, Cameron's gaze fell on a stack of ‘Christmas at the Castle Literary Festival' flyers. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. The chance to impress his new boss and attempt a “kill or cure” technique on the ghost of his former relationship at the same time.

Cameron often wished he'd never set eyes on Alice Warren. He hated that he couldn't stop loving her, even when she made it clear that their time together had just been a bit of a fling.

He thought he'd be safe taking a job back in the area now that Alice was living in Edinburgh. Yet on his very first trip into Banchory after taking the job, he'd seen her chatting to another girl outside the newsagents.

On his return to the office, unable to stop himself, he'd found himself searching for Alice Warren on Google. Telling himself that this wasn't stalking, but that he was merely acting in self-preservation, Cameron had discovered that his ex was running Warren Premier Events, a successful event management business in Edinburgh.

Seconds later, he'd come up with the idea to get her to organise an event for him. That way his lingering obsession with her would either be shot stone dead and he could get on with his life, or Alice would realise she'd made a terrible mistake and that she loved him after all.

Pushing the sleeves of his thick Aran jumper past his elbows in annoyance at himself, Cameron absent-mindedly signed three documents. Even though he knew he was behaving like a lovesick teenager, he couldn't help but hope it would all work out.

Contacting Alice via the Warren Premier Events website, Cameron had asked her to help for old time's sake. Trying not to feel pathetic, he justified his actions to himself with the thought that, whatever his reasons, there could be few better places for a literary festival than in a castle at Christmas time.

Hoisting up a large box of Christmas decorations, Cameron headed off to find a couple of gardeners, and a very long ladder. It was time to start getting the Victorian-style lanterns draped around the formal garden.

Alice swore under her breath. She wasn't used to being denied what she wanted during business transactions. She'd worn an extra-short skirt as well. OK, so she knew that flashing a bit of leg in such a cold climate made her request look a bit desperate, but she was still surprised when the local bookshop owner had said no.

Honestly!
All she was asking was that he'd buy a selection of books written by all the authors coming to the festival. She wasn't offering him any financial help, but obviously all the sales money would be his, and she wasn't going to charge him for the stand at the castle she was proposing he sold his stock from. She was doing him a huge favour, and the chance to boost his Christmas sales. What was wrong with the man? All the city bookshops made this system work.

Turning her Suzuki off-roader into the drive that wound its way up to Crathes Castle, Alice's satisfied smile returned as she reflected how her flirty magic had worked so much better on the local catering companies and wine merchants. Letting her have goods on sale or return in exchange for sponsorship meant she had a boot full of champagne, red and white wine, and enough ingredients for mulled wine to keep everyone tipsy until July.