Golden Luckenbooth

Eighteen

When Piper whines and nudges at my hand, I know it's time to get out of bed and move on with the day. Placing my hand on my belly as I stare at the ceiling, I ponder what's to come today – as I've been doing since around 3 a.m. Unfortunately, pulling the duvet over my head and hiding from the situation isn't an option.

I rise and throw open the curtains to the most dreich day I've seen in ages.

"Well that tracks," I mumble as Shortbread winds her body around me, leaning lightly on me to let me know she's there for me. Sinking my fingers into her fur, I draw strength from her.

After using the loo in the luxurious en-suite, I pull on a pair of jeans, reminding myself that in another couple of months, I won't be able to fit into them anymore. As I hook my bra, I am aware that my boobs are spilling over, meaning that soon, I'll need new bras too. Shit. Being pregnant is going to be expensive. Maybe I can borrow some maternity clothes from someone? I finish the look with a crew neck that has a picture of a sheep wearing sunglasses and a caption that says, 'Fleece Navidad.'

Even though the staff have assured me that they'll clean, I attempt to remake the bed, yanking the duvet up enough to cover the bottoms of the pillows which I fluff and try to centre.

Carrying my shoes, I wander from my bedroom in my sock-covered feet, trying not to make much noise in case Harry is still sleeping. The dogs must go out despite the poor weather, and I'm the one who has to take them.

At the bottom of the stairs, I am surprised to hear voices as our guests aren't supposed to arrive until later. I head in the direction of the conversation, prepared to defend my reasons for wandering around without shoes should the staff ask. As I reach the doorway, though, I pause when I recognise one of the voices. Not that I've heard it in person, but it sounds the same in real life as in interviews.

"Darling, why would you rent an estate in Ayrshire for our early Christmas celebration? It's cold and dreary. You've got that lovely home in Italy where it's warm and sunny."

"Thought we might want a different experience this time," Harry comments, and though I can't see him through the walls, I picture him shrugging.

"What game are we playing?" The voice behind me causes me to jump and drop my shoes with a loud clattering. I spin to face Harry's sister Gemma who is standing behind me, her hands clenched in front of her in a demure pose that belies her impish words.

"Oh, uh. Hi. Sorry." Bending, I pick up my shoes, mortified at having been caught eavesdropping. "This must look weird. I was just... You see, it... Well, the dogs..." Having bumbled enough, I stick out my hand. "Hi, I'm Anna."

"Gemma." She nods politely. "May I pet them?" When I give permission, she crouches down, allowing my girls to sniff her before she gently pats each of them on the head twice. Standing, she scans me from toe to head. "They're beautiful golden retrievers."

"Thank you," I mutter, uncomfortable. This is not how I pictured meeting the pop star's sister, and I'm not my usual confident self. "Sneaking out?" Her head gestures towards the shoes in my hand, and I shake my head. "I mean, can't blame you. I should have known my brother wanted us to meet someone. It can all be a bit much."

My smile is genuine, as I already liked her quite a bit before meeting her. Her podcast is in my top five after all. "I thought you'd be more reserved."

"Oh, I am. Normally. But there's something about unexpectedly celebrating Christmas in Scotland that has emboldened me." She clasps her hands together again and rocks on her heels. I recognise the stance because it's one Harry does unconsciously. "Meeting the fam can be anxiety-inducing. Don't worry, though. I can promise one thing with absolute certainty."