Always, in December(84)
Josie halted in her tracks, and Bia came to a stop too, now wearing a little frown as she tried to figure it out. Josie let out a slow breath. It was all a bit sudden, and she wasn’t sure what to think of it. When she’d emailed him she was more expecting him to suggest a few competitions, that kind of thing. But to dedicate herself fully to a course…Could she really just up and move to Edinburgh? Commit to studying for the rest of the year, without any guarantee that it would lead to something? It seemed a little reckless, really, and more the type of thing she’d expect from Bia, she thought, glancing at her. “I’m not sure, I…I need to think about it.”
“All right, but think quickly. If I don’t hear by the end of the week, I’ll presume it’s a no. Have a good evening, and hope to hear from you soon.” Josie kept the phone to her ear even after he’d hung up, staring at Bia, a little dumbfounded.
“What was that about?” Bia asked.
Josie filled Bia in on the way to the Auld Keep, where the last dinner of the weekend was being held. Predictably, Bia thought it was a wonderful idea and didn’t see the problem with how Josie would make it work financially, simply shrugging and saying, “You’ll figure it out.” Josie was a little relieved when they got to the keep, which somehow felt older than the rest of the castle, because it meant there was an excuse to stop talking about it.
They made their way to the Stag Chamber, where there was a stag head on one of the walls—hence the name, Josie supposed—though she tried not to look at the slightly glassy eyes. She’d never really appreciated the tradition of displaying heads of dead animals, once living, soulful things being displayed as nothing more than prizes, though she supposed it did add to the authentic feel of the place. As did the original stone walls, and she couldn’t help sneakily running a hand along one. It felt rough to the touch and somehow colder than the rest of the room. There was a vaulted ceiling, which curved above them, making it easy to imagine the room when empty, being imprisoned here perhaps, cobwebs in the corners and the steady drip of water leaking onto stone—the type of place where you could be left and forgotten about.
There were two rectangular tables on either side of the room, draped in black with a purple cloth running along the middle of them, with a smaller table at the top to join the two, where Laura and John would no doubt sit. There was a display of candlesticks on the tables, already lit, and lamps on the far wall that had been made to look like live torches, which combined gave the room a flickering glow.
Josie clocked Erin, nodding to her, as she and Bia made their way over to a table full of drinks, including actual mead, to help themselves. She couldn’t see Max there, and tried to ignore the slight twist in her stomach. Maybe that was a good thing, she told herself. Maybe it was better if, after the coffee shop experience, she didn’t see him again this weekend. And lots of people had gone home by now, unable or unwilling to take the extra day off work—including Stuart, according to Bia, and Jess and Tom, who had made their way back to London this morning. Jess had sent Josie a message saying that they must all meet for lunch when Josie was next in London, though Josie had no doubt that at least six months would pass before she saw either of them again. Dinner was therefore a smaller, more intimate affair, with seating for around thirty or so, the people left either close family or those who wanted to make a long weekend out of it. Josie had said she’d stay, because what did she have to go back for? Answering phones at a temp reception job, or else discussing the redecorating with Helen. And, of course, she’d wanted to be there for Laura.
Laura, who at that moment was standing near the stag’s head, her face illuminated by candlelight, a soft, happy glow better than any makeup. Josie jerked her head toward Laura, and Bia nodded, following her. Josie felt the punch of guilt as they reached her. She’d stayed on, was considered close enough by Laura to stay on—the only work friend to get that honor—but she hadn’t bothered to speak to her all day. Laura, however, didn’t seem upset and beamed at Josie and Bia as they approached.
Josie pulled Laura into a hug, smelling a sweet perfume. “You look beautiful,” she said as she eased back. “Though I imagine you’re fed up of hearing that, after how you’ve looked all weekend.”
Laura tossed back her head and gave Josie a look. “No one, not even me, Josie, could ever get fed up of hearing that.” She smiled, looked around the room as the last few people joined. “It’s been good, hasn’t it?”
“I’d say ‘good’ is an understatement. It’s been amazing, Laura.” Laura grinned. “But how has it been for you, not too stressful?”
“No, once we got the ball rolling it all just sort of fell into place.” Though she didn’t say it, Josie had the distinct impression that it was only religious planning on Laura’s part that had caused it to do so.
“Well, you bloody nailed it,” said Bia with a grin, and gave Laura a hug herself. Laura squeezed Bia back.
“Glad you could make it.”
“Are you kidding?” Bia shook her head. “Thank you for letting me gatecrash.” Neither of them made any mention of the reason Bia had to gatecrash in the first place, for which Josie was grateful.
John came over then, and pulled Josie into a bear hug. Josie smiled at him. “Well, don’t you look dapper? You should wear kilts all the time.”