‘I’m freezing to death,’ I replied, rubbing my hands together. ‘I mean it, my blood is freezing in my veins.’
‘For a doctor, you’re very prone to hyperbole.’
‘For a pastry chef, you’re very prone to …’
He smirked as I watched my breath fog in the air in front of me.
‘Prone to what?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘It’s too cold for witty comebacks.’
‘It’s only going to get colder so get used to it.’
‘Amazing, frostbite for Christmas,’ I sulked, blowing on my hands. ‘It’s not like I need my fingers for my job or anything.’
‘And it’s not like you could’ve predicted it would be a wee bit chilly up here or anything.’
Pulling the collar of my coat up around my exposed neck, I gave him the filthiest look my frozen face could muster. With a tut and a sigh, he drew the scarf from around his neck, reaching over to wrap it around mine. But I jerked away as though he’d been planning to throttle me with it, leaving his arms outstretched, a look of confusion on his face. Slinging the scarf back around his neck, Callum produced our tickets from his pocket as I stalked off up the platform. Cool, calm, detached. Whatever that photo in his wallet meant to him, to me it was an explicit reminder to stay NFI. No feelings involved. I wasn’t upset, I was annoyed. He should’ve told me he was still in love with his ex, or still had feelings for her or whatever it was that made him want her picture with him at all times.
‘Who’s picking us up?’ I asked civilly. ‘Your dad?’
‘No, uh, it’ll be Mal.’
He inserted my ticket into the barrier first, waited for me to pass through then did his own, pushing my case ahead of him.
‘And Mal is?’
‘He works for us. For my dad.’
‘On the farm?’
‘Sort of.’
Before I could dig any deeper, a short, stout, older man wearing a tweed three-piece suit appeared in front of us. No coat. No top layer whatsoever. I’d never felt like such a weakling in my life.
‘Hullo, Cal, you wee shite!’ he cheered, punching Callum hard in the arm. ‘How are ye?’
‘Ah, away wi ye, ye aul bampot, nae bad, yersen?’
I stared at the two of them, lost in the cloud of their rolling burrs.
‘This must be the lovely Caroline.’
Mal held out his hand for my suitcase and Callum surrendered it without question.
‘Caroline,’ I confirmed with an enthusiastic nod. His eyebrows were spectacular. ‘That’s me.’
‘Och, you’re a bonnie one,’ he beamed. ‘Ye reet hen?’
‘I’m a right hen?’ I translated out loud, looking to Callum for confirmation who covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. ‘Are you calling me a chicken? Because I’m wearing a coat? Because I know you live here and you’re used to it but I can assure you it is objectivelyverycold and—’
‘Cal, ye total bawbag. Ye havnae educated your wifey in the local dialect?’ he replied, pairing what I assumed was an insult with a look even filthier than mine when Callum shrugged in response. ‘Sorry, darlin’, I’ll go slow. I was only asking how you are. Is this your first time up to the Highlands?’
‘It is,’ I confirmed gratefully as he put his arm around my shoulders and steered me through the growing crowd of travellers.
‘First time to Scotland?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ve been to Edinburgh before.’
