AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But you’d look so much more Scottish with a kilt.”
Tourists. I hated them so much. Yet it was my job to keep them happy.
I forced a sweet smile. “I’ll pass your feedback on to my manager. Now, are there any other questions before we finish this tour?”
The same woman raised her hand, a challenge blazing in her dark eyes. “Do you play the bagpipes? We were promised bagpipes.”
My colleague Tim rescued me before I could resort to murder. He waved a stack of postcards at the group of mostly elderly well-to-dos. “Grab a postcard, everyone; there’s a discount code for the shop printed on the back. You’ll find some wonderful souvenirs in our shop, including kilts and bagpipes.”
He winked at me, knowing my pain all too well. He’d been doing this job longer than me. With his red curls, green eyes and MacCallum kilt, he looked Scottish enough to satisfy the tourists, but as soon as he opened his mouth and revealed his Canadian accent, they looked at him as if he’d personally betrayed them.
I half-heartedly waved goodbye at my group and headed back into the castle. Behind the shop was a crammed wee room for us tour guides to hang out. Someone had made a pot of tea and it was still lukewarm. I poured myself a cup and collapsed on an uncomfortable wooden chair that looked right at home in this medieval castle.
My legs ached from walking and standing all day. Only one more tour, then I could head home.
“Any coffee left?”
Sharon poked her head into the room. She was the senior guide who’d trained me all those years ago. Back when I’d thought I’d only do this job for a season and then travel the world. Yeah, right.
“Nope, but there’s lukewarm tea.”
“Nah, thanks. I’ll make more coffee instead. I’ve got a planning meeting in twenty minutes and I bet it’s going to last at least two hours. I need proper caffeine.”
I bit back a comment about how tea contained caffeine as well. I knew Sharon was teasing me. We’d had this discussion many times, the friendly argument between a tea and a coffee addict.
“What’s the meeting about?” I asked while she busied herself with the coffee machine.
“Unicorns. Yeah, you heard that right. Someone at Head Office had the brilliant idea to stick some horns on horses. They’ve been trialling it at Edinburgh Castle and the kids loved it, so now they want to send them here, too.”
“Do they look halfway realistic?”
“Maybe if you’re a four-year-old.” Sharon chuckled. “Two of the unicorns will be here tomorrow for a photo op. I think you did the social media posts for the Mary Queen of Scots exhibition, right? Want to do the same for the unicorns?”
That sounded a whole lot better than leading entitled tourists through the castle all day. “Sounds good. I’ll bring my proper camera tomorrow.”
Sharon plopped onto the chair next to me, exhaustion lining her face. “Maybe stick to your phone. That way, it might not be as obvious that the horns are made from cardboard.”
I loved arriving at the castle at sunrise. The hills in the distance were painted a hundred shades of orange and red, while the castle walls themselves glinted golden. I imagined what people hundreds of years would have thought of that sight. A golden castle, proof that the royal line was indeed appointed by God.
One of the security guards had unlocked the gates, but I was the first guide to arrive. I’d always been a morning person, so this wasn’t unusual. I enjoyed experiencing the castle during this quiet time. History seemed to seep from the walls, waiting to be acknowledged by anyone who would listen. Later, it would be too loud to really soak in the atmosphere. It was kind of sad that the tourists only got half the experience of visiting the castle. Being surrounded by others, hearing a dozen different languages and the sounds of modern life, distracted from the true essence of being in a historic place.
I made a big pot of tea and poured myself the second cup of the day. It would be one of many more. A loud yawn announced Tim before he entered the guides’ room, looking as if he’d barely slept.
“How do you look so awake?” he grumbled. “It’s not fair.”
“Long night?”
“Terry took me to the opera in Glasgow. We missed the last train, so we slept at the station. The first train was at 4am, so I’ve had about an hour’s actual sleep in my bed. Terry’s shift doesn’t start until noon, so the bastard gets to snooze while I have to work.”
While he continued complaining, I handed him a mug. “You stay here and get some rest. I’ll put up the signs.”
Tim shot me a grateful but tired look. “You sure?”
“I owe you for saving me from that group yesterday.”
He grinned. “That’s what colleagues are there for.”
I gulped down a few sips of hot tea, burning my throat yet too impatient to wait for it to cool down, then collected the signs from the shop. They displayed the castle’s opening times and entry prices, although I doubted the point of them. Visitors would usually ask about both at the ticket office even though the signs were right in front of them.
