‘Christ, things must be bad.’
I howled with delight at the sound of another voice, gripping the edge of the window and peering down to the ground. It was a man, not Callum, although they looked similar from all the way up here.
‘Hello!’ I shouted down, still waving my skirt-flag.‘I’m stuck. The door blew shut behind me and I can’t get out. Can you help me?’
‘And you are?’
It was a fair question.
‘Lau— Caroline,’ I corrected myself, lightning fast. ‘Yourself?’
‘Rory,’ he said with a salute. ‘Did Elsie lock you in there?’
‘Not as far as I know but I wouldn’t put it past her.’
Of course, the youngest McClay, home from university in Glasgow. He laughed to himself, muttering something I couldn’t hear.
‘Where is everyone?’ he called up.
‘Out? Visiting family?’
‘What about Mal and Fi?’
‘Also out,’ I replied. ‘Can you open the door?’ I asked again. ‘I’m literally freezing my arse off.’
He nodded, patting himself down for a set of keys, the same as his dad, the same as his brother. ‘Aye, LaCaroline, can do. I haven’t got the upper body strength to climb up your hair, so we’ll have a crack at the door instead.’
I let go of my skirt with one hand to give him a confirmatory wave as he disappeared inside the house, only for the wind to snatch the slippery fabric from my frozen fingers and whisk it away out of reach.
‘Perfect,’ I groaned, all the colour draining from my face as I watched it settle in the top branches of a very tall silver birch, winding itself around the slender branches. ‘Just perfect.’
Because nothing said nice to meet you, thanks for rescuing me and Merry Christmas to your boyfriend’s brother like missing the bottom half of your outfit.
Even if it was considerably more than Callum had been wearing when we first met.
Opening the door took a lot more effort the second time around.
‘It’s wedged tight,’ Rory shouted through the wood. ‘What did you do? Solder it shut behind you?’
‘Imanaged to open it,’ I exclaimed, trying to jostle the latch from my side. ‘And I’m weak as a kitten.’
‘I’ll have you know I work out five times a week with special emphasis on the vanity muscles and they’re the ones I’m trying to tear off the bone right now to get you out.’
‘Maybe you should go and get help,’ I suggested, rubbing my palms up and down over my bare thighs, trying to chase away the goosebumps. ‘Or call your brother?’
‘And have everybody rip the piss out of me all Christmas? I don’t think so,’ he scoffed. ‘Give it a shoogle from your side.’
‘I’m shoogling!’ I shouted, shaking the rusted iron as best I could. ‘I’ve been shoogling! I’m all shoogled out!’
I combed my hands through my hair, palms pressed against my skull. It was completely hopeless. Rory couldn’t get the door open on his own, my legs were turning a beautiful shade of corned beef mottled pink, and I couldn’t feel my feet at all. Completely and utterly hopeless.
‘I reckon it’s going to open any minute,’ Rory said. ‘Give it one more good shove.’
‘OK,’ I said, pulling the hem of my jumper down over my arse and sinking down on the bottom step of the staircase. ‘Try it now.’
‘Are you pushing?’
‘Yep,’ I lied, examining my nails while I tried not to cry.
