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She gave me a wave and a smile and turned right to walk down the main street toward her home. I turned in the opposite direction to head to my neighborhood on the other side of town, noticing that the drop in air temperature had brought a frost that made the paving stones on the main street sparkle, as if sprinkled with glitter.

The town council must have been out that afternoon to hang the Christmas lights on the lampposts because a selection of snowflakes and shooting stars were now attached to each one. Not lit yet though. The ceremony for the lights switch-on was still a couple of weeks away and the residents of our little Highland town of Inverglen would be out in force to see it and make merry.

Merry wasn’t something I was feeling this year. Normally, despite my staid exterior, I did enjoy the festive nature of Christmas because it reminded me of my mum. This always had been her favorite time of the year. But being alone in an empty house for the first time in years was not conducive to kick-​starting my festive spirit.

As I looked up at the unilluminated lights, I was struck by the need to find a way to ignite my own Christmas spark. Or else find something to distract myself.

3

Nisa

AS I TURNED the car onto my street, my headlights lit up the familiar sight of my small, detached house on my sleepy road and my weary bones suffused with warmth.

But as I neared my house the warm, familiar feeling began to turn cold at the edges. Drew had always been part of the comfort I felt at coming home—​there to welcome me after a long shift and chat with me as I made our dinner.

Now it was just me cooking on my own, under the watchful eye of Izzy, my calico cat and self-​declared boss of the house.

I pulled onto my drive, smiling as I considered that I didn’t know what I’d do without old Iz. My ten-​year-​old cat was good company, especially now that Drew had left.

I exited my old Mini, thinking about how I might decorate my Christmas tree, and just as I was locking the car I spied movement across the street. I suppressed a groan when I clocked grumpy Kerr Murdoch walking up to his house on the other side of the road. Ugh. What a way to take the shine off my effort at tree-​related festive thoughts. Most of the time my shift work and erratic comings and goings meant we hardly had to see each other, a silver lining to my punishing schedule.

Pausing, I wondered whether I should at least give him some form of acknowledgment. What would be an appropriate greeting for one’s local archnemesis? A nod? A scowl? The finger?

Just as I was standing there frozen with indecision, like an absolute lemon, he glanced up and saw me, sending a prickle of awareness up my spine. I could have sworn that his step faltered a little. Good. But he just gave me a curt nod and some kind of grunt, then continued up his driveway to his front door. And I was too caught off guard to even return the nod, never mind flip him off in time.

With a frustrated exhale I turned for my own front door, cursing myself for letting him get one up on me. Stupid Kerr Murdoch—​with his handsome grumpy face, black wavy hair, dark chocolate–​colored eyes, and ridiculously good physique for a town vet.

“Humph,” I said to myself as I opened the door. “Kerr Murdoch. More like Kerr Mur-​DER.” I smiled at my own terrible pun, alluding in my mind to “The Incident,” as I referred to it—​the event that was the catalyst of our journey as mortal enemies.

I turned on the hallway light and called for Izzy. What would be a suitable retaliation for his latest slight? Giving him the evil eye when we next passed in the street? Or ignoring him altogether? We hadn’t exchanged more than a couple of terse words since “The Incident” had occurred two years ago.

Izzy came strolling out of the living room on the right, meowing and curling herself in and around my legs. Well, it was Izzy’s version of a stroll anyway. Cats with only three functioning legs couldn’t really achieve a normal stroll. More like half limp, half stroll.

“Hello, Izzy sweets,” I said, bending to give her a pet and then lifting her into a cuddle. “What have you been up to today?”

Izzy meowed repeatedly, and I performed my regular routine of pretending to know what she was saying in order to have a conversation with her. “Oh really? That black cat two doors down? How very rude of him!”

Izzy meowed a bit more as I nodded my head at her. “Quite right. I hope you gave him what for.”

And so on it went until my tree was up, dinner was ready, and Izzy’s bowl of cat food was full—​though no doubt in about half an hour she would be sidling up to me, meowing incessantly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t been fed at all.

I took a seat at the dining table on the other side of the island that separated the kitchen area from the dining area. The table felt too large now without Drew.

My phone began to ring, and I realized that I had forgotten to return a call I had missed from my parents. Looking at my steaming bowl of stew longingly, I opted to get the pain over with and speak to them first.

“Nisa!” My mum’s voice. “I called you earlier, but you didn’t pick up.”

“I know, Mum. I was at work. We had an . . . issue to deal with.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t an “Oh dear, I hope you’re okay” kind of oh, or a “Gosh, what happened?” oh. It was very much a “How dare you not prioritize my nonsense phone call above everything else” oh.

However, perhaps I was being too harsh. Perhaps this phone call was, uncharacteristically, actually about something important. “What’s up?”

“I’ve had an email.”

She paused and I resisted the urge to say “And?”

“The girls are going on about somebody called Felix and I’ve no idea who he is.”