Chapter 42
CHRISTMAS DAY
It was at least a decade since Old Micklewick had been cut off from the main part of town, but thanks to heavy snowfall that started midday on Christmas Eve and continued through the night, that’s exactly what had happened on Christmas Day.
The notoriously precipitous Skitey Bank that snaked its way to the newer part of town was impassable, as was Wilbert Hill that climbed out of Old Micklewick and connected the residents to the rest of the world that way.
Though not as precipitous as Skitey Bank, the hill was steep enough to make tackling it a treacherous prospect in wintry weather, as plenty of drivers had discovered to their peril.
It had given Lark an almost childlike thrill when she’d thrown open the bedroom curtains to see a snow-covered Smugglers Row glittering under the glow of the streetlights, fluffy snowflakes gently floating down.
A proper white Christmas! A smile tipped up the corners of her mouth at the view of the characterful cottages opposite, with their rooftops covered in an impossibly thick layer of snow – they seemed to be huddling together as if to keep warm.
Word had spread quickly the previous evening that the cove would very likely be cut off, which had generated a flurry of excitement, not to mention activity, at Seashell Cottage.
Lark’s father had been staying with her since school had broken up – interspersed with the odd overnight stay at Louisa’s – and he planned to be in Micklewick Bay until the New Year when he’d need to get back for the new term.
And, since his discharge from hospital, Nate – and Bobby – had spent more time at Lark’s home than he had his own.
She’d been looking after him, keeping a close eye on his recovery and being gently bossy when she thought he’d been doing too much or needed to rest. He was spending Christmas Day at Seashell Cottage, as was Louisa.
As soon as they’d heard the alarming weather warnings, Silas had hurried over to the town in his four-wheel drive, gathered Louisa up and brought her to Old Micklewick, delivering her safely to Lark’s cottage.
He didn’t want to risk his new friend spending the day on her own.
Leaving Nate sleeping soundly, Lark tiptoed out of the bedroom, avoiding the creaky floorboards, and padded downstairs.
She could hear the now familiar sound of her dad whistling happily in the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon greeting her and making her stomach rumble.
It had been so good having him around, watching his playful sense of humour come back to life.
The transformation had continued at a pace over the last few weeks, and she was glad to see he’d gained weight, his once gaunt face filling out and the colour returning in his cheeks.
Further good news was that he’d put in an offer on a cottage there in Old Micklewick, next door to Jack Playforth and Jenna.
It was Jack who’d tipped him off about it before the property had actually gone on the market.
Though there was no avoiding the fact it was a renovation project, Pebble Cottage’s charm and potential was obvious to Silas.
He’d been particularly taken with the garden at the back, planning a new layout in his mind.
He’d put in an offer straight away which had been accepted, and had set the ball rolling.
In the kitchen, Lark found her dad busy at the oven. He was being closely observed by Bobby from his bed near the radiator where he was sitting, drooling, with Luna stretched out alongside him – the pair were now inseparable, the days of her swiping at his nose a distant memory.
‘Morning, Dad, merry Christmas.’
Silas turned, a smile lighting up his face. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’
She headed over to him and kissed him on the cheek. He wrapped his free arm around her, his smile deepening.
‘Smells so good,’ she said.
‘You can’t beat a Christmas morning bacon and scrambled egg butty, especially if you’ll be braving the elements to take his lordship for a walk,’ he said, nodding in Bobby’s direction.
‘I’ve put the turkey in, thought we might as well get that under way, and I’ve peeled some potatoes which I’m currently parboiling along with the carrots and parsnips in readiness for roasting. ’
‘Wow! You have been busy.’ She went to grab a mug from the cupboard. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Maybe give Nate a shout; this’ll be ready in a minute. As far as I’m aware, Louisa’s on her way downstairs.’
‘Sure.’
With breakfast out of the way, Lark and Nate bundled themselves up and headed outdoors, taking Bobby for a quick walk.
The glowering clouds had given way to a blue sky, and though the sun was shining, the air was eye-wateringly cold.
The snow was so deep on the way to the beach it almost reached the top of Lark’s wellies.
It didn’t seem to dampen Bobby’s spirits though, and he leapt about in a comedic fashion, making Lark and Nate howl with laughter.
But for the sound of the seagulls screeching and the waves crashing on the shore, Old Micklewick was eerily quiet, particularly without the sound of traffic rumbling by.
But to Lark’s mind, there was something magical about being cut off and cocooned in their own little world down there in the cove.
As she and Nate walked across the snow-covered sand, hand in hand, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so happy and content.
The strange feeling that had plagued her about Nate had vanished and been replaced by a sense of warmth and contentedness, which supported her theory that it was linked to what had happened in the tunnel at Crayke’s Cottage.
And, as she’d expected, her friends had been overjoyed when she’d finally confessed that she and Nate were an item – she’d hidden her face in her hands when they’d cheered and whooped in the Jolly, her cheeks blazing hot.
As for Nate’s backlog at work, which hadn’t been helped by his injured arm and ribs, her father had stepped in with an offer of help, as had Bear, Max, Alex and Ed.
Between them, they’d managed to get the units finished, which had got the pushy couple from Lingthorpe off his back, for which he was enormously grateful.
There’d been a bittersweet development in the situation with Bobby.
Nate had received a somewhat curt text message from Cyril’s son stating that his father had passed away and Bobby now belonged to Nate as they’d agreed.
They’d been saddened to hear of Cyril’s passing, but Lark could see that Nate was relieved to think Bobby would be staying with him.
And looking at the Labrador’s glossy coat and the way he gazed so adoringly at Nate, it was clear to her that Bobby was more than happy with that arrangement.
He’d particularly enjoyed the attention he’d received after he’d led Lark to Nate at Crayke’s Cottage, and was now often referred to as a “little hero”.
The dog treats that accompanied such praise were enthusiastically devoured.
In developments of a different kind, the police had called round to Seashell Cottage and informed Nate that the men he’d had the misfortune to encounter in the tunnel at Crayke’s Cottage were none other than Dodgy Dick and an equally dodgy colleague by the name of Ronnie Plews.
It transpired that the people Dodgy Dick and Wendy had joined at the bookshop’s tearoom had overheard Lark and Florrie’s conversation about the rumoured hidden chest of gold.
They’d shared this with Dodgy Dick and Wendy, who’d organised the theft of the local history books at the bookshop, hoping to glean information as to its alluded whereabouts.
Having cottoned on to Nate’s involvement with Crayke’s Cottage, they’d decided that would be the best place to start.
Which was why they were there when Nate had unexpectedly turned up.
Dodgy Dick and Ronnie Plews were now in police custody for their trouble, the pair complaining bitterly that the rumours about Crayke’s Cottage being cursed and bringing bad luck to people were true.
But the local police force, who’d been trying to pin something on the duo for years, couldn’t have disagreed more.
‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ said Silas, holding his glass of wine aloft as they were sitting at the table having devoured their Christmas dinner. ‘To new beginnings.’ He caught Louisa’s eye, the pair exchanging a not-so-secret smile.
‘To new beginnings,’ the others chorused, clinking glasses.
Later that evening, when Lark and Nate were alone in the living room, the Christmas tree casting its festive glow around the room, while soothing Christmas music murmured in the background, Lark found herself suddenly overcome with emotion.
She’d been fighting her feelings for Nate for so long, she hadn’t realised how exhausting it had been.
But now she was allowed to be honest with herself, she was overwhelmed by the level of happiness she felt that they were finally together.
A sob escaped her mouth, causing him to turn.
‘Lark, what’s up?’ He tilted her face to him, concern in his eyes as he rubbed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘It’s cos I’m happy.’ She sniffed and gave a watery smile as more tears tumbled down her cheeks.
‘You sure about that?’ he asked, an amused note in his voice.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘Very.’
‘And I’m happy too.’ He grinned before kissing her tears away. ‘This has been the best Christmas ever.’