by Heidi Swain
‘Obviously I had no idea that within just days of my arrival your father was going to turn that understanding on its head.’
‘Good old Dad,’ Jamie smiled. ‘You can always rely on him to throw a spanner or two in the works, but what I want to know is why it matters, Anna. What difference does his new plan make to you?’
‘All the difference in the world actually,’ I sighed. ‘Every year I go out of my way to find a position where Christmas, for whatever reason, won’t be celebrated in any great way, or if it is, I’ll be kept too busy to notice it.’
‘Yes,’ he confirmed, ‘I’d kind of begun to figure that out for myself, but why? What do you have against jolly old Santa? Has he wronged you so badly? Did he deny you the perfect present? Give you the wrong Barbie?’
I turned to face him properly before he said anything else and ended up feeling guilty when he heard the true reason for my loathing of the season.
‘My mum died on Christmas Day when I was eight years old.’ I said it bluntly because it was the only way I knew I could get the words out. ‘I haven’t celebrated Christmas since.’
There was a whole lot more to my childhood than that, but losing Mum was the biggest horror, even though the trauma of what followed wasn’t lagging all that far behind.
‘Oh, Anna,’ Jamie croaked, the colour draining from his handsome, tanned face.
I looked back out of the window and up at the stars and blinked a few times.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ I shrugged.
‘Of course it isn’t all right,’ he said straight back as he reached across and held my hand. ‘How could it possibly be all right?’
Enjoying the comfortable feeling, ignoring the increasing thump of my heart and without really thinking about what I was doing, I laced my fingers through his, absorbed his soothing warmth and willed myself not to cry.
‘I never would have made a joke if I’d known,’ he said, sounding mortified. ‘But what about the rest of your family? Did your father not reclaim Christmas as you got older?’
I thought of the Decembers that followed and the never-ending catalogue of pain that accompanied them.
‘Oh yes,’ I sniffed, ‘he reclaimed it all right.’
I stopped myself again before it all came tumbling out. For years Dad had celebrated not just Christmas but practically every holiday from the bottom of a very big bottle or three.
‘But he’s not particularly the loving kind,’ I said dismissively, trying not to remember how he had driven away the one woman who could have helped him clean up his act and not necessarily replace my mum, but make a mighty fine substitute, ‘not towards me anyway, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters.’
I had no desire to say anything further. In the last few days I’d shared more about myself than I had in the last twenty years and I had no intention of tearing the gaping fissure open any wider.
‘So you see,’ I said, taking back my hand and reaching up my sleeve for a tissue, ‘we’re both as reluctant as each other to meet this Christmas head on, but for very different reasons.’
‘You’re right,’ Jamie nodded.
‘You,’ I said, after I had blown my nose, ‘have everything I’ve always craved deep down but never dared hope to have: a home to come back to, a loving family and security.’
‘And you,’ said Jamie, ‘have the freedom, independence and opportunity to completely live your own life. The kind of life that I want to hang on to, but am now going to have to give up.’
‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ I smiled.
‘Just a bit,’ he smiled back, twisting round to reach between the seats for a fleecy blanket. ‘Come on,’ he said, dumping it on my lap. ‘Wrap this around your shoulders.’
‘Why? What are we doing?’
‘Stargazing,’ he said with a nod towards the great outdoors. ‘This is as little light pollution as you’re likely to get around here.’
‘Are you mad?’ I gaped. ‘It’s freezing.’
‘Well, hurry up then,’ he said, turning off the engine and jumping out of the door. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
The last thing I wanted was to be standing outside, wearing inappropriate footwear in sub-zero temperatures with nothing more than a fleecy blanket between myself and frostbite, but Jamie was having none of it.
‘Come on, Woodruff,’ he said gruffly, rushing round to open my door. ‘Those doe eyes don’t fool me. You’re tougher than you look.’
Rolling my eyes and gathering the blanket tight around me I gingerly joined him on the slippery concrete.
‘If you end up having to give me sick pay because I’ve caught pneumonia,’ I warned him, ‘then you’ve no one to blame but yourself.’
‘In that case,’ he said, taking a step closer and slipping his arm around my shoulders, ‘let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.’
‘Get what over with?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘as you just pointed out, each of us seems to have exactly what the other wants. I have the family and the stability,’
‘And the crumbling but cosy colossal pile,’ I added cheekily. ‘And I have the freedom and independence.’
‘And the crippling fear of Christmas.’
‘Where exactly are you going with this?’ I frowned, not liking that he was so relaxed when it came to highlighting my problems, even though I had been so blasé about his.
We both had problems, that was true enough, and we both now knew what those problems were, so I could see little point in turning into an icicle just to trawl through them again under the stars.
‘Well,’ he said, looking down at me and pinning me with his emerald gaze, ‘I think I’ve just come up with a way to potentially solve our problems and help give each other what we want in the process.’
‘Oh, you have, have you?’ I frowned, feeling deeply suspicious but more than a little seduced by his close proximity.
‘I have.’
‘And you couldn’t have explained this in there?’ I asked, nodding towards the rapidly cooling interior of the Land Rover.
‘Absolutely not,’ Jamie insisted, ‘because sitting in there, we couldn’t see this.’
He pointed to the heavens, his finger stopping when it reached what looked like the brightest star in the sky.
‘That’s the Christmas Star,’ he said, his voice tantalisingly close to my ear.
‘No it isn’t,’ I tutted, stamping my feet to ward off frostbite and following his gaze. ‘Is it?’
‘Well, it is in my head,’ he said a little impatiently. ‘And if you wish on that star, then whatever you want most will come true, providing you’re prepared to put in the effort to help make it happen, of course.’
I looked from the star to him and quickly back again. At least he hadn’t dragged me through the woods in my Manolos to find the Wishing Tree.
‘What do you wish for, Anna?’ he whispered.
‘I wish I could find a way to fall in love with Christmas again,’ I said wistfully.
‘And I wish I could fall in love with the hall again,’ said Jamie.
We stood in silence for a few seconds, just staring up at the star.
‘Is that it then?’ I asked when the cold had reached further than I thought possible.
‘Not quite,’ he sniffed, ‘you’re forgetting about the effort I said that had to be put in to make it happen.’
‘Of course,’ I shivered, ‘feel free to enlighten me any time before my toes drop off, won’t you?’
I loved my shoes with a passion, but they were hardly ideal footwear for standing out in the frosty Fens. Tomorrow I would go back to wearing layers.
‘Well, this is how I see it,’ he said, rocking back on his heels. ‘I happen to love Christmas and I reckon I’m more than capable of making you love it too.’
‘OK,’ I said warily.
‘And you obviously love Wynthorpe, even though you’ve only been there five minutes.’
‘Right.
’
‘And with your fresh outlook and enthusiasm I’m kind of hoping that you can help me rekindle my spark for the place and make my future running it more bearable.’
‘So in short,’ I cut in, ‘you think we can each solve the other’s problems.’
‘That’s the gist of it.’
‘I see,’ I said thoughtfully.
It didn’t actually sound like a bad idea at all.
‘I think we should make a deal,’ said Jamie.
‘A deal?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘You have to do whatever I tell you to.’ I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.
‘Only with regards to Christmas planning and activities,’ he hastily added, looking a little rosy in the cheek department. ‘Whether that’s decorating the tree or wrapping presents, you just have to go along with it and I have to—’
‘And you,’ I interrupted, ‘have to work with your parents to reopen the hall, tackle your brothers and follow my instructions for creating a life for yourself that will mean you can have the hall and the freedom you crave.’
‘Exactly,’ said Jamie, holding out his hand. ‘That isn’t too much of an ask, is it?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I laughed. ‘I mean, we have almost a month to do this, but to be honest,’ I added, my smile suddenly faltering, ‘I don’t reckon much for your chances with me.’
I might have acknowledged that Mum had been sending me signs to tell me now was the time to embrace the season but there was a long road to travel between finally accepting Christmas still existed and actually enjoying it.
‘Now, don’t be so defeatist, Woodruff,’ Jamie insisted as I placed my hand in his and we shook on the deal. ‘There’s nothing I like more than a challenge.’
Chapter 12
With the deal sealed under the stars Jamie and I wasted no time in coming up with some ideas that would be instrumental in making the other’s dream come true. Clearly we were both ambitious, fiercely competitive and each desperate to see the other cross the finish line to dream-fulfilment first, and I might not have showed it, but I secretly had everything crossed that Jamie would succeed, even if I was going to struggle to complete some of the things he no doubt had lined up for me.
Operation ‘Wish upon the Christmas Star’ countdown was officially set to launch at six thirty the following morning with a sedate, although admittedly glacial, jog around the grounds, but the whole thing got off to a rocky start because Jamie ‘accidentally’ slept through his alarm.
‘You can’t make me do this,’ he yawned, his sleepy eyes, mussed-up hair and washboard stomach putting in a brief appearance after I’d been hammering on his door for what felt like forever. ‘In fact, I can’t see how stumbling about in the frost is going to make me love the place at all. If anything,’ he whined, ‘it will put me off.’
I was having none of it. I pushed my way into the room, ignoring the desire to wrap my arms around his bare upper half, and began rifling through his piles of clothes for something that would stop the biting wind cutting through to his ribs.
‘You know, you can’t just barge in here,’ he said, attempting to crawl back under the duvet.
‘So,’ I said, throwing him a fleecy zip-up top and feeling triumphant, ‘you’re admitting defeat already.’
‘Might be.’
‘And if this was a game,’ I added cunningly, ‘you’d have to say that I was already the outright winner.’
‘Hey,’ he yelped as I sent a pair of trainers flying towards his groin and tried not to notice just how sexy his bare feet and shoulders really were. ‘You haven’t won anything.’
‘So I’ll see you downstairs in two minutes?’
‘Oh all right,’ he groaned. ‘All right, but if this isn’t worth getting up for—’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m going to have you making paper chains from now until next Christmas.’
Fortunately for me, the early start was worth it, although it took a few laps around the garden before I could make Jamie admit it. By the time we had weaved our way through the neglected walled garden and back to the summerhouse, where I had sat with Catherine just a few days before, the sky had barely lightened and, if anything, looked full of snow.
‘Your mum’s very fond of the gardens, isn’t she?’ I said when I had finally caught my breath and my lungs weren’t burning quite so much.
‘She loves them,’ nodded Jamie as he stretched out, using the side of the summerhouse to bear his weight.
He hadn’t let on, of course, but having watched his running style and post-workout cooldown, I could tell this wasn’t the first time he had donned his trainers to raise his heartrate.
‘In fact,’ he added, ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if trying to keep on top of all this, and helping Mick out at every opportunity, wasn’t in part responsible for her knee problems.’
He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. ‘So, if you were hoping to make me admit how lovely the grounds are in your quest to make the place feel like less of a burden, then I’m afraid you’ve failed.’
I ignored his smug tone, knowing I had a winning idea up my sleeve.
‘The upkeep of everything outside is down to Mick, is it?’
‘More or less,’ he said, looking about him, ‘and as you can see from the state of the walled garden, it’s too much for one pair of hands. Dad helps out if something needs hacking down, but he’s too easily distracted for the regular, fiddly jobs to hold his interest all year round.’
‘So, what you really need out here are a few more hands on deck.’
‘Of course,’ Jamie agreed, ‘but we can’t afford a team of gardeners any more. When Mum was growing up there were three or four, and that was before you included the estate staff. They all used to live in cottages we owned between here and town, but they were sold off years ago.’
‘Has anyone ever thought about the possibility of getting a team of volunteers together to help out?’
‘We occasionally have groups to help with jobs in the woods – hedging, clearing ground and so on.’
‘That’s not really what I’m getting at,’ I said. ‘I’m talking about an established group of volunteers who could come to help out on a regular basis, students even.’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ Jamie frowned.
‘There’s a small horticultural college in town, isn’t there?’ I quizzed, knowing full well from the Internet search I’d made the evening before that there was, and that they were always looking for places to take on students to give them practical experience.
‘Yes,’ said Jamie, rubbing his chin, ‘there is, actually. It’s affiliated to a couple of the larger colleges in Norfolk.’
‘I bet they would jump at the chance to come and work somewhere like this and,’ I quickly added, ‘I daresay they’d send staff with them, so beyond Mick showing them where everything is, they could be left to their own devices.’
‘Maybe,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘It would be nice to see the place restored to its former glory, wouldn’t it, especially the walled garden? You could even hold open days for charity and maybe open to the public a couple of days a week to bring in a little revenue.’
‘You’ll be telling me next we should convert the stables into tearooms,’ Jamie laughed.
‘That might not be a bad idea actually,’ I shrugged. ‘It’s something to think about anyway.’
Jamie looked at me and narrowed his eyes again.
‘This garden idea would be more work for me though,’ he frowned.
‘No it wouldn’t,’ I said, ‘not after the initial set-up. I bet Mick and the college, if they wanted to take it on, could run it between them. These things are only as complicated as you make them,’ I told him.
‘Is that a quote you live by?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I admitted, ‘but I probably should.’
‘Well, loath as I am to admit it, Woodruff,’ he said, looking about him, ‘I think you might actually
have stumbled upon something here.’
‘Excellent,’ I grinned.
‘Not necessarily the tearoom idea,’ he said quickly, ‘but getting some students in to help restore the gardens might prove to be a win-win situation all round.’
‘You’ll need to have a look at those public liability insurance documents though,’ I reminded him.
‘Of course,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Let’s go and run it all by Mum and Dad.’
‘And Mick.’
‘Yes, and Mick, and we’ll take it from there if they think it’s a good idea. Henry is the chap who organises some bits and pieces for the estate, so I’ll give him a bell as well.’
We headed back to the hall and I have to admit I was feeling really rather chuffed to have struck gold on my first attempt.
Catherine and Angus were absolutely thrilled with the idea and even Mick, once he had been reassured that no one would be taking away his pleasure in striping the lawns, was happy to come on board.
‘I think it sounds like an absolutely wonderful idea,’ enthused Catherine. ‘It would be such a joy to see the gardens looking beautiful again. Not that there’s anything wrong with your work, Mick,’ she quickly added, ‘but there’s only so much one man can do.’
‘I know what you mean,’ he said, fortunately sounding not at all put out. ‘With a place this size things soon get out of hand, especially during the summer. No sooner are the lawns finished than it’s time to start cutting them again.’
Clearly his passion was for turf culture rather than weeding.
‘Well, you know I’m always happy to jump on the ride-on,’ said Angus helpfully.
‘Yes,’ tutted Dorothy. ‘But the last time you did that you reversed it over the ha-ha and almost broke your neck.’
‘Well, the gears can be fiddly,’ huffed Angus.
‘So we’d be having students coming to work here all year round then, would we?’ asked Hayley, who Mick had already collected from town.
‘If the college really like the idea,’ said Jamie, ‘then yes.’
‘All those hot, sweaty bodies hoeing the borders . . .’ she said dreamily.
Dorothy and Catherine looked at one another and rolled their eyes.
