I'm baaaaack. And with four new chapters no less! I've had a bit of a nightmare trying to write these as they're such important parts of the story and I've written and re-written so many things in an effort to make them perfect so I really hope you all enjoy them! As always, let me know what you think!

Big kisses! xxx

"I feel like your dad is seriously confused about our relationship." I hissed at Soap from the corner of my mouth.

He was trying, and failing, to conceal a smirk. "You know the rules, Lo." He grinned and sank the last dregs of the pint in his hand. "Nobody can know that we're working in the SAS. The old man is just trying to help us out."

"Have you met John's girlfriend?" Edan's voice floated towards me as he alerted the millionth person in The Hungry Highlander pub to my presence.

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. Outwardly, I outstretched my hand to the new stranger coming to greet me, only to find myself pulled into a hug.

I had no idea that the Scottish were so bloody handsy.

"You're very tall." the stranger commented, peering up at me.

I'm not sure if I had somehow stumbled into The Shire, but it seemed that everybody who had settled in the lovely little village of Braemar was, in fact, an actual hobbit. I knew that I was taller than average, but I had spent so much time surrounded by men that were all 6ft and over that I now felt completely gargantuan compared to the people approaching me. Luckily, Soap was refusing to leave my side all night and even in my current choice of shoe, a pair of YSL black suede ankle boots with a four inch heel that Steve had sent to me as an early Christmas present, I was still significantly shorter than him.

"Ah, my dad was one-eighteenth giant so it's mostly his fault." I joked. "Thankfully I didn't inherit the penchant for smashing things up with a giant club."

The stranger stared up at me with a confused look. Beside me Soap was shaking his head and, presumably, wondering if there was ever going to be an instance in which I could have a normal conversation.

I guess that the simple answer was, no, not today. We left the stranger and moved over to the bar where Soap ordered himself another pint.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

I shook my head at him. The pub was packed to the rafters and, as such, was rivalling Borneo for sweaty temperatures. When I had dressed for a "quiet night out", I'd had no idea that Christmas Eve in The Hungry Highlander was the biggest event on Braemar's social calendar, and as such, had decided to wear black leather trousers, a black silk vest and a short faux fur coat that Steve had forced me to buy from Camden Market during our first year of University. The coat had been discarded during the first thirty seconds of my meet and greets with the entire population of Braemar and the trousers, which I had smugly packed to protect myself from the brutal Scottish cold, were now sticking to my legs and I felt as though my insides were slowing boiling from within. So that was pretty great.

"You look beautiful tonight." Soap smirked at me and threw his arm around my shoulder, pulling me towards his chest in a side hug.

I allowed my body to curve against his, my stomach pooling with warmth as I felt his lips press against my temple. "Right back atcha." I mumbled.

It was true. He did look good. He, like me, had resorted to dressing in all black because yknow, we were both institutionalised thanks to the SAS' all black dress code. A fitted, long sleeve black polo neck accentuated every single popping muscle his his chest, arms and torso whilst his black slim fit jeans hugged his strong legs in all the right places. Plus, y'know... dat ass.

Dat peachy, peachy ass.

"John! John, over here!"

It was nosy neighbour Alan who was, actually, kind of the most adorable hobbit of them all. He was the quintessential "old man" that every village seemed to have. The kind with tufts of white hair, thick black glasses and an entire wardrobe made up of the beigest clothes that anybody had ever made. I'm pretty sure he was the kind of guy who walked to the local shop at 6am every morning to get his paper like it was the most important part of his day.

Soap sighed before turning to me. "We're going to have to say hello."

"It's your name that he's calling. There's no 'we' about this."

"John's girlfriend!"

"You were saying?" Soap whispered, placing his hand at the small of my back and guiding me towards the other side of the bar where Nosy Neighbour Alan was stood waving at us.

"Technically, that still isn't me." I hissed.

"Whatever you say, the future Mrs MacTavish."

"When did we become fake engaged?" I gasped, clutching my hand to my chest in faux surprise.

"Yesterday. It was beautiful. You cried, I cried. It was raining. There was a rainbow."

"Sounds awful."

"I had a feeling you'd say that." He stopped touching me as we stopped in front of Alan. "Hi Al. Nice to see you."

"John." He stepped forward and shook his hand. "You're looking well. I like the hair. You look very cool."

Soap laughed. "Thanks Al. I was just telling Lola how long it's been since I've seen you."

Alan turned to me and peered up at me from beneath the thick glass of his spectacles. "Lola?"

I gave him a small wave. It seemed only fair to return all of those that he had given to me in the past 24 hours.

"Pretty name for a very pretty girl." He bent forward and kissed my hand.

"Ah, you're showing me up Al." Soap laughed. "She's not used to all these compliments."

It was true. I was so used to life in the SAS that the nicest thing anybody could say to me was, "Oh, you've finally washed your hair."

"So young lady, what do you do?" Alan turned his full attention to me.

I looked at Soap and he gave me the smallest of shrugs. We hadn't covered this. What did I, Lola Jacobs, fictional girlfriend/fiancee of John MacTavish do for a living?

"I'm a horse whisperer."

Beside me, Soap choked on his drink and Alan was staring at me as if I had eight heads.

"Er, so what does that involve?" He asked.

Soap leant back against the bar and turned to me, a smug smile on his face. "Yeah, baby. What does that involve?"

I lgave him a foul look at his new found nickname for me, before turning back to Alan. "Mostly whispering..." I paused. "To, er, horses weirdly enough."

"Why don't you tell Alan about that case you had in the other week?" Soap was eying me evilly. He'd gotten over the shock of my career change pretty quickly and was, clearly, hell bent on torturing me.

I grimaced and turned to him. "Which one...?" I bit the words out through clenched teeth.

Why, oh why couldn't I have said something normal? Teacher? Nurse? Waitress? All very viable, and completely believable options.

Unless your my brain.

"The one with the horse." Soap replied, deadpan.

I gave him the eyes. You know the ones. The ones that say, 'I'm going to kill you for this and I'm going to bury your body where nobody will ever find it'. Soap smirked at me clearly akin with the message that I was trying to convey.

"So there was this horse..."

"What was it called?" Soap asked.

"Howard." I shot back, before my brain was allowed to overthink the answer. God knows what I could have come up with if I actually thought about it.

"Howard the horse?"

I glared at him. "Problem?"

"What was wrong with Howard?" Alan asked.

"Howard hadddd..." I drew out the letters as I tried to think of a story. "Howard had woken up one morning and had completely forgotten that he was a horse."

Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

"Howard the horse, forgot that he was a horse?" Soap asked.

"Yes. It's very common actually."

"Okay, and please, do tell, what happens when a horse forgets that he is a horse? What are the common symptoms of such a troubling ailment?"

Oh, I could kill him. Full on bloody murder. I'd be fine in prison. I could learn to fancy women.

"Well, John..." I bit out each letter of his name. "That's a very good question."

"I know." He smirked at me. "That's why I asked it."

I turned to Alan. "It's a hard thing to diagnose because, obviously, the horse can't talk." I paused. "Because that would be weird."

"Yeah, that's the weird part." Soap mumbled.

"So you just have to pick up on the signals." I ignored him. "The signals that they give you with their eyes."

If there was ever a time for the rapture, this was it. I wanted something – anything – to take me away from this awful, awful situation. Aliens, a plague of locusts, the abominable snowman? Something please save me from this mess. Soap was near hysterics by this point, and I wanted, so badly, to kick him in the shin.

"So what did you do?" Alan asked.

"I whispered to him."

"What did you say?" Soap asked.

"Howard. You are a horse." I said. "And then we watched some horse films together-"

"-Which horse films?"

"Black Beauty and Seabiscuit."

"And he remembered?" Alan seemed to be buying it which was worrying. "Just like that?"

"Yep. He ran – sorry cantered – off very happy with himself and that was it, the end."

I took a long gulp from my drink and Soap moved his hand to my shoulder, his thumb stroking across the bare skin. I feel like he was silently attempting to convey his amusement at my plight whilst also telling me that I had done a good job with such a batshit crazy lie. I, on the other hand was, silently trying to convey just how much I wanted to punch him in the face.

But it was hard to think when all the blood in my body was rushing from my head, towards the spot that he was rubbing on my shoulder.

The prick.

Alan nodded as he took the story in. "So, how did you two meet then? I can't imagine that Horse Whisperers and Soldiers happen upon each other very often."

I turned to Soap. "Oh! You tell this story so well." I smirked at Soap and he stared at me like a deer in headlights. "The floor's all yours babe!"

"Ah, that's what they want you to believe, Al." Soap looked uncomfortable.

I watched him, intently.

"But actually we use a lot of horses in the paras."

"You do?" Alan looked more skeptical of Soap's story than mine which was both hilarious, and mildly worrying all at the same time.

"Yep." He flustered. "We test the parachutes on them."

I nearly punctured a lung because I laughed so hard.

Imagine it. Several hundred horses just parachuting through the sky like it was no big deal. It worried me that this was the man that Price deemed worthy of captaining the SAS.

He was, quite clearly, an idiot.

"Which obviously, causes a lot of distress." He paused. "To the horses." He paused again. "The parachuting horses."

"Which is where I step in." I finished the story for him, aware that Soap's shoulders were beginning to shake with laughter. "Whisper Horse Therapy. It's very advanced. Only us and the Koreans are in on it at this point."

Soap held onto my hand as the laughter finally erupted from his mouth. I found myself joining in and it wasn't long until we were clutching on to one another as if our lives depended on it.

"I just assumed that you had met on a night out or at the gym."

Soap wiped a tear from his eye and nodded. "That does make more sense."

And with that, he was dragging me away to the other side of the room, our laughter echoing through the pub.

"A horse whisperer?!" His tone was accusatory, but he was laughing as if he would never stop. It was a lovely sound. I had never seen him this relaxed. It was completely charming.

"Parachuting horses?!" I returned.

"Oh man, poor Alan..." He stole a glance at the old man who was now deep in conversation with Edan who, in turn, was looking at Soap and I as if we were insane.

He smirked before wrapping his arms around me. "I'm glad you're here, Lo."

"I'm glad you invited me, Soap."

He didn't say anything, but pressed his lips against the top of my head.

It was weird. The pub was completely packed to the rafters, but right here, in this moment, it was as if Soap and I were the only two people in the entire world. How nice was this? To have the option to embrace this wonderful, gorgeous man and not give a shit who was looking. If I wasn't me, and Soap wasn't him, this could be our life. But, if I wasn't me and Soap wasn't him then we would, probably, never have met. The idea was horrible. Now that he was in my life, it was completely unconceivable to imagine it without him.

He released me from his grasp and we stood facing each other, sheepishly grinning like teenagers with a crush.

"So hey, I've got a question for you."

He stared at me coyly. "Why does this make me nervous?"

"Do you have a type?"

"A type of what?"

"Girl. Woman. Lady friend-"

"Yeah, okay, I get it." He laughed as I racked my brain for more words to describe the female species. "Erm, I guess, I like blondes. 5"9'ish, green eyes, gorgeous lips, smart mouth, sarcastic, named after a song about a transvestite, amazing legs, an ass that won't quit-"

An ass that won't quit? Christ. I'd no idea that Soap was so bad at talking to women.

"-Oh God, I'm the first female you've ever spoken to aren't I?"

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just wondering what's going on with your fan club over there."

It was hard to talk and think at the same time when his biceps were singing to me through his top.

They really should have some sort of siren attached to them to warn me when it was and wasn't safe to make direct eye contact with them.

He pulled a face at me. "My what?"

I nodded my head at the table in the corner and he turned to look. I noticed his shoulders tense up immediately and a sense of dread flooded through my body.

I had noticed them within minutes of walking into the pub. There was nothing outrageous about the group but the fact that they hadn't risen to greet Soap and I had struck me as slightly odd. If I had learnt anything about Braemar, it was that this was an obscenely close knit community and Soap was like their prodigal son. Seriously. I was half expecting there to be some sort of shrine dedicated to him in a church hall somewhere. The group in the corner, comprised of three girls and two men, had remained seated but hadn't stopped looking at him and whispering between themselves.

He sighed as he turned back to me. "It's not me that he's staring at." He mumbled under his breath.

"He?"

The change in his mood was obvious. The bright, smiling Soap was gone and a new surly one was in his place. Edan suddenly appeared at my side.

"Alan's just mentioned that Fraser's in here."

"Lola's just alerted me."

Edan looked at me. "You know him?"

"No?" I answered.

"I've not had a chance to explain yet." Soap sounded tense. It unnerved me.

"Who's Fraser?" I looked at him but he shook his head at me as if it was physically impossible to speak.

"Fraser MacQueen." Edan filled in the blank. "He's the son of Donal MacQueen."

I stared at him blankly.

"The MacQueen family own Braemar."

"What does that even mean?" I turned to look at Soap.

"It means that Fraser MacQueen is a fucking bully who uses his family's power to wreak havoc over the lives of everybody who lives here." Soap spat.

"How?" I asked meekly. The tone in his voice was terrifying.

"All the homes here are-" He started

"-He's coming over." Edan hissed.

"Of course he is." Soap growled. "Look at her. I'm surprised it's taken him this long." There was a tone in voice that I had never heard before.

I turned to look at the entreating shape.

I mean. I wouldn't normally describe people as a shape, but in the case of Fraser MacQueen, it was only description that seemed appropriate. I'm not sure what I had expected but the man approaching me certainly wasn't it. Edan seemed quite fearful of Fraser which, to me, was quite strange given Edan's physical appearance. He wasn't an aggressive man by any means but he was tall and wide, just like Soap, and behind the smiley facade I was sure that there was a man who would throw down if he needed to. I mean, he was ex para's and a man who had completed Endurance with a broken leg. I imagined that there wasn't much Edan MacTavish as afraid of, but Fraser MacQueen seemed to be top of the list. So it seemed quite strange to me that Edan should be so wary of the man who was weaving his way across the pub.

Fraser MacQueen was a similar height to me, but was probably as wide as Soap, Edan and I put together. If Soap had spent his childhood running up and down mountains, Fraser had, quite clearly, spent his childhood eating all food within a ten mile radius. Remember when I had described him as a shape. That shape was a circle. A large swollen, lumpy circle that just happened to have a head and two arms and legs attached.

I felt as though the short distance between his table and the bar was the longest distance that he had walked all year. I could hear him wheezing from across the room.

"Will he need to take a nap once he gets here?" I asked. "I feel like this fifteen second walk is pretty tiring for him. Shall we get him a banana or something?"

Soap turned to me with a panicked look. "Don't, Lo."

"Don't what?" I asked.

"Don't be you."

"I'm feeling very confused right now." I mumbled.

"I know you." He said. "So I know exactly how you're going to react to him."

"And you're saying that it's wrong for me to react like that?"

"In this case, yes." He looked at me. "Whatever happens, whatever he says, you need to be nice."

"What if-"

"Be nice."

I didn't know whether I should be pissed off or really turned on. Angry Soap was really something to behold. I was going to settle for mostly pissed off with a slight side of horniness which, honestly, was my go to mood on a normal day.

Edan coughed loudly to indicate that Fraser MacQueen had finally finished trundling over to us. Soap subtly shifted himself in front of me and turned to face him.

"I thought that was you shithead." He clapped Soap on the back with his big meaty, ham fists. I had to repress a smile when I noticed that the clap, clearly orchestrated to make Soap wince, had done more damage to former rather than the latter.

God, I wanted to bite those back muscles.

Also, what kind of a horrendously pathetic nickname was shithead?

"Hello Fraser. Nice to see that you haven't changed." Soap's words were clipped and sharp. I could instantly tell that Soap detested him with every ounce of his being.

"So what's up with your hair?"

I glared at him from behind Soap's shoulder. He was a fine one to talk. His "hair" looked as though somebody had trimmed their pubes and then glued them to his head with the kind of shit glue you have to use when you're in school.

"Actually-" he held his hand up. "I'm not really here to speak to you." His eyes focused on me. "I'm here to ask if your lovely friend would like to join me for a drink." He smirked. "Thought I'd offer her the chance to speak to somebody important."

"Lucky me." I mumbled under my breath.

Soap nudged himself into me. It was a warning. It was discreet as hell but it was there.

Oh yeah, I had to be nice.

God dammit.

"One drink?" I asked with a sigh.

"One drink is all I need." He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I was worried that the motion would set off an earthquake in the middle of the pacific. He just had so much face. Seriously, the circumference of his head was probably the same as both of Soap's thighs put together.

Soap's thighs.

God, that was a nice thing to think about.

I'd nearly been one to get wet over thighs but hey, when they were as deliciously meaty as his, I was never going to stand a chance.

Soap cleared his throat loudly and I was back in the conversation.

One good thing had come from my day dream about Soap's thighs - Fraser's face had finally stopped wobbling so there was no chance of me being hypnotised which is always nice.

"One drink is all you'll get." I retorted sharply, stepping out from behind Soap. "I've already given to charity this year."

"Feisty and beautiful." Fraser cackled loudly sending his four chins into a spasm of movement.

I felt physically sick as I watched them move.

"You've no idea." I muttered.

Fraser turned and moved towards the other side of the bar and beckoned me to follow with a wave of his pudgy hand. I turned to look at Soap who looked as though he wanted to punch Fraser and vomit all at the same time. He caught my hand as I stepped away from him and pulled me to him so that my back was pressed against his front and wrapped an arm across the front of my shoulders.

"Be nice, you."

His voice made me shiver.

I rolled my eyes. "But he's making it so difficult. Seriously. I feel like I'm on Punk'd."

Wordlessly, he released my from his grasp and nudged me towards the path that Fraser had followed. Every pair of eyes in the pub turned to watch me as I walked and I noticed that the jovial chatter of all the patrons had now dimmed to slight, frantic whispers.

Was I missing something? I could tell, from the very minimal interaction that I had endured with Fraser, that he was a bit of a dick and I had a feeling that almost everybody in The Hungry Highlander agreed. So why were they all so afraid of him? Why didn't they tell him where to go? Why did they all avoid his gaze? And why the hell were they staring at me as I was a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter? I turned around slightly to look at Soap who was watching me with dark eyes. Edan was stood by his side looking as white as a sheet and chewing on his nails.

Ahead of me Fraser was talking to two men at the bar. They resembled dogs being admonished by their master. Heads bowed, bodies tense. He gave them an order and they scrambled away from the stools that they were occupying as if they were running from a war zone. He barked something at the barman, like almost everybody else in the room, was visibly shaking. He turned to look at me and I was struck by how much he resembled Fat Bastard from the Austin Powers franchise. Honestly, I feel like he was the inspiration behind the character.

"I've ordered you a glass of wine. White. Sit down."

I actually hated white wine. In fact, I hated all wine. I was much happier with a glass of whiskey. It was the Price effect. Everybody in the SAS loved a glass of whiskey.

Job well done? Have a whiskey.

Didn't die? Have a whiskey.

It's a Tuesday. Have a whiskey.

"Thanks." I responded as cordially as possible, hoisting myself up onto the stool.

He was staring at my chest.

I was staring at his chins.

We were a match made in heaven.

"So what brings you to my lovely village?"

Oh God, his chins. They moved as if independent from the rest of his face.

"I'm actually here with John, visiting his family for Christmas." A glass appeared in front of me. He had ordered me a large.

"So he's your boyfriend then?" He asked.

Wibble, wobble, wibble, wobble.

"Yes."

Wishful thinking? Me? Nah.

"Has he told you much about me?"

I couldn't help but start at his question. Who the hell was this guy? Why did he think that his existence has any bearing on the conversations that Soap and I had?

I picked up the glass of wine. "I mean, we don't really have much time for talking." I sipped at the vinegary liquid and tried my hardest not to wince at the foul taste. "If you catch my drift."

He sneered at me. "Can't be the same John that I know. He couldn't keep a girl to save his life." He gestured at the three girls on his table. "He's cracked on with all of them and they've all turned him down in favour of spending time with a real man."

He was like, 3% man and 97% chin.

And that was me being kind.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Their loss." I sipped again. "Believe me."

"I'll take your word for it blondie."

"I have a name." I snapped.

Obviously, I was done being nice. I think I'd done quite well given the circumstances. Under normal circumstances, I'd have been long gone.

He sneered again and turned his attention to the drink in his hand. "Clearly you don't know who I am."

The Guinness World Record Holder for most chins on a person, ever?

"Or I don't care." I growled. "Take your pick."

"My father owns this village."

"Offer him my congratulations." I said, gulping at the wine.

Oh God, wine was awful.

Each mouthful made me want to gag but the sooner I finished the glass the sooner I could get away from this idiot.

"He's a very important man."

I shrugged. "And you think that you're important by association. It's called illusions of grandeur."

"No, I am important."

"You're a big fish in a small pond."

Emphasis on the big.

"Can't you see the way that people look at me? They're scared of me. People react to fear."

They're probably scared that he's going to eat them or make them wash his chins.

"And? You think that I'm going to be the same? You think I'm going to avert my eyes and run away from you just because you throw your weight around? Because I hate to upset you but, honestly, I couldn't care less. Your existence has no effect on my life."

His eyes widened and he stared at me salaciously. "I do like a girl that fights back."

I glared at him. "Great job on sounding like the world's biggest creep."

I swiped for the wine glass and drained the contents in one go. The liquid burned my throat and made my eyes water but ANYTHING was better than sitting here and enduring a conversation with this moron.

"Thank you for the drink." I stood up. "Now, I have to get back to my wonderful, charming, handsome boyfriend. You know the one... the guy over there with the great abs." He stared at me as I pushed myself off the stool. "Have a lovely Christmas. I'll keep my fingers crossed that Father Christmas brings you vouchers for a personality transplant."

Or a treadmill and a subscription to Weight Watchers.

His hand moved to my chest and he pushed me back towards the stool. "We're not done here, girl."

Price, and now Edan, were the only people who could get away with calling me girl. From them, it sounded affectionate. From Fraser it sounded sneery and gross.

"Don't. Touch. Me." I growled.

He ignored me and wrapped his hand around my thigh.

Behind me, I could hear Edan shouting John's name.

And I saw red.

Not just the light red mist you get when you're mildly annoyed by something.

Red.

So much red that I swore I had found myself in the burning fires of hell which was a very feasible thing considering that Fraser was still sat in front of me and still had his meaty hand wrapped around my leg.

He was strong due to his sheer size but I was very, very quick. It was my calling card. I was so fast that 9 times out 10, you'd never even see me coming.

I flexed my leg so that my foot connected with his groin and upon feeling his fingers release my thigh, I kicked his stool out from underneath him so that he crumpled to the floor like a tonne of bricks. Somewhere in the world, somebody was going to be feeling the aftershock of that fall.

Soap was at my side in a second, his hand wrapping itself around mine, yanking me away from the fray.

"You bitch." Fraser growled from the floor, his chins wobbling furiously.

"I told you not to touch me." I snarled, lowering myself to his level. "And honestly? You're lucky I didn't break your fingers. Believe me when I say that nothing would give me more pleasure."

It might help him lose some weight. How can he shovel pies into his mouth with broken fingers?

"Let's go, Lola." Soap pulled me up and put himself in front of me before turning to Fraser. "If I'd have reached you first, I'd have skipped the fingers and gone straight to breaking your legs. I don't give a fuck who your dad is you fucking arsehole."

I was suddenly grateful for the wonderful solidness of his body. I wrapped my hands around the back of his biceps, tugging him away gently. Edan appeared at my side and placed a hand on my shoulder.

Fraser glared at him as he clambered to his feet. "You can keep her." He spat. "She's not even that pretty. She'd be a good fuck but that's about it. I've had better."

I lunged for him. "Oh yeah? Did you give them the money before or after?"

Edan pulled me away sharply.

But I wasn't done... Oh no. That would be too easy.

"And you three!" I pointed an accusatory finger at the three girls on Fraser's table. "You turned him down?" I motioned to Soap. "Big mistake. Huge. Gigantic."

The emphasis was there. They, and everybody in the pub, knew exactly what I meant.

"Let's go." Soap wrapped an arm around my shoulder and steered me in the direction of the door.

Edan led the way and Soap followed behind, presumably to stop me from turning around and hurling any more abuse at Fraser.

"What happened to nice?" He whispered in my ear as he handed me my coat.

"I didn't hurt him." I fired back.

"Let's just get out of here before-"

Edan was interrupted by Fraser bellowing his name.

Something about the way his body tensed up frightened me.

"I was going to leave this until after Christmas because I'm a nice guy..." I scoffed loudly at the complete bullshit coming from his mouth. "But after what's happened here tonight I think it only fair for me to let you know..."

"Don't do this Fraser." Soap growled.

"I've been speaking with my father and we've decided to up your rent again."

"You've already upped it twice this year Fraser." Edan sounded wounded.

"And you know what they say... three is the magic number."

"How much this time?"

"What's happening, Soap?" I asked.

"£500 extra."

"You know that Blair and I are at our limit."

"That's not my issue." Fraser snarled. "You'll have the official letter in the next few days. You can't pay, then you can't stay."

I looked around the pub. Nobody was moving. All eyes were down. It was as if they daren't make eye contact with the person who just pissed off Fraser MacQueen in case he picked on them next.

"Fine." Edan shrugged.

"Have a lovely Christmas." Fraser smirked. "John – you may want to consider a muzzle for the bitch."

Soap tensed up at the vitriolic words and I rounded on Fraser like a woman possessed.

"You may want to consider not being such a fat cu-." Soap cut me off by shoving me out of the door and into the freezing cold air.

The three of us stood looking at each other for a few seconds. I was panting as if I'd just run a marathon as the rush of anger surged through my body.

"What did he mean about your rent?" I asked Edan.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does." I turned to Soap. "Tell me what he means."

"Let's start walking back. Mam will be in bed by now but she won't sleep until we're home." He was speaking directly to Edan, completely ignoring me. He looked pale.

I had a feeling that this was bad.

They started walking in the direction of the house and I had no option but to follow them.

It took ten minutes before either of them spoke again.

"He said we'd get the official letter next week."

"Can you afford it?"

"I don't want your mam knowing. It would ruin her Christmas."

"I'm still on probationary pay so I can send you something but it won't be the full amount. Is there nowhere that you can make a saving?"

Edan finally turned to me as we reached the front door. "I don't blame you for this Lola. He's doing stuff like this all the time." He paused and gave a small laugh. "It was nice to see you in action. Nice reflexes there kid."

"I don't understand-"

He squeezed my shoulder. "It's nothing to concern yourself with. We'll find a way. We always do."

Soap, uncharacteristically quiet, entered the house first and headed straight for the kitchen.

Edan looked at me. "He's not mad at you. He's mad at Fraser. I've never seen him move as quickly as he did when that idiot put his hands on you."

"If I've done something wrong, I need to know. I can fix it."

He shook his head. "Don't worry."

He stooped down to hug me and then left the room, bypassing the kitchen to head straight up the stairs.

I waited for a few seconds before making my move.

Soap was standing by the sink, looking out of the large window overlooking the back garden. The room was dark, except for the soft light from the moon reflecting onto the snow outside.

"What's going on?" I asked him. "You need to tell me."

He sighed and his head drooped down. "Don't worry about it." He sounded tired.

"Soap!" I snapped, losing all patience with him.

He turned to me quickly. "Keep your voice down!"

"Tell me what's going on then." I hissed. "What does he mean by the rent?"

"All of the houses in the village belong to the MacQueen estate. The people who live here have to pay rent. The idea is that they'll eventually pay off enough rent that they own the house outright except it doesn't seem like a lot of people are actually managing to do that. "

I stared at him. "Okay?"

"And Fraser MacQueen ups the rent whenever he feels like it. You heard my dad. They've already had two increases this year."

"I feel like that's pretty illegal."

"His dad put him in charge of the finances for the village. If he wants to put the rent up then he village isn't governed by any sort of regulator. What Donal says goes."

"But-"

"-What aren't you understanding Lola? That's the way it is and it's the way it has always been. If you want to live in this village, it comes at a price. You heard Fraser – you can't pay, then you can't stay."

"So why do they live here then? Why put themselves through so much stress?"

He sighed. "You wouldn't get it."

I stared at him and folded my arms across my chest haughtily. "Try me."

He sighed loudly, as if fighting his better judgement. "They wanted better for me."

I blinked. "What does that even mean, Soap?"

"It means that they grew up in a horrible, deprived area. His parents were alcoholics and she never knew her dad. They had to fight for everything that they had. The money he earned in the para's was enough to get them out of the bedsit that they were renting and into this house. It should have been easier for them. He should have got through selection and been earning an SAS wage but he didn't! He broke his leg and then got medically discharged but they were happy here. I was happy here. I had fresh air in my lungs and I never had to walk past any junkies on my way to school. I'm the reason that they chose to stay here. Me. They wanted better for me so they sacrificed everything in order to achieve it."

I stared at him. He was panting and I could see his eyes flickering with rage.

"And it wasn't so bad at first. Donal MacQueen is a good guy. They paid the same amount for the past 22 years but he lost his wife 6 years ago and he's taken a big step back from running the estate, leaving things up to Fraser who goes out of his way to make people miserable. That's when the increases started. "

"How much do they pay?"

"More than they can afford."

"And now he's charging them extra? Because of me?"

"I don't think you helped the situation." He stared at me.

My stomach dropped.

"I didn't mean for that to happen." I whispered.

"I told you to be nice."

"He said horrible stuff about you." I started. "And he put his hands on me. I'm not sitting back and letting some dickhead on a power trip paw at me like I'm something that he can pick up off the shelf."

"And that's what I like about you. You don't put up with shit." He stared at me impassively.

"I feel like there's a but."

"But I told you to be nice." He sighed. "I blame myself. I should've known you would do something."

I grimaced at him. "If I wasn't being nice, I'd have broken his fingers."

"You kicked him in the balls, Lo." He sighed loudly. "And you insinuated that he pays for sex."

"Well I don't know how he gets it any other way."

"I need to figure out how I can get them out of this bind." He told me. "They can't afford an extra £500. They'll have to leave Braemar but Every bit of money they have has gone into this house. Even if they have to leave they can't afford to go anywhere else."

I looked at him.

"There's something not right about this, Soap."

"Something?" He scoffed. "Try everything."

"I can fix this."

"You've done enough." He said bluntly.

I'm not sure if he intended the words to hurt me, but they did anyway.

"I'm going to bed." He told me. "The old man doesn't want my mam to know, so please don't say anything."

"Do your parents have copies of the bills that they pay?" I ignored him.

"Stop digging Lola." He growled.

"They have an office. Your mum told me she does marking for the school in her home office."

He sighed exasperatedly and pointed to a door on the left. "Everything is in there."

I gave him a look before turning towards the door.

"Lo." He called my name softly.

I turned to look at him. "What, Soap?"

"Don't make this any worse than it already is."

"I'll try."

He sighed deeply and fixed his eyes on mine. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something to me but no words came out.

"Night Soap."

He nodded slightly before turning away and leaving the room.

I waited until I heard his bedroom door shut before I let myself into the office. It took me seconds to track down the folder I needed. It was packed. On the top there was a letter from the MacQueen estate highlighting changes to their tenancy agreement. It was signed off by Donal. I pulled a face at the letter.

And suddenly it came to me.

I fished my phone out of the pocket of my coat and searched for the right contact. Pressing the call button, I raised the phone to my ear.

He had moved to New York four years ago to open a firm on Wall Street because hey, what else would you do once you've conquered London? I looked at the clock on the wall. It was 11.30pm, 6.30pm for him. I'd be lucky if he wasn't six sheets to the wind by now.

He answered in two rings.

"Merry Christmas darling Goddaughter. I've just been showing your picture to some lovely stock brokers and they're all wondering what they have to do to get you to New York?"

"Hmmm, let me see… they'll have to get past Captain Price and then we'll have to have a two hour conversation about feelings." I grinned. "Plus, they have to sit through The Notebook."

"Ah, I'll tell them that you're a lesbian."

"It's probably for the best."

"So what can I do for you?" He asked.

"How did you know I needed something?"

"Just a feeling I guess."

I sighed. "It's a long story."

"Well it's a good job that I've got all the time in the world for you."

I took a deep breath. "Okay, so there's this guy..."

"A guy?" I could hear his smirk from across the Atlantic. "Have you fallen in love?"

"Oh please…" I scoffed.

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much." He sniggered.

"And me thinks the gentleman needs to stop drinking at his desk in the afternoon."

"Hey, if a man can't drink at his own desk, then where can he drink?" He laughed. "Okay, so not love but this is somebody that you like, obviously… why else would you be ringing me at 11.30 on Christmas Eve?"

I paused.

"Yes, I like him."

"Oooooh, Lola's got a boyfriend." He laughed.

"Oh, I'm so glad I called you up for this really grown up chat." I looked at the phone. "How much is this costing me by the way?"

"Ah, I'm worth it." He joked. "Right, I'll put my sober, grown up hat on now. There's a boy that you like but you don't love and you've messed up somehow."

"I didn't say that I had messed up."

I could hear the smirk. "Baby, you didn't have to."