Page 67 of Winter Magic at Hollybrae Castle

I can’t ignore the little flutter because he seems to be implying that he’s fallen in love with me too, but it makes this even harder.

‘I’m coming nearer to you. The job starts in February. I’ll be in London in a matter of weeks. I’m going to call you as soon as I get there. Take you out for a real date, if you’ll let me. We’ll be in the same city. It’s a good thing.’

His words say one thing, but his voice makes it sound like the worst thing in the world, and it fills me with dread. Ollie will be working all the time. Overtime. Evenings, weekends, late nights, early mornings. I’ll be working a lot of nights too. No matter the intentions, how long will it realistically be before we never see each other at all?

The feeling gets worse when the taxi rumbles to a stop outside the gate, and the man who picked me up from the airport four weeks ago calls out a greeting. Ollie raises a hand to acknowledge him, but he still hasn’t put me down and I feel like he’s clinging on for as long as humanly possible.

‘Thank you for believing in me when no one else did.’ I run my fingers through his hair, just once. ‘This has been the best Christmas ever, and it has nothing to do with the beautiful setting and this amazing place. It’s you. It’s because I met you. Because you’re the best person I’ve ever met and you deserve happiness. Please remember that.’

The taxi driver beeps his horn, letting us know that I’m going to miss the plane back to Glasgow if I’m not careful, and Ollie reluctantly sets my feet back on the ground.

He’s biting his inner cheek again and I know his eyes are damp, but I refuse to look up at him because if I see his emotions, I’m not going to be able to hold mine back either.

‘Text me when you get home safely, okay?’ he says and then reconsiders. ‘Actually, text me all the time. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and you still will be, whether we’re living in the same castle or five hundred miles apart.’

His hand keeps hold of mine as he walks me down to the gate, loads my suitcase into the boot of the taxi, and opens the door for me to get in. He leans down to kiss my cheek, and that’s it for me. The tears spill over like the dam holding them back has finally ruptured, and I hurl myself into the car and slam the door behind me, because if I don’t go now, I don’t know how I’ll ever go at all.

This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be this upset. It shouldn’t be so difficult to say goodbye when I’ve known for a month that I’d be saying goodbye on this day.

‘All right, lassie?’ The driver turns to look at me and looks quite alarmed by the state I’m in. ‘Had a nice Christmas?’

I nod to answer his question, even though I must look like I’ve had the most frightful Christmas of all time.

‘Just go, please,’ I murmur, because the last thing I need is to miss the seaplane and be stuck here for the rest of the day, unable to come back but desperately wanting to. The best thing I can do right now is put as much space as possible between me and Hollybrae Castle and everyone in it.

Every part of my body is shaking as the driver pulls away and I fumble my seatbelt into its buckle. I look back through the window and see Ollie standing in the gateway, swiping at his eyes too, and it only makes me cry even more. If this is the right thing to do, why does it feel so hideously wrong?

25

When I first arrived, I thought the view was bleak, but I love it now. Even though there’s a fine mist of drizzle obscuring the furthest hills, there’s something so peaceful about it, even when peaceful is the last thing I feel.

The plane journey, and then another taxi from Glasgow airport to the train station passes in a blur. Ollie had booked everything in advance to make it as easy as possible for me, and I have over an hour’s wait in Glasgow station before the train I’m booked on departs.

I’m at that stage of crying where every time you think you’ve stopped, you dry your eyes and puff your chest out, and then you think about it again and the tears restart. I get a few curious looks from passengers who walk past, and one kindly woman who reminds me of Nancy sits on a bench beside me and asks if I need anything.

I feel like I’ve left my heart behind in a cosy castle on the Mull of Kintyre, and no one can help me with that.

I’ll get over it, I tell myself. I’ve never been good at goodbyes. In a few hours, I’ll be back at Mira’s. A few days, back at work. A few weeks, I’ll see Ollie again. I know this is all the sensible solution, and I also know I’ll still be crying by the time the train reaches London.

Eventually, the Euston-bound train pulls in and waiting passengers file on. I hesitate because it feels like the last chance I’ll have to go back, but ultimately, I get on, stow my suitcase in the luggage rack at the end of the carriage and find my seat. The train is pretty quiet and the seat next to me stays empty. Not many people leaving Scotland for London at this time of year, and I wish I wasn’t one of them.

Once everybody’s boarded, the train rumbles into life. There’s some shouting outside from further down the carriages, probably someone who’s missed the train banging on the doors to be let in, but it starts to pull away from the station, and then almost immediately comes to a stop.

And then, we just sit there. The train should surely be moving by now, and the other people in my carriage start checking their watches and phones. There are mutterings about lateness, and all around me, passengers peer out the windows. There’s definitely something going on because I can hear stirrings of a commotion somewhere along the platform, and the pounding of boots on the ground as police run past.

Before long, the train conductor makes an announcement over the tannoy. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please bear with us, there’s a short delay due to a person in distress on the tracks.’

People around me are clamouring to see what’s going on, but I’ve got enough distress of my own without needing to witness someone else’s too, so I try not to think about it… until I hear shouting from outside the carriage windows.

‘Just give me two minutes, please! My wife is on that train and if I let her go, I’ll be making the biggest mistake of my life! It’s Christmas, please! Have a heart!’

It’s like all the tears have caused an auditory hallucination because the voice sounds like the same one I’ve spent the past few weeks falling in love with, but there’s no way it’s him.

It couldn’t be…

‘Ollie?’ I say out loud.

Suddenly I’m joining the people peering out the windows, and a woman in the next seat along gasps. ‘Is he looking for you?’