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‘We’re getting married,’ he said.
‘I know!’
‘Finally,’ my cousin Harmony – who was always called Harry – said with an arch of her perfectly shaped eyebrow. I scowled at her across the empty dinner plates, but I wasn’t going to let her spoil my mood, not tonight.
We’d just arrived in Claddach, the tiny Highland town where we’d grown up, and we were enjoying a welcome family dinner. My mum was there, my sharp-tongued cousin Harry and her wife Louise, and Harry’s mum, Suky – my mum’s twin sister. It was brilliant.
In exactly one week and one day from now, Jamie and I would be married. Harry was right, it had taken us a long time to get here, but now we had arrived. And everything was going to be perfect.
‘Can I just say,’ I said looking round the table. ‘That I am so excited and relieved to finally be here. I know this week – and of course Saturday itself – is going to be the best week of my – of our – lives.’
Mum, who was sitting on the other side of me to Jamie, squeezed my arm.
‘It’s going to be wonderful,’ she said.
A commotion at the back door made us all look round, and our great friends Eva and Allan fell into the kitchen, stamping snow from their boots.
‘It’s coming down very heavily out there,’ Eva said in her brisk Yorkshire accent. ‘It’s bloody freezing.’
She spotted me and swooped, gathering me into her considerable chest and hugging me so tightly I couldn’t speak.
‘There’s nothing of you, love,’ she said. ‘Have you been doing that five:three diet?’
I wriggled out of her hug and grinned. Eva always told me and Harry – and now Louise too – we were too thin.
‘I’ve got a dress to fit into,’ I said. ‘A beautiful, wonderful dress.’ I looked at Allan. ‘How’s everything at the café?’
‘It’s grand,’ Allan said, pulling up a chair. We all shuffled round, and almost imperceptibly the table seemed to grow, just enough, so we all fitted. I glanced at Mum and she winked at me.
Allan produced a fat, green cardboard file.
‘We’re all set,’ he said. Jamie and I were getting married at the café that was owned by Mum, Suky and Eva. It had a gallery upstairs, called The Room Upstairs, which was run by artist Allan, and where they held functions. Its big windows gave it an amazing view over the loch, and it was the ideal venue for our wedding.
Allan opened the folder.
‘Hang on,’ I said. I waggled my fingers over the table, which was covered in dirty plates, and watched in satisfaction as they all rose into the air in a shower of pink sparks and stacked themselves neatly in the dishwasher.
‘Ah witchcraft,’ said Jamie happily, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of wine. ‘It makes life so much easier.’
He was right. I came from a family of witches – me, Mum, Suky and Harry all had the gift. We could clear a dirty kitchen with a flick of the wrist, produce bottles of wine on a whim, and help people with all sorts of problems. Mum, Suky and Eva – who was also a witch – enchanted the cakes and biscuits they sold at the café. Sometimes the help they gave was asked for, sometimes it wasn’t, but it always worked. Harry had built a whole career out of her talents, with a website for witches called Inharmony.com (http://www.Inharmony.com) and a luxury spa in Edinburgh where she offered up spells on demand for extortionate prices. Me, I was a lawyer and for years I’d shied away from my witchcraft. Now, though, I embraced it – mostly. Jamie, who was a doctor like both his parents, loved that I could tidy our tiny house in seconds or find a taxi in the pouring rain.
Now though, my mind was on wedding stuff, not spells.
I spread the contents of Allan’s folder all over the table.
‘So we’re going to divide the room and have the ceremony in the smaller end and dinner at the other,’ I said. ‘And after dinner everyone can go downstairs to the cafe to give us time to move the tables and chairs to one side for the dancing.’
‘We’ve got a DJ,’ Jamie said. ‘But we’re hoping some people might play as well.’
Claddach was a haven for all sorts of creative types – a bit like St Ives in Cornwall, or Totnes in Devon. There were writers, poets, artists, potters, jewellery makers and lots of musicians. Allan’s gallery served as a hub for them all and he often ran writers’ groups, readings, concerts and classes alongside his exhibitions. Someone was bound to bring a guitar, or a violin, or even a drum kit, to our wedding.
‘There’s nothing really left to do,’ I said. ‘Not until that photography exhibition closes and we can get into the gallery to decorate.’
‘Wednesday is the last day,’ Allan said. ‘It’s all yours after that.’
I grinned, excited by the idea of decorating my wedding room.
‘What colours have you chosen?’ Suky asked.
‘Light blue, silver and white,’ I said. ‘I wanted it to have a frosty feel.’
Jamie and I had both grown up in Claddach, which was nestled in a valley in the Cairngorms. We loved winter and had deliberately chosen to have our wedding at this time of year to make the most of the snow that was almost guaranteed. We’d not been disappointed. It had started to snow as we got ready to leave Edinburgh, where we lived, and by the time we arrived in Claddach the town was already wrapped in a cosy blanket of the white stuff. I was delighted. It was like I’d ordered the weather specially and even though my mum, aunt and cousin were brilliant witches, that was one thing that was definitely out of their remit.
‘And the dresses for Chloe and Harry are this silvery blue?’ Suky found a fabric swatch in among the documents on the table and held it up.
‘Yes, and Jamie and Frankie’s ties are the same colour,’ I said. ‘Remember Frankie?’
Mum and Suky nodded. They had known Jamie’s best friend – gorgeous, funny, unreliable Frankie – since we were at school, though they hadn’t seen him for years.
‘The dresses are gorgeous,’ I winked at Harry who hadn’t wanted to be a bridesmaid in the first place. ‘Bias cut, a bit slinky – more like evening gowns really. Chloe wanted to cover her tummy so hers is a bit more draped than Harry’s.’
Chloe was my best friend from school. She lived just outside Claddach with her husband, Rob, and their three kids. Her smallest child, Euan, had just turned two and she was still a bit self-conscious about what she called her “mum tum”.
‘Did you manage to sort out who’s sitting where,’ Mum asked. We’d had many discussions on the phone about how to arrange the tables. ‘I did,’ I said, pleased with myself. ‘Do you have the table plans, Allan?’
‘Oh god, not table plans,’ Harry said, rather unfairly in my opinion. I’d been nothing but supportive when she and Louise tied the knot last year. She drained her wine glass and looked at her wife.
‘Shall we go for a walk before the snow gets too bad?’ she said. Lou, who loved nothing more than being outside, whatever the weather and whatever the activity on offer, nodded eagerly.
‘Erm, before you go,’ Mum said, looking nervous. ‘I’ve got some news.’
My heart plummeted into my slippers. Just a couple of years ago, Suky – Mum’s twin sister – had been treated for breast cancer. She was doing well now, but that fear – the fear of the cancer returning or someone else I loved suffering – had never gone away.
Now I looked at Mum in horror, seeing my own fear reflected on Harry’s face.
‘Oh it’s nothing bad,’ Mum said shrilly. ‘It’s good in fact. Very good.’
She gave a funny self-conscious laugh.
‘I’ve met someone. A man.’
There was a pause, then Harry clapped her hands in delight.
‘Auntie Tess, you old dog,’ she said. ‘Who is he?’
Mum visibly relaxed and beamed at Harry.
‘He’s called Douglas,’ she said, blushing. I’d never seen my mum blush before. ‘He’s lovely.’
I couldn’t speak. Mum had split up with my dad before I was born. She’d never, as far as I knew, had a relationship since.
‘Douglas?’ I muttered. ‘Who is this Douglas? Can we meet him?’
Mum glanced at Suky.
‘He’s from the village,’ she said. ‘He runs his own business.’
‘What kind of business?’ I snapped. Jamie put a warning hand on my arm.
‘A family business,’ Suky said soothingly. ‘I’ve met him. He’s very nice. And he’s coming up for a drink now, isn’t he Tess?’
Mum nodded.
‘He’s on his way,’ she said. ‘He just texted me.’
‘Oh brilliant,’ I said, knowing I was being very childish. ‘So you just dump this on us, then before we’ve even had time to take it all in, he arrives?’
Mum looked a bit sheepish.
‘I did mean to tell you earlier,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
I shrugged.
‘Bit late for that,’ I said. Jamie kicked me under the table.
‘He sounds great,’ he said in a very pointed fashion. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him, Tess.’
I kicked him back. Harder. And then the doorbell rang.
Mum blushed again and hurried off to answer it. I heard muffled voices and then she appeared back in the kitchen followed by a tall man with olive skin. He was in his sixties I guessed – a similar age to my mum – and was wearing a thick waterproof jacket, jeans, a woolly hat and snow boots. He smiled at us all a bit nervously, and pulled the hat from his head, revealing closely cropped dark hair with a sprinkling of grey.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m Doug.’
‘This is my daughter Esme,’ Mum said. I smiled at Douglas though inside I was scowling and nodded “hello”. ‘And her fiancé Jamie.’
Jamie stood up and shook Douglas’s hand. Harry and Louise did the same as Mum introduced them, too.
‘Why don’t we all go into the living room,’ Mum said. ‘We can have a drink and relax.’
Eva and Allan – who apparently were already well acquainted with Douglas – said their goodbyes, leaving the wedding folder for me to look at, and headed out into the snow. The rest of us trooped into the lounge and I deliberately sat as far away from Mum and Douglas as possible.
‘Tess said you’ve got a family business,’ Harry, who was a brilliant businesswoman herself and who’d obviously abandoned her idea of going for a walk, said. ‘What do you do?’
Douglas looked slightly nervous again.
‘We run a funeral home,’ he said. ‘Me and my brother and my niece.’
I was horrified.
‘Dead people,’ I said. ‘Do you do all the embalming and stuff?’ I looked at Mum wondering how she could let him touch her with hands that spent all day touching cold, clammy dead flesh.
‘Actually no,’ Douglas said, shifting in his seat. ‘I look after the business side of things – the finances – it’s my brother Cameron who deals with the deceased and my niece Kirsty oversees all the arrangements. It works well for us.’
I wasn’t convinced.
‘So you’re an accountant for a funeral home,’ I pointed out, a bit too abruptly
Jamie nudged me.
‘You’re being very rude,’ he hissed. ‘Be nice.’
But I couldn’t. I knew I was being horrible but somehow I couldn’t help myself. Mum was mine. Unless you counted Suky – who was kind of mine too – I’d never shared Mum with anyone. Not my dad, who was lovely but had lived miles away my whole life, and not any siblings. It had just been me and her forever. And now she’d brought this man, this undertaker, into our relationship – just in time for my wedding? It was terrible.
I sat in silence, unable to think of anything to say, while Douglas charmed Harry and Lou, chatted with Jamie about rugby and made Suky and Mum laugh. He tried to ask me about the wedding but my monosyllabic answers soon put him off.
I stared out of the window at the snow, which was falling fast and watched a car crawl slowly up the hill towards our house, its lights bouncing off the snowflakes. It stopped outside our house.
‘Someone’s coming,’ I said. ‘Are we expecting anyone else?’
I looked at Mum.
‘No more men you’ve invited?’
‘Stop it,’ said Jamie under his breath. ‘Just stop it.’
Harry stood up and looked out the window.
‘It’s a woman and a wee boy,’ she said. ‘Must be going next door. That snow’s terrible – you might not get back down the hill tonight, Doug.’
She winked at Douglas and I flinched, determined not to rise to her teasing.
Then the doorbell rang. I looked at Mum who shrugged.
‘God, that poor woman must have come to the wrong house. In this weather,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and see.’
I opened the front door. A woman stood there, wrapped in a beautiful coat, with a small sleepy boy in her arms.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for Jamie Brodie. Is he here?’
Chapter 2 (#u4e683b0f-ad14-5cda-a78a-982484a4eb99)
‘Jamie Brodie,’ I repeated, stupidly. ‘Yes he’s here.’
The woman looked relieved.
‘Oh thank god,’ she said, and for the first time I noticed she had an American accent. ‘I’m beat, and so is Parker,’ she tilted her head towards the little boy, whose head lolled on her shoulder. ‘And it’s freezing.’
I suddenly realised the snow was whirling round us, and piling up on the doorstep.
