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I savour my last mouthful of roast turkey then let out a contented sigh. That was delicious, but I’m completely stuffed. The satisfied expressions on the eight other faces around the table suggest they all feel similarly.

We’re in the Bannock Hotel’s restaurant, which—under Emily’s careful eye—has been beautifully and stylishly decorated for Christmas. The brightly coloured paper hats perched on each head, pulled earlier from crackers, don’t quite match the classy theme, but then neither do the assortment of garish Christmas jumpers on display.

Everyone’s cheeks are rosy from alcohol, except for Emily’s and my own. The three McIntyre brothers have really indulged, celebrating that for once they can relax in their home without having to wait on guests, the hotel being closed today.

“Now, there’s more!” Elspeth’s voice is louder than usual. She, too, has been marking the absence of patrons by refilling her glass at regular intervals. “Who’s for seconds?”

There is a chorus of protests.

Aidan pats his stomach. “Maw—and Lewis—that was incredible, but I couldn’t eat another thing. I don’t think any of us could.”

He’s sitting beside me—Elspeth made sure of that—and is wearing his Christmas present from his sister: a jumper featuring a cartoon sheep in a Santa hat and the words “Fleece Navidad”. Somehow, even in this goofy outfit, he’s attractive. I don’t know how he does it.

Elspeth isn’t convinced by her son’s claim. She gazes around the rest of us: the four McIntyre siblings, Iona, Emily, and me. David isn’t here—he’s eating with Johnny’s family.

“There are two pregnant women in our midst,” Elspeth says. “Your bairns need to grow big and strong, so surely you’ll both go for seconds?”

“Thanks, Elspeth, but no.” My stomach aches pleasantly—there’s no way I could put anything else in. “It was delicious, but I need some time to digest.”

“Me too,” Emily agrees.

While Aidan is to my left, she’s to my right. A vegetarian, she had a nut roast. I had a taste, and just like the turkey, it was really good.

She undoes the top button of her jeans. “Ah! That’s better.”

I glance down at her jeans and frown. “Wait, didn’t you wear them before you got pregnant?”

“Yep. I’ve bought maternity clothes, but I don’t need them yet.”

“What? You’re only a week behind me!”

“I know. I’m so jealous.” She eyes my belly. “I’d love a proper bump. No one realises I’m pregnant unless I tell them.”

I chuckle and shake my head, scarcely believing her. “Oh no! You’re managing to retain your figure while a child is growing inside you—that must be so difficult for you.”

“If no one is for seconds, then it’s on to dessert,” Elspeth says, gracefully moving things along without acknowledging my playful remark. “Lewis has made a trifle and a Yule log. There’s a different compartment for sweet food, you know, so I’m sure you’ll all manage something.”

Lewis groans. “They both taste great, if I do say so myself, but . . . could anyone actually stomach them yet? Normally, I track everything I eat, but Christmas is the one day I give myself off—I’m not used to feeling this bloated.”

Jamie pats his brother’s shoulder. “How about, as a last-minute Christmas present for us all, you don’t mention your nutrition-tracking app or your gym routine for the rest of the day? None of us care.”

Cat snorts. “So true!”

“Aye, although I am with you on the bloated thing.” Ally rubs his stomach and winces. “Anyone up for a pre-dessert walk? It won’t be light for much longer, so if we’re going to do it, we should go soon.”

It gets dark early in winter in the Highlands. Right now, it’s three o’clock. Christmas “dinner” was really more of a lunch.

“I’d be up for a walk,” Iona says, “but . . . I can’t move anywhere for at least five minutes.”

“In that case, let’s have a five-minute break, then a walk, then dessert,” Elspeth suggests. “Any objections?”

There are none.

Elspeth turns to me and Emily hopefully. “Perhaps, during our wee break, you two ladies could show me the scan pictures again?”

Emily went for her scan a week after Aidan and I went for mine. She and Ally are having a little boy.

“Maw, you get teary looking at them when you’re sober,” Aidan points out. “You’ve had a few wines—you’ll be a mess. None of us want you blubbering on Christmas Day.”