Page 46 of A Little Bit More

“With Dougal?”

“Aye.”

Shona sucked in a breath. “We need the rest of the girls in on this.”

“No!” Margaret snapped, but it was already too late to stop Shona. Her finger must have been on the conference call button for their friends.

“I’m in the middle of watchingStrictly Come Dancing,” Jean said by way of hello. “This had better be important.”

“It is,” Shona said at the same time as Margaret said, “It isn’t. Go back to your show.”

“What’s up?” Heather Donaldson’s voice joined the group.

“Nothing,” Margaret snapped.

“No’ nothing,” Shona spoke over her. “She’s on a date. With Dougal.”

There was a moment’s silence before they all spoke at once.

“I don’t know if it’s a date,” Margaret said.

“About time,” Heather said.

“Isn’t it exciting?” Shona said.

“Pray he’s discovered Viagra, or it’s going to be a bloody short date,” Jean muttered, making Margaret want to wash out her ears with soap.

“Forget it,” she said, regretting the call. The last thing she needed was to have her life decided by group vote. “I don’t need any input. I’m sure it’s just my hormones talking.”

“Rubbish,” Heather said. “That man has had his eye on you for years.”

“It’s true,” Jean said. “Even during our fling, he was always talking about you. It’s a good job I’m not the jealous type and that I never wanted anything more than a roll in the heather.”

“Hay,” Shona corrected. “The saying is ‘roll in the hay’.”

“This is Scotland,” Jean replied. “We roll in heather. Even though that stuff could scratch your backside raw.”

“Could we please focus?” Heather called out over everyone else. “We need to help Margaret. Now, tell us what’s going on.”

“Well,” Margaret said into the silence, “I’m hiding in the toilet of the spa restaurant, talking to you idiots.”

“Apart from that,” Shona said.

Margaret heaved a sigh, her eyes on the plain blue skirt covering her knees. If she’d known this was a date, she wouldn’t have worn that skirt. She’d have worn the green dress that her lingerie-designer daughter had given her, the one that brought out the green in her eyes.

“Margaret!” Shona snapped.

“He ordered a bottle of good wine,” Margaret blurted. “Said we needed to leave room for dessert and that we could share our mains. And he’s wearing his favorite waistcoat.”

“It’s a date,” Shona pronounced.

“Date,” Jean said. “Now can I get back to my show?”

“I don’t know if I want to be on a date,” Margaret whined.

“Honey.” Heather’s voice was soft. “The fact you know it’s his favorite waistcoat says otherwise.”

There was silence.