Christmas with the Knights

Chapter 7

SEVEN

I ran upstairs to leave the dress on my bed and brush my teeth, then decided to go and find Alexander to see when he wanted to start work. My limbs felt heavy and my head fuzzy and I could have done with a morning curled up reading a magazine, but judging by how antsy he had been last night, my guess was that he would want to get going immediately. I couldn’t blame him – Christmas was only three weeks away, and the Christmas Fayre would be sooner than that, so we did have to get a move on. I went into the Great Hall, resisting the urge to explore the minstrels’ gallery, and peeked into the room where we had eaten supper last night. The Buttery, he had called it. I thought of my London flat and giggled at the idea of having such a room – I didn’t even have a separate kitchen, although I had no complaints about the modern, open-plan layout. Anyway, he wasn’t in there, so I went into the kitchen. He was sitting at the table with Theo, their dark heads bent over a puzzle. I had a stern word with myself about admiring the way his hair curled round at the nape of his strong neck. Ahem .

‘Hello…’ I ventured. They both looked up and gave me identical smiles.

‘Hello, Fallon,’ said Theo. ‘Is Runcible with you?’

‘She was pottering along behind, but I think she got distracted by an interesting smell in the passage. She’ll be along in a minute. What’s your puzzle?’

‘It’s birds,’ the boy replied. ‘I love dogs, but I really, really love birds. Look, it’s all the different birds of prey.’

I stepped closer to the table and peered over.

‘That’s great, and you’ve done so much of it. Has it taken ages?’

‘ Ages , but we’ve not got much left to do. Oh! There she is!’

He jumped down from his chair and ran to Runcible, who had sniffed her inquisitive way into the kitchen. I turned to Alexander.

‘I was just wondering when you wanted to get started on some work? I wasn’t sure what your schedule was today, especially after Mum insisted on being taken out for lunch. Sorry about that.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘No problem. I’ve arranged for Theo to spend the morning with a friend – they should be picking him up in about’ – he checked his watch – ‘ten minutes, so shall we get started then? My office is just round to the left.’

‘Perfect.’

I went back upstairs to grab my laptop, cast a final, longing look at my armchair and magazine, then headed to meet Alexander. I passed him and Theo in the entrance hall, just as Theo’s friend arrived to collect him.

‘Go on through,’ said Alexander. ‘I won’t be long.’

With Runcible pattering after me, I went to the office. It was another sturdy stone room, like the Buttery, but with a window in one wall. I went round the large desk to look out; it was the same view as from my own bedroom window, the moors stretching beyond the garden. The sound of the door opening made me turn.

‘Oh, hello. I was just admiring this view – again. Do you ever get sick of it?’

‘Never. Even at its most bleak, it’s absorbing and changes all the time, and in the summer it’s glorious.’

‘Well, I’d better tear myself away so we can get started. Do you want to show me where you’re up to?’

‘Sure. So, the gin – the one you tried last night – is distilled here on-site, by me. I’ll show you the distillery later if you like.’

‘How did you learn to make gin?’

‘The process is easy, but I went on a course to make sure that I understood everything for commercial production. Then it was a case of deciding which botanicals to include – I wanted to use things that I could obtain locally and even grow myself eventually.’

‘You want to grow juniper berries?’ I asked in surprise.

‘Absolutely. But that’s a way off – for now I’ve focused on getting the blend right and marketing the finished product.’

I nodded. ‘Sounds sensible. Okay, well, I’ve tasted the gin, which was delicious…’

‘Even if it did give you a headache?’

‘No, I was a bit silly to have had anything last night, especially after drinking champagne in the car with Mum on the way up. I’m not usually a big drinker, especially during the day. I’m sure your gin wasn’t to blame.’

‘I hope not.’

‘Anyway, the product is good – can you show me your packaging?’

He had everything ready, and I was impressed. The boxes and labels were fully recycled and recyclable, as were the bottles and lids, and the design was stunning: exquisite botanical illustrations with a watercolour washed background of the moors.

‘I employed a local artist to do the design,’ explained Alexander. ‘He’s lived and worked here his entire life and I’ve always loved his work. That’s one of his too.’ He pointed to an atmospheric oil painting of the countryside that hung opposite his desk.

‘Beautiful,’ I said, ‘and a smart business move to use a local. What are your ideas for the Christmas Fayre?’

‘It’s fairly straightforward. The event is held at a fantastic Victorian town hall in a market town between here and York. You rent a stall and then decorate it however you wish. There are lots of other local producers and artisans, and it’s about the most Christmassy thing you can imagine outside the North Pole.’

I laughed.

‘Sounds perfect. Can I see some photos?’

I looked carefully at the pictures of the hall and of past events that had been held there, then looked up at Alexander, frowning. I could immediately see a problem with the setup, but I wasn’t sure if challenging his plans was going to earn me a grumpy response or not.

‘What’s the matter?’

I sighed inwardly and took the plunge.

‘I like the look of this, but with all the other stalls, I think you’re going to be competing quite hard for people’s attention. There’s a foolproof way to beat them off before the customers have even got inside, but it’ll be quite a bit of work…and, um, money…’

I trailed off. I could already envisage my idea in glorious technicolour, but I wasn’t working with an established brand that had a multimillion-pound turnover, at some fancy London event that would generate months, if not years, of income.

‘What is it?’ he asked in an abrupt tone.

I chose my words carefully. ‘Look, I’m going to suggest something quite full on, you might think it’s too much. But I believe that if you can put in the time, money – and imagination – you’ll have something that will serve you well for a long time.’

‘An investment?’

‘Yes, although there are options.’

‘Please just tell me, Fallon.’

I was hoping that offering to work with Alexander hadn’t been a bad idea, but he wanted my expertise, so he was going to get it. With any luck, he would decide he didn’t need my advice, after all, and I could slope off to a quiet corner for the next few weeks. I ploughed on.

‘All right. I think that you should look at obtaining a vintage Citro?n HY van – you know, those cute little corrugated metal things with the blunt noses? Lots of people use them for selling food and drink because they’re easily adapted to let the side down for an instant bar. You could park it in front of the town hall decked out with lights and looking super Christmassy and catch people before they’ve gone inside – and as they come out again, full of festive cheer. And then you can take it around other events as well – fairs, private parties, weddings…I think it would pay for itself quite quickly – they’re very fashionable at the moment.’

I looked up a photo and showed him. He studied it intently for a moment or two, frowning, then smiled.

‘I think that’s a great idea. We’d have to check with the Christmas Fayre organisers if it would be allowed. If I did want to go ahead, how much money am I looking at?’

This part was always difficult. I knew nothing about Alexander’s finances and whether the figure I was about to announce would be instantly payable in cash or out of reach. The best thing to do, always, was to give it straight.

‘They cost between twenty and thirty grand. You’d also need specialist fridges and washing-up facilities as well as fitted storage and your logo painted on it.’

He pulled a face. ‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah, it’s a lot. I know a couple of places that sell them, so I can get you a very good deal, and look—’ I opened my laptop and tapped a few buttons. ‘These are the costings I did for a customer with a food business – his was much more expensive because of the cooking and ventilation requirements. He surpassed these figures in his first year and it paid for itself in two. No guarantees, of course, and it’s just an idea.’

He frowned as he looked at the figures.

‘Fallon, I thought you were a party planner – this is something else altogether. I’m impressed.’

I shrugged.

‘I don’t just do parties. And that’s why I like my job and owning my own company. I’ve made it about more than buying balloon arches and making sure the waiting staff arrive on time. Would you like me to cost it up for you?’

‘Could you? I think I’d like to go ahead, but it’s a lot of money and I need to mull it over. And could we get it sorted in time?’

I waved my hand.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that, I always get things sorted in time.’

‘Okay, but…truly, Fallon, I’m concerned about your health too. I saw a lot of stress and exhaustion when I was working at the hospital – they’re serious things. This can all wait if it needs to, there’ll be other fairs, events.’

He looked very concerned, his blue eyes searching mine. I had no doubt that he would drop the whole thing if I asked him to. But the truth was, despite my reservations, I was already beginning to enjoy myself, and being away from London and the office was such a relief in itself that sourcing, fitting and painting a van in record time felt like something close to fun. I also couldn’t deny that spending time with Alexander – now that he was proving more reasonable than I had expected – was pleasant, and I was happy to keep that going.

‘It’s fine, and I would tell you if it wasn’t.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise. Now, what else do we need to think about?’

‘The flyers are designed but not printed yet – this is what they’ll look like.’

He showed me a fabulous design which incorporated the botanical feel of the labels with an art deco flavour.

‘I love it. What else are you printing up other than flyers?’

‘Erm… nothing else?’

‘Right. Well, at the very least you need cardboard coasters. I can get that sorted – I know an amazing place that makes them out of recycled paper from local schools and offices. You’ll need a roller banner as well, and what about menus?’

‘Menus? What, with one item: gin and tonic?’

I rolled my eyes.

‘We are not just going to be selling gin and tonic!’

‘We’re not…?’

‘No. People can have that, of course, but it’s Christmas and you’re launching a summery drink. What we need is a cocktail – at least one. They have to be festive and fun, and they’d better stick to your ‘local’ line as much as possible. Something with cranberries – there must be someone growing them near here; isn’t it a Yorkshire thing to have them with cheese?’

He raised his eyebrows.

‘It is! How did you know?’

‘I love Wensleydale. All cheese, really. We could do something with herbs and spices, maybe orange. We’ll have to give it some thought. You could even sell cocktail packs so people can make them at home, and little hampers with local cheese or crackers to have with them – they’d make great Christmas presents. I can’t believe we have so little time; there’s so much we could do here!’

‘I wish I’d thought of these things earlier.’

‘Never mind, we’ll do what we can. Now, what about a webpage?’

‘It’s taken care of. Hetty has done all that and I’m confident in it.’

‘Great. I’ll have a quick look this afternoon then. Local press? We need a cheesy photo of you raising a glass to lure in your customers.’

I resisted the temptation to point out that the fact he was so good-looking wouldn’t do the brand any harm; I had the feeling he might not like the idea of being a male model.

‘Must we? I hate having my photo taken,’ he grumbled.

‘We must. In fact, why don’t we do it now and I’ll sort out a press release? A phone photo will do and mine’s got a decent camera; I use it for this sort of thing a lot.’

I was used to people reluctant to get in front of the camera, as well as people only too keen to get as many photos of themselves from as many different angles as possible, to plaster all over Instagram, and – having grown up with my mother – I knew a little something about people’s best sides. Within minutes, poor Alexander was clutching a bottle of gin and trying to look professional and warm, although I privately thought that smouldering might bring in more customers.

‘Okay,’ I said, pleased with what I had. ‘These are great, you’re very photogenic. Come and have a look.’

Wow, maybe inviting him in so close was a mistake . As he leaned in and I swiped through the pictures, I could feel the heat of his body next to mine and smell a delicious nutmeggy, woody, amber scent that went straight to my head – and in a good way. I cleared my throat and tried to sound business-like.

‘So, I’ll look at them properly on my laptop, but I like this one – you look friendly, the kind of person all sorts of customers would like to have a drink with, or to tell their woes to as you pour them another.’

I felt, rather than saw, him nod and didn’t dare turn my head to look at him as that would put our faces in perilous proximity and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist leaning in for a lovely big lungful of that delicious smell.

‘I still can’t say I like posing, but you’ve done a great job with these, thank you. I suppose they won’t be too embarrassing to have in the local paper.’

‘Not remotely.’

I didn’t add that they would also be appearing in the wider press, if my contacts were amenable, and possibly on some of the publicity material. I was also thinking about an Instagram or Facebook page, but maybe that could wait. For now anyway. I swiped one more time, but rather than a handsome man clutching a bottle of gin, a picture of my dear, ugly little dog sitting on the bathroom windowsill on one of the chair cushions from my bedroom appeared. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed, and I switched the screen off quickly.

‘Oops, I don’t think you’ll be wanting that for your publicity!’

‘Do you always take your dog to the bathroom with you?’

I could feel my face getting hot. ‘Not always , but I…I mean, she gets lonely if I go for a long bath, and she liked looking out of the window until it got too dark.’

He raised an eyebrow, and my traitorous stomach was infested with a frantic flock of butterflies.

‘I see. Well, at least she attends you in comfort.’

‘I probably shouldn’t have used your cushion. Sorry about that.’

I hung my head and he roared with laughter.

‘Oh, Fallon, I don’t mind in the least! Runcible is our guest, and she is welcome to sit on any cushion in the house.’

‘Thank you. I’m sure she is very grateful. Just be glad it wasn’t a bath selfie I took.’

Why, why did I say that? It was going so well.

‘I can’t say I would have minded that either.’

The butterflies in my stomach had morphed into a troupe of hysterical chimpanzees, by the feel of things, and I was glad – I think I was glad – when his phone rang.

‘Hi, Theo, what’s up?’

While they were talking, I tried not to listen, even though it was clear from Alexander’s end that Theo was badly upset over something. I started drawing up a rough financial plan for the Citro?n, something I had done several times before, and tried to concentrate on that, rather than getting too worried about the little boy on the phone. I managed to become so engrossed in it that I didn’t notice Alexander had finished his conversation.

‘Fallon?’

‘Oh, sorry,’ I replied casually. ‘I was just wondering if branded glasses would bring in enough revenue to be worth going to the effort of selling them to customers, or if we should just keep them for serving? We can’t use plastic disposable ones these days and washable plastic looks horrible so quickly.’

‘I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go in a few minutes. That was Theo – something’s happened and he wants to come home early.’

‘Oh, okay, well, I’ll carry on working and we can catch up on it later or tomorrow.’ I started collecting up my things, then realised that Alexander was looking at me strangely.

‘Is everything all right?’ he said.

‘Yes?’

‘Oh right, it’s just you didn’t ask what had happened with Theo. It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.’

I swallowed and tried to keep my tone light. The last thing I wanted was Alexander pegging me as yet another hopeful mother substitute for his son. I hadn’t asked because it hadn’t occurred to me – another example of why I’d be a terrible mother – but I did hope that the little boy was okay.

‘Sorry, I was totally in work mode. Is he all right?’

‘Yes, I think so. He can be very sensitive, though he’ll tell me about it later, hopefully. But he sounded upset.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ There was an awkward pause, which I quickly filled with work talk. ‘So, I’ll get this done today and then tomorrow we need to get serious about making some decisions and spending some money.’

He nodded. ‘Sure. I’d best be going then.’

‘Fine. Can you let me have the distillery costs as soon as possible? I want to factor them in.’

He shrugged. ‘Sure. See you later.’

He left, and the car crunched over the gravel moments later. I could tell he was irked by my apparent lack of interest in Theo’s welfare, but I resisted the temptation to ask anything else, or offer to help. I liked the boy, but I didn’t want to overstep. Plus, what comfort or advice could I possibly offer? Alexander clearly had all that covered without me. Thank goodness I had no aspirations to motherhood – it was becoming more and more obvious that it was the one area in which I strongly took after Jacqueline Honeywood.

I went up to my room to carry on with the work; it felt odd to be sitting in Alexander’s office without him there, but I would have to be careful not to give in to the temptation to lie down for a nap. It wasn’t long before the front door opened and his and Theo’s voices floated through. Theo was sobbing as if his heart was going to break and the sound, unexpectedly, sliced right through me and brought tears to my own eyes. At first, I put my hands over my ears and stared determinedly at my computer screen, but the numbers swam miserably in front of me. I stood up to shut the door but made the mistake of catching Runcible’s eye. She was sitting up on the bed, her head on one side, an unmistakeable look of concern on her patchy little face.

‘Oh, all right ,’ I said, and scooped her up. We jogged down the stairs to find Alexander and Theo sitting on the sofa in the hallway, their coats still on, the poor child howling into his father’s shoulder as Alexander rubbed his back and spoke soothingly to him. I hesitated awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs and Alexander looked up. I pointed to Runcible and gave a questioning shrug. He nodded and over we went.

‘Er, Theo?’ I said, putting my hand stiffly on his shoulder. ‘Runcible heard you were upset, and she wanted to know if she could help.’ The noise subsided, but he was still shaking. I leaned over and stroked the bit of his cheek I could see with Runcible’s paw. ‘See, she’s worried about you. Will you give her a cuddle so that she knows she’s done something to help?’

He lifted his tearstained face slowly from Alexander’s shoulder and nodded. I handed him my dog and he immediately cuddled her close; she snuggled comfortingly into his neck, a gesture of hers I had experienced the many times she had helped me in the same way.

‘Can I take her to the kitchen?’ he whispered.

I nodded, knowing that he liked to curl up in the old, soft armchair that stood in one corner of the room. Speaking quietly to her, he carried Runcible away. I felt stunned and rather pleased that I had apparently managed to help him . Probably a fluke.

Alexander looked at me with troubled eyes.

‘Thank you, Fallon, you really helped. You and Runcible, of course.’ He smiled weakly. ‘Theo won’t tell me what happened, and his friend’s parents weren’t sure either. It probably wasn’t anything serious – in our eyes at least – but Theo does have…difficulties sometimes with friends. There are misunderstandings and he gets so distraught. I wish I knew how to help him.’

I sat down next to him.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say other than that Theo strikes me as a sweet, sensitive boy. Maybe telling Runcible what happened might be the best thing for him? I know it sounds silly, but she has a way of listening without judgement that can be immensely helpful.’

Now it was Alexander’s turn to brush away a tear. He nodded.

‘I expect you’re right. It can be so difficult, you know, parenting. The love is so… fierce and yet it can leave me feeling so helpless with the desperation to get it right, whilst knowing I can’t do that one hundred percent of the time.’

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Had Mum ever felt like that about me?

‘Sorry, Fallon, I’m sure you don’t need to be an agony aunt on top of what I’m already asking of you. How are the numbers crunching?’

I smiled in relief. This was more like it.

‘Very nicely, thank you. I’d better get back to them, though, there’s a lot to do.’

‘Okay. Are you looking forward to the party tonight?’

‘Of course! What’s not to like?’ I pulled a face, laughed and got up. ‘How about you? Got the tux ready?’

‘I see you think that all men are so uncreative as to simply shove on black tie and come as Bond. Well, maybe I’ll surprise you!’

‘I look forward to it.’

As I returned to the safety of work, I wondered what other surprises the evening might have in store.