‘Colleen has already called the ambulance,’ Ruth said, rubbing her bony hands together.
‘Good,’ Dylan said. ‘Let’s go then.’
‘I’ll come…’ Spencer began, then he turned to Tori. ‘You’ll be alright here if I go?’
‘I can come too,’ Tori said firmly. ‘I know some first aid.’
‘So do I,’ Millie put in. ‘I can help.’
‘Oscar needs you here,’ Dylan said, planting a brief kiss on her forehead. ‘You always want to help, I know, but you said yourself he’s going to need feeding soon and nobody else can do that but you right now.’
Millie gave a brief nod. It was obvious to anyone that she wasn’t happy, but she understood it was the most sensible plan.
‘Could I come?’ Darcie asked.
Spencer was about to offer his opinion that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, and that too many cooks spoiled the broth – or at least made rescuing pub landlords in the snow a lot more difficult – when Dylan cut in.
‘At this point I’m not bothered who comes.’ He disappeared into a back room for a moment, and then re-emerged, flinging a pink coat at Darcie. ‘We just need to stop messing about and get over there.’
One by one they filed out, leaving Millie standing in the empty bakery alone with her baby. Even as they closed the door behind them, Spencer heard Oscar begin to cry.
The snowfall had stuttered into powdery stop-start flurries, and the clouds alternated with a low, brilliant sun that peeked out every so often and turned the landscape into a glistening white blanket. It took a few minutes longer to reach the old pub at the heart of Honeybourne than usual, but they were a determined little group. Even Ruth Evans, easily the oldest woman in the village (though nobody knew quite how old), was keeping up with Dylan’s long strides and not showing any sign of fatigue. Talk was on a strictly need-to-know basis, with Dylan and Spencer ascertaining the most pertinent details of the accident from Ruth and not inviting speculation of any kind on any other subject – usually the old woman’s default setting no matter what the severity of any situation – until they saw the higgledy-piggledy roofs of the old pub ahead. Covered in thick snow, the lower level was scarred by a track leading from the chimney to the roof’s edge; there were two figures – one lying down and the other sitting next to him – in the garden below. A set of long ladders was propped against the side of the building and various tools were scattered across the ground beneath.
‘At least it wasn’t the big roof,’ Dylan said as they made their way over. ‘We’d have been organising his funeral.’
Spencer gritted his teeth and said nothing. It was a cold observation but he had to agree.
‘The snow probably cushioned his fall too,’ Tori offered.
The seated figure looked in their direction and began to wave frantically. ‘He’s here!’ she yelled.
Dylan picked up the pace and the others followed, apart from Ruth, who seemed to show signs of slowing up for the first time that morning.
‘What happened?’ Dylan’s tone was terse as he crouched down to get a good look. Doug stared balefully up at him but offered no reply. He seemed alert, though almost as white as the snow beneath him, and he was obviously in a lot of pain. Colleen clung to his hand and faced Dylan, her mascara streaked down her face as she continued to weep.
‘I told him… I told him not to go up there…’ she sobbed.
‘It’s ok,’ Spencer said gently, joining Dylan at her level. He put an arm around her.
She looked around, and for a moment she seemed confused. ‘Spencer Johns?’
‘The same,’ he smiled.
‘I thought you were in America…’
‘I told you he was coming home,’ Ruth said in an overloud voice. She turned to Tori and added in an equally loud whisper, ‘Poor thing. Must be the shock sent her loopy.’
Tori gave her a small smile but then turned her attention back to the distraught woman sitting next to her injured husband.
‘I’m home for Christmas,’ Spencer said to Colleen patiently. ‘And you’ve got Tori’s parents booked in to stay at the pub, remember?’ She stared back at him, and Spencer realised that she was probably in shock, just as Ruth had asserted; there was no point in having this conversation while her husband lay on the snow. ‘It doesn’t matter now. We need to think about Doug, don’t we?’
Colleen gave a tiny nod, and then she began to cry again.
‘How long did the emergency services say it would be before they got here?’ Dylan asked, looking up at a sky that now seemed to be filling with snow again.
‘I… I can’t remember,’ Colleen sniffed. ‘But I wish they’d hurry up.’
‘He’s shivering,’ Tori said. ‘Colleen, do you have any blankets you could bring from inside to cover him? And a big umbrella would be good too.’
Colleen looked towards the front door of the pub, and then back at Tori with an expression that suggested to everyone that she wasn’t quite keeping it together. Clearly, she hadn’t really taken in what Tori had asked her.
‘I could help you look,’ Darcie said in a small voice. She’d been so silent they’d almost forgotten she was there at all.
‘I couldn’t leave Doug,’ Colleen said, gripping his hand so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Doug grunted something along the lines of his being perfectly alright. It was clear that he was a lot of things, but alright wasn’t one of them.
‘Sure you are,’ Dylan said. ‘Just humour us anyway.’ He turned to Ruth. ‘Could you help Darcie find what we need in the pub?’
Ruth looked rather more excited than was appropriate about the opportunity to sniff around unsupervised in one of her neighbours’ homes. ‘Of course I can!’
She grabbed Darcie by the hand and yanked her with surprising force towards the open doors of the pub, while Spencer called Dylan and Tori closer and lowered his voice.
‘One of us should call the ambulance service again. There’s no telling what Colleen has done in her state – for all we know she could have phoned Domino’s Pizza.’
‘Good thinking,’ Dylan said. ‘It beats standing around here feeling useless.’ He turned to Tori. ‘You said you knew a bit of first aid… Do you think we ought to move him? He’ll go into shock, won’t he, in this cold?’
‘Well, yes… That’s why I asked for the blankets.’
‘Then we should get him out of the snow,’ Spencer began, but Tori stopped him.
‘We can’t move him because we don’t know what his injuries are and we might do more damage than if we left him in the snow. We’ll keep him as warm and dry as we can for now and wait for the paramedics to do their thing.’
Spencer nodded agreement, then he and Tori went back to Colleen to see if they could keep her from the nervous breakdown she seemed about to have, while Dylan looked on with a grim expression, arms folded across his chest. Just as he was about to stride over to the pub to see if the blankets were coming, Ruth and Darcie hurried out, Darcie carrying a duvet they’d clearly stolen from one of the beds and Ruth armed with a parasol from the beer garden.
‘This was the best we could do,’ Ruth said. ‘I couldn’t find an umbrella anywhere… If I’d had another twenty minutes to go through the cupboards, maybe, but Darcie wouldn’t let me look through all of them.’
‘I thought something brought back quickly was better than leaving him out in the snow,’ Darcie said in a slightly defensive tone.
Dylan nodded. ‘I think that was a good call. He took the umbrella from Ruth and spiked it into the ground as best he could, while Tori proceeded to wrap Doug in the quilt. What little colour he still had was fading from his face even as they worked. Dylan exchanged anxious glances with the rest of them, while Colleen never let go of his hand, the river of mascara now spilling from her cheeks onto her clothes.
‘The ambulance is almost here,’ Spencer said, shoving his mobile phone back in his pocket.
‘Not before time,’ Dylan muttered
, pulling his own collar up as high as it would go to fight off the cold.
Spencer shot a half-apologetic glance at Tori. Honeybourne was a tiny village, but it seemed to be big on drama. He should have realised he would get no ordinary welcome home.
Three hours later, Dylan, Spencer, Tori, and Darcie trudged back through the door of the Old Bakery. Ruth had stayed with Colleen at the hospital while Doug was checked over. The immediate impression from the doctors was that he’d broken both his legs, but they were by no means sure that was the full extent of his injuries and there was a whole list of unpronounceable scans and tests they wanted to do before they could say with any certainty. Dylan had instructed Ruth or Colleen to call them the moment they needed any assistance, or when they were ready to come back to Honeybourne, and he would go out, snow or not, to get them.
Millie was pacing up and down, Oscar slung over her shoulder as she patted his back to encourage a burp. She turned to the door as it opened, and the look of relief on her face didn’t need words.
‘He’s at the hospital now,’ Dylan said in answer to her silent question.
‘What happened?’ Millie asked. ‘Why on earth was he on the roof?’
‘We still haven’t got the answer to that,’ Spencer said. ‘But I bet he could do with one of your herbal healing remedies right now.’
‘I haven’t made any of those in a while,’ Millie said doubtfully. ‘And it’s no time to go foraging in the hedgerows for all the plants I’d need. Do you think I should?’
‘Let the hospital deal with it,’ Dylan said. ‘There’s no need for you to worry yourself. Perhaps you can brew him a tonic once he’s home if you really feel the need to pull out all that old equipment and make something.’
‘However long that takes to happen,’ Spencer said.
‘Is it that bad?’ Millie asked, rubbing Oscar’s back. ‘Did they say he’d be in hospital for a long time?’
‘Bad enough, I think. The doctors are still figuring out exactly what he’s managed to do to himself.’
‘Poor Colleen…’ Millie murmured. Oscar let out a belch, while Dylan, now coatless and standing in his socks by the fire, took him from her for a cuddle. ‘She’s so devoted to Doug… I don’t know what she’d do if anything happened to him.’
‘Well,’ Spencer said, taking a seat at one of the deserted tables, ‘lucky for him his guardian angel was on duty, because it could have been a lot worse.’
‘You’ve been ok while we were out?’ Dylan asked.
Millie nodded. ‘No customers, if that’s what you mean, so at least I didn’t have that to worry about. It was just me and Oscar. The snow is so bad, nobody wants to come out for tea and scones today.’
‘I bloody do!’ Spencer grinned. ‘I believe we were promised tea and mince pies what feels like a very long time ago now.’
‘I can do that,’ Millie smiled. ‘I bet you’re freezing.’ She turned to Darcie. ‘Would you be a love and fetch the stuff we baked this morning through to the counter? We should probably look like a bakery, even if nobody’s going to come in to buy anything today. I’ll make the hot drinks.’
Darcie gave a quick nod and scurried through a doorway to where the ovens were housed, while Millie took herself behind the counter and switched on various gadgets. Soon, the whoosh of steam and the clanking of china filled the room, and as everyone began to thaw out, conversation turned to speculation about how Colleen and Doug were going to cope. Christmas was only a week away, and while they might be able to get away with closing the pub for a day or so, a week as busy as this was a lot of trade to lose if they stayed shut any longer.
‘Won’t the brewery send someone?’ Millie asked the room at large as she set a mug of hot chocolate in front of Tori.
‘The Dog and Hare is a free house,’ Dylan said. ‘I don’t know if it works like that for them as they’re not tied to one particular brewery and they own the pub outright.’
‘Oh,’ Millie replied thoughtfully. ‘What will they do?’
‘I suppose that’s something they’re going to have to work out, but for now I imagine they’ll be concerned with more pressing matters, like Doug’s injuries.’
‘It won’t help him to get well if he’s got the added worry of his business going down the drain though,’ said Spencer as Millie handed him a mug.
‘Definitely not.’
‘Well, there aren’t many folks in a position to help – at least not long term,’ Dylan said. ‘We work long enough hours here but Doug and Colleen’s are even longer.’
‘Don’t forget that we’ll be losing money too without their pie orders,’ Millie reminded him. ‘If there is any way we can keep them open it would benefit us as much as anyone else. Things are tough enough in the winter without tourists passing through, we can’t afford to lose our regular customers as well.’
‘You might have a point there,’ Dylan said, looking around at the café, empty apart from their own small group. His gaze settled on Darcie, who was bringing a tray of bread pudding through from the back kitchens. ‘Perhaps we could spare someone to go over and help Colleen for a few hours a day until Doug is back on his feet.’
Darcie looked up from the counter. She glanced at Millie, and then back at Dylan.
‘Darcie?’ Millie replied doubtfully. ‘What will we do without her here?’
‘You said yourself that we’ll be in trouble without the Dog and Hare’s orders.’
‘But I can’t manage without Darcie.’
‘We’ll have to if it comes to it. Better that we struggle for a bit than lose that income.’
‘It might be a lot more than a bit,’ Millie replied. ‘You know I want to help, but it could be months before Doug is up and about if he’s seriously injured and we could go under either way because I don’t see how we can cope with Oscar and this place without any help, whether we get the orders in from the Dog and Hare or not.’ Millie’s voice rose, and it seemed as if she was convincing herself of the impending doom whatever happened.
‘You’ve just said that we need the orders…’ Dylan shushed Oscar as he began to whimper.
‘I know I did! There’s no need to lose your temper!’ Millie snapped.
‘I’m not losing my temper—’
‘It bloody sounds like it!’ Millie gave a loud sniff and turned her back on everyone.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you…’ Dylan said, going to her.
‘No…’ She flapped a hand at him. ‘Ignore me… Hormones and stress don’t go well together.’
‘I can see what you’re saying, Millie,’ said Spencer, ‘and – as much as I hate admitting it – Dylan might have a point too. The way I see it, we need to call a meeting as soon as we have an update on Doug’s condition. Surely Honeybourne hasn’t changed that much while I’ve been away? We’re a community who help each other, and I don’t see why things should be any different this time. Nobody will want to see the pub closed over Christmas and if we call for assistance I think we’ll get it. I mean,’ he glanced at Tori, ‘we’d go and help for a start – right?’
‘Of course!’ Tori beamed.
Dylan gave a solemn nod as Millie stepped away from him, now composed again.
‘I could go,’ Darcie said in the ensuing moment’s silence. ‘I don’t know much about pubs but I don’t mind, if it would help. We close at five, sometimes before when it’s quiet, so I could go afterwards.’
‘You get up at the crack of dawn,’ Millie said gently. ‘I don’t know if you realise what a long day that would be, going on to a pub afterwards where you’d be working way past the time we usually head off to bed.’
‘What about Jasmine?’ Spencer said suddenly.
Dylan’s face split into a grin. ‘God, I’m an idiot, I should have thought of that! If anyone knows about that pub it’s my sister! She worked in it for a couple of years before she started the craft business.’
‘But would she want to be there every night for months?’ Millie asked doubtfully. ‘
Not to mention her three kids and a business.’
‘Which brings me back to my original idea,’ Spencer said. ‘We call a meeting and we recruit volunteers to help out on a rota basis.’ He looked at Tori, and she nodded, immediately understanding his train of thought. ‘Tori and I will do some shifts – it’ll be fun and we haven’t got a lot else on.’
‘Um… you might be forgetting the small matter of your parents flying in from Spain to spend some time with you?’ said Millie.
‘Oh, yeah!’ Spencer grinned. ‘I’m sure we can fit them in somewhere. After all, Tori’s parents were planning to stay at the pub anyway so we’ll need to make sure it stays open for that reason if no other. My parents have the spare room at my house and we couldn’t possibly fit everyone in. They’ll be cool about it too, because they’ll be spending more than a few hours in the bar of the Dog and Hare themselves if I’m not mistaken. They’ll probably want to help out too.’
‘And that little celebration called Christmas,’ Dylan added.
‘Easy,’ Spencer smiled. ‘We’re practically ready for that. So we’ve got three volunteers straight away – that’s a good start, right? And I’m sure Jasmine will say yes so that’s four.’
‘We could ask Ruth,’ Millie said.
Dylan raised his eyebrows. ‘We want to keep their customers, not drive them away. Besides, the way old Ruth Evans packs away the whisky there’ll be no profits to show for her doing a turn behind the bar.’ He glanced at Millie uncertainly. ‘I suppose I could do an hour here and there if you could cope with Oscar on your own.’
‘Or I could do an hour at the bar and you can stay home and hold the baby,’ Millie replied, planting her hands on her hips. ‘This is the twenty-first century, after all.’
‘Ok,’ Dylan raised his hands defensively, ‘I wasn’t being chauvinist – I just didn’t think you’d want to spend your evenings listening to Frank Stephenson complain about the weather and how things just aren’t the same as they were in the fifties.’
‘It might be a nice break for an hour, though?’ Spencer said, understanding instinctively that perhaps, sometimes, an intelligent, creative woman like Millie might find domesticity a little stifling.
Christmas at the Little Village Bakery Page 3
