After one more group hug, Desi reluctantly let me go, Callum inclining his head to my friends as he rolled my suitcase ahead of us.
‘Nice of your mum and dad to bring you to the train,’ he quipped. ‘If you don’t want to come, there’s still time to back out.’
‘Same to you,’ I replied, pulling my backpack all the way up on my shoulders and fastening the straps tight against my body. ‘If I’m honest, I half thought you might not be here when I arrived.’
He gave a nervous laugh that suggested that had at the very least been a possibility.
‘Then what would you’ve done?’
‘Gone to Scotland without you. Had a lovely Christmas with Derek and Lizzie, convinced them to disinherit you and adopt me instead.’
‘They’d love that,’ he said, almost smiling. ‘A neurosurgeon would be more of a welcome addition to the family than a pastry chef.’
‘If that’s true, they’ve got their priorities all wrong,’ I told him. ‘Most people will never need a neurosurgeon.Everyoneneeds a pastry chef.’
His smile grew broader as we reached the long line of sleek teal carriages rumbling gently on the platform.
‘Hold on, that’s too big to go in the carriage.’ A man wearing a green suit and a stern expression stepped out of the train to block my suitcase. ‘It’ll have to go in the luggage car.’
‘We’ve got a cabin,’ Callum offered when I blanched at the thought of being separated from my precious things. ‘Is there not room in there?’
He gave my backpack and Callum’s black leather holdall a pointed look.
‘Not with the two of you and your other bags.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said quickly, trying to remember exactly what I’d stashed in my backpack. After all my years in medicine, I was a professional overnighter. I never went anywhere without deodorant, a toothbrush and a spare pair of knickers upon my person. I’d be fine. ‘It’stotally OK, it can go in the luggage car, I don’t need it for tonight.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure,’ I nodded. ‘Unless there’s a formal dress code for dinner?’
‘I think you might be overestimating the train,’ Callum warned as the conductor passed my suitcase over to another man in another green suit and ushered us aboard. ‘The Orient Express, this is not.’
But I didn’t want to hear it. I loved the romance of trains, the soothing sway of the carriages, the reliable rumble of the tracks. All my life, I’d wanted to take an overnight journey. So what if we were on our way to Inverness instead of Venice? Visions of polished oak, tartan blankets, heavy-bottomed crystal tumblers full of amber-coloured scotch and whatever other wonders awaited us danced through my head as the conductor tapped a key card against an unassuming electronic lock. I held my breath, ready to behold the beauty inside.
‘I call the top bunk,’ I exclaimed as the door slid open.
Only there was no top or bottom bunk.
Inside the cabin, was just one bed.
One not-quite-as-big-as-a-double bed, set in a distinctly beige, distinctly plastic cabin with hardly enough room to carry a kitten, let alone swing a cat.
‘Is this it?’ I asked in a defeated whisper.
‘Aye, this is the Caledonian Double En-Suite,’ the conductor confirmed. ‘She’s our finest cabin.’
‘But we’re supposed to have two beds,’ Callum replied as I tried to reset my disappointed face.
‘Afraid not, sir. As I said, you’re booked in theCaledonian Double En-Suite. Double meaning double bed.’
If he wasn’t careful, I was fairly sure I could get around to hating this man.
‘But we need two beds,’ Callum stressed as I began to sweat. ‘Can’t you move us?’
The conductor sucked the air in through his teeth like he was about to tell us our carburettor was buggered and I knew before he spoke what the answer would be. ‘I’d like to help but the whole train is fully booked. It’s very close to Christmas.’
‘Is it really?’ I replied, earning a tiny jab to the ribs from Callum’s elbow. ‘Oh, I know!’ My eyes popped open, ever the optimist. ‘Do you have any of those little rollaway beds?’
