by Heidi Swain
‘What are you looking at?’ asked Jamie, following my line of sight. ‘You haven’t had a bump on the head as well, have you?’
I ignored his churlish tone.
‘This was in the bucket,’ announced the fire chief, who came striding over with what looked like a rather large lump of masonry.
‘If that’s what hit him on the head,’ I tutted, ‘then no wonder he was out for the count. I wonder how long he’d been up there?’
‘And more to the point, why was he up there at all?’
Obviously Jamie hadn’t spotted the cables that were lying about, and I wasn’t about to fill him in.
‘Anyway,’ he said, taking the lump of brick, ‘I just need to go and talk to Mum. I’ll be back out in a bit.’
After telling Catherine what had happened, Jamie set off with his mother and Mick for the hospital and Dorothy made hot drinks for everyone who was left behind. In true Wynthorpe style she had even warmed a batch of sausage rolls in the Aga and, with no new emergency to attend, the crews gratefully piled into the kitchen and tucked in.
I had added as many layers as I could to my top half and was gingerly cleaning my knees when I looked up and spotted my rescuer standing over me and watching my progress with interest.
‘Could have been worse,’ he smiled when he realised I had caught him staring.
‘Could have been fatal,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘I was talking about what happened to you, not Angus.’
‘So was I,’ I said and we both laughed. ‘It was scary up there for a while.’
‘I can imagine.’
Given that he tackled raging infernos and untangled mangled metal for a living, my little drama must have looked like a walk in the park. My mind flitted back to Angus and his crazy one-man illumination project.
‘He’s a law unto himself, my boss,’ I tutted.
‘Oh we know that all right,’ sighed the calendar-worthy fireman. ‘It isn’t the first time we’ve been out here on a rescue mission.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ he nodded. ‘Have you heard about the time—?’
Whatever anecdote he was about to reveal was cut short by the radio the crew chief was carrying.
‘Right, lads,’ he said, abandoning his sausage roll, ‘time to go.’
‘Let me take you for a drink,’ said the cheeky guy next to me, ‘then I’ll tell you all about it without any interruptions.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said doubtfully. ‘That probably wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘No time to argue,’ he said, making for the door. ‘Meet me in The Mermaid at six tomorrow night. I’m Charlie, by the way.’
And with that he was gone.
Chapter 22
I found Catherine surprisingly calm the next morning.
‘I haven’t got time to fuss,’ she told me. ‘And besides, Angus is absolutely fine, thanks to your speedy actions.’
I stole a glance at Jamie, but he still wasn’t having it that my actions had been anything other than stupid and sat mulishly in the corner, brooding over a mug of coffee.
‘And I’m hopeful this bump on the head will have taught him a lesson.’
My eyes swivelled back in Catherine’s direction.
‘Oh, who am I kidding?’ she sighed. ‘He’ll never learn, will he?’
‘Probably not,’ I sympathised. ‘When will he be coming home?’
‘Tomorrow,’ she said, ‘hopefully, as long as he promises to take things easy, of course. So in reality I would imagine it will be Monday.’
‘So he isn’t going to be here to see everyone arrive tonight?’ I groaned. ‘He must be devastated.’
I knew that he would be more disappointed that he was going to miss out on the chance to be at the door to welcome everyone home than he was about having failed to get the lights up.
‘Had he not been such a fool about these bloody decorations he could have been here,’ said Jamie. ‘He should have asked for help.’
‘And what would you have said?’ asked Catherine.
‘I would have told him it was a ridiculous idea and that this is a listed building, not a sprawling American suburb in a cheesy Christmas film.’
‘Exactly,’ said Catherine, ‘and then he would have gone off and done it on his own anyway.’
I hadn’t mentioned my suspicions about the lights to anyone, but Mick had spotted the cabling when he was tidying up early that morning and thought it best to spill the beans.
‘And how are you bearing up?’ Jamie asked me. ‘You’re supposed to be going with Dorothy to the wreath-making in town today, aren’t you? Will you need me to drive you in?’
This was the first time he had said anything even remotely caring since The Incident (as it had been named), and I was grateful that the ice in his tone was beginning to thaw, even if it was only a little. I already had enough on my plate trying to keep my nerves about meeting the rest of the family in check. I didn’t need to be worrying about winning back the friends I thought I had already made.
‘What’s all this about a hot date?’
I looked from Jamie to the kitchen door as Hayley bustled in, rosy-cheeked and full of mischief. She didn’t usually work on Saturdays but was making up for being ill and had insisted she would pop in for the morning, just to check the bedrooms were ready so that no one would be able to find fault with her hard work. That was hardly likely. From what I’d seen she’d managed to primp and polish every last corner of the ginormous hall and, although an incorrigible gossip, her work ethic really was second to none. Not that I would have told her that as she marched in and stamped all over the tiny glimmer of goodwill Jamie had just shown me. Considering she went home sick the evening before she was looking remarkably recovered.
‘Aren’t you more concerned about Angus?’ I asked, pointedly trying to shame her into changing the subject.
‘Angus is fine,’ she said, shrugging off her coat. ‘I’ve just been to see him.’
‘At this time?’ frowned Catherine, looking up at the clock. ‘How on earth did you get in?’
‘My neighbour is a nurse,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘This week she’s working the graveyard shift.’
What an unfortunate turn of phrase she so often adopted.
‘She sneaked me in.’
‘Well I never,’ tutted Dorothy.
‘And he seemed fine to me,’ Hayley went on. ‘Although a bit surprised to see me of course. I’ll wind him up about that when he comes home. Tell him he must have been hallucinating or something.’
‘But he was all right?’ Catherine questioned, choosing to ignore Hayley’s wicked sense of humour.
‘Right as rain,’ she shrugged. ‘Although I did give him a bit of an ear-bashing about what a silly selfish sod he was.’
I bet he, and the rest of the patients, loved that.
‘But how did you know?’ I asked.
‘We all know he’s a silly sod,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘No, not that,’ I said. ‘How did you know he was in the hospital?’
‘Your hot date,’ she grinned. ‘My dad saw him in the pub last night. Dad loves a bit of gossip about this place.’ Her smile faltered for a moment and I wondered if her dad gave her a hard time about working at the hall, given everything that had happened. ‘Apparently,’ she went on, ‘he was telling everyone what had gone on here.’
I could have slapped myself for asking. My curiosity about her ability to winkle out gossip had put her right back on to me and Charlie the fireman.
‘I was at school the same time as your Charlie,’ she said, making me cringe.
‘He isn’t my Charlie,’ I said, looking across at Jamie. ‘He just happened to be one of the chaps who turned up to help last night.’
‘Well, whatever he is,’ she went on, ‘by all accounts, he’s quite taken with you.’
‘Oh Anna,’ smiled Dorothy, ‘you’ve got yourself another admirer.’
Anothe
r admirer! I couldn’t believe she’d said that or that Hayley hadn’t picked up on her faux pas. If Dorothy was hoping to push Jamie into making a speedy declaration in front of them all, just one look at his face would have told her that she was going the wrong way about it.
‘And she’s going out with him tonight,’ Hayley rattled on with a knowing nudge and a wink oozing innuendo.
‘Is she now?’ said Jamie, as he thumped his mug down on the table. ‘In that case you better get a move on, Anna. I don’t mind waiting if you want to pick out a nice dress to wear.’
‘I’m fine thanks,’ I said, feeling a little hurt that he had reacted so childishly.
I had had absolutely no intention of meeting Charlie in the pub later that evening. In fact I had been all set to ring the station and leave him a message explaining that I wouldn’t be able to make it, but now, looking at Jamie’s thunderous expression, I was actually going to consider turning up. And I’d make a point of enjoying myself, to boot. I had tried to let Jamie down as gently as I could, and with good reason, but if he couldn’t accept the situation then I wasn’t going to miss out on a bit of fun.
‘And don’t worry about running me about today,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine to drive.’
It felt good being back in the busy town hall, even if driving in had been a somewhat painful experience, owing to my injuries of the night before. This time the air was filled with the scent of fresh-cut greenery, cinnamon sticks and clove-studded apples and oranges, rather than freshly baked cakes.
‘You made it,’ beamed Chris’s wife Marie, when Dorothy and I arrived. ‘I wondered if you’d be able to get away. How’s the patient?’
Clearly she was in the know as to what had happened, and I reminded myself that this was the reality of life in a small town. News always spread like wildfire, especially if there was an element of risk and drama involved.
‘And look at you,’ she said as she watched me hobble towards an empty chair. ‘Let’s get that ankle elevated.’
Driving into town really had been a stupid idea and I knew I was going to suffer for it, but after Jamie’s snarky comments, there was no way I was going to let him chauffeur me about.
‘You should have taken Jamie up on his offer of a lift,’ said Dorothy as she filled out some forms and set about gathering various bits and pieces together for us to work with.
‘I didn’t want to put him out,’ I shrugged. ‘And I’m sure he has enough to contend with today, especially with having to visit his father in hospital on top of everything else.’
Dorothy looked at me for a long moment.
‘I know I tried to make a joke about him falling for you,’ she said, ‘but I really meant it.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘Is there already something going on between you two?’ she asked.
‘Me and Angus?’ I joked, avoiding her eye.
She tutted and settled herself on the chair next to mine, but thankfully didn’t probe any further. I honestly wouldn’t have known what to tell her if she had.
‘Are you ladies warm enough?’ asked Lizzie from the Cherry Tree as she leant between us. ‘We’re having some problems with the heating today.’
She was wearing an ivy and mistletoe crown and a pair of feathery wings. I wondered if she was meant to be an angel or a fairy.
‘It is a bit chilly,’ said Dorothy who, I only just noticed, was still wearing her coat. ‘You’ll need to report it if it doesn’t sort itself out.’
‘I know,’ tutted Lizzie. ‘It’s the Fair tomorrow. I can’t imagine the dealers will be very happy if they end up selling their wares in an icebox.’
She wandered off to help Marie, who was fiddling about with the thermostat on the wall next to the kitchen.
‘What’s the Fair?’ I asked Dorothy.
‘It’s an antique sale,’ she explained. ‘Well, not just antiques – all sorts of things really. This new vintage trend plays quite a part now as well. Lots of dealers come here a couple of Sundays before Christmas and it’s a hugely popular event with the locals and a great opportunity to buy some presents that are a little out of the ordinary.’
‘Sounds far more exciting than the usual bath-bombs,’ I agreed.
Dorothy looked confused and I guessed she had no idea what a bath-bomb was.
‘It’s a bit like bubble bath,’ I explained.
‘Oh,’ she said uncertainly, ‘right.’
‘Although I’m sure,’ I laughed, ‘if left to his own devices, Angus would put a very different spin on it.’
‘You’re not wrong,’ she said, passing me a small terracotta pot which was, hopefully, going to form the basis of my table decoration. ‘He’d no doubt blow the bath to kingdom come.’
An hour later, thanks to the dodgy heating, which had now gone into overdrive, the hall was sweltering.
‘I’ve tried to turn it down,’ said Marie, as she peeled off another layer, ‘but nothing’s happening. The engineer is on his way.’
‘Perhaps you’d better open the door for a bit,’ suggested Dorothy as she fanned herself with one of her many shopping lists.
‘What do you think?’ I asked, carefully turning my pot around and trying not to dislodge the candle in the centre, which wouldn’t stand straight no matter how hard I tried to cajole it into behaving.
‘I think you’ve done very well,’ she congratulated me, before adding, ‘for a first attempt.’
‘Perhaps this one can stand on a windowsill out of the way somewhere,’ I said. ‘We won’t light the candle; just draw the curtains in front of it.’
‘It isn’t that bad,’ Marie chuckled. ‘Here, try wedging another bit of holly in at the back.’
Her suggestion helped and by the time I had finished titivating, my pot was just about passable. Predictably, however, Dorothy had made half a dozen to my one, but it didn’t matter. I’d had a lovely morning.
‘These always sit down the middle of the dining table,’ she proudly explained as she began to pack her completed pots into a sturdy cardboard box. ‘Catherine is very fond of them and I’m going to make some orange pomanders for the fruit bowl. They always smell lovely. Do you want to help with those?’
I looked at her doubtfully.
‘They’re really easy,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Impossible to get wrong.’
The pomanders were easier to make than the table decoration and I was almost able to keep up with her output. By the time we were halfway through I smelt like a Christmas pudding and my mind, left to its own devices, had wandered back to the hall and the family.
‘Exactly how long have you been living at the hall?’ I asked Dorothy, when she came back with two more cups of tea and some mince pies courtesy of the WI ladies who were manning the kitchen.
I had offered to go but Dorothy was insistent that I kept the weight off my ankle for as long as possible. She sat down with a groan and scrutinised the quality of the pies before passing a couple to me.
‘Decades now,’ she said. ‘And Mick’s been around almost as long, although he still has a couple of years to serve before he catches up with me.’
She sounded very proud to be the longest-serving member of the Wynthorpe Hall staff.
‘I came one Christmas,’ she went on wistfully, ‘when the boys were small, and I just never left.’
Suddenly I remembered something someone had said not that long after I had arrived.
‘That seems to be a bit of a theme at the hall, doesn’t it?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Turning up at Christmas,’ I said. ‘And then not moving on.’
‘Um,’ she said, ‘Mick was a festive arrival as well. He came to us fresh from the Army.’
From what he’d told me, he wasn’t quite as ‘fresh’ as he would have liked to be, but I wasn’t going to let on to Dorothy that he had already told me about his drinking and his wife’s betrayal. Both he and Hayley had talked to me in confidence and until they each mentioned it in front of one a
nother, I was keeping quiet. I had been the victim of gossip myself in the past and would never repeat anything unless I had been expressly told I could do so.
‘And what about you?’ Dorothy asked. ‘Are you really going to be packing up and leaving us in the New Year?’
Part of me thought it would be a shame to break the tradition, but if I did decide to stay there was still an awful lot to think about and sort out first. Not least, what exactly my relationship with Jamie was going to be.
‘I don’t know,’ I sighed. ‘Before the charity idea, I thought it would be easy to go because Catherine would be better – not that there’s anything really wrong with her now – and I didn’t think there would be a job for me to stay and do.’
‘And now?’ Dorothy asked gently.
‘Now I really don’t know,’ I said, trying to focus on the charity rather than Jamie and the hayloft. ‘Have you always been the cook?’ I asked, switching the emphasis of the conversation back to her.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I was a jack of all trades once upon a time. I always helped out in the kitchen, but I was nanny to the boys first.’
‘Do you have any children of your own?’
‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘No kids.’
‘Were you ever married?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘a long time ago. He wasn’t a nice man. I thought he was in the beginning but he wasn’t. He liked a drink and he liked to throw his weight around when he’d had a few. Sometimes I wonder where I found the strength to leave him.’
Unfortunately I understood exactly what she meant.
‘My dad turned to drink after we lost Mum,’ I said quietly, thinking that the lure of alcohol had a lot to answer for when it found its way into susceptible hands. ‘It made everything we were going through so much worse.’
I’d never told anyone that. Dorothy nodded and I knew she understood.
‘He never married again then?’
