Highland Chances - a heart-warming Scottish comedy (SAMPLE ONLY)

A hazy grasp of geography

"Do you need a hand with 'er?"

Xavier gestured towards Mhari, her arm slung over my shoulders and head hanging down. Might be shame. Without access to Google, we'd managed a paltry ten points out of a possible hundred. And that was before the twenty-point deduction.

On the other hand, I hadn't allowed her any more of my chips. My mistake. The nosey one hadn't bothered with any dinner and had drank one cider too many. Five minutes ago, she'd slumped against my shoulder. I thought about torturing her by confiding some bit of juicy gossip. Guess what, Mhari? I'm pregnant... Ho, ho, ho! Tomorrow, I would fake regret about opening my big mouth and enjoy her dismay when she realised she couldn't remember anything.

"I'm sure Lachlan can..." I told Xavier as I scanned the room for him. Where was Lachlan? None of us were able to work out Mhari's relationship status with the village's man of dubious reputation status and when it was on and off. Off then, if he had decided drunk Mhari wasn't his responsibility. And Jack had disappeared when Ashley asked if he could have a word with him.

"Is that okay?" I asked Xavier. "Are you finished for the night?"

Xavier was Ashley's new barman and Jack's once upon a time assistant. He was a French Canadian, and in the middle of a gap year between university and a career in corporate law. He'd stumbled on the village when doing his own bit of touring. The countryside appealed to him, so he decided to make Lochalshie his base for a while, asking around about job possibilities.

Jack snatched him up. The Highland Tourers loved him—French accent, Scottish roots and male model looks. For the two weeks he was with Jack, everyone leaving TripAdvisor reviews on the Outlander-themed tours made comments such as, "Phwoarrrr. Hard to pick who's the best-looking guide. Highland Handsome Tours, for sure."

And for that fortnight, Jack worked hours closer to nine to five. Just as well, as that was when I found out I was pregnant and was prone to bursting into tears about anything and everything. Wishing my mum lived closer by. Cancer charity adverts on the TV. Running out of toilet roll... Everyday life became a mine field too.

"Cat litter," Caroline warned me when we told her at the six-week mark, eyes solemn. "Awfy stuff. Causes toxoplasmosis infections in pregnant women. That might lead tae miscarriage or a stillborn."

Your first pregnancy. Just what you want to hear. Jack took on cat poo and pee cleaning duties. Caroline had to step in when his work swallowed up his time once more.

To be fair to Xavier, he did not leave us willingly. Shonagh, Ashley's long-term bar woman, moved to Glasgow to care for her mum who had dementia. Lochalshie being a wee place didn't have many choices for employers. Xavier had worked his fair share of bar tendering as a student. He also knew how to knock up a mean pizza. When Ashley begged Jack to let him be Xavier's boss instead, how could Jack refuse? Helped too, that Xavier was so easy on the eye. Ashley probably hoped such an attractive member of staff would pull in the punters.

Xavier nodded now, bending so he could put an arm around Mhari and haul her to her feet.

"Eet's the flat five doors from here, right?"

I nodded. Between us, we got her out of the pub and along the main road, progress slow as Mhari kept forgetting that the crucial part of walking involved putting one foot in front of the other.

A car streaked past us, making me blow out air. Xavier raised an enquiring eyebrow over the top of Mhari's head. "I don't like cars driving too fast down the High Street," I explained. "Someone killed my last cat that way."

"Fils de pute!"

Quite. The car—a moss-green jaguar—pulled into the Royal George's car park and stopped at a jaunty angle. Two loud posh voices started up, clear enough for us to hear every word.