Page 57
Johnny was invited along to the service too, but he declined, saying church isn’t really his scene. It’s not really my scene either, or David’s, but we’re both curious to see a Highland service, especially on Christmas Day.
As we draw nearer, we encounter families, couples, and individuals coming from other directions. Like us, they crunch through the snow towards the church, whose spire stands taller than all the other buildings in Bannock. Cheery greetings of “Merry Christmas!” are directed our way, which David and I enthusiastically return.
The churchyard and its gravestones are blanketed under a layer of white, but the path through to the charming stone building has been cleared and gritted. A warm and inviting glow emanates from its stained-glass windows, and outside the entrance, clusters of people are engaged in conversation.
I spot Elspeth chatting away to a similar-aged woman whom I recognise as Morag, who runs the town’s bakery and makes the most incredible cakes—Emily introduced me to them on my first visit to Bannock. As the pair laugh, their breaths turn into small clouds in the crisp morning air.
Iona stands near her mother and is talking with a teal-haired young woman—Maisie from the Pheasant. With a flutter in my heart, I catch sight of Aidan too. He’s exchanging words with the kindly widower Tom, who owns the Coffee Bothy.
When Aidan notices me, a smile sneaks across his lips, and mischief sparkles in his eyes. It seems he’s back to his usual self, after he was utterly spent last night. He excuses himself from Tom and approaches us.
“Here he comes,” David murmurs.
But before he can reach us, Elspeth does, with Morag in tow.
“Merry Christmas, Grace!” Her eyes crinkling at the edges, Elspeth pulls me into a warm hug. “And to you too, of course, David. And there’s another person I mustn’t forget.” Bending her knees, she waves to my coat-covered belly. “Merry Christmas, wee one!”
“Maw, you’re embarrassing Grace.” Shaking his head, Aidan joins our group. “I don’t think you’re meant to do that to a pregnant woman’s bump.”
“Well, at least I’m saying something! You’ve not even said hello to Grace yet. Please try to make an effort, Aidan. She is carrying your child, after all.” Elspeth squeezes my arm. “I’m so sorry about him, I really am. I tried my best to instil manners in him, but there’s only so much a woman can do.”
“I’d say hello if I could get a word in edgeways,” Aidan grumbles. Meeting my eye, he grins then reaches an arm around me and draws me into a very respectable hug. “Grace, it’s . . . good to see you again.” The way he says it, you’d think we hadn’t seen each other for a month, which I suppose is the idea.
Morag—who Emily has informed me is not only the town’s baker but also chief gossip and rumour-monger—nudges Aidan with an elbow. “In my day, if a man got a lass pregnant, he’d make an honest woman of her and put a ring on her finger. Didn’t that occur to you?”
I half wonder if Aidan might pick this opportunity to spill the beans and admit we are actually seeing each other. Elspeth, however, steps in before he can speak.
“Oh, don’t go stirring things, Morag! Not today, on Jesus’s birthday. Times have changed and for the better. Although . . . Grace is a lovely woman, and it’s just a shame they live so far apart. If only they were able to spend a bit more time together . . . I can’t help but imagine what might happen!”
“You two are as bad as each other,” Iona says, coming over, having finished up her conversation with Maisie. She gives David and me a hug. “Merry Christmas! I’m so sorry about this pair of meddling old women.”
“Old?” Morag gasps with mock outrage. “I’m not old—I’m still of working age, young lady!”
“Just!” Elspeth comments.
Morag laughs loudly at this. “Well, it’s clear where your daughter gets her impudence from. Anyway, I’m going to head on in. If I don’t see you again, have a lovely Christmas, all.”
After Morag leaves, Elspeth says, “We should probably go in too. Shall we?”
The five of us make our way towards the entrance.
As we approach the door, my brother leans close to me and whispers, “What are the chances you and I burst into flames the moment we cross the threshold?”
I chuckle. I see what he’s getting at. He’s a gay man, and I’m carrying a baby out of wedlock. Not so very many years ago, attitudes were quite different.
“Not high,” I murmur, “but not negligible either.”
He raises his brows then takes a deep breath. We enter, and after a few seconds, when there are no signs of immediate divine retribution, he lets out a mock sigh of relief.
A magnificent Christmas tree stands at the far end of the church, decked in white lights that twinkle like distant stars. In front of that, the wooden pews on either side of the aisle are filling up, the congregation chattering amongst themselves in hushed voices. While hats, gloves, and scarves are removed, jackets remain on. There’s some heating in the old building, but it’s not exactly toasty.
Aidan, who’s leading the way, reaches an empty pew. He’s about to enter it, followed by his sister, when Elspeth objects.
“No, no, we can’t have you and Iona sitting together, and Grace and David sitting together. We should mix things up. David, why don’t you go next to Iona?” She basically shoves her daughter down the pew first then encourages David to follow her. “And Grace, you can go beside Aidan. There! That’s better.”
There’s no subtlety whatsoever to Elspeth’s matchmaking attempts—she clearly wants Aidan and me to spend time in each other’s company. Little does she know we already did a good bit of that last night.
Aidan fires me a quick wink, then we sit, ready for the service, him on one side of me and Elspeth on the other. She beams at me encouragingly while, unbeknown to her, one of Aidan’s fingers reaches out and gently tickles my thigh.
