‘Seven.’ There wasn’t a trace of humour in his voice.
‘Sounds like quite a memory.’
‘It was. Is. My mum brought me here.’
About a thousand questions poured into her heart as he scanned the brightly decorated stalls surrounding the ice rink at the centre of the Christmas carnival. His eyes took on that faraway look she often saw in her brother when he was thinking of Nick or their father. It was almost as if she could see the memories shifting past his eyes. First the good ones…then the harsh reminder that there would never be more.
She’d been so gutted when Nick had been killed she’d entirely lost sight of who she was. Her father had become a workaholic. Charles had poured himself into med school as if his life had depended on it. Her mum had filled the empty hours with parties and, eventually, other men. She’d never felt more lonely.
She had became two people. A diligent student determined to become the very best vet she could be and a dedicated party girl who’d thought getting lost in the mayhem of yet another mad night out on the town was the only way to stem the grief she felt. Harding MacMillan, the leader of Glasgow’s most elite pack of party people, had sensed her weakness, her desperation to feel loved. She’d stepped straight into his web of lies and deceit, willing it to fill the dark void of loss in her heart.
‘Are the stables the only thing that you’ve revamped?’
Neutral territory. Phew.
‘Apart from some of the medical elements we’ve added to the castle, you’re exactly right.’ Esme pulled a knitted hat out of her pocket and put it on. ‘My parents were big fans of tradition so Charles and I tried to keep everything as it was. As you can see, the skating rink’s a bit bigger, but…’ she held her hands out as they approached the entryway to the carnival ‘…it’s still toffee apples, chainsaw sculptures and mulled wine for all!’
Euan ran over, with Ajax in tow. ‘Are we going in?’
Esme smiled at his undisguised enthusiasm. If Max had been anything like this as a kid, no wonder the memories had stuck. ‘We’re going to save the Christmas carnival for another time, if that’s all right. We’ll definitely have a go as we need to help you operate in crowds and tricky situations together. We’ll also head into town one day. Maybe take you to the Christmas market. And there’s always the Living Nativity to think about. Who thinks Max would make an excellent Joseph?’ Esme shot him a playful smirk. Her first in the past twenty-four hours.
He shot a ‘yeah, right’ look back at her and there it was…that buzz of connection that crackled between them like electricity. If a right place and a right time for a kiss presented itself…
This way danger lay.
Esme nodded at the dogs. ‘Are you two all right with them? Happy with the training so far?’
A chorus of ‘Yes’ and enthusiastic ‘More than’ filled the wintry air. Esme and Margaret had already done a lot of one-to-one work with them. Esme focused on the drills Fenella’s seizure dog knew whilst Margaret had been tasked with showing Euan all the tricks of the trade his dog could help him with when he was feeling panicky or depressed.
The grin on Euan’s face near enough hit ear to ear. ‘I love him!’ He dropped down low so he was eye to eye with the golden Labrador he had been assigned. ‘Ajax and I are going to rule the world!’
Esme laughed good-naturedly. ‘How about we see how the two of you do on a woodland walk first? Plenty of distractions out there. Squirrels, hares, deer. Maybe reindeer.’
Ajax gave Euan’s face a lick and when he raised a paw to shake hands with the boy, he laughed without an ounce of the self-consciousness he’d arrived with. Now, that was satisfying.
‘Do I have to keep my dog on a lead?’ Fenella asked.
Esme nodded. ‘Everything we’re going to be doing for the next week ensures you are developing a relationship with your dog.’
‘Do you think Ajax would like cake?’ Euan’s gaze travelled over to a parade of food stalls at the Christmas carnival. ‘I love cake.’
Esme laughed. ‘Cake is definitely not on their menu. Think of Ajax as an athlete. You want him to be in top health, right?’ Euan nodded solemnly and blocked Ajax’s view of the cake stall. It was easy to see he would let no harm come to his new furry friend.
Esme pointed to a path leading off into the woods. ‘I thought we could go down to the pond for now. Another big lure for Labs and goldendoodles. Even in the winter. But remember! You’re in charge. Let’s see how well you two can do at making sure they resist all of the temptations along the way.’
She held out a lead to Max. At the end of the lead was Dougal wearing yet another Christmas jumper. ‘Happy to tag along with me and Wylie as back-up?’
Wylie was a huge old St Bernard who leant in protectively towards Esme’s leg. When Max didn’t immediately take the lead, a thought struck her. ‘Are you all right with dogs? I can’t believe I didn’t ask. With Plants to Paws I just assumed.’
‘No, it’s not that.’
‘What is it?’
Max tilted his head towards Wylie. ‘Loyalty. Hard to find it these days.’
The click and cinch of eye contact that followed hit Esme hard and fast.
From the shift in his stature she knew in her very core that Max felt it, too.
When she finally spoke, she barely recognised her own voice. ‘Should we get a move on? I think Fenella’s got an appointment with one of the physios in an hour or so.’
Esme set off at a crisp pace, reminding herself with each step that Max wasn’t here to find a new girlfriend. He was here to make sure his charity didn’t get paved over. Eyes on the prize. Just like her ex had had his eyes on her family money. Suddenly, the air felt a little bit chillier.
‘What sort of behaviour do they have to exhibit to be a service dog?’ Max’s attempt to start up some casual chitchat wasn’t exactly stellar but it would definitely beat the ice-queen vibes coming from Esme.
Esme briefly considered the two dogs walking beside them. ‘Probably the same traits it takes to be a good soldier. Commitment. Hard work. Intelligence.’ She glanced at him. ‘You were in the services, weren’t you?’
He nodded. She’d obviously done her research. ‘Army. Twelve years.’
‘As a medic or a soldier?’
‘Started as a soldier but worked my way into the Royal Army Medical Corps.’ He hadn’t been able to stand waiting for someone else to help when one of his fellow soldiers had been injured. Mashing your hand on top of a wound rarely helped. Telling them you were there for them counted for something. Listening to their final goodbyes. As a nineteen-year-old soldier with his own emotional scars, Max had wanted something practical he could do. Medicine had rescued him from the deep morass of helplessness he’d felt ever since the Dictator had entered his and his mum’s lives.
‘You must’ve seen a lot of awful things,’ Esme said.
He nodded and scrubbed at the back of his neck. They all had. At least he’d been able to walk off the plane when they’d landed back in Scotland.
‘Have you chatted with Andy at all?’
Max had heard Euan introducing his dog to him the first night. ‘The chap in the wheelchair?’
Esme nodded.
‘Euan and he seemed to have struck up a friendship and I didn’t want to interfere. He has that ex-military look about him.’
‘Army.