“That wouldn’t be right. I mean, first of all, you don’t have room—”
“Of course we do,” said Mary, star-struck, a hand resting on her bump. “We can all shuffle around. Cheryl can bunk in with her mum. Jessica seems to be spending all her time in Antoni’s room anyway. And, more importantly, as you can probably tell, the lodge’s heating and boilers are working perfectly.”
“Fine by me,” said Jessica, unable to take her eyes off Damian.
Trevor watched Cheryl and her mum share a look before nodding. Rudy seemed to be more concerned about Trevor’s reaction, his gaze and private shrug seeking an answer. Maybe he worried because Trevor had made all the arrangements and rented the lodge for their group’s private holiday. Typical Rudy—he’d be more concerned about lumbering them with his parents’ guests than the fact they’d be entertaining a celebrity. Trevor smiled and nodded his approval.
“At the very least,” said Mrs M, breaking the collective trance by taking plates to the table, “your guests should stay for lunch while they think the plan over.”
As expected, lunch turned out to be another huge success with the group and their guests. Also, as anticipated, Mary and Frank monopolised the conversation—interrogation, more like—firing question after question at Damian. Watching Damian holding court, Cheryl, who Trevor knew had no interest in rugby, chatted to Helen. After sampling her anxiousness about Hannah earlier, he was pleased to see her distracted and the two of them getting along.
During the meal, they learnt that Damian had cancelled a dream Christmas holiday at the Grand Hotel in New York because François ‘Frankie’ Debois, the member of the Bulls team invited to attend the Mortimer family gathering, had pulled out last minute. That he and Helen were old high school buddies, and because he had finally got his pilot’s licence, he could co-pilot the plane. That he knew Rudy from his time managing a gym in York when Rudy had offered the players a special Bulls team membership, and that he was not, in fact, dating the famous supermodel he had recently been photographed with at a charity event. All in all, he made light of the fandom and had everyone laughing by the end of the meal.
“Look, if you’re all really sure,” said Damian, after a whispered conference with Helen, “we would love to stay here and enjoy your company.”
“Fucking awesome,” said Frank, clapping his hands together with delight, followed by murmurs of approval from the rest of those gathered.
“But strictly no photo or videos posted on social media,” said Mrs M. “I meant what I said the other day. And the rule still stands.”
“Come on,” said Cheryl to Helen, happily escorting her from the room. “I’ll show you to your bedroom. Good job I made the bed and tidied this morning.”
“Can I have a private chat with you?” whispered Rudy to Trevor. Throughout the meal he had sat apart from him, laughing along to Damian’s stories and lighthearted banter, even though he had probably heard it before. Trevor cringed inside at hearing Rudy’s polite, formal tone. “In your room, please?”
The minute they reached the bedroom, Trevor stood there and stared at the floor, sure the hammer was about to fall.
“Trev, look at me.”
Eventually, Trevor managed to make eye contact, to find a gently smiling Rudy. Taking a step forward, Rudy pulled Trevor into his arms and hugged him tightly.
“I’m truly sorry about last night, sorry about this mess,” he whispered into Trevor’s ear.
“Are you okay, Rudy?” Trevor stayed still, enjoying the contact. “You seem—I don’t know—rattled? Did something happen?”
“No. Well, yes. Och, I’m just being selfish. I wasn’t expecting anyone to arrive until later in the week, thought I would have you to myself before anyone arrived. Each year my folks invite celebrities to our annual Hogmanay celebrations. My mother’s a bit of a collector like that, likes to show off people they’ve met during the year. Been trying to get some of the A-list royals, but as everyone knows they spend New Year at Sandringham. Damian’s not supposed to be here until the thirtieth. Helen’s his date to the party—even though they’re not actually a couple—so because of the weather he got her to fly here a few days earlier than expected. At least they actually arrived. So I had to play host last night, trying to sort rooms out for them, running around, so busy I forgot to charge my phone. And then the heating packed up. But I wanted to come back, I really did. Please believe me.”
“Of course I believe you. I just—I missed you.”
“I missed you too. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Am I?” said Rudy, loosening his hug and facing Trevor. “So can I stay tonight? I brought a bag, if that’s okay? Was going to show them to the cottage then come back to you.”
“You’d bloody better stay. We’ve got serious some catching up to do,” said Trevor, relieved, pecking Rudy on his smiling lips. “Go and fetch your bag, and I’ll see what the others are up to.”
As though Ben Nevis had been lifted from his shoulders, Trevor trailed behind Rudy into the kitchen, where Mrs M sat alone at the far end of the table, reading a magazine.
“Where is everyone?” asked Trevor.
“The woman pilot’s taking a hot shower, poor thing. And Frank’s showing the man to Jessica’s room, while she packs her things. The rest of them are sitting in the lounge. I know he’s a celebrity, Rudy, but I hope he’s not expecting star treatment—room service and all that nonsense.”
“Of course not, Brenda. If you like, I’ll call our Millie and get her to fetch some food from the house.”
“No, dear, that’s not what I meant,” said Mrs M. “I don’t mind feeding them both—there’s plenty of food to go round—but I’m not making any beds or doing laundry and ironing, no matter how important he is.”
“That’s not going to be an issue,” said Rudy, laughing. “So, Trev, is it okay if I go and fetch my bag and take it to your bedroom?”
“Are you staying?” asked Mrs M, looking up, her eyes wide and hopeful.
