Chapter 2 #3
Lark laughed, recalling how their friend, who’d offered to help transport the contents, had lingered outside the cottage despite the biting wind and icy sleet, only venturing over the threshold when he was needed to give them a hand lifting something heavy or awkward.
‘Yeah, he was definitely in a bit of a hurry to get done. Like me, he’s Micklewick Bay born and bred, so I daresay he’ll have heard the rumours about it being haunted and wasn’t too eager to find out if they were true.
He’s such a big softy,’ she said fondly.
Bear Marsay was married to Maggie, who was one of Lark’s best friends, and was a familiar sight around Micklewick Bay.
Though his height and broad shoulders, not to mention his dark bushy beard and wild, chin-length mop of hair, lent him a decidedly Viking air, it belied the gentle-natured man who wouldn’t hurt a fly that lurked beneath.
He worked part-time for his parents at Clifftop Farm as well as being a local odd job man whose services were always much in demand.
And when Bear had offered to give a hand helping shift furniture from Crayke’s Cottage to Nate’s van, Nate had bitten his hand off.
The historic roads in Old Micklewick were too narrow to allow vehicular access and meant he’d have to park his van a good distance away from the property.
Lugging heavy bits of furniture wouldn’t be an easy task, particularly with the uneven, icy cobbles to negotiate.
But, with Bear’s help, they’d made short work of it, especially since their friend had been so eager to get it over and done with!
‘Anyroad, at least we got most of the stuff out before the snow started coming down too heavily.’ Nate blew on his spoon, sending ripples over the soup. ‘This is delicious, by the way, it’s warmed me right through.’
‘Glad to hear it. I was beginning to think we’d never thaw out.
’ Lark smiled over at him, relieved to find the unsettling feeling had leached away, leaving just a faint shadow lingering in the background.
‘I’m happy to help shift the rest of the stuff with you, by the way, especially if Mr Thurston’s in a hurry to get the cottage emptied. ’
‘Thanks, I’ll probably take you up on that. Might be a good idea to tackle it first thing tomorrow before the snow gets any worse.’
‘True. I can give you a hand before I open the shop.’ Lark’s Vintage Bazaar didn’t open its doors until ten a.m., though Lark very much doubted she’d have many customers with the weather being the way it was.
Folk tended not to venture into town when it was snowing, though she’d recently seen an increase in footfall with people looking for something unique to wear for their office Christmas parties.
‘Thanks, Lark. And since it’s just small stuff that’s left, I won’t trouble Bear – and not just cos he thinks the place is haunted,’ Nate said with a chuckle. ‘He was telling me he’s got a busy few weeks with customers wanting things doing before Christmas; last-minute rush kind of thing.’
‘Yeah, Maggie was saying he’s been working late most nights, trying to get jobs finished.’
‘Which makes it really decent of him to help shift the stuff from the cottage. I told him I owe him a couple of pints at the Jolly.’
‘Bet that went down well.’ Bear was known for enjoying a pint or two with his mates at the pub.
‘Aye, it did. And getting back to the subject of the cottage, I reckon there’ll be more clothing which you’re welcome to.’
A flurry of excitement rippled through Lark at the prospect of more items all with their own stories to tell. ‘Ooh! Let’s hope so, mind, you’ve got to let me give you something for them.’
‘Don’t be so daft! I got a decent rate for the clearance, plus, you’re doing me a favour by taking them; I’ve got no use for clothes so you might as well have them. Plus, you’ve fed and watered me which is payment enough.’ He gestured to the now empty bowl in front of him.
‘In that case, I don’t want any money for the ticket to Jack and Jenna’s Christmas reading at the bookshop next week.’ Though Lark spoke in her usual soft tone, the look in her eyes told Nate she’d brook no argument.
‘Aye, fair enough,’ he said reluctantly.
Jack Playforth and Jenna Johnstone were well-loved, nationally famous authors who shared a cottage not far from Lark’s home.
The couple regularly gave readings at The Happy Hartes Bookshop in the town.
Their self-deprecating sense of humour and gift for storytelling meant their events were always popular and sold out quickly.
Luckily for Lark, she was best friends with Florrie Appleton who co-owned the bookshop with her boyfriend, Ed Harte, and she, together with the rest of their group of friends, always had first refusal on tickets for the events held there.
Lark was looking forward to the latest reading, especially since it was to have a Christmas slant.
‘In the meantime, how d’you fancy a warmed mince pie? They’re from the deli; I popped some in my basket when I was buying the bread.’
‘Are they the ones with the chunks of crystallised ginger?’ he asked, a hopeful gleam in his eye. She’d picked up a couple earlier in the week and he’d raved about them then.
‘They are indeedy. I can heat up some custard to go with them, if you fancy?’
‘You really need to ask?’ Nate grinned, rubbing his hand over his stomach as she got to her feet and reached for the tin containing the mince pies.
Much as she was itching to delve inside the suitcases – after her conversation with Nate regarding the rumours about Crayke’s Cottage, it was almost beginning to feel like the items locked within were calling to her, pleading for her to listen to their stories – Lark’s conscience wouldn’t let him leave without at least offering him a mince pie, especially considering how much he liked them.
She’d bought another two before he’d even mentioned the clearance of Crayke’s Cottage, knowing he’d call round at some point over the weekend; he usually did, unless they were off on one of their sourcing trips.
Sliding the festive pastries into the oven, it wasn’t long before the spicy aroma of Christmas filled the air, making her mouth water in anticipation.