Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
C layton’s strategy to think about anything except Christmas had failed miserably so far. He wasn’t thinking about Christmas itself, not the coming one, anyway; he was thinking about Louise and that tragic Christmas Eve – which amounted to the same thing, of course. And by association, his mind was also on Spencer, and moving on one step further, Laura Engleby. This inability to distract himself, he realised – too late – was the direct result of setting up camp on Laura’s property, where the man himself was likely to pitch up at any moment.
Clayton wondered how long he could go on pretending there was nothing amiss while he was in Laura’s presence. He’d only managed to stop himself from blurting out Spencer’s guilty secret by reminding himself of how hurt she’d be to find out from a third party – a heavily involved third party, at that. She might turn on Clayton and accuse him of trying to wreck her relationship. He wouldn’t blame her if she did; under those circumstances, refusal to accept the truth would be a normal reaction, and Laura turning against him was the last thing he wanted – he understood enough about his own feelings, complicated though they were, to know that. In fact, he missed Laura, quite acutely, when she wasn’t around. Like now.
It was Friday, the fourth day of the Christmas tree sales. Business had been slow to begin with, but it was picking up nicely now. They’d sold four trees already this morning, and it was only half past ten. The pattern had been the same when they’d had the pitch in the village. The eager ones were there like a shot to get the pick of the trees, having noted the date from the posters around the village or the ad in the Cliffhaven News . Then, once word got round, there’d be a steady flow of customers. Some came just to stand around and chat, and treat themselves to a bag of hot chestnuts from the little brazier while they inspected the trees. Then they’d return in a day or so to make their final choice and carry away their tree. That was fine by him. Despite this being all about Christmas, it was a social occasion, too. Clayton had trained himself to enjoy that aspect of the tree sales, and shut out everything else. Well, he’d just have to try harder to do that this year.
He hadn’t seen much of Laura lately. By the time he and Saul arrived at around half past nine, she’d already left for work, and it got dark so early now that they tended to pack up around four, before she was back. But she’d come home early on Wednesday, and Clayton had been pleased beyond reason to see her car turn in at the gates at around half three. She’d tooted as she’d passed up the drive, and he’d felt a pinch of disappointment that she hadn’t stopped. Then, not long afterwards, as he’d released a tree from the netting machine for a customer, he’d looked up to find her standing uncertainly to one side, as if she was concerned about getting in the way. As if she need worry about that.
Until then, he hadn’t seen her to speak to since they’d had coffee in the Ginger Cat, more than a week and a half ago – despite his best-laid plans, he’d missed her when he’d come to give her garden its winter trim. She hadn’t stopped long, just long enough to ask how they were getting on and was there anything they needed. He’d wished he could have thought of something, or at least found some reason to keep her there, but by the time he’d taken the money for the netted tree, she was already walking back towards the house.
‘Clayton?’
He turned, realising this was the second time Saul had spoken. He peeled his eyes away from the entrance, where he’d been keeping a pointless watch for Laura’s car.
‘This lady wants a six-foot Fraser fir and she hasn’t got a roof-rack. Can we deliver?’
‘Of course, no problem.’ Clayton smiled at the petite, smartly-dressed woman.
‘I always do this,’ she said, smiling back apologetically. ‘I come intending to get a little one but then I get carried away. These have such a gorgeous, citrussy scent, just like all the fruits of Christmas, don’t you think?’
‘Definitely. Those are my favourites too,’ Clayton lied.
As the customer for the Fraser fir teetered back to her car in her high-heeled suede boots, the track on the portable CD player switched to Bing Crosby singing ‘White Christmas’. Clayton groaned, and tugged his beanie hat further down over his ears.
‘Told you this one was dire last year,’ Saul said. ‘I’ll bring some decent music tomorrow, shall I? I’ve got some old CDs kicking about somewhere.’
‘No thanks. I’ve heard your idea of decent music and it won’t be Christmassy, that I do know.’
Saul chuckled. ‘Put the carols back on, then, shall I?’
Christmas carols were even more depressing; most of them were dirges. Clayton felt a pall of gloom descend on him, as dark and heavy as the skies above the distant hills. It seemed harder than ever this year to keep his mood from plummeting. In silent answer to his assistant, he pushed his way past the forest of branches, ducked beneath the tarpaulin they’d erected as a shelter and switched the CD player off altogether.
Laura and her fellow teachers had cut short this afternoon’s pageant rehearsal. It was the first time all the children from the various classes had got together in an attempt to inject some cohesion into the pageant. Unfortunately, there’d been a fire drill this morning, and the more excitable kids were still on a high from the unscheduled exit.
Then, just as Laura had managed to line up Red Class, remind the doubtful ones whether they were kings, donkeys, lambs or angels, and showed them how to walk correctly across the stage, a boy from Blue Class had spotted a few flakes of snow fluttering past the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hall, and shouted out about it. The almost orderly procession had immediately broken apart and scattered, like beads from a snapped necklace. Naturally, by the time the kids had raced to the windows, there was no further sign of snow.
‘I bloody well give up,’ Jeff, Blue Class’s teacher, had hissed in Laura’s ear. ‘All they have to do is the same as they did last year.’
They’d laughed then, because if you didn’t laugh you’d do the other thing. It wasn’t the children’s fault, of course, and on the day, the pageant would go off swimmingly, as it always did. The mistakes and toppling scenery would all add to the atmosphere, tantrums would be swept aside and the parents, as well as the kids, would be proud and tearfully happy.
Laura couldn’t help feeling grateful that today’s rehearsal had descended into chaos, though. She’d been looking forward all day to going home again, and now she had the bonus of being able to leave on time. The Christmas trees at the bottom of her garden had looked so pretty this morning, propped up within the metal stands: homely, wide-based triangles of Nordmann firs touching green fingers with bushy Norway spruces; distinctive blue-green Noble firs and elegant Frasers forming forests of their own among the glossy-leaved rhododendron bushes.
Having all this valuable merchandise on her property had been quite a worry at first, and Laura had expressed her concerns to Clayton. He’d assured her he’d never had a tree stolen yet, and the chains he fixed around the trees left on the plot would be sufficient. Laura couldn’t help thinking his attitude was a bit laid-back, but that, as she was rapidly learning, was typical Clayton. Well, it certainly beat Spencer’s habit of homing in on every tiny thing that could possibly go wrong.
And there she went again, comparing Spencer and Clayton. It was unfair of her.
‘ Stop it ,’ she admonished herself, as she came off the motorway and took the road to Charnley Acre.
Then she laughed. Sure, she was looking forward to seeing the trees, and hearing the carols playing, and eating the hot chestnut Saul would drop into her hand, laughing as she flinched against the heat. But more, she was looking forward to seeing Clayton. The connection between them was unmistakable; it wasn’t her imagination playing tricks. She’d noticed it most strongly when they’d sat opposite one another in the Ginger Cat. His attention had been focussed on her so completely that it had turned the occasion into something much more intimate than simply having coffee with a friend.
What all this meant she had yet to work out. Nothing, probably. Well, nothing more than a silly crush on her part and a spot of lust on Clayton’s. It couldn’t mean anything deeper, because she was with Spencer, and Clayton knew it. He didn’t strike Laura as the relationship-wrecker type. Not that it would ever go that far. She may be unwittingly encouraging Clayton – if he could read her mind then she definitely was – but if she couldn’t control her impulses at her age, it was a pretty poor show. There was no reason to rush home, then. No reason at all.
Laura glanced at the clock on the dashboard and put her foot down.
‘Hey, you caught us,’ Clayton said, smiling as Laura walked towards him, having quickly parked her car.
‘Why, what were you up to?’
‘Now, that would be telling.’ He tapped the side of his nose.
She and Clayton both laughed. Saul just raised his eyes.
An elderly couple had pulled up in their equally elderly Morris Minor Traveller and were making their way back down the drive. Clayton, ever the friendly businessman, stepped smartly forward to greet them.
‘What happened to the music?’ Laura said to Saul, as she nipped across the boards to where the CD player sat silently on the ground. ‘Have the batteries died? Let me have a look. I might have some indoors that will fit.’
Saul glanced towards Clayton, who was lifting the couple’s choice of tree to the ground so that they could inspect it. ‘It was doing his head in. He turned it off ages ago.’
Laura frowned. ‘It’s not very Christmassy, is it? When you were down in the village, didn’t you have fairy lights strung about, and some of those snowmen with the wobbly heads?’ She’d just realised why the sales plot looked a bit bare this year, and it wasn’t only because of the new location.
‘We did,’ Saul said. ‘They’re all in the van, as it goes. I keep saying when are we getting it sorted but he keeps putting it off.’
‘Clayton?’
‘Yep.’ Saul looked at Laura as if she was stupid. She was surprised, that was all.
Saul looked Clayton’s way before he spoke again, as if to check that he wasn’t listening, but he was deep in conversation with the couple about how to prevent needle-drop.
‘He doesn’t do Christmas. I reckon that’s why he hasn’t put all the trappings out. Because we’re up here he thinks we can do without.’
‘Doesn’t do Christmas?’ Again Laura felt she must have an idiotic look on her face. ‘You mean Clayton doesn’t like Christmas?’
Who didn’t like Christmas? What was there about it not to like? Laura stared after Clayton, who was trudging up the drive now, carrying the elderly couple’s tree to their car while they trotted behind.
‘His sister was killed on Christmas Eve,’ Saul said. ‘It was about five years ago now.’
‘Oh my God.’ Laura clapped hand to her mouth. ‘What happened?’
‘Louise was mown down by a hit-and run-driver on her way home from a party. She was living with Clayton at the time. The bastard got away with it, too. I remember Mum and Dad talking about it at the time. Clayton lodged with us before he bought Mistletoe Cottage. That’s how we knew him.’
For a moment, shock took away Laura’s power of speech. How the hell did somebody get away with a hit-and-run?
Saul read her mind. ‘The bloke who did it claimed he thought he might have knocked down a deer. Reckoned he had no idea it was a person. He only went back later because he thought he should do something about it. By the time he’d found her and called the ambulance it was too late.’
‘And the police didn’t question his story?’ Laura was incredulous.
‘Oh yes, they questioned it, but she’d had a couple of drinks and could have been wandering about in the middle of the road for all anyone knew. He hadn’t been drinking, or if he had it had worked its way through. Dark night, no witnesses, the best lawyer money could buy, and job done.’
‘They let him off completely ?’
‘Did him for careless driving. He got a fine and a ban. Clayton nearly got done for contempt of court. He let him have what for from the public gallery.’ A swift smile crossed Saul’s face. ‘He knew his sister would’ve been careful walking home. She’d phoned him before she left the party and she wasn’t even kaylied.’
Laura was silent, imagining the courtroom scene, and Clayton being reprimanded for speaking out.
‘Poor Clayton,’ she said, half to herself. ‘He must have been desperate.’
‘Yep. He spoke to a lawyer afterwards but he said that unless there was any new evidence, the police wouldn’t reopen the case, and he’d have to let it go…’
Clayton returned. Laura stepped away from Saul, feeling guilty for talking about him behind his back. She was glad Saul had told her, while at the same time she wondered why he had.
Clayton gave her such a warm smile that she had to turn away to hide the tears that were forming.
‘Do you want to choose yours?’ he said, thinking she was inspecting the trees. ‘I could take it up to the house before we pack up, if you like.’
Laura swallowed, turned round and found a smile. ‘Thanks, but I’ll leave it till another day.’ All she could think of right now was that poor girl, and Clayton’s sadness.
Laura’s heart was heavy as she walked back up to the house a few minutes later. Even if that driver had thought he’d knocked over a deer, he should have stopped straight away. What sort of a man left an animal to suffer? But it hadn’t been an animal, had it? If Clayton was certain the driver was lying, then she believed it too, the same as Saul obviously did.
Reaching her doorstep, Laura had to fight off the urge to run back down and gather Clayton into a hug. She couldn’t bear to think of him being so unhappy at Christmastime, or at any time. That afternoon, when he’d called unexpectedly while she was sorting the boxes of decorations… she’d seen something then, a sadness in his expression that had lasted no more than a few seconds. It had made her wonder, but she hadn’t known him well enough to question it.
Nor did she now, Laura reminded herself, going in and closing the front door after her. She mustn’t ever mention what happened; it wasn’t as if she could offer him any comfort. It was five years ago, Saul had said. It would have been in the papers at the time, and talked about in the village. She couldn’t remember anything about it, but perhaps that wasn’t so surprising. That Christmas, James had been in the last stages of his life. He’d been allowed home from hospital and had lain in his bed, hooked up to a morphine pump, a nurse from the hospice close at hand. All Laura’s concerns had been for him and Holly. The rest of the world had melted away.
Laura felt a rush of sadness on her own account. She went through to the living room, picked up Cynthia from beside the sewing box and clutched her tightly, holding the little doll close to her heart. After that dreadful year, Laura might have hated every Christmas from then on, the same as Clayton did. It could so easily have gone that way. But she knew James wouldn’t have wanted her to live like that. Besides, there was Holly to consider; her daughter’s Christmases must be filled with light and sparkle and magic, not sadness and painful memories.
Holding Cynthia up in front of her, Laura smiled into the fixed, blue eyes of the tatty old fairy doll, resplendent in her new pink costume. Christmas was a time of joy, a time of loving and forgiving. But she would never, ever forgive the man who had snatched Clayton’s sister away.