 Highland
Fling
Jenny Porter, a ‘virtual assistant’,
spends her life sorting out other people’s problems. But when
one of her clients asks her to go to Scotland to do a little hands-on
investigation into a woollen mill he has a financial interest in,
it doesn’t turn out to be the working holiday she hoped for.
For not only does her role at Dalmain House include rather a lot
of unexpected tasks – of which the cooking is the least taxing
– but she also finds herself charmed into helping run ‘The
Homely Haggis’, a mobile burger bar.
But it’s when her abrasive customer, Ross Grant,
turns out to be someone she can genuinely talk to, that she really
gets confused. And when Jenny finds herself torn between loyalty
to her client and letting down the people of Drumossie, her problem-solving
skills are stretched to the limit. It’s a pity they don’t
seem able to stretch to sorting out her own, increasingly complicated
personal life.
Chapter One
‘I gave you a home, for goodness’ sake!’ said
Henry.
Jenny put her suitcase in the boot and slammed it shut. ‘I
think if you cast your mind back, Henry, you asked me to move in
with you several months before I actually did. And then I found
out that what you really wanted was a housekeeper!’
‘You were homeless at the time, though.’
‘I had had to sell my flat. It’s hardly the same as
living on the streets.’ She frowned. She didn’t want
to argue with Henry just as she was going away. ‘Let’s
go and have a cup of coffee. I don’t need to set off just
yet.’
Henry followed her inside, and watched as she ground beans and
set up the machine. Jenny would have preferred a quick cup of instant,
but real coffee was one of Henry’s things, and now wasn’t
the time to try to convert him to the other kind.
‘I just think,’ he said, as she set down the large,
thick dark green and gold cup and saucer before him and added a
homemade biscuit to the saucer, ‘that you should put family
commitments before your – your …’
Jenny’s good intentions about not having a row were stretched.
She sipped her own coffee, thinking it tasted bitter. ‘It’s
a business, Henry. Not very large, but important to me. And it’s
your family who’ve got cousins coming over from America, not
mine.’
‘Practically the same thing,’ he muttered into his
shortbread.
Jenny was tempted to waggle the large ring-shaped space on her
left hand to point out that they were neither married nor engaged,
but she didn’t, because she suspected he wanted them to be
more than she did. His family did consider her part of theirs, but
she didn’t make the same assumptions. There had been many
reasons why she had gone to live with Henry, including her feelings
for Henry at the time, but since then she had begun to wonder if
the deep fondness she felt for him and his domestic dependence on
her were really enough to sustain a relationship.
‘Why do you have to go this weekend? Wouldn’t next
week do?
‘I told you. My client wants me up there now. I’ve
already delayed going because of your parents’ anniversary
party last weekend. I can’t afford to lose him, Henry; I haven’t
got that many clients.’
‘You could go out and get a job, like normal women do.’
Jenny was tempted to ask why, if he wanted the sort of woman he
considered normal, he was living with her? But instead she said,
‘I could, but I don’t want to. I want to work for myself
and control my own destiny. I’m not going to be at the whim
of some bloody management consultant or accountant ever again, thank
you. Besides, it’s convenient for me to work at home. It means
I can do the cooking and collect your suits from the cleaners.’
He totally missed the sarcasm. ‘It seems only fair - after
all, if you’re at home all day …’
‘Make up your mind, Henry. Either you like me working from
home, or you want me to get a proper job. Like “normal women”
do.’ To Henry, a normal woman had streaky blond hair, was
a size ten and dressed precisely as the fashion magazines dictated.
What he’d ever seen in her slightly below average height,
dark hair and less cutting-edge dress sense, she had never quite
worked out. Cynically she decided it was probably something to do
with her breasts, which were more ample than being a size ten would
allow.
‘What I don’t like is you shooting off to Scotland
on the whim of a man you haven’t even met! It’s ridiculous!
Why can’t he do his own dirty work? It’s nearly winter,
for God’s sake!’
‘Because he’s abroad! Which is why he uses my services.
He hasn’t got a base here and needs an assistant. And it’s
only October.’
‘End of, and it’ll feel like winter in Scotland, believe
me. And “assistant”is only a fancy word for “secretary”
you know. You may like to call yourself a “virtual assistant”
but no one’s ever heard of them. You won’t be able to
stick it. You’ll be back here within the week. You’re
far too soft to sort out a business in trouble. You’d want
to keep on all the workers as pets.’
Jenny ignored this last bit to avoid losing her temper. ‘Luckily
people who need them have heard of virtual assistants. And if a
lot of my work is secretarial, at least it’s honest labour
and doesn’t put anyone else out of a job. Anyway, this won’t
be just secretarial work, will it? He’s trusting me to go
and look at a failing business and report back. You could look on
it as a promotion.’
‘He’s using you, Jenny.’
‘Yes, and he pays handsomely for the privilege! You should
be pleased for me, Henry, not carping! It’s loads more money
and I’ve got a chance to really build up some capital.’
Now wasn’t the moment to mention that she wanted the capital
as a deposit so she could move into a place of her own.
‘You’re just being suckered, Jen. He’s getting
a management consultant on the cheap.’
Jenny scowled at him. He knew the words ‘management consultant’
would get her going. ‘I am not being suckered. I am my own
boss. I can stop working for him at the press of a button.’
‘You’re soft-hearted and impulsive. Look at the way
you gave that beggar all your loose change on the way back from
the paper shop this morning! You might as well throw your money
away as give it to someone who’ll just go and buy drugs with
it!’
‘I don’t call that being impulsive; I call it being
compassionate! Just because you would die rather than buy a copy
of the Big Issue doesn’t mean we all have to be the same!
Now I really think I should be off. I want to get at least halfway
today. It’s a long drive.’
‘A drive you don’t have to be doing. Don’t worry
about washing the cups; I’ll do them.’
Jenny stared at Henry, wondering how or why she had ever got involved
with him. Then he smiled, and his hair flopped forward and she remembered,
he reminded her irresistibly of Hugh Grant.
She went over to him where he stood pouring coffee grounds down
the sink. ‘Let’s not quarrel when I’m going away.’
She kissed his cheek.
He pulled away from her. ‘Goodbye, Jenny. But I really wish
you’d reconsider.’
Jenny sighed. Hugh Grant would have thought of something witty
and affectionate to say, something that might make her stay. ‘I’m
sure your mother will be able to entertain the American cousins
perfectly well without me. I’ve given her my apple pie recipe.’
Cover Illustration: Mary Claire Smith; Calligraphy:
Stephen Raw
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