Christmas at the Island Hotel - Jenny Colgan Page 0,91
the sky. He looked at it for a very long time.
Then he picked up the phone.
IN THE DEEP quiet of Christmas Eve, there were clusters of drinkers in the Harbour’s Rest still, mostly the young people home from the mainland to see their families, laughing loudly and boasting madly about their new lives in Inverness and Aberdeen, London and Edinburgh, while in homes mums and dads wrapped and lost Sellotape and begged excited children to sleep and cursed themselves for hiding gifts months ago and forgetting exactly where, and checked anxiously again to make sure they had enough roasted potatoes and tried to make their mothers-in-law comfortable in their beds while they arranged themselves on pullout sofas, and tried to hide the sherry from Auntie Morag, who got a bit maudlin this time of year, which was completely understandable, what with everything she’d been through, but even so, for the sixth year on the trot it was really bringing everybody down, and oh my God, did you see that thing in the Post online, what on earth were the MacKenzies going to do? And families rolled on with Christmas, some with the mixture of the sad and the sublime, and several hardy fellows made it to midnight mass and the Reverend Janey gave a lovely low sermon about never making the perfect the enemy of the good, which wasn’t strictly speaking in the Bible, but she always found it a very useful sentiment anyway at this time of year.
Nobody noticed a small redheaded figure slip out the flat door tucked behind the tiny museum, hop into the little hatchback, steal up the back road to the old manse (Reverend Janey much preferred her modern flat next to the church, with its triple glazing and gas central heating), park round the back rather than out the front, and steal, softly, to the back door, where she did not have to knock, because someone was waiting for her, had been waiting for her for a very long time, who said nothing but pulled her into the warmth of his body and the dark sweetness of his eyes, and in the quiet beating of their two hearts, they shared the deepest gift two people can share.
Chapter 65
Bang! Bang! Bang!!!
“It is Christmas and everything is terrible!”
Flora and Joel had woken up very early, of course, to check on Douglas, and they had brought him into the bed and exchanged gifts, which were, in Joel’s case, the most beautiful diamond bracelet for Flora because he thought she deserved something beautiful, and she nearly cried because she wanted to wear it to more beautiful places, and Joel said, “As soon as you knock sense into Fintan I am taking you to the Bahamas,” and then she burst into tears again because she couldn’t imagine a day when that might be the case and that made her sad all over again, even as she assured Joel she loved everything and gave him a Folio Society–bound set of Dickens’s novels, which she had thought he might like, correctly.
Then they attempted to give Dougie his gift—a beautiful rocking horse—and they both realized immediately that he was far too young to get Christmas at all in any way and they were completely wasting their time, but to his credit he made a fair stab at eating the tail, which was fairly impressive.
They loaded up the car with food and gifts, even though they were going less than a kilometer. It wasn’t really walking weather anyway; the snow had settled and it was treacherous for buggies, although there was no doubt about it: the angel beacon was incredibly helpful. It was amazing, thought Flora as she loaded the boot, how quickly she’d gotten used to it, always checking to see where it was—you could see it from almost anywhere. It was absurd, she knew, to feel like it was looking out for you, looking after them all, huddled together on this little rock. But it made her smile to see it.
Everyone was already up in the farmhouse, Eck by the fire with his morning tea, Hamish running up and down excitedly and buzzing about his new train set they’d all chipped in for, Innes and Eilidh sighing and trying to calm down Agot, who was banging spoons very hard everywhere and saying, “Everything is terrible.”
“It’s not terrible!” said Flora, giving her beloved niece a big kiss. Agot instantly wriggled away.