Page 16 of The Moon Sister
‘Christ, Cal, I was only trying to protect the cats; surely she’ll understand, if she knows anything about wild animals?’
‘All she knows about are the ones she wears on her body, Tig. Right fashion plate, she is. She did some modelling when she was younger.’
‘I should have realised who she was when I saw her,’ I groaned.
‘Whoever she was, yae didnae want the cats disturbed. Never mind, Tig, I’m sure she’ll get over it. I’d reckon she wasn’t coming tae visit the cats anyway, but to take a look at their keeper. Charlie’s probably told her about yae, and knowing what I do about her, she wouldn’t be keen on a young woman invading her territory. Especially one as pretty as you are.’
‘Hah! Well, thanks for the compliment, Cal, but I doubt she’d be threatened by me.’ I indicated my little body that had never sprung the womanly curves it was meant to, covered in my old Aran jumper, with as many holes as it had knitting due to the moths in Margaret’s cottage.
‘I’ll bet you scrub up pretty well all the same. And that’s what you’ll be doing at tonight’s little shindig up at the Lodge. I forgot tae mention that the Laird’s continuing his father’s tradition of holding drinks and a ceilidh on Christmas Eve in the main hall, so you’ll need tae be getting out your glad rags.’
‘What?!’ I looked at Cal in horror. ‘I don’t have any nice clothes with me.’
‘Well, mebbe you can at least have a bath so you don’t go smellin’ of wildcat.’
That night, I realised all I had that was not a moth-eaten jumper was a red-checked shirt and my pair of ‘best’ black jeans. I left my chestnut hair loose instead of scraped back in a ponytail, and added a lick of mascara and a dab of red lipstick.
I gasped in surprise when I joined Cal in the sitting room. He was dressed in a dark-blue-and-green kilt, a sporran hanging from his belt buckle, and a knife tucked into his sock.
‘Wow, Cal, you look incredible!’
‘You’ve spruced up quite well too,’ he said approvingly. ‘Right, let’s go.’
We walked across to the front entrance to the Lodge, where I could already hear the murmur of voices from within.
‘This is the only occasion o’ the year when we peasants are allowed tae cross the main threshold,’ he murmured to me as we stepped inside and I looked up to the lights of the gorgeous Christmas tree that sat in the stairwell. A huge fire was burning in the grate and arriving guests – the men dressed in kilts like Cal, the women sporting tartan sashes – were being offered mulled wine and mince pies by Beryl and Alison.
‘You look very nice, Tiggy,’ Beryl said. ‘Merry Christmas to you.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ I toasted her and took a gulp of my mulled wine as I surreptitiously searched the room for a glimpse of Charlie Kinnaird and his wife.
‘They’re both still upstairs.’ Beryl read my mind. ‘The new mistress always does take a long time to get ready. And she’s preparing to greet her subjects after all,’ she added through pursed lips.
Beryl moved on to serve other recent arrivals, and I wandered across the hall, musing that the majority of guests seemed to be of pensionable age. Then I saw a teenage girl, who stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greying heads. She was standing alone with her glass of mulled wine and looking as bored as anyone her age would at such a gathering. As I approached her, I saw she looked familiar – the same bright blue eyes and unblemished skin as the woman I’d met at the wildcat enclosure this morning, but with a head of wavy mahogany hair cut very short. It was obvious from her sweatshirt and ripped jeans that she’d made no effort to dress up for tonight’s festivities.
‘Hello.’ I smiled as I approached her. ‘I’m Tiggy. I’ve just started to work here on the estate. I’m looking after the wildcats while they settle in.’
‘Yeah, Dad’s mentioned you. I’m Zara Kinnaird.’ Zara’s blue eyes appraised me, just as her mother’s had earlier in the day. ‘You look too young to be Dad’s wildlife consultant. How old are you?’
‘Twenty-six. You?’
‘Sixteen. How are the cats settling in?’ she asked me, seeming genuinely interested.
‘It’s taking time, but we’re getting there.’
‘I wish I could be you, out in the open air all day working on the estate with the animals, rather than being stuck in a classroom doing boring maths and stuff. Mum and Dad won’t let me come and work here until I’ve finished my education.’
‘You don’t have long left, do you?’
‘A whole eighteen months. And even after that, Mum probably expects me to become editor ofVogueor something. I don’t think so,’ she snorted. ‘Do you smoke?’ she whispered to me.
‘No, I don’t. Do you?’
‘Yeah, when Mum and Dad aren’t looking. Everyone does at school. Will you come outside with me so I can have one, and then say you took me off to look at the stag heads in the shed or something? It’s sooo boring in here.’
The last thing I needed was to be caught behind the metaphorical bike sheds encouraging the Laird’s daughter to smoke. But I liked this girl, so I said yes, and we slipped out of the front door. Zara promptly burrowed in her hoodie pocket for a battered rollie and lighter and lit up. I noticed the heavy silver rings on her fingers and the black nail polish, which reminded me of my sister CeCe at Zara’s age.
‘Dad said I should talk to you whilst I’m up here and find out what you did at Margaret’s sanctuary,’ she said, blowing out a stream of smoke into the freezing air. ‘Are you named after the hedgehog in the Beatrix Potter stories?’ she continued before I’d had a chance to reply.
