Read From Scotland with Love Online
Authors: Katie Fforde
From Scotland with Love
Contents
Treat yourself to some extra seasonal cheer with this exclusive, straight-to-digital short story from the
Sunday Times
No. 1 Bestseller.
When Daisy travels to Scotland to confront notorious author Rory McAllan, little does she know that within hours she’ll be snowed in with him. But surely she’s not going to have to spend her precious New Year’s Eve with him too?
Put the champagne on ice, get the fireworks ready and step into the wonderfully warm, witty and romantic world of Katie Fforde.
Plus the first chance to read the opening chapter of Katie’s new novel,
The Perfect Match
, out in March.
‘I live in the beautiful Cotswold countryside with my family, and I’m a true country girl at heart.
I first started writing when my mother gave me a writing kit for Christmas, and once I started I just couldn’t stop.
Living Dangerously
was my first novel and since then, I haven’t looked back.
Ideas for books are everywhere, and I’m constantly inspired by the people and places around me. From watching TV (yes, it is research) to overhearing conversations, I love how my writing gives me the chance to taste other people’s lives and try all the jobs I’ve never had.
Each of my books explores a different profession or background and my research has helped me bring these to life. I’ve been a porter in an auction house, tried my hand at pottery, refurbished furniture, delved behind the scenes of a dating website, and I’ve even been on a Ray Mears survival course.
I love being a writer; to me there isn’t a more satisfying and pleasing thing to do. I particularly enjoy writing love stories. I believe falling in love is the best thing in the world, and I want all my characters to experience it, and my readers to share their stories.’
Living Dangerously
The Rose Revived
Stately Pursuits
Life Skills
Thyme Out
Artistic Licence
Highland Fling
Paradise Fields
Restoring Grace
Flora’s Lot
Going Dutch
Wedding Season
Love Letters
A Perfect Proposal
Summer of Love
Recipe for Love
A French Affair
Katie Fforde
For Jo, a good friend and inspiration.
If Daisy’s job hadn’t been on the line she would never have set off for Scotland in that dark time between Christmas and New Year. Nothing would usually have taken her out of London then except perhaps a very good invite for Hogmanay with close friends. And the most difficult author in the known world certainly wasn’t a friend. Still, she wasn’t planning to stay long. If her plan worked she’d be in and out of his house in an hour and then be on her way back to England in plenty of time for New Year’s Eve.
She hadn’t terribly taken to Scotland so far. She really only liked scenery if it was on television, accompanied by Bear Grylls. All these snow-capped mountains were a bit too majestic for her. And the sky was so dark it was almost purple.
‘Are we nearly there, yet?’ she asked brightly, hoping her driver, who’d hardly said a word, would realise she was being funny. Well, mildly amusing anyway.
‘Aye. Another ten minutes should do it.’
‘Jolly good!’
She looked out of the window, trying to distract herself from her nervousness and car sickness. It didn’t matter how many Magic Trees he’d hung from the mirror, you could still tell this car belonged to a smoker.
‘It’s the wee cottage on the hill,’ the driver said.
Daisy looked where he was pointing. ‘It can’t be,’ she said. ‘It’s tiny.’
‘That’s the address and there aren’t so many properties in the area I could get them muddled up,’ he said. He sounded pleased with what he took to be her disappointment.
Daisy was actually surprised, not disappointed. Why would one of the most successful authors in the world live in such a tiny house when he could probably have bought Balmoral if he’d really fancied it?
‘You’ll have to walk from here, hen,’ said the driver. ‘It’s up that wee track.’
‘Can’t you drive up there?’
‘No.’
She considered arguing but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of telling her how bad the track was. ‘OK!’ She took out her Cath Kidston wallet. ‘What do I owe you?’ When she’d handed over quite a few of the strange-looking notes she’d got out of the Cashpoint she said, ‘Can you come back in an hour?’
The driver hesitated. Daisy had given a generous tip. ‘All right. Or maybe I’ll send another driver.’
‘Well, give me your card, just in case I need to get in touch with you,’ said Daisy.
When he had done this, Daisy could put off facing the great outdoors no longer. ‘Fine,’ she said and got out of the car.
Her boots were leaking within two minutes of setting off from the car and her little case on wheels, bumping along behind her, kept catching in the chippings that covered the track and falling over. It was also really steep, zig-zagging its way up what seemed to be a mountain. She couldn’t see any other houses either. Not only was Rory McAllan the most difficult author ever, he lived in the most inaccessible house, ever. By the time she got to the door she was freezing cold and her PR girl’s positive attitude was stretched to its limit. Still, it would soon be over, she told herself as she rapped the stag’s head knocker. As she waited for the door to be opened she looked down the track and saw the taxi disappearing round the bend. She suddenly felt very alone. The driver hadn’t been very friendly, or helpful but he was at least another human being. What would she do if Rory McAllan was away? Would she have to walk, in her leaking boots, all the way back to the nearest town? It was miles!
Just for a moment, Daisy wanted to cry, but she controlled herself. It wouldn’t help. She was cold and it had been a long time since she’d eaten a sandwich at the bus stop; that was why she was feeling pathetic. She’d have to man up. She banged on the door again and it opened almost immediately. Rory McAllan, stood glaring at her. Well, at least he was at home.
‘Who the hell are you, and what do you want?’
Daisy, who was known for her charm, did her best. She smiled. ‘Hi! I’m Daisy Allway. We have met. I work for –’
His brows came together as he stared down at her and then glowered even harder. ‘The PR girl? The bloody PR girl, who wanted me to miss my flight so I could sign books?’
‘I didn’t want you to miss it, I just said there’d be another –’ She did feel guilty about this. She’d let herself get distracted by a boy with floppy hair and so failed to get the Star Author to sign books at the right time. Her boss, Venetia, had gone ballistic, no other word for it. The boy hadn’t been all that interesting when she’d got to know him better, either. Which was why Daisy was going to such lengths to keep her job. Venetia didn’t know she’d come up here – Daisy planned to give her the signed book plates with a big ‘ta da!’ when Venetia summoned her for the ‘little talk’ she’d promised after the Christmas break.
‘What are you doing here? My address is a well kept secret?’ His voice was very low with a Scottish accent that sent some women crazy. Now it had overtones of fierce-dog-confronted-by-burglar and while it was effective, it was making Daisy want to run away, not jump into bed with him.
Daisy shook her head. ‘Not that well kept, actually, as secrets go. My boss knows everything.’ She smiled again, this time she hoped, appealingly. ‘Could I possibly come in?’
He didn’t move. His large frame filled the doorway. ‘How did you get here?’
‘Budget airline, bus and taxi,’ she said. ‘I spent the night in a budget hotel, too.’ She laughed prettily. ‘That was a first!’ She paused, not telling him that she didn’t usually pay for her own travelling expenses. He still wasn’t letting her across the threshold. ‘Could I come in? Just for a little bit? I’m not saying it’s cold but I reckon Eskimos would feel right at home here.’
He thought about it for a worryingly long time and then he grunted. ‘I suppose you’ll have to.’
‘You needn’t look so anxious,’ said Daisy. ‘I won’t be here long at all. My cab is coming back soon, I’ve booked him. I just want you to sign some book plates.’
Rory was not a handsome man but now as he almost laughed, he developed a sort of craggy charm. ‘I don’t bloody believe it!’
Daisy nipped in through the open door while she had the chance. She pulled her case in behind her and once in, put it flat on the floor and then she opened it. ‘OK, I’ve got the book plates here, if we could just find somewhere where you could sign them …’
‘You have absolutely no bloody idea, have you?’
‘What about?’ She looked up at him, holding the book plates and his favourite Sharpie pen, wishing he’d turn a light on or something.
‘That you’ve arrived just before the biggest storm forecast for years?’
‘I did think it was a bit dark but I put that down to being in Scotland,’ she said breezily. ‘Now, if we get these signed. As I said, my taxi’s coming back soon. I don’t want to keep him waiting.’
‘You won’t see your taxi again for days, weeks possibly,’ said Rory.
‘I’m sure I will. I gave him a massive tip. Anyway, he said if he didn’t come he’d send another cab. I’ve got your favourite type of pen.’
He ignored the book plates and pen that she was thrusting at him. ‘Have you looked out of the window?’
‘Not recently, no. I saw the view on the way up here.’
‘I’m not talking about the view, I’m talking about the weather.’
Daisy turned to the window. It was suddenly very dark. It hadn’t been bright before but now it had turned sort of yellow, the colour of a bad cold and just as dense. She saw that it had just started to snow. ‘OK it’s snowing, but only a little and the flakes are tiny.’ He did seem to be making a big fuss about a bit of snow.
‘It’s the tiny flakes that settle, not the great big goose feathers.’
God he was irritating! Going on about the snow and not hurrying up and signing the book plates so she could leave! ‘Maybe we should get a move on, then? Get these signed? Then I can hop into my cab and be out of your hair. I’ll just confirm he’s coming.’ She got out her phone, wishing now she’d just asked him to wait.
He shook his head. ‘Too late. You won’t be able to leave for days.’
‘You are joking,’ said Daisy cautiously. Just at that moment her phone was answered. ‘Oh hi! I’ve booked a cab to come in an hour. I was wondering if it could come immediately? To –’ She gave the address, hoping she wasn’t pronouncing it so wrong that Rory would laugh at her.
‘Sorry, madam, there’s no way any car is going up there today. There’d be no guarantee he’d be able to get back.’
‘But I need to get to the airport –’
‘You need to be there within the hour then. That’ll be the last flight before it’s all closed down. There’d be no way you could do that without a helicopter.’
‘Oh. Thank you,’ she said and disconnected.
‘Let me guess,’ said Rory. ‘He won’t send a car?’
She nodded. She was suddenly desperately homesick. She’d been out of her comfort zone for too long. ‘There must be some other way of getting to the airport –’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. And even if we had the right sort of vehicle, it takes over an hour and a half when the roads are clear. And the roads close very quickly once the snow starts.’
Everyone who worked for Athene Publishing knew he was stubborn. His editor had to be incredibly tactful if she wanted to suggest a change, like putting in a full stop instead of a semicolon, for example. ‘You’re absolutely sure?’ Daisy was fairly stubborn too.
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Oh dear.’ Daisy knew this didn’t make her sound terribly intelligent but it was better than bursting into tears, which was what she felt like doing. She was stuck, a million miles from home, with enough clothes for one night only and wouldn’t be able to get away for days, possibly. Missing the best party ever almost stopped being important, there were so many worse things she had to deal with. Spending time with Rory was hard work at the best of times, he was so bloody grumpy, and having her landed on him, like something out of some sentimental Christmas movie was not going to make him any more fun. She shivered convulsively, the tears even nearer the surface now.