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much remained to be done. These weren’t the finishing-off jobs that she and Peggy had assumed she’d be doing.
    Even though Gwen’s calm enthusiasm and ability to talk with great excitement about the event was infectious, Kit knew that Alice’s closing statement to the meeting was going to haunt her in the middle of the night.
    â€˜I’m glad you all turned up today because we have our work well and truly cut out for us. We have an excellent line-up of world-class authors coming to Crathes, but two of our panels have no hosts yet; although I’m assuming you’ll fill those gaps, Kit. Five hundred flyers need delivering, we have a hostile bookshop owner to tame, the total indifference of the local newspapers to remedy, and almost all the tickets still to shift!’
    An hour later, having still not visited her room, Kit felt as though she’d been thrown into the deep end with no sign of a lifejacket. She was shocked that she was now expected to host not just the romance panel, but the crime panel as well.
    Having been dispatched into a taxi, she now stood alone outside WHSmith, on busy Banchory High Street, without even having had the chance to change out of her travelling clothes. She would have loved to have had time to explore the castle and soak up the atmosphere. Kit also badly needed to find a coffee shop, order a massive Americano, and think.
    The first job she’d been given was to charm the local newspaper editor into advertising the festival. ‘Use some good old-fashioned flirting, girl,’ Gwen had said, in a jokey way which was far more persuasive than Alice’s demands had been.
    Kit had laughed at the time; now, as she stood swaddled in her thick anorak which made her look like the Michelin Man, and feeling less sexy than she ever had, Kit was fast losing her bottle.
    A buzz from her phone broke through her indecision.
    You arrived safely love? Alice OK to work with?
    Wiping sleep from her eyes, her early start now catching up with her, Kit fired a text back, cursing herself for not having told her husband she’d got there safely before.
    Sorry love. Been non-stop since arrival. Alice is bit of a nightmare. I’m working already.
    Phil’s instant reply made Kit smile.
    Sod work. Get coffee. Call Erin. Chat. Then work.
    Firing back a quick, Love you! Kit found Erin’s number and, with her fingers crossed that her friend would answer, made the call.

Chapter Seven
    Monday November 23 rd
    Kit aimed her stride towards The Gift Shop Café as per Erin’s recommendation. The idea that Erin had a regular café like she did warmed Kit to her fellow author further.
    Taking comfort in the familiarity of a large Americano, Kit wrapped her hands around the satisfyingly huge mug. The café, which was obviously intended for tourists, had stacks of locally made fudge and shortbread on the counter. Haphazardly placed wooden shelves dotted the cream walls, holding a variety of Highland cows in china, wool, and clay, many of which were topped with miniature Santa hats in honour of the season.
    The whole place had a cluttered but comfortable ambience, and Kit had to resist the urge to pull out her notebook and pen. An idea for a story based in this little place, that didn’t seem to know if it was a town trying to be a village, or a village trying to be a town, built in her head. As she watched out of the window, the pattern of winter sunshine dancing over the granite stonework of Banchory’s shops was enough to make Kit fall in love with the place.
    Then there was the castle. How she had managed to resist ignoring Alice and going off to explore it, she couldn’t imagine. From the outside at least, Crathes was the epitome of a fairytale castle. She couldn’t help thinking that Walt Disney would have had a field day with it.
    Kit’s musing on a children’s story based around Crathes were interrupted by the sound of the waitress greeting a