Page 63 of Salvaging Christmas

Before Ivan left, he looked curiously at Trevor, then at their kilts, and finally at their faces, before producing a knowing smile.

“Okay. Maybe not so much of a mystery.”

Trevor stared after the brother, wondering what he had meant.

“Just so you know.” Rudy hooked both arms around Trevor’s neck and drew him close. “Our family always stands at the living room doors and greets guests as they’re seated for dinner. My mother likes to maintain certain formal rituals. We also usually sit together at one end of the table, as a family, but I’ve asked to be seated with you tonight. Mother’s fine with that, because Ivan’s here with his wife, Beth, so they’ll sit with Mother and Father. As I said, it’s all a little formal, but I promise it’ll be a hoot.”

“And what should I do in the meantime?”

“Are you kidding me? Go and join your friends. Have drinks and enjoy yourselves. I’m always going to come back to you.”

Trevor warmed inside at those final words and almost said something mushy in response but changed his mind.

“I’m going to use the bathroom one more time,” said Trevor, his nerves getting the better of him. “Go on down and do your duty, and I’ll see you at the dinner table.”

As the beautiful figure of Rudy strode confidently across the carpet, Trevor couldn’t help watching him go.

“And, Rudy?”

Rudy stopped and turned back.

“Thank you. For everything. You’ve already made this Christmas the best ever. And now this. The absolute icing on the cake.”

“Go on with you,” said Rudy, smiling with pride at the compliment. “See you at dinner. Make sure you bring an appetite.”

At six-thirty, on Trevor’s way down the wide staircase that descended one side of the hall, he estimated around fifty people standing in small clusters, with serving staff dancing between and around them. Cheryl’s loud laughter drew his gaze to where all of his friends stood, sipping champagne. Then, as he reached a point halfway down the stairs, Johnny turned and spotted him, producing a wolf whistle that had the others—and a few people he didn’t know—turning to observe him. Self-consciousness didn’t even begin to describe the hesitation that stalled him, but he decided to take Rudy’s advice, hiked in a deep breath, held himself high and descended into the fray.

“Will you look at that,” said Frank, the first to comment as Trevor approached. Frank wore black jeans, a white silk shirt and a navy corduroy jacket, looking smart-casual. “It’s Robert the bleeding Bruce.”

“I must say,” said Jessica, wearing a pretty black spangled number, “you rock that look, Trevor. You’re a true McTavish now.”

“Actually,” said Trevor, puffing out his chest with pride and grabbing a glass of sparkling wine from a passing waiter, “I am reliably informed that this is what is known as the McTavish sett—the correct tartan for the McTavish clan. But can I say, you are all looking amazing tonight. Let’s have a toast to wonderful friends.”

* * * *

After half an hour had gone by, as more guests arrived and the hall filled up, two men dressed in matching tartan kilts climbed to the landing on the stairs and began playing the bagpipes. One of the waiters stopped by and informed their group that the song was called Flower of Scotland, a popular tune for a not-so-popular instrument. Afterwards, and following a polite round of applause, the master of ceremonies summoned everyone to dinner, each person announced as they entered. The same waiter as before came over to their group and asked them to hold on until everyone else had been seated, which seemed odd, but nobody appeared to mind. Trevor looked over at Rudy’s family, the father and sons dressed identically, his mother wearing an elegant, full-length evening dress in black velvet with a tartan sash matching her husband’s worn diagonally from shoulder to waist.

At last, they approached. As Trevor went to shake her hand, she produced a gentle smile before taking his elbow and drawing him away from the line.

“So you’re the young man my son keeps enthusing about who finally put a smile on his face,” she said, her own smile so like her son’s. When Trevor peered over her shoulder, he noticed Rudy shaking Antoni’s hand but also turning to look nervously at them. “Honestly, when I saw him the other day, I barely recognised him. Since he came back last summer, he’s been like a bear with a sore head. And Millie tells me I also have you to thank for decorating the hall. While you’re supposed to be here on holiday enjoying yourself. Is that right?”

“Oh, no,” said Trevor. “Well, yes, I did help Rudy spruce things up. But honestly, it was nothing. I really enjoyed myself and Rudy did most of the work.”

“Well, it was certainly not nothing. I’ve had a stream of praise and questions from guests about our wonderful ornamenting this year, asking whether I did the decorating myself or used a company. And if so, which one? I feel like such a fraud. So when my husband does his usual Hogmanay speech—which will be traditionally long and boring—he has also been instructed to give you a special mention and a huge thank you.”

“Really, you don’t need to—” began Trevor.

“If I don’t,” she said, cutting him off, “my son will never talk to me again. And I’ve only just got him back. On another note, just a wee word of warning. I know you probably don’t want to think about leaving yet, but as your time is drawing to a close here, Rudolph might start to get a wee bit sullen and moody when the reality hits home. If he does, don’t take it to heart, it’s just his way of coping. He refuses to think about things he considers negative until they’re right upon him. Used to be like that when his father and I went off on business trips.”

Trevor smiled at her and nodded his understanding. “Thank you for telling me. Sounds like we have more in common than I knew.”

“Good,” she said with a sigh before a smile lit up her face. “Now let’s go eat, drink and be merry.”

The rest of the evening turned out to be equally spectacular. As promised, Rudy came and sat next to Trevor, putting his hand on his bare thigh and squeezing. Trevor got his mention and a round of applause in Mr Mortimer’s long but very entertaining speech and, according to Antoni, the food turned out to be good, if not great. When they finished the meal with a small plate of Scottish blue cheese, Dundee cake and a generous glass of Mortimer whisky, Frank looked as though he had died and gone to heaven.

After the meal, they retired to the main hall, allowing the doors to the dining room to be closed off, and a quartet on a small stage began playing. A selection of buffet finger food had been laid out on long tables and an amply stocked bar set up in a corner of the hall. Rudy explained about more guests arriving during the evening, having enjoyed Hogmanay dinner with their own families.

As the evening wore on, brave guests joined in with the Scottish country dances, where a couple of instructors demonstrated moves and called out directions to the group. Mrs M’s friend Doris knew all the steps by heart and led Mrs M around with ease, giving only a few whispered instructions. Rudy did his best to direct Trevor—not the easiest of tasks—but then many of the dances seemed quite subtle, encouraging people to circulate and end up occasionally with a new partner. Nevertheless, each time Rudy would always end up facing Trevor again, his smile shining brightly, his eyes burning with affection. Eventually, Trevor stopped fretting about the steps and enjoyed the fun, knowing Rudy would always come back to him.

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