Page 1 of Made Up for Love
1
“Omigosh, it’s so cold!”
The air temperature hit Lydia Hendrick’s skin as she stepped out of the relative warmth of Edinburgh Airport’s arrival hall, and she couldn’t help but shiver. It was patently obvious that the short, thin jacket she had thrown on, before leaving her flat in London, wasn’t going to cut it in the apparently arctic climate of Scotland.
Everything had been rather last-minute.
Her best friend, Jacinta, had been due to do make-up for Scottish reality TV star Sadie Starr’s latest magazine spread. But a nasty bout of gastroenteritis had left Jacinta bedridden and unable to take on the job. Letting Sadie Starr down was the last thing anyone wanted to do and after a series of frantic phone calls, messages and emails, Lydia had been nominated to take over. She had been left with little time to prepare and now regretted her decision of not taking the weather forecast seriously.
Lydia stepped into the taxi pickup area, looking around for the driver. Jacinta had told her there would be someone to meet her. She scanned the waiting people, before her eyes fell on a smartly dressed chap who held up a card bearing the name ‘Jacinta Blaire’.
“Thank God,” she breathed, as she approached the man. Hopefully he would have a fully functioning heater in the car.
“Ms Blaire? I’m Stewart.” His Scottish burr was easy on the ear, however he was old enough to be her grandfather. So much for any sexy chauffeur fantasies she might have had. “I’m taking you to the Hotel Colessio, right?”
“Oh, I’m not Ms Blaire. Although I am her in some ways as I’ve taken over her persona for a few days.” As the words fell out of her mouth, Lydia wished she could take them back. What was she doing trying to put him off? It was freezing.
Stewart frowned at her. “Then I can’t take you if you’re not who you say you are.” He tucked the card under his arm, turned and began walking away.
“Wait!” Lydia grabbed his arm. “Jacinta, I mean Ms Blaire, is sick and I’m taking her place. You can phone her and check if you like.” She rummaged in her bag for her phone, grateful for the respite it gave her cold fingers. She found the messages and waved the device in Stewart’s general direction. “Here you go!”
The chauffeur took it from her, a frown creasing his already wrinkled forehead. He appeared to read through the exchanges and looked back at Lydia. “Okay, let’s go.” He gestured to her two wheelie suitcases. “Is this all your luggage?”
Lydia nodded. About three quarters of the space was taken up with all her make-up kit, the hundreds of products that made her career. The remainder had a few clothes shoved in. And as the chill wind whipped around her, she wished she had packed more jumpers.
Stewart hauled the cases into the boot of the car and Lydia winced as she heard some of the palettes crunching together. She had taken one of the cases on as hand luggage, much to the consternation of other passengers, who claimed it took up too much space in the overhead locker. Lydia ignored them; she didn’t want her precious cargo being ruined by some meat-headed baggage handlers.
“Let’s go.” Stewart held the car door open for her. “I want to miss the traffic on the motorway.”
“Do you mind if I sit in the front?” Lydia scooted around to the other side of the vehicle. “I get car sick if I sit in the back.”Plus,she thought,I’ll be able to get my feet warm if the heater is on.
The chauffeur shut the door again and got back into the driver’s seat without another word. Lydia already imagined him telling his colleagues about the high-maintenance English girl he had to take to Stirling.
The warmth of the interior immediately made her feel better. She wiggled her toes inside the boots she had thankfully chosen to wear, slowly feeling them thaw. Now she was finally on her way to the hotel, it gave her a chance to think.
The job with Sadie was a Big Deal. Jacinta was lucky enough to work with some seriously high-profile clients and the fact she’d passed this on to Lydia meant that she could build her own client base. It was such a shame that the timing sucked. It was Lydia’s parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary party in three days’ time—Christmas Eve. Leaving her older sister in the lurch with the arrangements hadn’t gone down well at all, but the other option was turning down Sadie Starr. And that simply didn’t happen. Megan had raged at her for the best part of an hour when Lydia called her to say that she wasn’t going to be able to pick up the cake, or liaise with the caterers, or decorate the hall.
In the end, Megan had no choice but to relent. Even she realised that it could be the break Lydia was waiting for. Megan was a solicitor in a successful City law firm and was about to be promoted for the second time in quick succession and Lydia had a hard time living up to her sister’s career ambitions.
Not to mention her romantic ones.
Engaged to her university boyfriend, Megan’s wedding would be the following summer, and would be held at the very institution where they had met. Lydia’s own love life was as pitiful as her career, in that respect. Single for the last eight months—after her previous boyfriend had told her ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, the very next night he had hooked up with someone whom he’d got pregnant within the space of about six weeks. Hearing of Megan’s wedding plans, combined with some serious horrors of online dating, made Lydia depressed about the upcoming festive season. Her friends had already regaled her with some of their Christmas party stories, full of eligible bachelors, mistletoe kisses and happy endings.
If she was honest with herself, she was avoiding the parties because she didn’t want to end up alone at the end of the evening. There was nothing worse than having to go home alone because your friend had copped off with someone else.
“So how long are you here for?”
Stewart’s voice brought Lydia out of her own thoughts. “Oh, just a couple of days. I have to be back in London on Christmas Eve.”
He sucked in his breath. “You’ll be wanting to keep an eye on the weather forecast then, love. We’ve blizzards forecast for tomorrow.”
“Surely that’s not going to happen though?” Lydia rubbed her hands together, glad the feeling in her fingers had now returned. “I mean, it’s just the forecasters scaring us, like they always do.”
The driver shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. They seem quite certain.”
“That’ll just be up there though; it won’t be like that in London. It rarely snows in London.” Lydia laughed. “I’ll be fine.” She tried to ignore the fine powdery snow starting to settle on the car.
Twenty minutes later, Stewart drew up in front of the Hotel Colessio. It was a beautiful Victorian stone construction, with pillars at the entrance, and was one of the grandest buildings that Lydia had seen.
