‘You’d know about all that sort of stuff,’ Jasmine laughed.
‘Oh, now aliens aren’t my territory at all. Dark matter and missing bits of the universe – they’re more my thing. Though it doesn’t mean I rule out the existence of life on other planets, I just don’t worry about it as much as some of my colleagues do.’
‘Speaking of life on other planets,’ Jenny added, offering Millie a welcome hug of her own, ‘how is Dylan finding fatherhood? If there was one man in this village I couldn’t imagine settling down it was him. I don’t know what you’ve got but you should bottle and sell it.’
‘He just grew up,’ Jasmine cut in, steering the conversation into safer waters.
Spencer smiled at Jasmine and as he did so became aware of eyes on him. He turned to see Tori watching him with a curious expression: thoughtful, questioning, calculating almost. The smile he gave her in return was less assured, and though he had nothing to feel ashamed of, guilt crept into it.
‘So,’ Jasmine said, turning to Tori and Spencer, ‘have you settled into the breakneck pace of Honeybourne?’
‘It’s been interesting,’ Tori replied, her features smoothed into a courteous smile.
‘It got really interesting when the folks arrived,’ said Spencer, laughing self-consciously.
‘I hope that’s in a good way,’ said Jenny.
‘Let me get a round in,’ Jasmine said, ‘and then I want to hear all about what everyone has been up to.’
While Jasmine took orders and then hopped behind the bar to get them all herself – Ruth was interrogating Frank Stephenson about something she had heard in the newsagent, Jenny and Lewis were distracted by some discrepancy with the cash in Lewis’s wallet, and Colleen was busy with a meal order for Jim or Saul – Tori’s smile faded. She turned to Spencer, her expression asking for some reassurance.
He took her in his arms and kissed her briefly, pulling back to study her face. ‘How are you holding up?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘Want to go running for the hills of home yet?’
‘Not yet.’ She shook her head, and her gaze swept the rich wooden interior of the pub, where the old Christmas decorations glinted in the orange lamplight and the quiz machine whirred and pulsed in the corner while old friends chatted and laughed at tables. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘If it means so much to you to live here when we’re married, then I guess we could try it. You already have a house here, so it makes sense in many ways. Jobs might be a problem, but the citizenship won’t be with my Irish ancestry and—’
‘You really mean that? You’d come here?’ Spencer’s eyes widened.
‘Sure. I don’t mean that we couldn’t review the situation in a year or so, but—’
Spencer pressed his lips to hers. ‘You’d do that for me? I don’t know what to say.’
‘Just don’t expect me to back down over everything.’
‘I would never do that.’
‘I know. But don’t get tempted to forget it.’
Spencer kissed her again. But then he broke off with a broad grin at the sound of a voice behind them.
‘Couldn’t you two save that for later? I’m sure it’s very enjoyable but we have serious drinking to do.’ Lewis was holding up his pint glass with a look of satisfaction, while Jasmine placed two more glasses on the bar next to Spencer and Tori.
Tori looked at Spencer with a faint smile. ‘Would living here mean having to get drunk every night?’ she asked. ‘Because I’m not sure my liver will take it.’
‘Living here would mean anything you wanted,’ Spencer replied. ‘Just so long as we were together.’
She lowered her voice as the others returned to a conversation about Lewis’s research project. ‘Tell me one thing,’ she asked. ‘Tell me the truth and I won’t ask again. I’d be laying a lot on the line coming here… There’s no unfinished business I need to know about, is there? Tell me you won’t ever let me down.’
Spencer’s eyes flicked involuntarily to Jasmine, who was giggling uncontrollably at something his dad had said, the apples of her cheeks framed by her curls and her eyes bright with intelligent humour. The look was so quick that anybody else might not have noticed it. He turned his attention back to Tori, the look in her eyes telling him that she had to be sure. She was giving her heart, giving up her home and the life she knew for him, and his promise was the least she deserved. He could keep his stupid feelings for Jasmine in check for her, couldn’t he? After all, it wasn’t like they were going to get him anywhere. Jasmine belonged with Rich – always had and always would, so there was no point in having feelings for her. And he did love Tori. He didn’t know if it was possible to love two people, but he knew that what he felt for Tori was real.
He stroked her hair back behind her ear and smiled down at her. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m with you now, and I love you, and if you’re happy with that, it’s all we need.’
She nodded. ‘Ok. That’s good enough for me.’
Chapter 5
Snow lay hard on the ground, piled up in alleyways and packed against the sides of buildings like mini glaciers, but the pavements were clear and a low sun skimmed the rooftops, blazing brightly at an angle so that Darcie had to squint against it. She should have worn sunglasses, but as it was the middle of winter it felt like a ridiculous thing to do and they had stayed in the drawer back at the bakery. She was squinting now through the window of the bus as the spire of Salisbury Cathedral appeared on the horizon.
Dylan had rolled in at around eleven the previous night with Oscar in his car seat, followed not long after by Millie, accompanied by Spencer, Tori, Jenny and Lewis. A tipsy Millie had insisted that Darcie take the day off, rambling on about how she was too quiet and serious for a girl of her age and ought to be out shopping and getting excited about Santa hats and singing reindeer at this time of year like everyone else, and that it had to be a town of a normal size, not a one-horse place like Honeybourne. Darcie couldn’t imagine that Millie had ever got excited about Santa hats and singing reindeer, but Dylan had been in total agreement, telling Darcie that she needed to take some time for herself because she really hadn’t been herself. So even though she wasn’t that keen to wander alone around a town she didn’t know, she had agreed to take a trip out to Salisbury on the bus to have a look. She’d left the bakery in full swing, despite the earliness of the hour, her arguments of how they needed help with Oscar and couldn’t get all the stock out in time falling on deaf ears.
The bus juddered to a halt, some passengers getting off but more getting on. There were too many people on it already for Darcie’s liking, and the bodies packed around her added to the hot fug created by the heaters pumping out at her feet. She sweated in her heavy coat, and was just about to take it off when the empty seat next to her was taken by a boy, which now made it far more difficult to get her arms out of her sleeves without actually hitting him in the face. He nodded briefly at her, adding a quick smile, and she took a moment to appraise him. He looked around her age – maybe twenty-two or so – with sandy hair and intelligent hazel eyes that reminded her of Dylan. God, everything seemed to remind her of Dylan lately and that wasn’t what she wanted at all.
‘Hot in here, isn’t it?’ he said.
Darcie turned to him, surprised to find that he was addressing her.
‘A bit,’ she replied, turning her face to the window again.
‘You going to Salisbury?’ he asked.
She turned back with a brief nod.
‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘You live there?’
‘No.’
‘Right. You live nearby?’
‘Not really.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I won’t talk to you if you don’t want to. I just thought…’
Darcie found herself blushing. She would have blamed it on the heat but she realised it was because, now that she looked properly, he was actually very attractive. And i
t wasn’t like her to be so rude; she was suddenly embarrassed at the thought of her terse replies.
‘It’s ok… I’m sorry, I was just thinking about stuff I had to do today.’
‘You Christmas shopping?’
‘Probably… Not really. To be honest, I just needed a day on my own.’
‘I get that. Sometimes I could just run away.’
‘Do you live with your parents?’
He shook his head. ‘That would be a lot easier. I live with five other guys in a student let.’
‘Nearby?’
‘In Winchester. I’m just off to visit my parents who live in Salisbury.’
‘Do you like living there?’
‘The city is alright. The student flat… Well, let’s just say if you want privacy and sanitary conditions, it’s not the place to be.’
‘It sounds like fun.’
‘There’s always something going on – day or night. It’s ok sometimes but sometimes you want to punch someone, and it’s terrible for revising. What about you? Do you live with your parents?’
‘No, my cousin.’
‘Right. That must be fun. But you’re not local – at least, your accent isn’t.’
‘I’m from Staffordshire originally. My cousin bought a bakery in Honeybourne and I’m helping her run it.’
‘Sounds cool.’
‘It’s really not. Your life sounds way more fun.’
‘You didn’t go to uni, then?’
‘Never seemed to get the chance. I’m not sure I’d be bright enough anyway.’
He shrugged and gave her a warm smile. ‘You never know until you try. Didn’t you ever fancy it?’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it before. Nobody in my family went to university, so it just didn’t come up in the scheme of potential life plans.’
‘My parents would have disowned me if I hadn’t gone. But I stayed pretty close to home – that way I can take my washing for my mum to do and get a decent meal once a week.’
Darcie couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. ‘I’m sure she loves getting your smelly socks once a week.’
‘They smell good, actually. Like rose petals.’
‘Is that before or after she washes them?’
‘Before – obviously.’
‘What do you study?’
‘Law. And pratting about. It’s hard work but it’s ok.’
‘The pratting about or the law?’
‘Both.’ He grinned. ‘So you’re not Christmas shopping today?’
‘No, I have everything I need.’
‘That means you’re totally free then… Today, I mean. If you’re not shopping and you’re not meeting anyone, then you’re free.’
‘How do you know I’m not meeting anyone?’
‘I just guessed. You have the air of someone who’s not meeting anyone today.’
‘That’s some guesswork.’
‘It’s my incisive lawyer’s intuition.’
The bus stopped, and the passenger dance repeated itself as some got off and more got on. It seemed that every stop closer to the town made the bus busier. But the man remained.
‘You still haven’t told me your name,’ he said as the bus lumbered away from the stop again.
‘That’s because I’ve only just met you.’
‘You won’t tell me? How about I guess?’
Darcie smiled and waited, arms folded and eyebrow cocked. He was cheeky, this one, some would say even cocky, and he was presumptuous, but underneath it all she had a feeling he was sweet. She was beginning to enjoy their flirting game, because she recognised the exchange now for what it was. And it felt nice.
‘Right…’ He narrowed his eyes and screwed his face in concentration, like an old-fashioned conjurer doing a mind-reading act. ‘Alice?’
Darcie shook her head.
‘Fearne… Rachel… Mia?’
‘Nope. Nowhere near.’
‘Oh… More exotic? Ok… Alexandretta?’
She shook her head.
‘Peony?’
Darcie burst into a loud giggle. ‘No way.’
‘More traditional? Mary?’
‘No.’
‘Eleanor?’
‘No.’
‘Englebert!’
Darcie snorted. ‘Don’t be silly!’
‘It would have been hilarious if it was, though.’
‘I can assure you it’s not Englebert. Who is even called Englebert?’
‘Come on then, put me out of my misery. It’s nearly Christmas, you clearly aren’t going to meet me for coffee later today, and you probably won’t call me when I hand you my phone number in a minute, so at least tell me the name I can cry myself to sleep over.’
She couldn’t help her broad smile and though, at the back of her mind, she wondered whether it was wise to get this friendly, she gave him his answer. ‘Darcie.’
‘Darcie? Cute.’
‘Thanks. Now it’s your turn.’
‘You want to guess?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m terrible at guessing and we’d be here all day.’
‘Nathan.’
‘Ok. Hello Nathan.’
‘So… Was I right about the other stuff?’
‘What stuff?’
‘You know… That you won’t meet me for a drink and you won’t call when I give you my phone number.’
‘Why do you say that?’
He shrugged. ‘Just a feeling. I’ve got previous.’
‘We’re not all the same.’
‘That’s what I’m banking on.’ He took an envelope from his coat pocket and tore off a corner. ‘I don’t suppose you have a pen? I’m afraid my phone battery’s pretty much kaput so I’ll have to do my flirting the old-fashioned way.’
‘It’s a good thing you can remember your number without looking at it on your phone. I couldn’t.’ Darcie rifled in her bag and produced a pen, which he took with a grin.
‘See, that’s serendipitous already,’ he said.
‘What is?’
‘That you had a pen when I asked for one and I could remember my phone number without looking it up.’
‘I’ve always got a pen.’
‘A girl who’s ready for anything – I’m in love already.’ He handed her the slip of paper and pen back. On the paper he’d scribbled his name and mobile number. He glanced up at the window. ‘This is my stop.’
Darcie nodded. She hadn’t wanted the conversation at first, and she hadn’t wanted the company, but now she was quite sorry to see him leave. She gripped the telephone number and smiled as the bus halted and he stood up.
‘Don’t lose that number, will you?’ he said. ‘You might need it later if you decide I’m worth taking a chance on.’
‘I won’t lose it,’ she said. And then he threw her a last smile before he got off the bus.
Spencer had forgotten how raucous his parents could be, and he had never really tried to keep up with their drinking before. This morning he certainly knew about it. The pub had got fuller, everyone’s spirits high as more and more people came to welcome Mr and Mrs Johns back, and Spencer had lost track of what he was drinking. He only knew that various glasses kept appearing in front of him and eventually he had stopped worrying about where they had come from and had happily drunk them anyway.
He gazed around the tiny spare bedroom, every available space stacked with boxes and black bin liners full of old belongings that he really ought to have sorted long ago but never seemed to find the time for. There was a faint sigh next to him as Tori turned in her sleep and buried her face in his shoulder. He stroked an errant lock of hair from her cheek and kissed her gently, so gently that she didn’t wake, and smiled. It didn’t matter that her breath would have made the hardiest wino proud, or that her mascara was smudged down her face because she had been too drunk to take it off before bed – to him she was the most beautiful sight to wake up to that he could imagine. His parents seemed taken with her too, so now there was just the
one set to win over, albeit the toughest set by far. Today was D-Day: Tori had done her bit, and now it was time for Spencer to step up to the plate.
He curled an arm around her and closed his eyes again to drift back off. But they hadn’t been closed for long before he heard footsteps thudding across the landing, followed by the sounds of someone vomiting into the toilet bowl. It sounded like at least one of his parents was reaping the rewards of their night out. At least he wasn’t hurling, which could only be a good thing with just one bathroom to share.
‘Somebody can’t hold their liquor,’ Tori mumbled. Spencer grinned.
‘Sounds that way.’
‘It can’t be you, then, as you’re here talking to me.’
‘Nope. But I have a feeling Mum and Dad drank a lot more than we did. It was all those freebies.’
‘Nobody drank as much as Ruth. That woman is a tank.’
‘I’ll bet she doesn’t even have so much as a headache today either.’
‘Her liver must be pickled.’
‘It’s all those tonics she gets from Millie. Maybe I should get some for Mum and Dad.’
‘Don’t encourage them…’ Tori opened her eyes, bluer than the frosted sky outside their window, and smiled up at him. ‘We need them sober today.’
His own smile faded. He didn’t need to be reminded of the impending meeting of the parents, and it seemed that last night had only served to spell out to Tori, who now knew both sets, that it was going to be a stressful time. It was something Spencer had already worked out for himself, though he had tried not to dwell on it, but Tori’s own unconscious admission had just brought all those anxieties right out to laugh in his face.
‘What time is the plane landing?’ he asked.
‘Not until late afternoon. We have plenty of time to sober your folks up.’
‘I was wondering how much time I had to stick my head in an oven.’
Tori nuzzled closer. ‘It’ll be fine – stop worrying.’
‘Do you think? Don’t forget that I’m not Hunter Ford… I’m just a primary school teacher.’
‘So am I. And I’m very glad you’re not Hunter Ford.’
Christmas at the Little Village Bakery Page 10
