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“She doesn’t owe us an update on her private life,” said Zack. “Cheers, Lotts, happy Christmas.”

He raised his glass, and so did the others. “Happy Christmas,” they repeated. Lottie wasn’t sure how happy this Christmas was actually going to be for her, but that wasn’t a problem her children needed to be concerned about.

She let herself be carried forward by the conversation in the bar, speaking occasionally, just trying to be present for the children. It was the most important thing she could think of to do right now.

The bell went for last orders and Lottie could tell Emily and Brian were desperate to get home. “Come on, folks, let’s get to bed. I just need to get my coat from the office. See you in two ticks.”

She made her way to her office, the castle now noticeably quieter. She closed the door to allow herself a moment of solitude. She had been with people all day, and she needed a minute to think. She sat herself down in her desk chair and closed her eyes briefly. The whisky had softened her senses in a way that was comforting.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking at a scrap of paper that looked like it had been unfolded and refolded numerous times. It contained her handwriting. She pulled out her reading glasses and within five seconds, the thick, comforting blanket the whisky had thrown around her was gone.

She reread the list she herself had written.

She put a hand to her heart. No wonder Hannah had pushed her away. This was a pretty harsh thing to read about yourself. Of course, it had just been the inner workings of Lottie’s mind from days ago. She had written that list for nobody but herself. She cursed herself for not throwing it away, as she should have done.

But, and it was a big but, there was nothing there that she hadn’t meant at that moment. It would be unfair of her to claim that it was all rubbish, that Hannah had misunderstood.

She pulled out her phone and texted Zack and Freya, telling them something had come up and she had a job that couldn’t wait.

With that, she turned over the piece of paper and took out a pen.

Chapter Forty-Three

HANNAH

Hannah paced up and down her hotel room. Her instinct was to pack her case and leave immediately. But she was in a castle in the Highlands surrounded by snow. It was Christmas Eve, nearly midnight, and there would be no place for her to go. She felt so stupid to have thought she might have had a chance with Lottie.

Lottie had a life here. She didn’t need anyone else. Hannah had just been a bit of fun to her. And in truth, Hannah felt like an idiot for not seeing that. She felt humiliated, too, for allowing herself to hope for something that was clearly impossible. Why on earth would someone as sparky and fun as Lottie want someone as dull and stiff as Hannah?

Hannah saw the way her children and friends looked at Lottie. They adored her. It was understandable. Lottie had stirred some pretty big feelings in her, too. Feelings that might have grown into something bigger.

Reluctantly, she got herself ready for bed, put in her ear buds and put on some classical music in a bid to calm her racing mind. She popped her eye mask over her head and tried to pretend she was anywhere but where she was.

Hannah slept fitfully, replaying that list over and over again. Was she really an ice maiden? Was she emotionally closed off? Was that what people thought of her?

She woke up groggy. She got out of bed and opened the curtains. The sky was bright blue and the sun was shining. The loch looked indigo, and the snow, while it had retreated a little, still gave the vista a festive edge.

She could see the snowman that one of the children had made the day the snow fell, slightly lopsided now and wearing a Santa hat. Hannah groaned. Enforced jollity wasn’t something she enjoyed, and today she was definitely not looking forward to it.

She brewed herself a coffee using the machine in her room and sat in her armchair. She contemplated calling Mark. But he didn’t need to hear the woes of her love life. No one did. She didn’t even have Lottie’s number, so there were no missed calls or messages from her. Would there have been? Lottie had clearly wanted to follow her last night, but Hannah couldn’t bear the thought of the kind rejection that inevitably lay in store.

She drank her coffee slowly, steeling herself for the day ahead.

An hour later, showered, she felt she might be ready to brave the breakfast room. She was fairly sure Lottie had a few days off now, so she wouldn’t be around, thank goodness.

She reached the door of her room and noticed an envelope had been pushed underneath. Perhaps a Christmas card from the hotel team. It was the sort of thing they’d do. She picked it up and put it in her pocket. She could read it over breakfast.

The Christmas tree shimmered anew with lights, and it appeared to be weighed down with additional decorations. She ambled over to it and noticed that there was a small stocking hung in the boughs for each of the children staying there. She saw Satnam’s son’s name. It was a nice touch. Hannah sighed. She was confident that Lottie was responsible.

There was a celebratory air to the breakfast room today, with children running around and voices raised in excitement. It was comforting to see people having a good time. She was shown to a small table, and ordered the special, which was a Christmas porridge. She was intrigued to see what that tasted like.

The second coffee of her morning arrived, and slowly she began to get a sense of perspective. Maybe things with Lottie had ended in disaster, but Hannah had learnt something important about herself. She just wasn’t sure she would ever meet someone that made her feel the way Lottie did.

But even if that was true, it wasn’t a problem she could solve today.

The porridge was topped with a crackling brûlée top. She’d never seen it served this way. The waiter informed her it had been brûléed with muscovado sugar and whisky. She wrinkled her nose at the ‘w’ word, hoping it hadn’t imbued the dish with too much of that peaty flavour.

She tapped the brittle sugar and it gave a pleasing crack. She took a mouthful of the burnt sugar and creamy oats. It was incredibly rich and sweet but also very comforting. She could barely taste the whisky, thankfully.