by Jenny Kane
‘Every day!’ Megan rocked back onto her haunches, ‘Crikey, I don’t suppose Izzie has written down exactly what crafts she planned for each session?’
‘Afraid not dear, it’s angels again today, you know, for the little ones to put on top of their parents’ Christmas trees. Otherwise I’m not sure. We’ll think of something.’
Wishing she shared Mrs V’s optimism, Megan made some quick calculations in her head. It was 8.30 in the morning. Jo was due any moment to see what he could do with the hole in the ceiling, which, despite the polythene cover, was still sending a draught of perishing cold air through the whole church. The café opened at 9.30, so the first of the children were due half an hour after that. She wanted to go and see if Izzie was alright, and yet before that she had to find out how to get the electricity sorted.
It was December 17th already. That meant Megan had three additional children’s sessions to do – and they couldn’t all be angels. Then there was the food to arrange with Mrs V, and the entire place had to be mended, decorated, and made ready for the choir to rehearse and the café to be kept ticking over; all without electricity.
Megan also had a strong suspicion that on top of all that she’d also have to tie Izzie to her hospital bed so she wouldn’t discharge herself, and work out a way of preventing Lady Spencer-Harris from taking over and persuading the choir master that he’d be much better off holding the concert in her orangery.
She needed ideas, and she needed them fast.
Flipping open her mobile, Megan pressed Nick’s number. Even though they’d talked late last night, Megan needed to hear his voice. The soothing sound of his calm Irish voice could always make her feel better.
‘Hello, love, did you get on OK sleeping at Izzie’s on your own?
‘It was a bit weird, but I was exhausted so I slept. I’m really glad I caught you, I thought maybe your phone would already be on silent for work.’
‘You only just did. I was about to head in. How’s Izzie?’
‘She looked a bit better when I saw her last night, but her ankle is badly swollen, and she’s still woozy. I’m hoping to find time to go and see her later, but if the centre is to be ready in time for the concert I’m going to have to work my socks off.’
‘Well it’s a good job you’re so good at that then!’
Smiling down the line Megan said, ‘Thanks, Nick, and it’s lucky that you’re very good at it as well. Get your thinking cap on; I have three more classes of Christmas crafts to do with a load of pre-school children, and no clue what to make with them. I mean, what the hell do I know about children?’ Not pausing for breath, Megan listed all the tasks she was confronted with, in a place she didn’t know, with only strangers, however kindly, to help her, ‘I’ve got to find a way of getting the power back on, and get this place ready to host the most prestigious choir in the area by the twenty-first! Plus, they need to do a dress rehearsal at least once before kick off!’
Nick spoke softly, ‘Meg, you’ll do it because you are brilliant in a crisis, you know you are. That’s why Izzie called you and not one of her other friends. Now, do you have today’s children’s class sorted?’
‘Yes, Mrs V and I got everything ready yesterday. We’re making angels for the top of the tree.’ Megan looked around her, ‘Oh hell, this place hasn’t got a tree.’ Megan couldn’t prevent the sigh that escaped from her lips, ‘Better add that to the list!’
‘Be sensible, Meg, you can’t do it all, and Izzie wouldn’t expect you to. Why not keep the café to just drinks and anything that’s already cooked. The regular customers will understand. You know that from working at Pickwicks, and to be honest, if there is no heating the church is probably freezing, and so not many people will come anyway!’
‘Oh hell, I hadn’t thought of that!’
‘Don’t think me defeatist, but I doubt the pre-school kids will come if they can’t see to make their angels.’
‘But Izzie needs the money!’
‘I know, Meg, but I’m sure if you explained to the teachers what has happened, that they’ll understand. Villages are great like that, everyone knows everyone, and usually everyone helps each other out. Ask them to, if you donated all the craft materials, get the children to make as many different decorations for the tree as possible at home or nursery, and then Izzie could invite them to a thank you event after Christmas, with a free craft session and stuff.’
Megan sent Nick a virtual hug. ‘You are amazing. That’s brilliant!’ Then less certain she added, ‘Do you think the nursery staff will go for it?’
‘Of course! Everyone loves to muck in like that at Christmas. Remember the auction at Pickwicks last year!’
Megan’s grin widened. ‘How could I forget!’
Nick laughed. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go, work is calling me, but I’ll be down there with you soon. I’ll call tonight. Oh, and Meg,’
‘Yes?’
‘Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
Feeling much better, Megan checked the time. It was too late to call off today’s craft session, but she decided she’d have a quick chat to today’s teacher as they arrived, and give them the option of running away with the craft materials in hand if they wanted to. Then she’d call everyone else.
Glancing around the car park, Megan checked her watch, it was gone nine. Where on earth was Jo? If he’d backed out, or if he had been hurt worse than they’d thought when Izzie had landed on him, there was no way the Cotswold Choir would be playing here in four days’ time.
Having prepared everything on the art tables, from glue pots to sequins, from tinsel to endless supplies of cardboard and safety scissors, Megan waited to waylay the teacher as the crocodile of well-wrapped-up children trooped down the pavement, all chattering happily.
Quickly explaining the situation, Megan couldn’t help thinking ruefully, that if this was London the teacher wouldn’t have set foot inside the place for fear of a million health and safety issues. Here in the countryside, the woman simply told Megan not too worry, and instructed the children to keep their hats, scarves, and coats on while they worked.
By lunchtime Megan loved Mrs V even more. The old lady reminded her of Peggy at Pickwicks, as she comfortably moved from one demand to the next without any flapping or fuss. The handful of children from the collective Cotswolds villages’ pre-school had thrown themselves into the gluing and sticking of wings on angels, and making tiny tinsel haloes for their ping-pong ball heads by torchlight, with giggling glee. Mrs V chatted away to them in between serving tea and coffee to the handful of café customers about what Father Christmas might bring, and how they should be extra well behaved every day until Christmas in case they accidently got put on his naughty list – a warning each of the little charges took very seriously indeed.
With the other local school, nursery, and childminding group warned that conditions were bad, and those warnings brushed away in each separate case with cries of ‘don’t you worry, we’ll pitch in.,’ Megan began to feel as if she was getting to grips with the day when Mrs V declared it was time she nipped home, only a few yards away, to refill the flasks, pick up the lunchtime sandwiches she’d prepared earlier, and see if her husband had sampled the practice batch of mulled wine.
For a moment the craft centre was silent. The last pre-lunch coffee drinker had left, and with the school children gone, the place felt eerily quiet.
Megan had been so busy, that for a brief period she’d forgotten about sorting out the electricity and the problem of the chancel, but now, with the choir booked in for a rehearsal in three days, and no sign of her miracle carpenter, Megan knew she’d run out of options. She’d have to persuade Izzie to let her parents help otherwise her concert was not going to happen.
Clearing up the stray sequins and glitter that had sprinkled off the art tables, Megan heaved a sigh. She hated admitting defeat as much as Izzie did, but she couldn’t see what else they could do.
Tipping a dustpan of sparkly mess into t
he bin, Megan stared up at the chancel roof. ‘Jo, where are you?’
Chapter Five
December 17th
Izzie opened her eyes and found herself staring at a bouquet of flowers which someone, presumably Megan, had placed next to her bed.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been given flowers, and although Izzie adored them instantly, she hated the reason why they were there. She felt as if she had the world’s worst hangover without the fun of getting drunk in the first place, and what was worse, she knew it was all her own fault.
Whatever had possessed her to cut that wire? She’d been so worried about getting everything done. ‘Your pride will be the death of you, woman.’ Izzie laid her head back on the pillow and spoke to the ceiling.
‘It certainly will, if you cut through any more cables.’
Sitting bolt upright in surprise, Izzie suddenly remembered she was in her pyjamas, and pulled the duvet up to her neck.
Jo gave her a cute half-smile from the door, a jug of water in his hand. ‘Sorry, I did knock; I thought you were still asleep. You must have been miles away.’
‘I was telling myself off for being such an idiot, and having a private panic about the church. What are you doing here?’
‘Checking you were OK and bringing you water for your flowers. If you’d rather I left then say the word and I’ll go.’
Instantly Izzie regretted snapping at her visitor. ‘You brought these? Sorry, I assumed Megan had sent them. Thank you; they’re gorgeous.’
Jo appeared self-conscious for a moment, before adding with a hint of pride that made the corners of Izzie’s lips rise into a grin, ‘I even arranged them for you. It isn’t every day I have an attractive woman fall at my feet. Even an attractive woman covered in dust who’s obviously extremely prickly.’ Jo opened the door wider, ‘So, can I come in, or should I run a mile?’
The teasing in the carpenter’s eyes was contagious, and Izzie found herself blushing as she smiled back. ‘Are you sure you want to risk it? I can’t promise I won’t go prickly again.’
Jo walked in before she changed her mind, and pulled a chair up next to the side of the bed, ‘Well, considering everything you must have on your mind then I think I’ll allow you a few prickles – but don’t push your luck. I am your carpenter, and you need me!’
‘I could get someone else, you know!’ Izzie laughed as she spoke.
‘This close to Christmas? Not a chance! So you’d better be nice to me which, before you say it, includes not giving me a hard time about being here talking to you, when I should be at your craft centre sawing planks of wood.’
Izzie swallowed, guilt crossing her face.
‘So that is what you were thinking then?’
‘OK, so I’m totally busted!’ Izzie studied her visitor more carefully, a flash of the intense light in his eyes as she’d fallen on top of Jo replayed at the back of her memory. Risking him throwing the jug of water over her, Izzie asked, ‘so why are you here talking to me and not at my craft centre sawing planks of wood?’
‘Firstly, because I passed the door on the way back from collecting the correct timber from the merchant’s in Bristol, and secondly because I’ve had a word with the Cotswold Choir’s choir master. David and I go way back. I assured him it would be alright on the night, and that the venue would be perfect on time. I thought you might rest easier, and be less inclined to do anything crazy like discharge yourself from here early, if you knew that.’
Izzie was torn between gratitude and suspicion, ‘Why would you do that for me?’ Registering how tetchy she sounded again, not to mention downright ungrateful, Izzie apologised, ‘Sorry, that came out all wrong. That’s really kind; thank you, Jo. So, how did you know I’d been thinking about springing myself from this joint?’
‘Megan told me how important all this was to you when I arrived, just before you did your dying swan act. I totally understand how important it is to prove to your parents you can do this, believe me!’
‘You do?’
Jo pushed back the stems of the flowers he’d bought, and poured the water into the vase. ‘My own parents were less than enamoured when I had a change of heart after getting my degree, and didn’t become the high-flying lawyer I was supposed to be. They imagined I’d be a judge by now. Taking an apprenticeship with a master carpenter in Oxford instead of flouting my First did not go down well. It doesn’t matter that I’ve built up a successful business in a very short time. All that matters to them is that I’m not doing what they wanted me to. They’d happily show off a son who is a successful barrister; they didn’t like showing off someone who is good at shaping wood.’
‘That does sound familiar.’ Izzie found her head swimming with questions, where are you from, which uni did you go to, what is it about wood, how old are you, are you single … But she’d been so rude to him; she didn’t feel she had any right to ask any of them. After all, she didn’t know this man beyond a close encounter with his body which, to her rising regret, couldn’t remember beyond the fact that it had hurt.
Jo stood up, ‘now I’ve set your mind at rest a bit, I’ll get back to the chancel. I bet Megan is thinking I’ve run away and she’ll have to do everything on her own.’
‘Thank goodness she came! Megan always was a lifesaver!’ Izzie felt guilt and worry begin to nag at the inside of her brain again, ‘I feel awful leaving her to get on with it.’
‘Well there’s nothing you can do but rest and wait for that ankle to get well enough to walk on. You might as well preserve your strength while you can.’
‘Are you calling me a weakling, Mr Tradesman?’
‘I’d never be so foolish!’ Jo headed for the door, ‘Oh, by the way, David had one condition about the choir.’
‘Oh hell, what?’
‘One of his sopranos is down with the flu; he wants me to find a replacement. I assume you’ll be able to do it, having had a posh education and all that?’
Jo ducked as the empty plastic jug flew across the room.
Megan was so relieved to see Jo’s van pull into the car park that she ran out to greet him. ‘Thank goodness you’re all right, I was beginning to think Izzie had winded you more than we’d thought and you weren’t coming.’
‘Sorry, Megan, I didn’t have your number, and I had to collect some timber.’
Feeling ashamed for thinking he’d let them down, and annoyed at herself for forgetting that he’d warned her might have to fetch some wood; Megan helped Jo carry it into the church.
‘I also went to see Izzie. I wanted to let her know the choir is still keen to come. I’ve assured them it will all be alright on the night.’
Megan looked more concerned than relieved by this news, ‘That’s really good of you, Jo, but how? I mean, I can’t even find an electrician who has time to come and get the wiring sorted. Every single one I’ve called is booked up right until Christmas. Even if you fix the timber in time, what about the tiles and stuff? Plus we need a glazier for the window. Thank goodness it was only a small clear one that got broken! And, even after all that, surely everything we need to do is impossible without light or electricity?’
Jo shook his head. ‘I can see why you and Izzie get on so well. You panic in the same way!’ He lifted up a hefty metal tool box, ‘this little beauty contains loads of fully charged cordless drills, screwdrivers, and everything else you can think of. I’ve been raiding the tool box and shed of everyone I know, so when one gadget runs out I have another to replace it with.’
Megan smiled, ‘You’re a star! Thanks, Jo. Sorry I panicked. I feel so responsible!’
‘How do you mean? None of this is your fault.’
‘Well I can’t help thinking that if I’d made a bit more noise as we walked over to Izzie on that flipping ladder, then we wouldn’t have taken her by surprise, and she wouldn’t have got all flustered. Which is weird actually because Izzie never gets flustered; and then she wouldn’t have fallen on you.’ Megan propped the wood she’d b
een carrying against the chancel wall and peered up at the hole. ‘I don’t suppose it’s that big a hole really, is it, do you honestly think you can do it?’
‘The wood, yes,’ Jo collected one of the powerful torches he’d left in the church overnight and shone it upwards. ‘I’ve ordered a portable generator to arrive tomorrow, so that I can get the main part of the joist replaced. It isn’t a huge job, just awkward and fiddly, especially as I want to stay in keeping with the age of the building.’
The sound of the door opening heralded the arrival of Mrs V carrying something that smelt of pure Christmas. ‘Megan, dear, are you there?’
Leaving Jo deciding where to start, Megan headed towards the small kitchen area, ‘Oh Mrs V, that smells unbelievable!’
The aroma of mulled wine wafted around the church as Mrs V opened a flask. Hits of cinnamon, nutmeg, and alcohol assailed Megan’s nostrils.
‘You should try it, dear. It has to be perfect if we’re to serve it at the concert.’
Taking a tiny glass, Megan sipped at the rich burgundy liquor, and instantly felt the joy of seasonal alcohol flood her veins, as a welcome layer of internal insulation buffered her against the cold of the church. ‘That is utterly delicious! And very strong, what’s in here?’
The old lady clapped her hands in delight, ‘Now that would be telling!’
‘You have got to be joking.’
‘Nope, Izzie said you have a lovely voice.’
‘I have a terrible voice; she just doesn’t want to do it herself!’ Megan wiped her grubby hands down her front. Up until that moment she’d quite enjoyed being Jo’s helper. Holding up the torch’s powerful beam, Megan had passed him different planks of wood in turn until Jo had decided which was most suited to the task, before skilfully cutting them into shape. It was a pleasure to watch his patient precision curving and bending of a solid object.
‘I’ll do anything for Izzie, but not that. I hate people staring at me at the best of times; no way could I cope with people judging if I was good enough to sing amongst such an exalted group. Which I can tell you I wouldn’t be, even if I could sing – which I can’t!’
