by Emma Davies
A loud shout in her ear brought her back to the present. The sale would be starting any minute now, the hubbub reaching a crescendo as people shouted their last-minute questions and instructions. Her wreaths were all laid out in the traditional pens but she’d been hoping to get a look at what the other sellers had to offer too. She beckoned Amos over to give her a hand up onto one of the wide metal railings that bisected a pair of pens. The auctioneers usually stood on these, so that they could see who was bidding, but Freya would only be a minute; she could be up and back down again before the sale started. She walked its length, trying to gauge the other lots and what the likely prices would be. Bidding was expected to be lively today and she hoped that her offerings would be sufficiently distinctive to command a slightly higher price again. She could see the auctioneer coming to the end of the railings where she was standing, and turned to walk back the way she had come.
As soon as she put her foot down she knew it wouldn’t end well. Her scarf had slipped off her shoulder and she’d trapped the end of it under her boot, throwing her balance off to one side. Instinctively she tried to throw her body backwards to compensate but she couldn’t move, her upper body pinned by the scarf around her neck. She heard Amos’s warning shout but by then she had too much forward momentum to right herself. In the instant before the sickening crack, it flashed through her mind that putting out her hands to save her fall was a really bad idea; but by then she had already landed, her body concertinaed on top of the arm that had crumpled beneath her.
It didn’t hurt at first as she became aware of the general commotion around her, but as she tried to sit up a searing pain ricocheted through her arm, followed swiftly by a violent wave of nausea, and her half-digested breakfast splattered onto the pair of boots in front of her. She was aware of a soft voice talking to her but everything else was swimming around most alarmingly and for a moment all she could do was concentrate on breathing in and out.
After a few minutes the pain had receded to an angry buzz and she raised her head. She was met by a pair of green eyes, which immediately elicited another groan. Of all the people at the fair today, why in God’s name did it have to be Sam Henderson’s boots that she’d thrown up all over? He was talking to her, and she tried to focus on what he was saying.
‘Where does it hurt Freya, just your arm?’
She’d always liked his voice. With a supreme effort she thought about the question. Her knee was stinging, but apart from that all the pain was concentrated in her arm.
She managed a nod. ‘I think so,’ she whispered. ‘Can I sit up?’ She was aware of another person by her side and instinctively knew it was Amos.
Gradually she became aware that a space was opening up around her and she felt a blanket settle over her. It was bright red with white reindeer on it.
‘I’ve called an ambulance Freya, just lie still,’ said Sam.
‘What? I can’t go to the hospital, what about the sale…? Help me to stand up, I’ll be alright in a minute,’
‘I bloody well will not Freya Sherbourne, you’re going to do as you’re told.’
Tears sprang to Freya’s eyes. ‘No, you don’t understand Sam, I need to carry on. I need to sell my stuff today… Oh God, I’ve stopped the sale haven’t I. Are people really cross?’
Sam smiled. ‘No-one’s cross, just concerned. Once we’ve got you sorted they’ll carry on don’t worry.’
Freya looked up at his face which was alarmingly close to hers. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days and the stubble suited him. Sam and Amos shared a look above Freya’s head: Sam asking permission and Amos praying that Sam would make the right decision.
‘Perhaps Amos could handle the sale on your behalf Freya, if that’s okay? I’m sure he’s more than capable.’
Amos grinned. ‘It would be a pleasure Freya, and don’t worry, I’ll kick up a storm for you. Just relax, and as Sam said do as you’re told. You’re in good hands. I’ll see you later okay?’
Sam flashed him a grateful look and tucked the blanket around Freya a little more.
‘I can’t believe I threw up on your boots,’ she said.
‘I know, it’s not my week is it? My horse shat on them yesterday, too.’
Two and a half hours later and Freya was propped up in bed eating a piece of toast and jam which was, quite possibly, the best meal she’d ever had. A very lovely young doctor had given her a very lovely injection of something equally lovely, and now everything was … well just lovely really; even Sam.
‘Do you remember the time at the Harvest Festival dance when I threw a glass of wine at you?’ She grinned. ‘All over your beautiful pristine shirt. You didn’t speak to me for days.’
‘Well that’s because I thought you did it on purpose. I hadn’t realised you’d tripped over Mrs Courtney-Smyth’s enormous feet.’
‘And I was doing my best to act all sophisticated, like I drank red wine all the time, when in truth I couldn’t stand the stuff and was quite happy to have got rid of it.’
‘I remember your dress,’ said Sam quietly. ‘Deep claret-red velvet.’
Freya remembered her dress too, and she remembered the way Sam had looked at her that night. She looked at him now, on the outside, not that much different; still the same unusual green eyes, darkest brown hair that although cut short still liked to curl if it could, and the wide generous mouth that curved into a cheeky grin. On the inside however she doubted things could ever be the same, and she pulled her gaze away before she could dwell on it any longer.
‘Well I was thin then, of course, back when we were all bright young things and could wear a bin liner and still look good,’ she said trying to lighten the conversation.
‘I never looked good in a bin liner.’
‘Well there were some exceptions to the rule, of course.’
Sam snorted. ‘From the woman currently sporting this season’s chicest finger to elbow white plaster cast, I’m not sure you’re in a position to be quite so judgemental.’
Freya cast around for something to throw, but there was nothing in her cubicle and she certainly wasn’t wasting her toast, so she took another bite.
A face peered around the curtain. ‘Hey, good to see you’re looking better,’ said Amos. ‘You had us worried there for a minute.’
‘Oh, I’m fine, a good clean break. If you’re going to break your arm, then you could learn a thing or two from me, apparently. Besides which I’m drugged up to the eyeballs and currently don’t care about anything much.’
‘Ah,’ said Amos, and exchanged a grin with Sam.
‘Sorry, I’m being mean, of course I care. How did you get on without me?’
‘Well, mistletoe sold, check. Holly sold, check. Wreaths all sold, check, check, check. You got an alarmingly good price for those; I think the punters were feeling sorry for you.’
‘So it was worth it then, breaking my arm? That’s a relief.’ Freya grinned.
Sam looked down at his body. ‘I know I wouldn’t have got the sympathy vote, but I don’t suppose you noticed if we managed to sell anything did you? That is of course if Stephen even realised the auction had started.’
‘No, you’re good too, don’t worry. I’m not sure what price yours fetched, but it all went. I’ve left Stephen in the pub but we can go home once you’ve finished your toast Freya. The auction yard shut so I had to move your van, but we can drop you back there first Sam. It was good of you to stay with Freya.’
‘It was good of you to stay at the sale Amos, thank you.’
Amos dipped his head and smiled.
‘But what on earth am I going to do next week?’ asked Freya, suddenly panic-stricken.’ I can’t make up my wreaths like this, or cut any mistletoe, and there’s still all the packing to do.’
‘One thing at a time,’ soothed Amos. ‘One thing at a time. Let’s get you home first.’
‘Yes come on Sherbert, eat up. If we leave it any longer Stephen will be that drunk I’ll be sorely tempted to leave hi
m behind.’
Sherbert. Now that was a name Freya hadn’t heard in a long time.
It’s funny how food you don’t have to make yourself always tastes better. It was late afternoon by the time they got home and as the light faded Amos put the chickens to bed and lit the fire for the evening, closing the curtains and locking out the night. Now she was propped up on the sofa with a mug of tea and two thick slices of cheese on toast. Her head was spinning. There were so many thoughts crowded in there, and try as she might she couldn’t get the carousel to stop. She lay back on the cushions for a moment and closed her eyes. She opened them again when she became aware that Amos was looking at her.
‘Things catching up with you?’
She gave a wan smile. ‘A bit, yes.’
‘Then can I make a suggestion…? Finish your supper and then get yourself off to bed, or make one up on the sofa here in front of the fire. Take some painkillers and try to get some sleep. Everything else can wait.’
She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it again, the thought of climbing into bed was heavenly. ‘You must be tired too?’ she said.
‘Well it’s not often my days see that much excitement, it’s true, but I’ll be right as rain in the morning. You, however, might feel like you’ve been hit by a truck.’
Freya’s eyes widened. ‘Yeah, thanks for that.’
‘So what’s it going to be, the bed or the sofa?’
‘I’ll just have a bit of a sleep here I think, but you don’t have to make yourself scarce Amos. Put the TV on or something, I won’t mind.’
When she woke several hours later, the TV was quiet and the room in darkness save for the low flickering of the fire. She shifted slightly, trying to get some relief from the pain in her arm, which was now throbbing nicely, and let her eyes become accustomed to the gloom. She could just make out the shape of Amos lying fast asleep on the rug in front of the fire. He’d pulled a throw from the armchair and balled it up to use as a pillow. She watched his rhythmic breathing for a while and let it lull her gently back to sleep.
14 Days to go…
It was the smell of bacon wafting through the house that woke her the next morning, throwing her into confusion for a minute until she worked out where she was. She was still in her clothes, and what’s worse had no idea how to get out of them. She moved her legs to the edge of the sofa and inched them over the side, using her right arm to pull herself forward into a sitting position. So far so good; a few tweaks but nothing like the pain she’d experienced yesterday. She sat for a moment wondering if it was safe to stand up.
Her legs felt like wibbly jelly for some reason, but she made it to the kitchen, largely by clinging to the line of the wall down the corridor. The radio was playing softly in the background and from the pantry she could hear Amos murdering her favourite seasonal song, ‘Fairy Tale of New York’. A pan was sizzling gently on the cooker. She sat down at the table with an audible sigh and lay her head on her right arm with her eyes shut.
‘I know I’m being selfish and whiny, but could you turn down the chirpiness this morning please?’ she asked.
Amos walked back past her saying nothing, but the singing stopped. There were sounds of an egg being cracked into a pan and then a soft expletive as the oil spat. A few moments later a deliciously-smelling plate was placed in front of her, together with a mug of tea. Her stomach gave a lurch of appreciation.
‘Are you trying to fatten me up even more?’ She smiled, lifting her head.
‘At the risk of perjuring myself I shall refrain from answering that question.’
Sam! What are you doing here?’ exclaimed Freya, looking around the kitchen. ‘Where’s Amos?’
Sam chuckled and sat down. ‘Out with Bailey. He seems to have struck up rather a friendship with my horse, and anyone who offers to save me from my early morning mucking out duties gets their arm bitten off. So I’m on the breakfast-making rota.’
Freya nodded, taking a huge bite of her sandwich. Egg oozed over her fingers. With only one hand to hold the door stop, her control of it was woefully inadequate.
‘This is going to be messy, sorry,’ she apologised. Sam merely pushed her plate closer to her.
‘Are you not going to have anything?’ she asked after a few moments’ more contented chewing.
‘I’ve already eaten. I was up a bit earlier than you.’
‘Hmm. What is the time?’
‘Just after eight.’ Sam smiled, amused at her horrified expression. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got a while to go yet before we have to panic.’
‘Have you any idea how much I have to do today?’
‘Yes,’ said Sam, leaning forward. ‘Which is why I’m here. Have you any idea how long it takes to get up in the morning when your arm is in plaster?’
Freya stared at him for a moment and then looked away embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.
‘I’m just teasing you. It’s no bother me being here, honestly, and Amos thought you might need some help. He surmised that I might have more experience of helping young ladies remove their clothing than he has.’
‘You didn’t tell him did you?’
Sam studied her for a moment. ‘No, I didn’t tell him, although I would say that nothing much gets past Amos. I can see it still bothers you though, so I certainly won’t mention anything.’
To his surprise Freya’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Sam, don’t please, I feel bad enough as it is at the moment without having to think about what I did.’
He looped his fingers under hers gently. ‘Don’t keep hating yourself Freya, it was never your fault.’
She looked up at him then, her eyes dark, and shook her head.
‘So … Amos is a bit of a find isn’t he?’ he said, hating the way he’d upset her and trying to change to subject. ‘I’ve not seen him around here before; where did he come from?’
‘I don’t know, actually,’ sniffed Freya. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it was from under a mulberry bush. He appeared one day wanting a glass of water and somehow he just stayed.’ She stared at her sandwich in speculation. ‘I think he’d been working somewhere locally and I know I should have asked around a bit before I let him in, but it never occurred to me to be honest. It still hasn’t. It’s not that he actually evades answering any questions about himself but somehow he avoids answering them. I know next to nothing about him, but I’d trust him with my life.’
‘Curious.’
‘It’s mad is what it is, but someone clearly thought I needed his help and sent him to me, that’s all I can think. Of course I could be completely wrong and by January I’ll be in small pieces under the patio.’
Sam laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘No, neither do I,’ said Freya with finality. ‘Right then, I can’t put it off any longer. I need to go and have a wash and get changed, and while I think I’ve figured out most things, I cannot for the life of me see how I’m going to get my bra off. So, if you don’t mind, and without looking, commenting, or laughing, please could you just unhook me at the back and I’ll take it from there.’
Sam was right, it did take a huge amount of time to get ready, and she’d just about lost the will to live by the time she’d finished. How on earth was she supposed to do all the things she needed to; and Christmas was in just over two weeks’ time. The very thought of it made her want to go and lie down in a darkened room.
By the time she got back downstairs, both Sam and Amos were sitting at the table, a large notepad in front of them.
‘We need a plan,’ Amos said the minute he spotted her.
‘I need a double brandy.’ She countered.
Both men smiled.
‘Not such a bad idea,’ said Sam, ‘maybe just a teeny bit early though. Shall we see if we can make it to lunchtime, at least?’
Freya stuck out her tongue.
‘Right,’ said Amos in purposeful fashion. ‘We need to make a list of what needs doing and by when. Also, what tasks Freya can still
do and those that she’ll have trouble with. That way we can assign everyone specific jobs so that as far as possible we don’t lose any time. Oh, and Stephen sends his best wishes by the way.’
‘Yeah right,’ Freya snorted. ‘The only thing that man will be concerned about is which arm I’ve broken and whether I’ll still be able to sign the contracts on this place.’
Sam looked at the table, and Freya could have kicked herself. She must stop doing this. She’d thought about it last night and although she would cheerfully run Stephen over in her van, she was pleased that Sam would be part of the equation at Appleyard; she knew he would take good care of it for her.
‘Well, the first priorities just at the minute are the wreaths and other decorations. They’re due to be delivered again on Saturday, which gives us three days. Fortunately I have all the wreath bases and other additions here, but nothing is wired up, and Amos you know how long that takes. It’s lucky my right hand is still okay, but I’m really not sure that I can manage the wiring even so.’
‘If things were already wired, could you manage to get them in the wreaths?’ asked Sam. ‘If you show us how, perhaps Amos and I could do that bit for you?’
‘I’ll need more holly and mistletoe cutting as well.’
Amos nodded. ‘Sam and I have already discussed that, so it’s not a problem. We can get what you need for the wreaths to start with and then harvest the last of the mistletoe later.’
‘But what about your own mistletoe, Sam?’ asked Freya.
He shrugged. ‘It’ll get done, I’m not that fussed really.’
His tone suggested that she shouldn’t argue, and that was the last thing Freya wanted to do. There was one thing she wanted to know though.
