Chapter 17
Alex made breakfast, the radio playing Christmas songs in the background.
He whistled along as if nothing had happened.
Zoe was at the table wrapping some last-minute gifts to take over to Daffodil Farm.
Billie and Louisa had yet to emerge from her room.
It was gone ten, and Zoe was sure they must be awake, but she’d decided not to knock to see if they wanted breakfast, just in case Louisa’s disturbed sleep routine had kept them in bed later than usual after all.
Outside the window, the skies were white cotton, heavy with fluttering snow that had yet to fall.
Last Christmas they’d had days and days of it.
This Christmas there had been none in the forecast, apart from the odd flurry, and the odds at the bookmakers for a white Christmas had been practically zero.
Looking at the window now, condensation gathering at the edges of the frames as the kitchen filled with the smell of bacon, Zoe wondered if they might just get a surprise.
It was only Christmas Eve, though, and perhaps it would all fall today and be gone by tomorrow.
Alex cracked two eggs into the frying pan. ‘How many do you want?’
Zoe looked up from her musings. ‘How many what?’
‘Eggs. How many eggs do you want?’
‘One is fine.’
Alex nodded and then cracked two more into the pan. When Zoe aimed a frown his way, he fired back a cheeky smile. ‘Come on – it’s Christmas Eve and you’re off work. You want a decent breakfast today – you don’t get much time normally.’
‘Tell that to my scales when I get on them in January.’
‘There’s an easy fix for that – don’t get on them. Anyway, I don’t know what you’re worrying about, you’re perfect whatever you weigh.’
Zoe laughed. ‘Right answer, well done. But you might change your mind when I look like a bowling ball and you have to roll me down to the village.’
He began to whistle as he turned the bacon over.
Zoe watched him with a feeling somewhere between relief and uncertainty.
She was glad to see he was in a better mood this morning and wondered if, at some point during the night, he’d come to some sort of acceptance about what lay ahead for them all if Billie decided to leave.
That would be good. What was more worrying – and possibly more likely – was that he might have come to the conclusion that Billie had forgotten all she’d said to them, or else considered it too much upheaval, too risky, and that she was far better off staying at Hilltop.
That would be wonderful for Alex, but Zoe didn’t think it was likely.
And she thought that, even if Billie had come to that conclusion for whatever reason, it wasn’t truly what she wanted and it wasn’t necessarily the best outcome.
As she watched, she realised that as often as he checked what he was doing, his gaze would flit to the kitchen door. Watching for Billie to come down? It seemed the logical answer, and so he had to have been more anxious than it appeared.
Alex and Zoe ate breakfast, the carols still playing on the radio and the snow still poised to fall, and they talked about their plans for the day, and for the next day, and how much they were looking forward to it.
Zoe couldn’t decide whether to enjoy the breather or to shake him so he’d focus on the things that really mattered, things that hadn’t yet been resolved.
In the end, she didn’t say anything because she was sure that the day would take them in that direction anyway.
And she was right – Billie got up, and the atmosphere in the kitchen changed like someone switching over the channel on the TV.
‘Morning,’ Alex said with admirable cheeriness.
Billie rubbed eyes shadowed by a lack of sleep, Louisa balanced on her arm.
‘Yeah, morning.’ Her gaze swept the kitchen. ‘Oh, you’ve had breakfast?’
‘Yes, but I can make you some.’
‘It’s all right. I can—’
‘Sit down.’ Alex went to relight the stove. ‘There’s plenty. Bacon…? Two eggs? What about Louisa? I can make her some porridge or maybe some scrambled egg…’
‘Porridge for Louisa. I’ll have whatever you’re making.’
‘Did you fall asleep last night when you went up to her?’ Zoe asked as Billie took a seat.
‘Yeah,’ Billie said.
Zoe wondered if that was a lie, but it was easier to let it slide.
‘She looks bright as a button this morning, so the lie-in must have done her good. Have you slept OK?’
‘Not too bad,’ Billie said, and the evidence in front of Zoe told her that was another lie. Again, easier to let it slide, and she’d only asked because the alternative was an awkward silence.
They all jumped at a knock on the outside door. Zoe frowned slightly as she got up to answer it and then stepped back with a smile at the sight of Victor on the step.
‘Come in! What brings you over? I’d have thought you’d be helping Corrine with her military-style Christmas preparations…’
‘Oh, I was,’ Victor said. ‘But we found this in our porch.’ He held up a box that filled his arms. ‘The driver mustn’t be local and probably thought there was only one farm around here.
It says Daffodil on our gate, and I don’t know how much bigger I can make the sign, but there you are.
’ He stepped into the kitchen and put the box on the table.
‘It’s for you, Billie, by the looks of things. ’
‘I’m surprised there are deliveries at all this morning,’ Zoe said, peering at the label.
‘Looks like a courier delivery,’ Victor said. ‘Must have cost someone to send it.’
Billie eyed the box but made no move to open it.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Alex called over. ‘Or a bacon sandwich – we’ve got plenty to spare.’
Victor seemed tempted for a moment but then shook his head. ‘Like you said, I’ve got things to be getting on with. I only drove over with this to save you a job.’
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ Alex said. ‘If you’d rung, we could have come to pick it up.’
‘I was on my way up to the field to see to the girls anyway.’
‘Well thanks then,’ Zoe said. ‘It’s good of you.
Actually, while you’re here…’ She dashed to collect the gifts she’d wrapped for the residents of Daffodil Farm that morning.
‘These are for you and Corrine. And before you say anything, they’re only little things, just to say thanks for being such good neighbours. ’
Victor took them with a smile. ‘Will you be at the service later?’
‘At the church?’
Victor nodded. ‘It was an eventful one, last year, as I recall. Perhaps you might need a year off this time.’
A grin spread across Zoe’s face. ‘It was,’ she said, recalling that last year they’d been at the carol service, little knowing that a few hours from then they’d be trapped in the church, cut off by a blizzard with her delivering a baby.
‘As long as we don’t get snowed in again, we might manage to come down and sing along for an hour or so.
If not, we’ll maybe go tomorrow morning instead. Will you and Corrine be going?’
‘I expect so. We go most years.’ He held up the presents. ‘Thanks for these. We’ll perhaps see you later then?’
‘See you,’ Alex called over as Zoe showed Victor out.
Once the door was shut, she turned back to the table and looked expectantly at Billie. ‘Well?’
Billie glanced up. ‘What?’
‘Are you going to open it?’
‘No because it’s probably a present and it’s not Christmas Day.’
‘But you always open one on Christmas Eve.’
‘One off Dad, yes.’
‘How do you know this isn’t from your dad?’
Billie showed Zoe the address label, and with a jolt she understood. The parcel had come from Spain. Luis’s parents. No wonder Billie didn’t want to draw attention to it with her dad there.
‘Could you move it for me?’ Billie asked Zoe. ‘Until I’ve had breakfast.’
‘Want me to put it in your room?’
Billie nodded gratefully, and Zoe did as she was asked.
Upstairs, Billie’s bed was still unmade, as was Louisa’s cot.
There was a half-finished cup of tea on the floor, stone cold, and Zoe wondered if Billie had been down during the night to make it.
Her wardrobe was open, some of her clothes spilled out, and some organised in piles on the floor, as if she’d been considering getting rid of some and was making her choices.
The room painted a picture of someone who wasn’t like Billie usually was.
The Billie Zoe knew was controlled and ordered.
There was something frantic about the picture here.
How long had she been like this? Zoe didn’t make a habit of going into her room – Billie cleaned up for herself, and there was no need, unless she was helping with Louisa.
But even last night as she’d put Louisa to bed for Billie, the room hadn’t been like this.
It had been relatively organised, aside from a little extra Christmas clutter, in the way she was used to.
Zoe put the box on the floor next to the bed and picked up the mug to take back to the kitchen.
She found Alex and Billie both at the table, talking as if there had been no earth-shattering admission the night before, while Louisa, in her high chair, gurgled and smeared porridge over her face as she tried to feed herself.
Zoe put the mug in the sink and went to take the spoon from Billie’s daughter, but Billie shook her head.
‘She’s got to do it herself.’
‘You’re right.’ Zoe sat down, feeling chastised. ‘Sorry, I was just trying to help because I thought you were busy.’
‘It’s all right. I know sometimes it’s easier to do it for her, but she likes to do it herself.’
‘So…’ Alex sipped at his second cup of tea that morning.
‘What’s the plan for today? I’ve got some things to prep for tomorrow’s lunch, but that shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.
Other than that, I’ve got nothing on. We could go for a walk…
even take a drive into one of the bigger towns. Maybe take Louisa to see Santa—’
‘Yeah,’ Billie said, ‘because she loved Santa the last time she met him.’