23
Imogen
I mogen loaded her gifts carefully into the back of the car. She’d spent hours wrapping them, folding perfect creases in festive paper and tying elaborate bows with shimmering ribbon, and she wasn’t going to risk ruining all her hard work now. It felt a little ridiculous to be driving the short distance to Dorothy’s, but there was no other way of transporting the presents. And also herself. She’d treated herself to a new dress at one of the boutiques in the village, and it wasn’t exactly designed for a snowy trek up to the house.
She’d assumed she’d be going with Miles, but after spending a romantic Christmas Eve together, sipping champagne and talking about everything under the sun as they always seemed to do when they were together, he’d vanished before it was light.
She’d been half-asleep when he left, had dimly heard him wish her a Merry Christmas, but when she’d woken enough for a conversation, he was gone and so was Ralph.
He’d left a note on the kitchen table saying he had things to do, and he’d meet her at Dorothy’s.
And she was already looking forward to seeing him again, even though it had only been a few hours. They’d spent every available moment together since their Christmassy date, and she’d never been happier.
She loaded the last of the parcels, locked the cottage and drove carefully up the snow-covered drive to the house.
Dorothy had told her that she was welcome to stay at the house for Christmas Eve, but given that Ava and Iris were also in residence, Imogen and Miles had decided it would be more appropriate for them to stay at the cottage. Also, she was conscious that she and Miles didn’t have that much longer together, living like this, and she wanted to make the most of it.
“Imogen!” Ava was in the doorway, waving madly. She was wearing a red dress with green tights, her cheeks were flushed with excitement and she already had traces of chocolate around her mouth. “I’ll help you with your presents.”
“Don’t let her help,” Iris advised, appearing next to her. “She either drops them or opens them.”
“I do not.”
“We’ll all help Imogen.” Sara stepped past the girls and together they unloaded the car and transferred everything into the house. “Where’s Miles?”
“Being mysterious. He muttered something about an animal.”
“He did warn us he might get called out,” Sara said, and Ava’s eyes were round.
“Maybe it’s one of Santa’s reindeer that’s sick. They must be very tired because going round the whole world is a very long way.”
“That could be it.” Sara closed the front door and they deposited all Imogen’s gifts under the tree.
Imogen took off her coat and Ava gasped.
“You sparkle! Look, Mummy.”
“I can see.” Sara stood back and admired Imogen. “That is a stunning dress.”
“You look like the star on the Christmas tree. All silvery.” Ava touched Imogen’s dress reverentially. “Can I have one the same?”
“A fashionista at six.” Patrick gave Imogen a quick kiss on the cheek by way of welcome. “Pity me. Or at least, pity our bank balance.”
“I’m not sure the dress comes in your size,” Imogen told Ava, “but we can take a look later.”
She’d been nervous that she’d overdone it, but Sara had also made an extra effort and was wearing an elegant dress of midnight blue velvet, with her hair swept into a casual updo. Her nod to Christmas was the pair of silver robin earrings that dangled from her ears, catching the light each time she moved.
Ava lifted her arms up to Imogen and she scooped her up and felt the child’s arms lock around her neck.
“So did Santa come?” She felt a rush of affection for the little girl. “Was your stocking full?”
“Yes! I had lots of things. I’ll show you. And chocolate. I’ve already eaten it.”
“I can see that.”
“Can we open your presents now?” Ava wriggled out of Imogen’s arms, shot over to the Christmas tree and began shaking and squashing the parcels Imogen had brought.
Imogen could feel her excitement, but she could also feel everyone else’s excitement.
There was a level of energy in the room that wasn’t usually present.
“How about you open one now,” she suggested, “and the rest later?”
“Yes!” Ava read the labels carefully and handed one to her sister. “This is for Iris.”
Iris blushed and smiled at Imogen. “Thank you.” She sat down next to Imogen and carefully untied the ribbon.
Ava, meanwhile, ripped the paper from her gift in her haste to get to whatever was inside. “It’s an alpaca!” She held it aloft. “I love it. I want to show Benson.” She was on her feet and halfway across the living room when Sara stopped her.
“What do you say to Imogen?”
“Thank you.” Ava shot back across the room and gave Imogen a chocolatey kiss. “I’m going to call it Benson.”
“Nanna is just bringing a snack,” Sara said, “so maybe show Benson later.”
Dorothy came into the room carrying a tray of coffee and homemade cinnamon biscuits. “I thought you’d need to keep your strength up with all these parcels to unwrap.” She saw Imogen and smiled. “You’re here!”
“Just arrived. Merry Christmas.” It felt strange saying those words, because normally she didn’t have anyone to say them to.
“Merry Christmas.” Dorothy put the tray down and gave Imogen a big hug. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever, as Ava would say.”
“It already is. Nanna, look!” Ava waved her alpaca and Dorothy dutifully admired it, while handing around coffee to the adults.
They’d opened half the presents and almost devoured the cinnamon cookies by the time Miles appeared in the doorway.
Imogen felt her heart miss a beat.
Seeing him made her so happy .
Was this love? It couldn’t be, could it? Not after such a short time. But it was something, she knew that. Something important. Something exciting and good.
His gaze held hers for a few intimate seconds before he turned his attention to Ava, who was tugging at his arm.
“Come in, Miles.” Dorothy gestured to a gap on the sofa. “Ellen and Valerie are coming for twelve, so we’ll open our gifts now, but I just need ten minutes in the kitchen before we start.”
Imogen was about to ask Miles where Ralph was, but he’d struck up a conversation with Patrick about a book they’d both read, so she followed Dorothy into the kitchen along with Sara.
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing at all,” Dorothy said. “You’re a guest. Sara? Could you peel some more potatoes and parsnips please? I’m nervous that I didn’t do enough. Miles and Patrick eat so much and I don’t want anyone to go hungry.”
“There is absolutely zero chance of that. And Imogen is not a guest, she’s family.” Sara handed Imogen a potato peeler. “You do the potatoes, and I’ll do the parsnips.”
Imogen laughed. Who would have thought that being handed a potato peeler would have given her such a high? “Whatever you say, Aunt Sara.”
Sara winced. “You make me feel old. Also, on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t be peeling potatoes in that silver dress.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s more than fine. Did you see the expression on Miles’s face when he saw that dress?” Sara winked at Imogen. “He definitely wanted to unwrap you.”
He’d unwrapped her many times over the past week, but she didn’t tell them that.
She was discovering that there were some things that you didn’t share, even with family.
They worked side by side in the kitchen until Dorothy was satisfied that lunch could look after itself for a while and then they returned to the living room, where Ava’s excitement levels were almost off the scale.
“Everything is under control in the kitchen,” Dorothy said, “so let’s take a few moments together before our guests arrive. I think it’s time for Imogen to open some of her gifts.”
“Ava and I will get them for you, Imogen.” Flushed and excited, Iris scrambled under the tree with her sister, checking labels and emerging with boxes of different shapes and sizes.
Imogen watched, feeling self-conscious.
A stocking with her name embroidered on it was placed on her lap, lumpy and stiff with gifts.
She squeezed it in awe. “This is—” she swallowed “—my first stocking.”
“What?” Ava was astounded. “Why? Didn’t Santa know where you lived? Did you not write to him?”
“I never wrote to him.”
“Never? From now on we’ll write together.” Ava launched herself onto the sofa next to Imogen. “Shall I help you open them?”
It was only a few weeks before that she’d been dreading another lonely Christmas, and now here she was, surrounded by family and presents and more warmth than she’d felt in a long time.
“I’d love some help.”
“I’ll help too.” Iris sat down on the other side of her.
“You’re taking too long!” Ava thrust a gift at Imogen and she laughed and unwrapped it, and then another and another, until she was feeling completely overwhelmed by their generosity.
And then they opened their presents from her, and she felt a glow of happiness at their excited response. She was grateful to Miles for their Christmas shopping trip, and not only because it was one of the happiest days she could remember.
She hadn’t had a response from her mother to the Christmas card she’d sent, but it didn’t matter. Maybe she’d be in touch, and maybe she wouldn’t. But Imogen knew that with the support of Dorothy, Sara and also Miles, she’d handle whatever happened.
“By the way, this came for you yesterday, by special delivery.” Sara handed her a big box. “The postmark is London.”
London?
Mystified, Imogen opened the box and found a card from Rosalind, Anya, Janie, Sophie and the rest of the team.
Happy Christmas Imogen. We miss you! Can’t wait to have you back—we’re sick of doing all your work
Imogen swallowed.
We miss you.
She felt a lump in her throat. When she’d sent the Christmas card to her mother, she’d sent another to her colleagues, and she’d included a letter that told them everything. It had felt easier to do it in a letter, somehow. To write it down. She’d been dreading their response, but now they’d sent her this.
“They’ve sent you a present.” Ava dug her hand into the box and pulled out a soft toy. “It’s a dog. I love it, although not as much as the alpaca you got me! It looks a bit like Ralph.”
“It’s not for you.” Iris pried it from her sister’s grasp and handed it to Imogen.
The stuffed dog did indeed look like Ralph, but round its neck was a tag that read Midas.
She smiled and suddenly felt that everything might, after all, be okay.
They’d accepted what she’d told them. They’d accepted her .
She glanced at Miles, who was the only person who knew the whole truth about her complicated life with her colleagues.
He smiled back. “That’s the best kind of dog to have at work. Also the vet bills will be low.”
“Now it’s my turn.” Dorothy held a small, prettily wrapped parcel in her hands. “I spent a lot of time thinking about what I could give you, Imogen. I wanted it to be special, to mark our first Christmas together. Something that you would always remember.”
Imogen was touched. “I’m always going to remember today.” How could she not? “I don’t need a gift for that.”
“Well, I hope you’re going to like this.” Dorothy gave her the gift and Imogen unwrapped it carefully, wondering what it could be.
She opened the box and inside she found a key. She lifted it out, mystified. “A key?”
“It’s the key to Holly Cottage.” Dorothy’s voice was husky. “It’s yours, sweetheart. I want you to have it. I know you live in London, and your life is in London, but I thought maybe that if you had somewhere that was yours here, you might come for weekends occasionally and visit us. Maybe you could work the occasional day from home if Rosalind would allow it. Or better still, come and work for us. We could use someone with your skills.”
Imogen was silent. She couldn’t speak.
“There’s no pressure,” Sara said quickly. “We know you’re really busy and once you get back to work you’ll be snowed under again and you probably won’t even have time to think about us. But there are probably times when you feel like getting out of London, so hopefully this will allow you to do that. And just to be clear—you don’t have to join the family business, just because you’re family.”
Join the family business.
“I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears because today was supposed to be happy and she didn’t want to confuse her little cousins. And she was happy, of course. Incredibly happy. “It’s such a generous gift.”
And the gift was so much more than bricks and mortar, and she had a feeling Dorothy knew that.
Her grandmother wasn’t just giving her a cottage, she was giving her security.
For the first time in her life, she had a safety net.
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t alone.
“I’m going to stay here as often as I can.” Imogen felt the weight of the key in her hand. “I’ve already decided to change things when I go back.”
She’d given it a lot of thought and she’d emailed Rosalind a few days before and been surprised when Rosalind had immediately called her. She was conscious that Rosalind would already have seen the letter she’d written, so there were no more secrets.
They’d had a frank conversation during which Imogen had admitted that Rosalind had been right—she had been near burnout. She knew she had to find a way of working that still allowed her to perform at her best, without veering into the unhealthy. She also wanted to find a way to spend more time with Miles. Rosalind had proposed a compromise. Imogen could work from home whenever it fitted with her schedule (it helped that they had a couple of clients based in the Cotswolds) and would try and delegate more, so that she didn’t have to be present at every event. Rosalind hadn’t mentioned the card Imogen had sent, or the embarrassing saga of Midas. Imogen had been feeling mortified, but now she had this funny and thoughtful gift from her colleagues and she felt so much better.
She’d go back in January and it would be a fresh start. A new way of working.
It was enough for now, and maybe, at some point in the future, she would consider taking a job with the family business.
She looked at Dorothy. “You’re not going to believe this, but I was going to ask you if I could book Holly Cottage for a few weeks next year.”
“This way you won’t have to book anything, and I’d much rather it was a home for you than a rental.”
A home.
She imagined herself drinking her morning coffee outside in the spring, with daffodils and tulips all around her and lambs in the fields beyond. She imagined taking summer walks across the fields to the village. Spending time in the bookshop, meeting Miles for lunch in the pub.
And when she needed to work, she could do it at the desk in the spare room, overlooking the glorious countryside and maybe take Ralph for a walk on her lunch break if Miles would let her.
“I don’t know what to say.” Overwhelmed, she stood up and hugged Dorothy. “Thank you. This means the world. I’ll be coming here so often you’ll probably live to regret your generosity.”
“Never.” Dorothy hugged Imogen tightly and then let her go and cleared her throat. “Now then, if that’s all the present opening finished, we should do some last-minute lunch prep and perhaps Iris and Ava could check the table.”
“One minute—” Miles interrupted her. “The present opening isn’t quite finished. I have something for Imogen.”
She’d expected a woolly hat, so she was surprised when he left the room. She heard the sound of the front door opening, the slam of a car door and then a familiar bark.
Ralph came thundering into the room and skidded to a halt in front of Imogen, an adoring expression on his face.
Ava frowned. “Why does Ralph have a big red ribbon around his neck?”
“Because I’d be accused of animal cruelty if I tried to wrap him in paper.” Miles dropped to a crouch beside the dog and looked at Imogen. “I know you can’t take him back to London, but I also know how much you love him. And he loves you right back.”
The way Miles was looking at her made her wonder for a moment if he was talking about more than the dog. But she wasn’t going to pursue that thought, not with her entire family watching in fascination. She could see Sara grinning and exchanging “I told you so” looks with Patrick and even Dorothy was observing them curiously.
Ralph was wagging his tail and he put his paw on her leg.
“Watch her silver dress!” Sara was horrified, but Imogen didn’t care about the dress.
“I do love him.” But what exactly was he suggesting?
“So here’s what I thought—” Miles took her hand. “We have joint custody. He lives with me during the week, and when you’re back here, either staying with me or in Holly Cottage, as that seems to be your new home, he’s yours. Ours.”
Ours.
She and Miles. Together.
She had no idea how they were going to make it work, but she knew that they would. They’d find a way. And although she knew it was far too early to be thinking long-term, eventually maybe they’d be living under one roof.
“That sounds perfect.”
“Good.” His gaze held hers. “There’s just one rule.”
“There is?”
“Yes. You promise not to let him sleep on the bed.”
She was so happy she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Even when he looks at me with sad eyes?”
“Especially then. It’s important that he knows who is boss.”
“Ralph is the boss.” Imogen hugged Ralph, and Miles grinned and dropped a small parcel into her lap.
“And because it might take a while to figure out the logistics, I bought you this.”
“It doesn’t feel like a woolly hat.” She opened it and saw a framed photo of her and Ralph taken in the snow a few days before. She was laughing up at the camera, her arms around the dog and her smile was so huge she barely recognized herself.
“It’s for your desk,” he said softly. “Because everyone should have a picture of their dog on their desk.”
She felt so much emotion she almost couldn’t speak. “I’m just disappointed it isn’t a woolly hat,” she said finally, and everyone laughed.
“Right, enough of this family togetherness. We really should get ready,” Sara said. “Mum has invited half the village for lunch. But first let’s have a family toast.”
Patrick came into the room with brimming glasses on a tray, and they all took one.
Sara raised her glass. “To Imogen. And family.” She smiled at her girls and at Patrick. “Merry Christmas.”
Imogen raised her glass too, mostly because Ralph’s wagging tail was in danger of knocking it out of her hand.
“Merry Christmas.”
She was starting to understand why this time of year was special to so many people.
Here, among her family, she felt cocooned by love and happiness. Getting to know them had been like putting together pieces of a jigsaw and building up a picture, but now she realized that she was a piece of that same jigsaw. The missing piece.
And she fitted perfectly.