The Christmas Holiday: The perfect heart-warming read full of festive magic

by Sophie Claire

  ‘Am I glad to see you, buddy!’ Jake exclaimed, clasping his excited dog.

  Evie got out and smiled as the pair were reunited.

  ‘I gave him some treats,’ she said, ‘but I think he’s still hungry.’

  ‘He must be starving. Come on, Smoke. Let’s get you some food.’

  Evie followed them inside, stepping over a rumpled duvet in the hall. Clearly Jake hadn’t gone to bed last night.

  In the kitchen, Smoke wolfed down his food and Jake crouched beside him. ‘Where was he, then?’ he asked.

  ‘Outside my shop. Asleep. I don’t know how long he’d been there.’

  Jake rubbed the dog’s back. ‘I’ll take him to the vet later and get him checked out.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine once he’s warmed up.’

  ‘I’m taking no chances. God knows what he’s been through … Christ, I feel so bad!’

  He straightened up. His skin was grey and pale from lack of sleep and Evie was reminded of the first night she’d met him. Only there was no smell of alcohol in the air this time. ‘Jake, it’s not your fault.’

  His mouth was a tight flat line as he watched the dog. ‘During the last two years there have been days when the only things that kept me going were work and Smoke. Work kept my mind busy, but Smoke …’ He rubbed a hand over his unshaven face. ‘He was just there.’

  Evie watched as he bent to pat the dog.

  ‘Weren’t you? Yes. Good boy.’ The dog nuzzled his hand, then went over to his basket and lay down. He looked up at them both as Jake went on, ‘I think he understood what I was feeling – what I needed – better than anyone. My sisters would be on the phone and calling round, chattering away about inane stuff that was supposed to distract me, or asking intrusive questions that reopened everything – but Smoke, he just stayed close.’

  Emotion roughened his voice and Evie swallowed. The look in his eyes as he gazed at his dog was one of pure love.

  ‘When I was angry or falling apart, he was simply there. And when it became too much and I wanted to close my eyes …’ he paused ‘… he would nudge me and whine. He had a sixth sense, I swear. So many times he persuaded me to take him out, and when I came back from our walks my head was clearer. I was in a better place. All down to Smoke.’

  Evie blinked hard. ‘Well, he’s safe now,’ she said.

  Jake frowned. ‘Maybe I should keep him on a lead in future.’

  ‘Oh, Jake, I know he means the world to you but, really, that isn’t necessary. The fireworks were a one-off, and I’m sure that when the kids who did it hear what happened they’ll think twice about doing it again.’

  ‘I suppose. And he’s still getting used to this place. We’ve only been here a couple of weeks. It must still feel like unfamiliar territory for him.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Evie. I’m very grateful for your help. Everybody’s help.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. That’s what it’s like round here. Everyone pulls together to help each other. It was fun, actually, seeing everyone with torches.’

  ‘I can’t believe how many people came out. I’d like to repay them. What can I do?’

  ‘You don’t need to repay them. Smoke is safe, and that’s all that matters.’

  They gazed at the dog curled up in his bed. Jake crossed the room and crouched to stroke him. ‘He’s exhausted,’ he murmured. ‘Go to sleep, boy. You’re home and safe now.’

  The dog’s tail thumped on the floor and his eyes closed.

  ‘I feel indebted.’ Jake straightened up. ‘People got out of bed to come and search for him. It was … incredible. Most of them don’t even know me.’

  She considered this. ‘Well, if you really want to make a gesture of goodwill, there is something you could do …’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘You won’t like it, though.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The Christmas ball. Here, at the Old Hall.’

  ‘But Christmas is only ten days away!’

  Her stomach lurched. Time was passing so fast. She wondered if her parents had reconsidered the invitation from Tim’s parents. Goose-bumps prickled her arms. She hoped they’d see reason and decline.

  ‘It is. But you have the venue already. How hard can it be to organise some music and a bit of food? You could even ask people to bring a dish, and I’m sure someone in the village would volunteer to do the music.’

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way.’ She smiled.

  ‘Ever the optimist,’ he said, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.

  For some reason she couldn’t fathom, his teasing words made her feel as if she was freewheeling downhill, and her heart beat double time. She flashed him a smile. ‘You did ask what you could do to repay everyone …’

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ said Natasha. ‘He’s going to host the ball?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’ Evie was restocking her basket of felt tree decorations. They were selling like hot cakes, and so were the vouchers for her shop, which she’d tactically positioned next to them on the counter. Her till had never been busier, which was wonderful, but she needed to find a way to keep sales steady after Christmas, too.

  ‘How did you persuade him?’

  ‘I hardly needed to. He was so emotional when we found Smoke.’ Natasha raised an eyebrow and Evie laughed. ‘I know – Jake Hartwood and emotion don’t often go together.’

  Natasha rested an arm on the counter and looked out of the window. Today her nails were painted with Christmas puddings. ‘Well, it’s a wonderful thing. It doesn’t leave us much time to get an outfit, though, does it?’

  ‘I know.’ Evie chewed her lip. ‘I don’t have a dress that’s smart enough.’ Neither did she have the money to buy one. Paying off her loan was her priority.

  ‘I might have one you could borrow.’

  Evie looked at her friend’s petite figure and tiny waist. She’d look ridiculous in one of Natasha’s dainty tea dresses – if she didn’t burst the seams first. ‘That’s a really kind offer, but I don’t think your dresses would fit me.’

  ‘Are you going to buy one, then?’

  Evie shook her head. ‘Who needs to buy a dress, when there’s all this fabric to make my own?’ She grinned, gesturing to the shelves around them. ‘I’d better start now.’

  Natasha was at the door when she stopped and looked back. ‘By the way, are you still okay for dinner at our place next week? It’ll be good to see you before we leave for France. Suzie can’t make it because she’s going home tomorrow for the holidays.’

  ‘Of course. I’m really looking forward to it.’ She was looking forward to dinner with her friends a lot more than she was Christmas with her parents. She just prayed they didn’t accept the invitation from Tim’s parents.

  ‘Are you going to the ball, Dorothy?’ Evie was putting the finishing touches to a quilt, hand-stitching the binding, and keeping her neighbour company for the evening. Dorothy hadn’t dared leave her cottage since the first snowfall.

  ‘What’s that, dear?’

  Evie repeated the question.

  ‘Of course. George said he’d drive me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ Dorothy’s knitting needles clicked away, a rapid drumbeat. ‘It’s always a grand affair at the Old Hall, you know.’

  ‘I’m not sure it will be this year, with so little time to prepare.’

  Dorothy reached for her glass of sherry and drained it. ‘Will you top me up, please, dear?’

  Evie obliged. Dorothy always offered her a glass too, but she preferred to stick with hot chocolate.

  ‘I met my husband, Charlie, at that ball,’ said the old lady, with a glint in her eye. She finished a row and switched her needles round.

  Evie adjusted the quilt on her lap, smoothing it out. ‘You met for the first time?’

  ‘Not the first time, exactly. We knew each other by name, but we’d never spoken pr
operly. The ball gave us the opportunity to get to know each other better.’ She winked.

  ‘Dorothy!’

  The clicking of needles resumed, faster than ever. ‘Oh, there’s been many romances have resulted from the Christmas ball, you know. Too many to count.’

  ‘Have there? Do you think there’ll be any this year?’

  ‘Of course. There’s the new owner, for a start.’

  ‘Jake?’

  Dorothy nodded. ‘It would be nice to see him paired off. Such a big house for a man on his own …’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ Evie said quietly, thinking of his vulnerability when he’d lost Smoke, his undisguised joy and relief when he was reunited with his beloved dog. Just to think of it made her heart turn over.

  ‘What, dear? I didn’t catch that.’

  ‘I said, Jake’s not interested in romance.’

  Dorothy tutted. ‘Even the most buttoned-up characters can get carried away by a bit of music and tinsel and Christmas magic.’

  Evie shook her head. ‘He hasn’t got over losing his wife yet.’

  ‘Well, maybe he needs a little push in the right direction. He’s still young. And very dashing, don’t you think?’

  She blushed. ‘Well … Ow!’ She winced and a tiny drop of blood welled from her finger. She sucked it, and pushed the quilt to one side, afraid of staining it.

  ‘He can’t mourn her for ever. A bit of romance in his life might be just what the doctor ordered. If I was forty years younger …’

  Evie giggled.

  Dorothy put her knitting down. ‘Tell you what, I do hope he’ll get in a good supply of sherry.’

  Evie stepped out of the taxi and paused, wide-eyed, to admire the sight in front of her. Christmas trees speckled with white lights lined the drive, and the Old Hall was illuminated with golden up-lighting. It looked stunning. Tasteful and majestic.

  She smoothed the long, straight skirt of her dress, feeling a shiver of panic. Until this afternoon, she’d loved how the silver and blue satin caught the light and shimmered like a mermaid’s tail – but now she felt self-conscious. She bit her lip, knowing Tim would have disapproved of the eye-catching fabric and the way it hugged her figure. He would have told her to change into something looser that would hide her hips and not draw so much attention to her chest.

  She spotted Natasha at the front door and waved. Well, it was too late to worry about her outfit now. Taking a deep breath, she drew her shoulders back and went in.

  The entrance hall was strung with baubles and beads, and a band had set up beside the grand staircase. The musicians, dressed in denim and leather, and sporting grey ponytails, were playing well-known sixties hits that everyone could sing along to. But while his guests were either dancing or milling around, drinks in hand, Jake stood at the top of the stairs, a lonely figure surveying the party from behind the wooden banister.

  Evie circulated, chatting with Luc, Natasha and little Lottie. Then, seeing Jake was still alone up there, she decided to join him. ‘I’ve brought you an orange juice,’ she told him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, and took the glass she offered.

  She sipped her own drink. ‘Like your bow-tie,’ she said, nodding at the blue silk spotted with red dots. She’d never seen him wear anything but black, grey or navy. ‘The colour suits you.’

  Perhaps it was the lighting or the effect of being surrounded by glittery Christmas decorations, but tonight his cheeks had more colour, his eyes more life in them. She tapped her foot in time with the music, which was so loud she had to shout. ‘How’s Smoke? I hope he’s wearing a bow-tie too.’

  Jake shot her an amused glance. ‘He’s in the kitchen where it’s quiet and there are plenty of treats. I gave the caterers instructions to tell me if he gets in their way.’

  ‘I’ll go and see him later. Say hello.’

  ‘Say hello? Do I need to remind you that he can’t speak?’

  ‘Smoke likes me. He’s always happy to say hello.’ She was familiar now with Jake’s dry sense of humour, but he’d be a lot easier to get on with if he were less reserved and as friendly as his dog.

  She tugged at her skirt, wishing she’d opted for a looser design and worrying that the top was showing too much cleavage. ‘It’s very good of you to host this party. And at such short notice. How did you do it?’

  ‘Heidi called in a few favours. It’s astounding what people can do if you’re willing to pay them enough,’ he said wryly.

  The band finished their song with a triumphant flourish and a short break followed. The sudden drop in volume was a relief.

  ‘Why are you up here on your own and not enjoying the party?’

  ‘I’m not a party person.’

  She studied him for a moment, then said, ‘I think you secretly like it.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Being lord of the manor,’ she teased. ‘Looking on as the grateful but common villagers are having the time of their lives.’

  ‘You’re guilty of stereotyping me. I’m no lord of the manor.’

  ‘Are you denying that you’re aloof and you shun company?’

  He held her gaze, but she couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. He was so difficult to read, yet she knew that a current of intense emotion flowed beneath the surface. It had been more than evident the night Smoke had gone missing.

  She elbowed him playfully in the ribs. ‘Why don’t you prove me wrong and come and dance?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You don’t fool me. Beneath that stern exterior there’s a warm-hearted man who secretly wants to boogie the night away.’

  ‘Boogie?’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘As if …’

  The music started up again, this time with a faster tempo. People began to twist at the hips, and everyone, including the older generation, got up to join in on the dance-floor. Even old Dorothy picked up her walking stick and heaved herself to her feet.

  ‘Ooh, I love this song!’ said Evie, and began to jiggle on the spot.

  He gestured towards the dance-floor. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘You won’t dance?’

  He shook his head.

  Shrugging, she left him and made her way down the stairs. She found her neighbour, George, and twisted along beside him. Everybody was laughing and enjoying the music.

  A little later she glanced up and saw the landing was empty. She scanned the room. Jake had come down, but not to dance: he was talking to the waiting staff and to his guests. Telling herself it was none of her business, she turned away. The band played another seventies classic, then a couple of Beatles songs, to which everyone sang along. The hall filled with people, and when Evie felt a tap on her shoulder, she ignored it because it was so crowded, arms being flung in all directions. It was only when George gave her a knowing look and pointed behind her that she turned.

  There was Jake – and he was dancing with old Dorothy! Well, Dorothy wasn’t exactly dancing, but shuffling around her walking stick.

  ‘I couldn’t leave him standing there on his own.’ Dorothy winked, with a mischievous smile.

  Evie grinned because Dorothy’s idea of persuasion had most likely involved taking him by the hand and pulling him onto the dance-floor. And Evie was certain Jake would have been too polite to put up a fight. But he didn’t seem unhappy. A little reserved, a fraction reticent, possibly, but not unhappy.

  ‘That’s enough for me!’ said Dorothy, when the song finished, and the next one started. ‘What I need now is a glass of sherry. You dance with Evie,’ she told Jake, and gave him a gentle shove.

  Evie and Jake grinned and watched as she shuffled away, one arm waving to the beat of the music.

  ‘She’s not as frail as I thought,’ said Evie. ‘She hadn’t left the house since the first snowfall, but perhaps she has a touch of cabin fever from being cooped up inside by herself.’

  ‘She told me she likes the music because it’s loud enough for her to hear,’ said Jake, and the cor
ner of his mouth curved.

  They got pushed a little closer by the crowd and Evie tried not to stare, but his black suit and slim-fitting white shirt were so flattering, and her eyes were level with his chest. The fabric pulled and stretched as he moved, and she was conscious of how solid his torso was, how lean. Her skin prickled, and not just because it was hot.

  ‘So, you are dancing, after all. Who’d have thought?’ she teased, trying to keep her tone light.

  ‘Dorothy didn’t leave me much option.’

  ‘You looked like you were enjoying it.’

  ‘You have me pigeon-holed as a stick-in-the-mud. I can’t spoil my reputation by admitting I enjoyed myself.’

  Her eyes lit. ‘You pigeon-holed yourself, Mr Arctic!’

  Jake caught her hand and whirled her around. ‘Perhaps you were right,’ he said, leaning in so she could hear him above the music. ‘Maybe I did want to boogie after all.’

  Evie spun and sang along. She was amazed at the transformation in him. He’d shaken off his stiff-backed demeanour, and his shoulders were relaxed. The music suddenly slowed, and he gave her his hand, placing the other on the small of her back, where his touch triggered explosions of awareness. It was magical, thrilling. But what delighted her more than anything was seeing him enjoy himself. Her chest tightened.

  It felt like a small miracle.

  Jake wandered through the dining room, surveying the food the caterers were serving. It had a casual, rustic feel: lamb hotpot with chunks of bread, cheese and nibbles, fruit and bite-size desserts. He didn’t stop to eat, but wove his way through the room, pausing when people stopped him to chat.

  ‘It’s good to see you’re keeping up the tradition of the Christmas ball, Mr Hartwood.’

  ‘Great party, Mr Hartwood. When are you going to visit us in the pet shop? We’ve prepared a little gift for your dog in return for this evening.’

  ‘That’s very kind but there’s really no need.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Hartwood – do you know Lynn? She delivers the post around here.’

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ said Jake, shaking hands.

  And he realised with surprise that he meant it. He’d been dreading tonight. The thought of opening his home to strangers had made him want to flee. But he knew that to do so would counteract the sentiment with which the invitation had been issued. He was determined to express his gratitude to the people of Willowbrook for helping him find Smoke so had gritted his teeth and prepared himself for the invasion. It was only a few hours, he’d told himself. Yet now the party was under way, he didn’t feel the sense of intrusion he’d expected. Some of his guests were familiar, not just Luc and Natasha, who had left early because Lottie was tired, but Bob from the petrol station, and Jean who always served him in the village shop.