Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
We stopped off on the way back to Lyonscroft to order the Christmas trees, again for delivery in the morning, and got back as everyone was sitting down to supper.
‘Did you get everything?’ asked India. ‘Mum told us where you’ve been all afternoon.’
‘We may have picked up a few little trinkets,’ said Nick casually, reaching for the butter.
‘That’s right,’ I chimed in, adopting the same tone of voice. ‘Some small and tasteful lights – one string – and a bauble or two.’
‘I don’t believe you for one second!’ said Marilise, her voice full of delight. ‘I think you have bought out the shop.’
Nick and I glanced at each other and grinned, and the fireworks fizzed again.
‘Yes, you’ve nailed it,’ he said. ‘It’s all arriving tomorrow, with the trees, so I hope you’re all flexing your fingers to help put it up. Good of them to deliver on a Saturday.’
‘Try and stop us,’ said Angela. ‘I love Christmas decorations. Did you remember to get hooks, tack and tape as well?’
We looked at each other again, but this was more of a damp squib than fireworks.
‘We didn’t even think about it, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘I can pop out in the morning and get some?’
‘No need,’ said Greg, grinning. ‘In our experience, those are always forgotten, so I stocked up. Ange and I figured that if we didn’t need them, then they’d come in useful for something else.’
That little drama dealt with, we chatted over the girls’ week at school.
Sofia seemed to have settled in remarkably well.
Her summary was that ‘the teachers are kind and there are chickens’, which struck me as high praise.
They were both involved in the end of term show, and it appeared that all teaching had been abandoned in place of rehearsals.
Sofia was pleased to have been cast as a snowflake, and India seemed to be having the time of her life sneaking sweets to her little charges and reading horse magazines while she was waiting to rehearse her bit.
‘Honestly, it’s not that difficult – all I have to do is look a bit scared when Felicity Duckrington-Gamble pops up as the angel Gabriel, then say, “Let us go to Bethlehem now” and herd the younger ones off. I could do it without any rehearsal at all and spend all that time with Firefly.’
‘I expect it’s good for you,’ said Astrid glumly. ‘Things you don’t want to do often are.’
‘Now, who would like something sweet?’ chimed in Angela. ‘I’ve got some mince pie flavoured ice cream I thought might be interesting.’
Through the intrigued mutters, Sofia’s voice came through, quiet but clear.
‘I’ve never eaten a mince pie.’
Every head in the room swivelled towards her. It was Angela who got her act together first.
‘Never had a mince pie? Why on earth not?’
‘Mummy doesn’t like them, she says they’re “pointless calories”, whatever that means.’
‘My sister has a lot of living to do,’ said Nick, rolling his eyes. ‘There’s nothing pointless about a mince pie. Do we have any, Angela, that she could try?’
‘Sorry, no. I have everything ready to make them, but I haven’t got around to it yet.’
‘Then the ice cream will have to do – for now. They’re even better hot and with ice cream,’ Nick continued.
‘Brandy butter for me,’ said Astrid, and Greg nodded.
‘What about custard?’ said India, her eyes shining. ‘Yum!’
‘No, no,’ said Marilise. ‘They are perfect with the slight tang of crème fra?che.’
Sofia laughed.
‘I can’t wait to try them in all the different ways.’
‘Not all at once, I hope,’ said Nick. ‘Although if you’re going for that challenge, I might have to join you.’
After supper and before taking Marilise up, I hung around the kitchen and helped Angela tidy up. Nick was fiddling with the coffee machine.
‘Go next door,’ she insisted. ‘You work hard enough.’
‘Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Seeing as Sofia has never had a mince pie, I thought it would be the perfect thing to put in the next advent calendar window. If you don’t mind me doing it, I’ll knock some up tonight so we can do it in the morning.’
‘Oh, you are a lovely, kind girl,’ said Angela. ‘But I don’t mind doing it, it won’t take long.’
‘I’d like to,’ I said. Now I’d started on Christmas I didn’t want to stop, and Christmas baking is only just below music on my list of festive favourites. ‘And anyway,’ I echoed her words. ‘You work hard enough.’
‘Laura’s right,’ said Nick, smirking in satisfaction when the coffee machine finally obeyed him. ‘I’ll give her a hand.’
My stomach leapt. He was going to stay and help me? My mind flew back to the kiss and I got flustered, nearly dropping the bowl I was drying. I hoped my voice would sound normal.
‘Great!’ Nope, squeaky. I cleared my throat. ‘I’m sure it won’t take long. I’ll be back down when I’ve finished Marilise’s routine with her.’
Throwing the bowl in a cupboard, I scuttled away, my face burning, and barely managed to pull myself together to do my job that evening.
By the time I bid Marilise good night, I was feeling calmer and returned to the kitchen with every intention of making a quick batch of mince pies and keeping up the jolly festive banter of the afternoon.
The kitchen was far away enough that we could listen to some Christmas songs without disturbing anyone, and I got out my phone to find a playlist. But, when I opened the door, Nick had beaten me to it, and I was met with the ethereal strains of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ I said. ‘Carols from King’s?’
He nodded.
‘Yes, I went once, years ago. I thought it would get us prepared for the Montgomerys’ concert. It’s not just Christmas pop you like, is it?’
He looked anxious.
‘No, absolutely not. I love carols. I was in a nurses’ choir once, I loved it.’
‘You should do it again.’
‘Maybe.’ I shook myself. ‘Come on, let’s get these mince pies going or we’ll be here all night.’
Angela, in her kindness, had laid out everything we would need, so it was a case of making pastry, rolling and cutting it and adding the mincemeat and pastry lids.
The kitchen was warm and peaceful, a contrast from the busy town earlier.
The only noises were the gentle music playing and the occasional snore from Steve, who was most put out not to be allowed any pastry offcuts, as he was still on a simple diet.
Nick and I chatted easily; he was still very enthused about the decorations we had bought.
‘I think you’ve come round to Christmas,’ I said, sliding the pies into the oven. ‘Aren’t you going to miss it when this place is sold and you’re sipping a cocktail on the beach come the twenty-fifth, rather than shivering in the Somerset chill?’
‘Doesn’t sound too bad,’ he said. ‘But I have to admit that I’m beginning to understand all that stuff about Christmas being about the people.
’ He stepped closer to me and my heart picked up its pace.
‘You have icing sugar on your face,’ he said, and rubbed my cheek with his thumb.
The fireworks decided to prove that, up until now, they had been nothing but a warmup act.
‘I liked kissing you earlier,’ he went on.
Unwilling to risk any more squeaking, I nodded.
‘Although I could have done without all those bloody elves standing around. Maybe we could try again, just the two of us?’
And then he came closer still and his lips met mine.
I kissed him back, hesitantly at first as thoughts whizzed through my brain: Don’t mix work and pleasure!
This is the first person you’ve kissed since Paulo!
He’s moving to LA! But each thought was extinguished as quickly as it came, as if from a touch by a fairy’s wand – poof!
– and I allowed the kiss to deepen, my arms snaking around his back, our feet interlaced.
He started to kiss my neck, twining his fingers into my hair, and I think the ensuing scene would have been highly unsuitable for Steve’s eyes, had the oven timer not chosen that exact moment to chime.
I laughed reluctantly and, my whole body trembling, grabbed the oven gloves to remove the mince pies.
‘Can’t we leave them?’ murmured Nick, lifting my hair and kissing the back of my neck. ‘I’m sure they’d be fine.’
‘Sadly not,’ I replied, opening the oven door. ‘Angela would never forgive us if we burnt them.’
‘Fair point,’ he said, and stepped away so that I could put them on the cooling rack.
Truth be told, I wasn’t wholly sorry to have been put on a cooling rack myself, so to speak.
Incredible though the kiss had been, and tempting though it was to let it continue, I had spent three years grieving and shying away from anything that reminded me of Paulo.
Hell, I had actively avoided Christmas and Valentine’s Day, but the thought of meeting another man had never entered my consciousness.
My hand went reflexively to my necklace.
I fussed with the pies for as long as I could, then turned around.
Nick was leaning on the table, a tender smile on his face.
‘You’re going to turn in now, right?’ he said. ‘And I’ll see you in the morning?’
Thank goodness I didn’t have to explain.
‘I am, yes.’
‘I’ve enjoyed making mince pies with you,’ he said. ‘You’re doing a very good job of immersing me in Christmas. Right, I’ll take Steve out for a final run.’
He called to his dog and, as he passed me, kissed me once more, very briefly, on the lips.
‘Good night,’ he said. ‘I look forward to seeing you in the morning.’
I went upstairs feeling dazed, not knowing what my head thought but knowing that my heart was singing and with a smile on my face that couldn’t be suppressed.