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

Welcome to Lochalshie

Jack took my hand as we walked to the Lochside Welcome the following Friday night.

"I forgot to tell you," I said, pointing towards the Royal George as we left the house. "When Xavier and I were hauling Mhari's sorry carcass back to her flat last week, I spotted the Evil Twins at the George."

He screwed up his face, getting the reference straight away. "What, those witches from London?"

"Yes. Up to visit their investment, no doubt. Suggest other ways it can undermine the best pub in the village. Oh! And what was it you wanted to say to me, that message the other day?"

He'd been as good as his word last Saturday, turning up bang on the dot at 5pm. I'd been so overjoyed to see him I'd spent an hour babbling about my job—the trouble with working from home was the lack of chat—and then we'd shared a shower that turned X-rated in record time.

Retaining information demanded far more skills than I had these days.

By this point, we were at the pub door, nods and hellos from others going in. Jolene called out a cheery 'Hello!', rushing up as Jack opened the door. His fingers gripped mine and he whispered the words, "Tell you later."

"Is Ashley any better?" I asked. Jolene had finished the lunchtime shift last Saturday and Xavier begged her to come back that evening just in case Ashley was still in bed, which he was. Tonight, the man we spotted behind the bar looked as if it had taken every ounce of will power he possessed to drag him from there. Jolene took one look at him and vaulted over the gate across the bar. She rolled up her sleeves. "What do you want me to do?"

Jack nudged me. "I'll get drinks. Go sit down."

I parked myself at our usual table where Mhari waited, eyes flicking up quickly and then returning to her screen. She'd nabbed the best seat—a thickly-padded armchair. "Can I sit there?" I asked, pointing at it. "In deference to my pregnant status."

"No. You're only expectin'. No' ill. In the olden days, women used tae be out pickin' tatties right up until they gave birth. They'd just squat, pop one oot, swaddle it under their shawls and get back on wi' it."

I glared at her. She didn't shift, so I settled for kicking her chair as I took the stool opposite. Jack, a pint in hand and a soda and lime for me, returned from the bar, corners of his mouth twitching. I waited for him to forcibly shift Mhari. In vain.

"Please can we join your team?"

The woman I'd seen a week ago and mistaken for Katya. And that brief conversation I'd overheard and forgotten all about. Still here then. She stood in front of our table and smiled winningly. The man next to her pocketed his phone, his gaze appraising. If asked, I would have compared it to how a big cat eyes up a baby gazelle. His eyes swept over Jack several times, gaze finally lingering on his collar bone just visible above the open-necked shirt Jack wore.

Our team was one woman down, Jolene too busy pouring pints for demanding customers. Now I looked again, whoever the woman was did not resemble Katya that closely. Same height, hair colour and style but thinner. A few years younger than me, although Mr Predatory was older. Early 30s, maybe, tightly curled sandy hair that was starting to edge back from his forehead and dressed in chinos and a T-shirt I knew did not come from H&M. He said nothing, eyes fixed on Jack.

Duh, Gaby! When I'd overheard her the other week, I'd been convinced a film crew was about to descend on the village. And got totally excited by it. Then, I'd gone home, fallen fast asleep and forgotten about it until now.

"Awfy common, Gaby!" My mother-in-law's voice, the warning she'd given me some weeks ago. "For your heid tae turn tae mush in the early stages. Your body's busy makin' a human being. It's got nae time for thinkin'."