"This seems like a waste of time," Jamie said to Malcolm, his boss. "Why are we bothering?"
"Because," Malcolm said slowly, as if explaining to a child, "while it's
good
that the company has been nominated for an industry award, it is
bad
if we win and there's no-one there to collect it." He smiled as he spoke, to let Jamie know he was poking fun at Jamie.
"Yes, but why
me
? I mean, we're probably not going to win, and it wasn't even my project."
"The main team have that customer visit, Julie's on holiday, Morag will be working on the board presentation, and I'll be on paternity leave. Look at the bright side -- you get an overnight stay in London on the company." Malcolm slid a piece of paper across the desk -- a print-out of an email with all the details of the event.
"Assuming I even
make
it to London," Jamie muttered darkly. "You know what the Glasgow-to-London train line is like." He scanned the email. "Uh, this says 'formal wear' for the award ceremony. What's that mean?"
"Oh, you know, black tie, that kind of stuff," Malcolm said airily. "Just wear whatever you'd wear to a wedding, and you'll be fine."
***
"London?" his wife Amy said, when he told her. "Oooh, aren't
we
fancy?'
"
You
may be fancy," he grumbled, "I'm just losing a couple of work days, which means I'm probably going to be missing my own end-of-year targets."
"And you'll be missing me, of course," she said archly.
"
And
I'll be missing you." Which he would. They'd only been married a couple of years, and Amy was
gorgeous
. Classic Celtic colouring -- red hair and green eyes -- and pretty with it. Plus, clever, witty,
great
at sex and, for some inexplicable reason, somewhat fond of Jamie. She
did
like to wind him up, though.
"I dunno what I'll do with myself while you're away." She twirled a curl of red hair, eyeing him wickedly. "I guess I'll just pine away. Or console myself with half a dozen one-night stands to stave off the loneliness." She sighed theatrically.
"I'll be away for
one
night," he reminded her.
"Ah, well, then I'll have to make a careful schedule to fit them all in," she said, her eyes sparkling.
***
December in Britain. Christmas decorations everywhere. Biting frost in the air. Inescapable Christmas music blasting out of speakers set to "stupefy". Jamie spent the first half of the train journey trying to get some work done on his laptop, but the earlier train had been cancelled due to engine failure, and this train was carrying the abandoned passengers; they were crowding the aisle and complaining about the rail company and the lack of seat reservations. At least Jamie had managed to get his seat, since the service started at Glasgow. Eventually, he gave up on work, and stared out of the window at the admittedly beautiful scenery, and fretted vaguely about what he'd say in an acceptance speech if the nightmare scenario came true, and his company actually won.
***
The event was at a small, independent hotel near Mayfair. After a tube ride that showed Jamie the Glasgow-to-London train overcrowding was
nothing
, he checked in at the oak-panelled reception desk, and whizzed up to his room -- which turned out to be pleasantly fancy, compared to the budget hotels he'd normally use for work travel. There were even
drawers
and a cupboard with a
door
, instead of exposed hanging space. He smiled to himself, thinking of Amy's comments. "Oh, Ambassador, you are spoiling us!" he said, then felt regretful that Amy wasn't there to get the reference.
He unpacked, took a bath, and got changed for the event.
***
"Just wear whatever you'd wear to a wedding," Jamie muttered as he rode the lift back down to reception. He drew a few looks as he strode through the lobby, his kilt swaying around his knees and the tassels of his sporran bouncing with each stride. There were a number of different function spaces in the hotel, and they all had something going on in them -- A-frame boards with company names pointed this way and that, with different strains of Christmas music drifting out of each room, fighting with the background carols playing in the corridors. Company Christmas parties, Jamie guessed.
He came to a lobby area, between a couple of function spaces, one of which was for the awards event he was due to attend. An ornate bar ran down one side of the lobby. He debated whether to get a drink, but decided to check the lay of the land first. Strolling in, he found the room was laid out in cabaret style -- round tables with eight seats per table. Beside the door, a table was laid out with champagne flutes, and a pretty girl hovered with a silver tray in hand.
"Prosecco, sir?" she asked, smiling at him.
Jamie took one with a nod, grateful that he hadn't gone straight to the bar. Booze provided by the event was probably not the best quality, but at least he wasn't paying for it out of his own pocket. Still, he made a note not to have too many; It wouldn't do to get too steamed, just in case he did have to accept.
She looked him up and down. "I like your kilt," she said admiringly.
"Thanks," Jamie said. He glanced around the room. The crowd was mostly men, with some in DJs and bow ties, but mostly they appeared just to be wearing suits. Here and there, Jamie could see some more guys more casually dressed, in check shirts, jeans and trainers. Maybe they hadn't gotten the memo, he thought. Or just didn't care.
The women were a mixture: some were wearing smart business suits, while others wore elegant evening gowns.
