Christmas for Beginners: Fall in love with the ultimate festive read from the Sunday Times bestseller
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Hello everyone
Merry Christmas! Thank you for spending time with me on this festive trip to Hope Farm. In these strange times, it’s nice to know that people are turning to heart-warming and uplifting stories to cheer them up and I hope you’ll find that here. There’s more from Molly, Lucas and those naughty alpacas.
While my novel is entirely fiction, Hope Farm is based on a very real place called Animal Antiks which, like Hope Farm, helps children and young adults with learning difficulties, mental health issues and autism. They do great work and are very gracious in continuing to help me with my research.
I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and can spend time with your friends and family.
Carole : ) xx
If you want to keep up with what’s happening – new books, the occasional Live chat and some fab giveaways – I spend far too much time on social media, especially Facebook and Twitter, so you can always find me there. I have a newsletter which you can sign up to at www.carolematthews.com. I don’t share your information and you can unsubscribe at any time. I’m also on Instagram when I remember.
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Also by Carole Matthews
Let’s Meet on Platform 8
A Whiff of Scandal
More to Life Than This
For Better, For Worse
A Minor Indiscretion
A Compromising Position
The Sweetest Taboo
With or Without You
You Drive Me Crazy
Welcome to the Real World
It’s a Kind of Magic
All You Need is Love
The Difference a Day Makes
That Loving Feeling
It’s Now or Never
The Only Way is Up
Wrapped Up in You
Summer Daydreams
With Love at Christmas
A Cottage by the Sea
Calling Mrs Christmas
A Place to Call Home
The Christmas Party
The Cake Shop in the Garden
Paper Hearts and Summer Kisses
Million Love Songs
Christmas Cakes and Mistletoe Nights
Happiness for Beginners
Sunny Days and Sea Breezes
THE CHOCOLATE LOVERS NOVELS
The Chocolate Lovers’ Club
The Chocolate Lovers’ Diet
The Chocolate Lovers’ Christmas
The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding
SPHERE
First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Sphere
Copyright © Carole Matthews 2020
Poem lyrics © Paul Eccentric 2019, 2020
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-0-7515-8012-9
Sphere
An imprint of
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
www.hachette.co.uk
www.littlebrown.co.uk
Carole Matthews is the Sunday Times bestselling author of over thirty novels, including the top ten bestsellers The Cake Shop in the Garden, A Cottage by the Sea, Paper Hearts and Summer Kisses, The Chocolate Lovers’ Christmas, Million Love Songs, Christmas Cakes & Mistletoe Nights and Happiness for Beginners. Carole was awarded the RNA Outstanding Achievement Award. Her novels dazzle and delight readers all over the world and she is published in more than thirty countries.
For all the latest news from Carole, visit www.carolematthews.com and sign up to her newsletter. You can also follow Carole on Twitter (@carolematthews) and Instagram (matthews.carole) or join the thousands of readers who have become Carole’s friend on Facebook (carolematthewsbooks).
To have been writing a happy, festive book during lockdown and the strangest of times has been something of a challenge! Thank you to everyone who has helped me through it.
Yvette and Michelle, friends beyond compare – for all that you do and for all that you are.
Sharon and Owen for bonkers laughs, as always.
Our neighbours, Lyn and Martin, for regular takeaway roasty dinners in return for gin.
My dearest Sheila for embracing Zoom and doing yoga classes online – they have been a saviour.
To Jean, Lizzie, Hazel and my Tiara Ladies for welcome and much-needed chit-chats.
To my loyal and lovely readers who cheered me up on social media and joined me for a coffee every morning.
To my mum for coping so well and, at eighty-six, taking all this in her stride.
To Sophie Ellis-Bexter and family for the joyous madness of her weekly Kitchen Discos.
And to Lovely Kev for keeping me sane with our daily long walks, general silliness and for being the best person to be trapped in a house with.
Hopefully, better times are just around the corner.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapt
er Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Six
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
One of the alpacas has eaten the Baby Jesus. I’m not sure which one. Frankly, they all look the picture of innocence, but I know them better.
‘I’m going to be watching your poo very closely over the next few days,’ I warn them. The thought troubles our troupe not one jot. Johnny Rotten, Tina Turner and Rod Stewart all stare me down. Rod gives a delicate little burp. Perhaps he was the perpetrator. He looks like the sort who wouldn’t think twice about scoffing down the Messiah. I will find out.
But, more pressing, what will I now use for the new-born reputed saviour of mankind, destined to be the centrepiece of my nativity tableau? Stupidly, I paid the vast sum of sixty-five pounds on eBay for a lifelike doll which clearly looked tastier than I could ever have imagined. Now all that’s left of him is a few chewed remnants of plastic that provide evidence of his untimely demise.
‘Did you see the culprit, Little Dog?’ I ask. But my faithful one-eyed terrier mash-up simply bares his teeth in his usual rictus grin and doesn’t dish any dirt on the alpacas. He knows, though, and he knows that I know he knows.
While I’m still musing on it, Lucas crosses the yard and comes to stand next to me in the barn. He’s sixteen now and, though he’s not my son, he might as well be, as I harbour all of the same maternal feelings for him.
‘You OK?’ he asks.
I nod towards our troublesome trio. ‘These guys will be the death of me.’ They all give us doe eyes and flutter their long lashes, feigning innocence. I snort at them. ‘Don’t give me that.’
‘Butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths,’ Lucas observes.
But we both know better.
I acquired these guys when their owners moved abroad. They’re pack animals and came as a job lot. How could I turn them down? I’d never owned alpacas before. I thought they’d be sweet, fun. I was wrong.
Tina is definitely our diva and rules the boys with a rod of iron. She’s chocolate-brown with an impressive pom-pom of hair which she likes to toss about. Rod is white with skinny legs and knobbly knees. He’s usually to be found humming and gazing into space and is our most contented alpaca. But that’s not saying a lot. Johnny Rotten is definitely channelling the punk rocker he’s named after. He has a tan coat with hair like a Mohican in a shade that’s almost orange. Despite being pampered like the rest of them, Johnny will bite you as soon as look at you. Actually, I wouldn’t mind betting that he’s the one who chowed down Jesus. Hmm.
Before we go any further, I should also tell you how Lucas came to be under my loving care. Here at Hope Farm, as well as taking in tricky animals, we look after disadvantaged kids too. We’re not your usual farm. Far from it. We don’t have crops or animals that we (whisper) eat. Instead, we offer alternative education for students who can’t cope or are currently excluded from mainstream schools. I set this place up as a charity a few years ago now and we take in kids – mostly teenagers – who have behavioural difficulties, mental health issues or are on the autistic spectrum. That’s how Lucas arrived here too.
Originally, Lucas was brought to the farm by his father, Shelby Dacre, who was at the end of his tether with his wayward son who had been expelled from his private school for antisocial behaviour. Their relationship had been strained since Shelby had recently lost his wife to cancer. Lucas, understandably, was floundering without his mum and getting any form of communication out of him at all was an uphill struggle. In Lucas’s eyes his father hadn’t mourned his mother sufficiently. Shelby had dealt with his grief by dating much younger actresses and submerging himself in his work. Lucas, at a terrible time, had been largely left to his own devices and had grown angrier which manifested in challenging behaviour. Instead of pulling together, father and son had grown increasingly apart – to the point where Shelby no longer felt able to deal with his disruptive son. That’s where I came in.
When he arrived here, I hadn’t expected to bond so easily with Lucas. He’s difficult, testing, terse, uncommunicative, moody – all of the usual teenage behaviour – but we connected straightaway. He talked to me when he couldn’t speak to anyone else. We have kids with all kinds of problems here, but I could instantly see that beneath the angry façade, there was a lost and lonely boy just wanting to be loved. And love him I do.
Equally surprising is the fact that I love his father too. It’s fair to say that love found me later in life. At thirty-several, having lived the life of a loner, this was a new experience for me. The fact that I’m a borderline recluse meant I had no idea who Shelby Dacre was when he first rocked up here. But, yes he’s the Shelby Dacre, star of Flinton’s Farm soap opera and national treasure. In my defence, I don’t even own a telly, so have never watched a soap opera in my life.
Falling in love wasn’t easy for me, as we’re totally different people. But Shelby is such a confident, outgoing character that he’s brought me out of my shell and I think I offer him something more real than the world that he generally inhabits. They say that opposites attract and it’s certainly the case in our situation. Our lives couldn’t be more different. For Shelby, it’s filming, glamorous parties and adoration. For me it’s recalcitrant kids, awkward animals and a day that always features manure.
We’ve only been together for a short while, but he has changed my world in so many ways. The best part is that Lucas has transformed from the sullen, uncommunicative teenager he was. Over the last few months, our bond has grown and we’ve become ever closer. It would kill him to admit it, but he’s blossoming here and I feel that he’s teaching me as much as I’m teaching him.
Chapter Two
I should also explain that we’re fairly new to these premises – Hope Farm mark two – as we lost the original farm when the dreaded railway line, HS2, was set to come trundling right through our home and school. It was Shelby who came to the rescue and for that I’ll be for ever grateful to him. He saved me, my animals and the kids who rely on me. He plays a romantic hero in his soap opera and to me he’s one in real life too.
When we moved to the new farm, my old dilapidated caravan didn’t survive the journey and collapsed into an uninhabitable heap. Shelby insisted on buying me one with all mod cons. You’d love it. It’s very shiny. As it turns out, Lucas loved it too. He’d been living mostly alone in a cottage in the grounds of Shelby’s manor house, just a short journey from here. After his day at the farm, he’d linger longer, sometimes staying for supper until Shelby or his driver could collect him. I’ve never crossed that professional boundary before with any of the kids, but Lucas and I got on so well.
When it was clear that Shelby and I were going to be together, I asked if Lucas could stay over occasionally if he wanted to as I now had the luxury of a spare bedroom. It was a weight off Shelby’s mind that his son wasn’t going home to an empty house when he was working late or away for a few days at some showbiz e
vent. After one night of staying here, Lucas never went back home. Following some relentless cajoling from me he’s now an apprentice here, studying Animal Management, and is acing it with minimal effort. He’s proved to be both a natural at it and a huge help to me on the farm. I hope that Lucas may have found his niche. He’s a bright boy and the only person who sabotages him is himself.
Lucas, however, still blames everything on Shelby and isn’t convinced by his father’s altruistic behaviour. At best, they have a tetchy relationship. At worst, they go at it all guns blazing while I play the referee. It’s something of a work-in-progress. In all other areas, Lucas is an angel – albeit with slightly wonky wings. He’s become a valuable member of the team here and the other kids really look up to him.
Yet, despite the turnaround in his behaviour, Lucas likes to look the rebel and is still firmly attached to his signature Goth clothing. Today he’s sporting a Sex Pistols T-shirt, ripped bondage trousers and, the only nod to the farming life, green wellies. Even though he’s generally outside in all elements, his face is still as white as the driven snow. His black eyeliner and red lippy only serve to make him look paler. He’s carrying a bucket and a spade that’s nearly as big as him – though with all the physical work he does here, his skinny, gangly frame has started to fill out a little. He puts down his tools and climbs onto the first rung of the metal gate, the only thing that’s keeping our alpaca crew from running amok – something they love to do with every given chance. They all come up to nuzzle his hand in turn.
‘What have you been doing now?’ he says to them. ‘You’re making Molly frown and you’ll give her wrinkles. More wrinkles.’
As if I care. I’m a stranger to anti-ageing creams. In fact my bathroom is shockingly short on the usual unguents. The outdoor life is my beauty regime. I like to think of myself as fresh-faced and natural when I’m more likely wind-blasted and sun-baked. Though I think since this bolshie bunch of alpacas arrived they’ve been ageing me in dog years.
I fill Lucas in. ‘You saw our beautiful Baby Jesus? I only put him down for a minute and one of them had him for breakfast.’
‘That was short-lived. Naughty alpacas,’ Lucas says with a wag of his finger at them. ‘There’ll be a special place reserved for you in alpaca hell.’