‘Well, you’re not that old.’
Now it was John’s turn to laugh. ‘That’s told you.’
With a huff, Izzy turned to him. ‘Me and the child’ – Jeanette giggled at that – ‘are here to pick up the turkey, venison and sausages.’
‘Coming right up. I’ll go get it for you. Anything else?’
Izzy looked around the festive atmosphere of the shop. ‘I’m sure you’ve got lots of tempting treats that I’m going to walk out with.’
‘I’ve got lots of tempting treats,’ he said with an outrageous wink.
She rolled her eyes and grinned at him. She’d realised he was a seasoned flirt. One of those chancers that tried it on with anyone new. He wasn’t someone to take seriously. ‘I’m sure you have but I’ve got a list.’
‘She’s really hot on lists.’ Jeanette nodded. ‘Lists for everything.’
‘I like to be organised.’
‘I’ll leave you be while I go and get the bird for you. I’ll have it at the front desk.’
‘He’s nice,’ said Jeanette as he wandered off. ‘You ought to ask him out, if you don’t fancy Ross.’
At times like this, Izzy was clearly reminded that Jeanette was only eighteen. This must be what it was like to have a younger, annoying sister.
‘Thanks for the advice.’ John had had his chance and blown it. Was it something about her? Good old dependable Izzy, everyone’s friend until something more sparkly, more glamorous came along?
‘Well, you’re not getting any younger. Oh look, those chocolate penguins look nice. You could put them on the chocolate log, they’d look dead cute.’
Izzy was very glad of the change of subject.
‘You should buy some of this smelly stuff,’ said Jeanette, pointing to a selection of fragrant candles and an oil diffuser with sticks. ‘Scottish Pine and Cranberry, very Christmassy. I bet Mrs Carter-Jones will expect this sort of thing.’
‘Mrs Carter-Jones is very demanding.’
‘I ken but she’s paying for it. Money doesn’t seem to matter to the woman.’
Izzy put several into the shopping basket, wincing at the cost of each of them, but Jeanette had a point, it was the sort of small touch that guests remembered. She always liked it when restaurants and bars had nice scented liquid hand soap.
It was very hard to remember her strict budget when there were so many delicious things on offer and she succumbed to some tiny sugar paste snow-dusted fir trees, which would go on top of the Christmas cake, some loganberry gin liqueur in the prettiest shaped glass bottle, as well as the double cream, whisky truffles and smoked bacon that were on her list. Thank goodness the castle had plenty of storage as the fridge was going to be chock full once she’d also collected the meat.
‘Miss McBride.’
At the tart tone Izzy looked up from the cellophane-wrapped bag of cinnamon sticks and dried orange slices she’d just picked up but didn’t need. ‘Mrs McPherson, how are you?’
‘I’m well.’ Her dark, beady eyes stared hard at Izzy. With an ingratiating smile and looking about her as if the groceries might be bugged, she leaned towards Izzy and asked in a loud whisper, ‘There’s a rumour Rod Stewart’s flying in for Hogmanay?’
‘Not to my knowledge,’ said Izzy, suppressing a giggle.
‘So, it is the Beckhams, then,’ crowed the postmistress with a fervent gleam in her eye. ‘It was them or Rod. Shame, I’m partial to a bit of sing-song.’
‘What?’ asked Izzy, the image of Mrs McPherson doing a duet with Rod Stewart short-circuiting her brain. She was also horrified that such extravagant rumours were circulating.
Mrs McPherson tapped her nose. ‘I know you canna tell me. Dinna worry. I’ll no say a word. The secret’s safe with me, hen.’ With a serene smile, she picked up her wicker shopping basket and drifted away down the aisle.
Izzy watched her go as Jeanette giggled behind her.
‘Here you go,’ said John, nudging the turkey at the front desk. ‘Don’t forget to take the giblets out.’
‘I won’t,’ said Izzy, thinking of all the things she needed to remember. She’d add it to the Christmas Day list. She just had to remember to do that.
