by Karen King
Lexi gave her a watery smile, remembering all the similar talks she’d had with her gran when some lad or other had broken her heart in her teens. ‘We rise up, stick our lippy on, put a smile on our face and go out with our head held high and show them just what an amazing life we’re going to have without them.’
Granny nodded. ‘That’s my girl.’
Lexi wiped her eyes, her gran’s words making her feel much better, as she remembered the other times she’d thought her heart was broken. ‘That’s why I don’t want to tell anyone, Granny. I don’t want my break-up to spoil Christmas. Especially as this is our first family Christmas for years.’
‘And it won’t.’ Granny Mabe raised her mug of hot chocolate and held it out to Lexi, who immediately picked up her own mug and clinked it with her gran’s. ‘To the best Christmas ever,’ they both chorused.
Granny Mabe took a big sip of her hot chocolate then put her mug back down and leant across the table. ‘Now, I’ve got a secret to share with you, but not a word to your mum and dad. Promise?’
Lexi’s interest was immediately piqued. ‘I promise.’
Granny Mabe leant forward conspiratorially. ‘I belong to the local Yarn Warriors group. You know what yarn-bombing is, don’t you?’
‘Yes, it’s a kind of street art – people cover trees, benches and other things in knitted squares and stuff,’ Lexi replied, thinking it should be her asking her gran that question.
Her granny nodded. ‘Yes, but we don’t do it just for the sake of it. We do it to pretty something up, or to make a statement, or draw attention to something. Last year we yarn-bombed some rusty benches in the park, it drew lots of attention to them and finally the council sent someone to give them all a coat of paint. There’s a lot of people who don’t like yarn-bombing, though, they think it’s a sort of graffiti, so we do it when no one is around and keep our identities a secret.’
Lexi stared at her. She hadn’t expected her eighty-four-year-old gran to know what yarn-bombing was, never mind take part in it! And belong to a secret organisation! Before she could find the words to reply, Granny Mabe looked around as if to make sure no one was listening, although there was only the two of them in the house, and continued.
‘We’ve been yarn-bombing in the village to make it more festive for Christmas. We’ve made postbox toppers, knitted baubles to string from railings and glittering wool “scarves” to wrap around the trees. You’ll see them as you walk around.’ Her eyes were wide with excitement. ‘Not a word to your parents, mind. I doubt they will approve.’
‘But don’t they see you knitting? Or do you knit when they’re at work?’ she asked.
Her granny picked up another marshmallow and popped it into her mouth. ‘They’re used to me knitting. They think I’m knitting blankets for the old folks.’
Granny Mabe had knitted for as long as Lexi could remember: blankets for babies, hats and scarves for the homeless, cuddly toys for children in hospital, orphanages or overseas. It was Granny Mabe who had taught Lexi to knit as a young child. Later, whenever she had a problem in her teens, she would take her knitting to her gran’s and they would knit away as Lexi confided her worries to her. Whenever Lexi turned up with her knitting, Grandpa Huey would disappear into the garden for a bit and leave them to talk. An hour or so later, he’d reappear bearing a tray laden with mugs of hot chocolate and marshmallows and ask, ‘all sorted?’. Lexi had always nodded and taken the hot chocolate gratefully. Although Granny Mabe couldn’t always solve Lexi’s problems, her sage advice had made Lexi feel like she could deal with them. She didn’t know what she’d have done without Granny and Grandpa back then. She was so glad that her parents had had the garage converted for them, it meant that Granny Mabe wasn’t alone now that Grandpa Huey had died. Poor Granny had been heartbroken to lose the love of her life, but her friends and Lexi’s parents had rallied around her, and now she seemed to have a new lease of life. And a secret one!
‘Isn’t it a bit risky? Doesn’t anyone see you doing it? There’s a lot of people about in the village in the day.’
‘We don’t do it in the daytime. We’re not that daft. We sneak out when it’s dark. I tell your parents that I’m going to bingo.’
Lexi nearly choked on her marshmallows. She couldn’t believe that her gran was secretly part of a guerrilla movement that sneaked out in the dark to cover objects with their ‘knitted graffiti’. She’d bet Granny Mabe had been a right rebel in her youth.
‘We’re working on a top-secret project—’ her granny started to say, but then the front door opened.
‘Lexi, are you here?’ Her mother had returned from work and had obviously spotted her car in the drive.
‘We’re in the kitchen!’ Granny Mabe shouted. Then she put her finger to her lips and winked.
Chapter Four
‘Sweetie! Come back!’ Joel Dexter shouted, but the little Maltese terrier ignored him and bounded off down the street in the opposite way Joel had intended to walk, dragging her lead behind her. She’d taken advantage of him struggling with the latch of the gate to pull the lead out of his hand and had made her big escape.
Joel charged after her. ‘Sweetie!’
Sweetie ignored him and scampered off far faster than he thought she was capable of.
‘Sweetie! Come back!’ he shouted again, quickening his pace and wishing his sister and her husband had given the Maltese a different name. He felt stupid running up the street shouting ‘Sweetie’.
Honestly, who knew that the little dog would be so much trouble? He was beginning to wonder if he’d done the right thing moving to Lystone just before Christmas. Now the divorce from Toni was almost finalised, he’d wanted to make a fresh start and move right away. So when his sister, Hazel, and her husband, Al, were offered work in Dubai for six months, he’d taken up their offer of renting their house; the idea of living in a little rural village in Devon had appealed to him and he’d thought it would give him time to sort out his life, decide what he wanted to do. His love of the countryside was behind his decision to become a tree surgeon, rather than follow in the footsteps of his parents who were both doctors, and lived and worked in Glasgow, where his father had grown up. Joel had met Toni when he’d moved to Somerset where he’d got a job looking after the woodland belonging to one of the large estates where she was a PA. They’d got married a year later, and then split up two years after that. Toni was a go-getter, and now she had gone.
Lystone was a lovely village, and Hazel and Al’s cottage very comfortable, but they had left their Maltese terrier, Sweetie, in Joel’s care. Sweetie was eight now, and Hazel had assured Joel that she was very sweet-tempered, content to be left all day while she and Al went to work, and only required feeding, watering, cuddling and walking each day to keep her happy. Joel had soon discovered, however, that Sweetie was one spoilt pooch, and missed her pet parents – as Hazel called her and Al – terribly. She howled every night unless Joel let her sleep in his room, and then she insisted on getting into bed with him and snoring so loudly he barely got any sleep. He was exhausted. And whenever he had to leave her to go out, she barked consistently – at least, he thought she did, because he could hear her barking as soon as he got out of his van. He was worried that the neighbours – who he hadn’t met yet – would complain. This week had been tiring and he was desperate for a Sunday-morning lie-in, so had decided to take Sweetie for a walk this evening in the hope that the exercise would wear her out and she’d sleep in late. Sweetie, however, had decided to run not walk and was already disappearing down the street, her lead flying behind her. Joel legged it after the white bundle of fluff, shouting ‘Sweetie!’ at the top of his voice.
Sweetie had disappeared around the corner now, so Joel pushed himself for an extra spurt. Hazel would never forgive him if he lost her precious pooch or – Heaven forbid – she got run over. The thought brought him out in a sweat of panic. Sweetie might be a thorough nuisance, but he didn’t want anything to happen to her.
‘Sweetie!’ he shouted, sprinting breathlessly around the corner and then skidding to a stop as he saw a young woman with long, honey-brown hair flowing from underneath a grey woolly hat with two fur bobbles on the top, crouching down, stroking the little Maltese. Sweetie was wagging her tail as if she was greeting a long-lost friend.
‘Oh, there you are! Thank goodness!’ he said between gasps. He’d thought he was fairly fit but that run had left him breathless.
The woman looked up, her dark brown eyes full of surprise as they rested on him – she was probably thinking that a tall, muscular guy like himself should have a Boxer with a name like Bruce instead of a little white Maltese called Sweetie. Thanks, Hazel.
‘I’m so glad you caught her. She pulled her lead out of my hand while I was shutting the gate,’ he said, his breathing more regulated now. ‘Come on, Sweetie.’
Sweetie slunk away from him, wriggling closer to the woman. No recognition. No tail wag. Great.
The woman scooped Sweetie up in her arms, nestling her close to her chest, and then studied Joel thoughtfully, as if she could tell that the dog wasn’t really his. Oh no! What if she thought he had stolen her? Sweetie was certainly acting as if he was a complete stranger.
‘Thanks for catching her but I’ll take her now,’ he said levelly as he walked closer and reached out to stroke Sweetie’s head. ‘Come on, Sweetie.’
The perishing dog snuggled her head into the woman’s shoulder as if she had never seen Joel before and this woman was her owner.
‘She doesn’t seem to want to come with you,’ the woman said hesitantly.
He sighed. ‘She probably doesn’t, but we’re stuck with each other. She’s my sister’s dog,’ he added, seeing the woman’s look of concern. He filled her in about housesitting for his sister, then got his phone out of his pocket, swiped to his photo gallery and showed her a picture of Hazel, Al, himself and Sweetie, taken the day before they left for Dubai. ‘Hazel and Al only left last week and Sweetie hasn’t got used to me yet. I’m Joel, by the way, Joel Dexter,’ he added, thinking he’d better introduce himself.
The woman nodded slowly. ‘Lexi Forde. I’ve come down to spend Christmas with my parents, they own the bakery. Sorry for doubting you but she does seem hesitant to come to you.’
Lexi. He liked that. It suited her. ‘I wish she’d be a bit more hesitant about sleeping in my bed all night and keeping me awake with her snoring! I don’t think I had more than three hours sleep last night.’
Lexi giggled. ‘You sound like a new dad.’
‘I am. I’ve never had a dog before. Hazel assured me that Sweetie would be no trouble at all but she’s a nightmare! And as for her name. Have you any idea how embarrassing it is for a tall guy like me to go running down the street shouting “Sweetie!”’
Lexi burst out laughing at that. ‘Oh, I’m sorry – but it is funny! That’s one of the reasons I wasn’t sure she was your dog.’ She stroked Sweetie’s head. ‘I think you’d better go back to your new master.’
Sweetie licked Lexi’s face, then allowed herself to be passed over to Joel. She licked his face happily as soon as she was in his arms.
‘Oh, you want to know me now, do you?’ he said, tickling her under her chin. ‘It’s a good job that I’ve got a forgiving nature.’
Sweetie nuzzled into him. It was hard to believe that she’d refused to come to him only a few minutes ago. She really was a little terror!
‘Well, I must get back,’ Lexi said with a smile.
‘Thanks again,’ Joel said.
He turned to watch as Lexi walked past him, then headed around the corner he’d just sped around. She paused, as if sensing that he was watching her, looked back and waved. She seemed nice, he thought, shame she was only here for Christmas.
He put Sweetie down on the ground, keeping a tight hold on her lead. ‘Right, menace, now let’s go for that walk. And no more tricks!’
Lexi hurried on along the street, a smile still on her lips. What an adorable little dog, and Joel seemed nice too. He had such a deep, rich, pleasant voice, with a touch of a Scottish accent. She felt some sympathy for him having to walk a little dog like that, and with such a girly name! His sister and partner must have glam jobs to jet off to work in Dubai for six months, and how lucky that Joel was available to house sit during their absence. She wondered if he lived close or had moved completely out of his area, fancying a change. She shrugged, what did it matter?
After giving her mother a hug and trotting out the excuse about Ben working, Lexi had decided to go for a short walk around the village, wanting to give herself time to pull herself together before facing the questions her mother would inevitably be asking over dinner. She knew her mother’s quizzing came from a good place but even talking about Ben brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t believe how he had betrayed her, and at the worst possible time of year, too. Excusing herself by saying she wanted to take a look at the Christmas lights, and the decorations outside the houses – something she had always loved doing – she had grabbed her coat and set off, with her mother calling after her that dinner would be served in an hour.
As she headed along the street, Lexi remembered her parents taking her, Ryan and Jay on a tour of the village to see the lights when they were children. The villagers in Lystone always put on such a spectacular show, and many families from other villages often drove over to see them, and the dazzling light displays the council always put on.
Her favourite special Christmas tradition was the lighting of the big Christmas tree on the green, followed by a carol service, then everyone piling into the Olde Tavern for drinks and snacks. She’d been really looking forward to introducing Ben to the Forde family Christmas traditions, she was sure he would have loved the Christmas carol service. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it down. She couldn’t believe they were finished; she’d adored Ben and thought that he’d loved her too.
She carried on up the street until she came to the green, separated by the road from the houses and shops that circled it. She looked over at the big fir tree that stood in the middle. To her surprise, there wasn’t one single decoration on the tree and there was a cordon of red-and-white tape all around that section of the green. The council were leaving it late, it was only just over week until Christmas and although the lights were never switched on until Christmas Eve it was usually decorated a couple of weeks beforehand. Perhaps someone would come and decorate the tree on Monday, she thought. That’s probably why they’ve cordoned it off.
She carried on with her walk, smiling as she spotted a cute, knitted snow-family decorating the top of a postbox. The woolly figures were gathered around a Christmas tree and a carol book on a stand. This must be one of the postbox toppers Granny Mabe mentioned! Maybe her gran had even helped make it.
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’
Lexi turned at the sharp voice to see a man, probably in his late fifties, standing behind her.
‘Sorry?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘I saw you looking at that!’ The man pointed to the postbox topper. ‘They call it art! Well, I call it a mess. Look how dirty and discoloured it is. And there’s plenty more scattered all over the village. It’s a disgrace!’ The man tutted and walked off.
Lexi stared after him. It seemed that not everyone approved of her gran and the other Yarn Warriors’ attempts to add a festive touch to the village.
She shivered, it was a bit chilly now and dinner would be ready soon. She decided to go back home and catch up with her parents. She could look around the village a bit more tomorrow.
Her mother was laying plates on the table when Lexi let herself in the back door. The delicious smell of steak and kidney pie wafted from the oven, and Lexi’s tummy rumbled. She was hungry. ‘Just in time! I was about to dish up. Did you enjoy your walk?’ she asked, glancing up at Lexi.
‘I did,’ she said, taking off her coat and hanging it up in the utility room and slipping her boots off before joining her mum back in the
kitchen again. ‘I love how festive Lystone looks at Christmas.’ She opened the cutlery drawer and grabbed some knives and forks.
Then her father came in. He beamed when he saw her and gave her a big hug. ‘It’s so good to see you, darling.’
Lexi lay her head on his shoulder for a moment, her father’s hugs had always managed to make the world feel a better place.
Granny Mabe joined them and they chatted away as they sat down to eat. Lexi felt happy and relaxed, sitting in the cosy kitchen with her family, remembering the years they’d all crowded around this table, Jay and Ryan too, talking and eating. Sometimes the conversation would get a bit heated, sometimes one of them would storm out, but only to return a few minutes later when dessert was served. No one in the Forde family ever stayed angry for long.
‘Your mum said you went for a walk to look at the lights. You always used to love doing that at Christmas time,’ her dad said. ‘The village looks beautiful all lit up, doesn’t it?’
‘Gorgeous! Although, I only went as far as the green.’ Lexi swallowed a mouthful of the pie before continuing. ‘I was surprised to see that the fir tree isn’t decorated yet. I thought they always did it the second week of December. I notice that it’s cordoned off, though, so I guess they’re going to do it on Monday.’
‘They’re not decorating it at all. The council want to chop the tree down. They said that it’s unsafe.’ Granny Mabe told her. ‘Load of rubbish if you ask me.’
‘What? Surely not?’ Lexi asked incredulously.
She saw her parents exchange looks. Then her father said, ‘I’m afraid so, that’s why that part off the green is cordoned off. They don’t want anyone going on it in case one of the branches falls off the tree.’
Lexi was stunned. She couldn’t imagine Christmas without the traditional Christmas Eve carol service around the huge fir tree on the green. ‘When did they say this? Can’t they do anything to save the tree?’
