Chapter 14
‘I hope you didn’t let Saul Green into your knickers.’
‘ Excuse me? ’ Kazz looked up from the book she was examining to find Betty peering at her from the doorway.
Betty took a breath. ‘I said —’
‘I heard you the first time, Betty. I just couldn’t believe you said it.’ Thankfully, there weren’t any customers in the shop at that moment; Kazz would have been mortified if anyone had overheard.
‘Well? Did you?’
‘For your information, I didn’t. Not that it’s any of your business.’ Kazz was astounded.
‘Good. Make him work for it. He’ll appreciate it more.’ Betty bustled inside. ‘You’re wearing a Christmas jumper.’ Her tone was accusatory.
‘What if I am?’ Kazz’s was defensive.
‘Do you like Christmas?’
‘Love it.’
‘Good. I’ll put you down for helping with the Christmas festival. It’s not as posh as the Hay one, mind.’
Ah, that was why Betty had said what she’d just said. The word must have got out that Saul had taken her to Hay yesterday. Stevie had warned her that this kind of thing was commonplace in Tanglewood, but it was the first time it had been directed at her.
‘Just because Saul and I spent the day together, doesn’t mean we spent the night together,’ Kazz said primly. ‘And I can’t help with the Christmas festival, I’ve got a shop to run.’
‘It doesn’t have to be dark to have sex,’ Betty said. ‘And you certainly don’t have to spend all night doing it. But it’s fun when you do.’ She gave an exaggerated wink.
Kazz wished Betty hadn’t. She didn’t want to think about Betty doing anything like that, thanks very much. She sent the old lady a stern look.
Betty ignored it. ‘Of course you can help with the Christmas festival. I expect you to attend the next meeting. I’m hoping for a good turnout. No need to be shy, you’ve met some of them – they helped shift your stuff to the flat. It’s on Wednesday, seven o’clock sharp , in the Hen and Duck. It’s not a bad little pub now that the daft landlord has given up trying to ban us ladies from the bar. What century was he living in?’
Kazz stared at her, wondering what she was talking about, and hoping the customer who had just come in wasn’t put off by her rambling.
‘I had to threaten to take Mads to the European Court of Human Rights,’ Betty continued. ‘I didn’t chain myself to the railings so some fella could make me sit in the Ladies’ Lounge all evening. That’s a hate crime, that is.’
‘Er…’
‘I think you’ll find it was the Suffragettes who chained themselves to railings,’ the customer said. ‘And it was for women’s right to vote, not for gender bias.’ The man was clad in a tatty wax jacket in a dull olive-green colour, brown trousers, green wellies and a tweed flat cap. His voice was pure cut glass, a startling contrast to his somewhat scruffy appearance.
Betty gave him a narrow-eyed glare. ‘It’s still about gender equality, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
He nodded at her and she nodded back, then without another word, Betty marched out of the shop and was striding along the pavement, the strange purple cape she sometimes wore flapping around her skinny ankles.
Kazz put Betty to the back of her mind and concentrated on her customer, who had now headed for the nearest bookcase and was perusing the shelves, his head tilted sideways to read the titles.
She let him be, knowing the importance of giving people time to browse, and she returned to her book. It was a seventy-year-old missive on farming – sheep farming in particular – and Kazz was finding it fascinating. Though why her grandad had it in his collection, when his bookshop had been on Charing Cross Road with not a sheep in sight, was beyond her. But then, his books did cover a wide range of subjects and she had even found one on boomerang making recently, although she suspected it might be a while before it sold – if it ever did.
After some time, during which the customer had been joined by a few others, two of whom had bought something and three who hadn’t, the man approached the counter.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ he began, ‘but what are you basing your prices on?’
Kazz paused, wondering where the question was leading and hoping he wasn’t about to berate her for being too expensive. She didn’t have a method as such; she went on gut instinct. Most of her stock wasn’t worth a great deal individually, although she did have a few unusual editions, and those she had researched online and had priced accordingly.
‘Um, market value,’ she replied hesitantly. Not that it was any of his business. She had felt like telling him that, but he was a customer and she didn’t want to be rude. After all, he might buy something.
‘I’m not sure you are,’ he said. ‘You’ve got an F. Scott Fitzgerald over there and it’s rather underpriced.’
‘Is it?’ Kazz glanced at the shelf it sat on. She thought she’d put a fair price on the book; neither too high that it would put people off, nor too low that she was giving it away.
‘It should be double that,’ the man announced.
Kazz was sceptical. She would take a look at it this evening to see if she could find out more on the internet.
The man chuckled. ‘You’re wondering who I am and thinking it’s none of my business, aren’t you?’
‘Well…’
‘I’m Edgar Ferris, Lord Tonbridge, and although I’m not an expert on old books, I do have a modicum of knowledge.’
This was Lord Tonbridge ? Kazz hadn’t expected him to look so ordinary. Or scruffy. He didn’t look as though he had two pennies to rub together, as her grandad used to say.
She found her manners, and thrusting out her hand said, ‘I’m very pleased to meet you. Thank you so much for putting these shelves up.’
He followed the direction of her gaze, nodded, and then brought his attention back to her. ‘I didn’t put them up myself, you know.’ His eyes crinkled as he poked gentle fun at her.
‘If it wasn’t for your generosity they wouldn’t be there,’ she pointed out with a grateful smile.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Someone else would probably have put them up for you,’ he said vaguely. ‘Now, back to your books. I really do think you should revise your asking prices. You’ve got some nice editions here, and it would be a shame for them not to achieve their full potential.’
‘You wouldn’t like to buy any of them, would you?’ she joked.
‘Goodness gracious, no. The library at the Manor is bursting at the seams as it is, and we don’t have room for a modern section.’
‘By modern you mean…?’
‘Post First World War.’
‘Ah, I see. Of course.’
‘I thought I would stop by, as I was in the village. You don’t mind me giving you advice, do you?’
‘No, it’s very kind of you.’
He spun in a slow circle, his eyes scanning the shop. ‘Keep up the good work.’
After he’d left, Kazz picked her jaw up off the floor and leant against the counter, bemused. Tanglewood might be a quiet little place, but it sure had its fair share of interesting characters. And one of them, in particular, popped into her head: Saul.
She’d had a lovely time yesterday and she hoped it wouldn’t be a one-off because, despite her vow not to let her guard down with Tanglewood’s answer to the bachelor of the decade, she really would like to see him again.
Saul paced around the workshop (a grand name for what had once been part of a stable block), examining the nativity figures from every angle, pleased that they looked considerably better now than they had after his mother had railroaded him into picking them up from the overcrowded crypt, which was thankfully only used for storage these days, and not for housing the deceased. It had taken him roughly a month to undo years of wear and tear.
First, he had made any necessary repairs, then he had removed the flaking paint and given everything a fresh coat. He had left most of the faces to Leanne to paint, though, not trusting himself to do a good job. Seeing the serene face of Mary brought Kazz’s cute face to the forefront of his mind, and he had an insane urge to paint a red blob on the figurine’s nose.
He didn’t, though, not wanting to face the wrath of Betty and the rest of the festival committee. He would probably get a telling-off from his mother as well, so he shelved his impishness, put his sensible hat on and called for Murray to give him a hand to load everything onto the trailer. It was only the stable structure that he needed help with, because it was large and unwieldy.
Saul looked at the figure of a baby lying rather uncomfortably in the bottom of the manger. The beaming smile on its face was slightly manic, and he feared he’d overdone it with the red paint on its rosebud mouth. He should have left that one to Leanne as well. He’d soon know – Betty had never been backwards in coming forwards when expressing her opinion, and neither was Julia Ferris, for that matter. No doubt she’d be at the meeting this evening, despite having a face like a bulldog sucking a lemon every time she deigned to venture into the pub (his mum’s words, not his).
He would find out if his mum’s description was right this evening, because although he wasn’t on the Christmas festival committee, Iris was, and it seemed silly for them to drive into the village in separate vehicles. He’d have a quick drink while she was in her meeting, and then he’d bring her back home.
It occurred to him that he could pop in and see Kazz at the flat above the tea shop, but he couldn’t think of an excuse. He had yet to come up with something ‘fun’ to do, and he’d been wracking his brains since Sunday. She had appeared to enjoy herself in Hay, and he wasn’t sure how he could top that.
Kazz was right in her assessment that Tanglewood left a lot to be desired when it came to the kind of fun she was used to.
While he was propping up the bar (he had no intention of sitting with the committee members, in case they roped him into doing something), he would check the internet to see what – if anything – was on in Abergavenny. He was hoping one of the bars would have a decent band playing. If not, he could always see how she felt about revisiting her childhood and going to see a pantomime. She might enjoy that.
Oh no, she won’t , he chorused in his head with a certain amount of sarcasm, guessing it wouldn’t be her cup of tea at all.
Maybe he should approach this from a different angle and try to imagine what he would do if she was his date, and not just a…
A what? Saul didn’t know how to answer that. She clearly wasn’t a date, because he had sworn off women, so should he call her a friend?
Hardly, he snorted, not with the attraction he felt for her.
His thoughts were interrupted by Murray and Mum entering the workshop, and Iris beamed when she saw the figures.
‘Saul, they’re wonderful! You’ve done a fantastic job. They look like new. Look at little baby Jesus, aww.’
He pulled a face, embarrassed. He had done his best, and hoped it was good enough. Betty would soon tell him if it wasn’t, he thought as he got behind the wheel once everything had been loaded. He waved to Murray, who sketched him a salute as he strode off towards his cottage and the wife who would be waiting for him.
Envy engulfed him, unexpected and unwanted, and Saul froze. It was a long time since he’d allowed himself to feel that particular emotion. After Joelle had broken his heart, he had envied the happiness of his siblings, and had built a wall of meaningless dates and a reputation as a player around himself, so no one would suspect.
‘Are we going to sit here all evening while you contemplate your navel?’ his mum asked, and he gave himself a mental shake.
Thinking about Joelle was never a pleasant experience, which was the reason he avoided doing it if he could. But now and again memories would hijack him, and he’d be filled with thoughts of what might have been.
‘Sorry, I was in a world of my own for a minute,’ he said, fastening his seatbelt and starting the engine.
‘Anything to do with the owner of a certain bookshop?’ Iris asked. ‘How did you enjoy your trip to Hay? I heard Kazz had a good time.’
‘She did?’ He beamed at the news, unsurprised that his mother knew.
‘Betty said that Kazz was smiling fit to burst on Monday.’
Saul deflated a little. Kazz could have been smiling for any number of reasons, and none of them because of him or their day out.
When they arrived in the centre of the village, Saul pulled over near the spot where the nativity scene was to be placed and reversed the trailer into position.
‘Shall I round up some help?’ Iris asked.
‘I’ll be fine. It’ll be easier getting the stable out than it was getting it in.’
The stable was a three-sided construction that served as a backdrop to Mary, Joseph and the others. It had been the last thing to be lifted onto the trailer, so would be the first thing to come out of it.
Saul jumped onto the road, took his coat off and dropped the trailer’s ramp.
His mother had hightailed it into the pub, and he guessed she was already ordering her first drink. She normally drove herself to these meetings and drank orange juice as a result, so this evening was a treat, as she would be able to enjoy a tipple.
Before he tackled the wooden stable, Saul glanced down the street, his gaze drawn to the windows above Stevie’s tea shop.
They were in darkness, and he pressed his lips together as he wondered whether Kazz had gone out, and if so, where and who with. It was none of his business, of course, but that didn’t prevent him from thinking about it.
He had just finished easing the wooden structure down the ramp and was wishing he’d taken his mum up on her offer to find someone to help (it was getting heavier by the second), when a babble of voices caught his attention.
A crowd of people spilled out of the pub and was heading his way, with Betty in the lead and Lady Tonbridge hot on her heels.
Oh, boy. This was the kind of help he could do without.
He was right to be apprehensive.
Betty and Julia Ferris were practically elbowing each other out of the way in their haste to be the first to reach the area outside the library where the nativity scene would be situated.
Betty staked her claim. ‘Put it here, Saul. Where I’m standing.’
‘I think a little more to the left would be better.’ That was from Lady Tonbridge.
‘You would. There’s not enough room. You’ve never had to wrestle a pram up that ramp.’
‘Neither have you,’ Julia Ferris retorted.
Betty had never married or had children, much to the old lady’s regret, and Saul thought Mrs Ferris’s comment was below the belt.
‘But there’s plenty here who have,’ Betty countered.
Saul felt like cheering. He didn’t dislike Lady Tonbridge (how could he, when he barely knew her?) but she did have a tendency to ride roughshod over people.
‘Saul, put it here,’ Betty repeated.
‘I would if I could shift the damned thing,’ he grumbled. He had managed to get it down the metal ramp, but now the edge of it was wedged between that and the tarmac, and he didn’t want to shove it too hard in case he damaged it.
Betty rolled her eyes. ‘Move out of the way, I’ll shift it.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Julia trilled. ‘If a grown man can’t move it, a little old lady like you certainly can’t.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Betty rolled her sleeves up and prepared to do battle. ‘And watch who you’re calling a little old lady. I could beat you at arm wrestling any day of the week!’
Julia’s eyes widened and she took a step back.
Stevie hurried over to Betty. ‘She’s only joking,’ she said, taking the elderly woman by the elbow. ‘We’ll all muck in, won’t we, girls?’
Saul saw his mother and Agnes step forward, followed by several others. And amongst them was Kazz.
He caught her eye and inhaled sharply. Darn it, she was still as gorgeous as she had been on Sunday. Possibly even more so.
She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, and as she moved into position at the rear of the wooden stable, she muttered, ‘Shall we show them how it’s done?’
Saul grinned. ‘If we can shift that sideboard on our own, this should be a doddle.’
Waving away any further offers of help, with Saul taking most of the weight and Kazz doing the guiding, the two of them gingerly shuffled the stable into position.
When they stepped back, they were greeted by a round of applause.
‘See,’ Saul murmured in her ear, ‘I told you Tanglewood could be fun.’
Her lips quirked and his eyes were drawn to them. He tore his gaze away as she said, ‘I think we deserve a drink after that.’
‘Not so fast, my girl,’ Betty said. ‘There’s Mary and Joseph to see to.’
With a wry smile, Saul began to unload the figurines, and this time most of the committee helped – even Lady Tonbridge, who picked up baby Jesus by his arm and placed him in the bare manger.
Mrs George, who had been leaning on her walking stick and issuing instructions which everyone ignored, promptly snatched the baby back out again. ‘He needs straw and a blanket,’ the old lady said, glowering.
Saul dumped a bale of straw on the ground in front of the donkey and the two lambs, and broke it open, scattering it around the base of the figures, and handing some to Mrs George.
She carefully arranged it in the manger, and after a blanket had been produced and draped over the top, she placed baby Jesus in his crib.
‘Can we have that drink now?’ someone said. ‘I’m parched.’
No one halted the stampede to the pub this time, and soon Saul was cradling a glass of lemonade and gazing at Kazz’s whisky with avaricious eyes.
‘I wouldn’t have put you down as a whisky-lover,’ he said, as she lifted the glass to her nose and sniffed appreciatively.
‘It’s the best drink on the planet,’ she said, taking a sip and rolling the liquid around her mouth.
Saul was transfixed. He had never realised drinking whisky could look so sexy.
A lightbulb went on in his head and his mouth dropped open. ‘How would you like to visit a distillery?’
And when her eyes lit up, his heart did too.