Page 20 of The Moon Sister
What, Tiggy?
‘Hatred,’ I whispered with a shudder.
I closed the door to block out the sound of the raised voices and what was obviously a developing altercation. The cottage was freezing because the fire had almost died and the storage heaters had gone off. I rekindled the fire and huddled in front of it, suddenly feeling very alone, and realising afresh that it was the first Christmas I’d ever spent away from Atlantis, my sisters and Pa.
I took my mobile off charge and, still in my ski jacket, walked into the bathroom to see if the phone fairies with their meagre two bars of signal were visiting. They were, and I was able to read various messages from my sisters, and retrieve a voicemail from Ma, which made me feel much better.
I tapped some letters into the phone.
May the grace and joy of the Christmas spirit be with you darling, love Tiggy . . .
I sent the same text off five times to all my sisters, and left a voicemail in return for Ma. Then, as I sat in front of the fire with Alice on my knee for company, I heard the chapel bell across the glen herald the arrival of Christmas Day.
I heard a whine at the door, and stood up to let Thistle in, knowing Cal wouldn’t be home for hours. He bounded in happily and proceeded to try to climb onto my knee as I curled up in front of the fire.
‘Thistle,’ I said as I was swamped in smelly grey fur, ‘you’re just too big.’
Still, I was glad of his warmth and company.
‘Two lonely creatures together. Merry Christmas, darling,’ I whispered as I stroked his soft ears then kissed them. ‘And to you, Pa, wherever you are.’
5
I woke up on Christmas morning feeling far more cheerful. There had been a further snowfall overnight and the first hint of a pink dawn on the horizon promised a spectacular sunrise.
I’d heard Cal and Caitlin arrive back at three in the morning. Not wanting to disturb them, after wrapping myself up warmly, I tiptoed out of the cottage and made my way to feed the cats. Although it was supposedly a holiday for humans, nature did not pause for an arbitrary date on the calendar. As I reached the top of the slope, I made out a tall figure down by the enclosure, dressed in a Barbour jacket and woolly hat, collar turned up against the cold. My heart beat just a little faster as I realised it was Charlie Kinnaird.
‘Merry Christmas,’ I called to him softly as I approached.
He turned to me, startled. ‘Tiggy! I didn’t hear you, you’re so light on your feet. Merry Christmas to you too,’ he added with a smile.
Up close, I could see dark smudges under his blue eyes, and the shadow of a beard beneath his sharp cheekbones.
‘I came down to see the cats, but then I realised I don’t know the combination to get in,’ he continued.
‘It’s four sevens, for future reference,’ I said. ‘I really don’t want to be negative, but the cats rarely come out, even for me. They’ll already have smelt your new scent and you might have to come a few times before they’ll deign to appear.’
‘I understand. Cal told me you’ve had to work very hard to encourage them out. I don’t want to disturb them, Tiggy. Would you prefer me to leave?’
‘Of course not! You’re the one who has offered them their lovely new home. They are incredibly temperamental, but it’ll be worth it if we can get them to breed.’
‘Even if they’re hardly cuddly giant pandas,’ Charlie said ruefully.
‘Now theywouldpull in the crowds.’ I smiled.
‘Well, rather than me disturbing them further, shall we walk for a while instead?’ he suggested as I tipped the cats’ daily dose of meat into the enclosure.
‘Okay,’ I agreed.
After making our way back up the slope, we meandered in silence until we reached a rocky outcrop, which we climbed to give us the best vantage point for the sunrise. As the lucent, peachy rays began to emerge from behind the mountains, I turned to him.
‘How does it feel to know that all of this is yours?’ I asked.
‘Honestly?’ He looked down at me.
‘Honestly.’
‘Terrifying. Give me the responsibility of saving a human life over sorting out Kinnaird any day. At least I know what I’m doing in a hospital – there’s a methodical approach that will either fix the problem or won’t. Whereas this . . .’ Charlie indicated the wild terrain, ‘is largely beyond my control. Even though I want to do my best for Zara and future Kinnairds, I wonder if it’s just too much for me to take on. Everything I’d like to accomplish seems to involve yet more expense and a long timescale.’
