Page 57 of Salvaging Christmas

“I’ll pass, thanks,” said Antoni, smiling, just as they heard engines revving from the loch.

Everyone fell silent, watching the silhouette created by the plane’s lights against the dark surface of the loch. Over the edge of the mountain, like a prophecy of hope, a faint glow heralded the dawn of a new day. The engines throttling, the seaplane began to move across the water, all the time gathering speed. Even then, the vessel seemed to be travelling far too slowly, until the nose lifted and the plane glided up into the brightening sky. As they stood watching, the shape shrank to a speck on the horizon.

“Beautiful,” came Rudy’s warm whisper in Trevor’s ear as his body squeezed in behind him, arms wrapping around Trevor’s chest. Nobody had even heard him arrive. Trevor let out a sigh and rested his head back on Rudy’s shoulder, their cheeks touching.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” said Trevor, breathing in Rudy’s scent. Around them, everyone headed back to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

“And he’s finally gone. Ingram. Just you and me now. But he swears he’s coming back for the party. I told him not to bother, that he was no longer welcome, but he insisted. Do you see now what a stubborn bastard he can be?”

Trevor said nothing, remembering what Frank and Johnny had told him. What the hell had they done to him?

“You okay, Trev?” whispered Rudy, kissing the side of his face. “I’m so sorry, I should have told you earlier. I think I was in shock. Or denial. Or both. And I thought he’d be on best behaviour, having Helen here with him. But leopards don’t change their spots, it seems. Hope you’ll forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Rudy. He put you in a difficult spot. Coming here wasn’t particularly dignified. To be honest, I’m glad I was here for you. Hate to think what a living hell he’d have made of your life if we hadn’t all been here.”

“I know. And I need—” said Rudy, then stopped and leant back a little. “What’s that smell?”

Trevor chuckled. If he wasn’t mistaken, the smell of bacon or ham cooking had tickled Rudy’s nose, that and something else, creamy and delicious.

“So in the few minutes you were gone, we found out that Antoni trained as a chef and is going to be wearing Mrs M’s apron today. If I’m not mistaken, he’s knocking up eggs Benedict right now.”

“And coffee. I can smell fresh coffee brewing. Was going to suggest we go back to bed for an hour or two, but my stomach has just overruled my dick.”

Back in the kitchen, Trevor had thought everyone would be sitting at the table, but Frank and Johnny stood at the cooker either side of Antoni, observing the master at work. Antoni was using a large pot of boiling water to poach eggs while reaching over from time to time to either stir the hollandaise sauce, check the asparagus or toss the mushroom and onion combination. Eventually, Jessica shooed them all away, back to the table, where she had placed doorstops of toast and a pot of freshly brewed coffee. After the seven had eaten their fill—and Antoni had been congratulated on his cooking—they all mucked in to clear the table while Rudy made his announcement.

“I mentioned to Trev last night that my mother has invited you all to attend our family gathering on New Year’s Eve. Mainly family and friends, with locals and guests from out of town. The only thing is that it’s usually a bit formal, and I thought you might find that a bit stuffy—”

“Will there be whisky?” asked Johnny.

“We have our own distillery,” said Rudy, chuckling but rolling his eyes. “That’s like asking me if there will be air to breathe.”

“Then count us in. We’ve only got clean jeans, button-down shirts and jackets. Is that going to be dressy enough?”

“That will be just fine. How about you, Antoni?”

“I came here straight from work, so I’ve got my suit. Need to wash and iron my shirt and press the trousers, but I’m good to go.”

“God, I finally get to wear a dress,” said Cheryl, her eyes lighting up. “Did you bring anything, Jess?”

“I did, actually,” she said, just as excited. “It’s a not a ball gown, exactly—more of a cocktail dress—but I’m certain it’ll be fine. Are we going the whole hog, Cheryl? Makeup and all? We can help each other. I’ve got some fab jewellery. Or is that too over the top?”

“Nowhere near the top,” said Cheryl, pushing her chair back, clearly animated at the idea. “Come on, let’s go and see what you’ve got.”

“Antoni,” said Jessica, “come and show me which shirt you want washed and ironed and I’ll sort your clothes out for you. Least I can do to repay you for that amazing brekkie.”

As they disappeared, Trevor kept quiet. At some point he would need to tell Rudy that he’d not brought anything even vaguely formal—unless you could count jeans with holes in them and a Father Christmas jumper.

“Look, guys, just so you know,” said Rudy, checking over Johnny’s shoulder to ensure the others were out of earshot, “Damian’s probably going to be there too. Just treat him the way you did last night. Stroke his ego, Frank. He likes that.”

“Not just his ego,” said Frank, grinning.

“He’ll not be coming back, Rudy,” said Johnny firmly, folding his arms. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Rudy stopped and looked to Trevor, who shrugged and shook his head.

“Is it showtime, Johnno?” asked Frank.

“You know what, Frank?” said Johnny, leaning back in his chair, “I think it might well be. Go get your laptop while I explain to Rudy why that fuckwit won’t be messing with any of us ever again.”

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