Jim caught Lucy’s eye, and she tried not to laugh. She was sure Elsie was causing disruption on purpose.
‘Right,’ Elsie waved a hand, ‘you can start, but keep it short we all need a drink after that performance.’
George had barely started speaking when the donkey, revived by the fresh air, shook itself violently then started to bray.
‘Can somebody shut—’
Nobody it seemed, least of all Matt, who had disappeared from sight, was capable of silencing the animal. Every time George started to speak, so did the donkey.
‘I think I quite like that donkey.’ Lucy, who had been dreading the chaos, was starting to feel quite attached to little Harriet, who after a sleepy start seemed to want to take a starring role. In fact she was feeling so fond of it she was beginning to wonder if it would like a new home, away from the rescue centre. Which wasn’t a good thought at all, considering her ever expanding menagerie.
‘Always said Georgie Porgie could talk the hind leg off a donkey.’ Jim chuckled. ‘The poor animal thinks he’s one of them, ee-aww, ee-aww.’ Lucy tried not to laugh at Jim’s very good impression. ‘Hope it doesn’t keel over again.’
‘Well at least we won’t need the vicar to ring the bells,’ muttered Elsie under her breath.
Soon it wasn’t just Jim who was chuckling, and with a resigned sigh George leaned forward. ‘I should have known better in this place I suppose.’ He was grinning, a genuine happy grin. ‘Happy Christmas Langtry Meadows, there’s no place like it.’ And with a flourish he pressed the switch and the Christmas tree lit up.
‘Can we see Father Christmas now?’ Maisie tugged at Lucy’s hand, and she looked over the little girl’s head to smile at Charlie. ‘I’m sure you can.’
‘Are you coming with us?’
The warmth in his smile sent her stomach tumbling. ‘Well I think my job here is done.’ She squeezed Maisie’s hand. ‘So why not?’
‘Right, Father Christmas, then over to the village hall to hear the finale.’
‘Don’t you think he’s rushing through them a bit?’ Charlie hissed as Matt practically tossed Poppy Brownlow off his knee, promising her everything she wanted for Christmas, providing she was good, then beckoned Maisie over.
‘He’s frightened of being late.’
‘Late?’ He looked at her blankly, and she elbowed him in the ribs as Sally (dressed as a rather naughty elf) waved in their direction. ‘Oh, late. Oh yes,’ it finally dawned on him, ‘late.’
Several people turned to look at them. Lucy blushed and Charlie went into a bluster. ‘Late, going to be late to surgery tomorrow, if, if …’
‘Shut up Charlie.’ Lucy giggled. ‘Whose idea was it to make her Santa’s little helper?’
‘Mine.’ Lucy hadn’t heard her mother sneak up behind them, and she whirled round. ‘Do you? You, you know as well?’
Trish Jacobs nodded and grinned. ‘We thought she needed to be kept busy. This mulled wine is excellent.’
‘That’s because it’s got a bottle of brandy in it, Mum. Does everybody know?’
‘More or less. Well Elsie and Jim do, and I think Elsie told Jamie to tell the vicar, then …’
‘Shh, shh she’ll hear.’
Sally it seemed was too busy to overhear anything though. Matt had her running backwards and forwards, collecting gifts, swapping unwanted gifts, tidying up wrapping paper and writing lists at such a pace it made Lucy tired just watching. And in between it all, Matt managed to wink in her direction and give her a discreet thumbs up behind Maisie’s back.
‘Shall we, er, go to the village hall then?’
‘You can’t leave yet, Sal.’ Matt, who must have been told to use delaying tactics to keep Sally out of the way until everybody was at the village hall was proving himself more than up to the job. ‘You’ve got to put my costume away. Here.’
Lucy saw him peel the beard off as she ushered Maisie away.
‘Matt, you’re being a pain in the bum. I was asked to be a helper, not tidy the whole bloody square up.’ It sounded like Sally had decided being Santa’s little helper was not quite the fun role she’d expected.
‘It’s not the whole square,’ he said reasonably, but even at this distance Lucy thought she detected the slightest tremble of laughter, ‘we’re doing that in the morning. Now stop whingeing and put the lid on the mulled wine, we’re taking it with us.’
***
‘Matthew Harwood, if you tell me one more time to lift my end up I’ll stran—’
Sally’s words died in her throat as a big roar went up, and if Matt hadn’t been prepared the mulled wine would have gone flying.
‘What the …?’ She looked up in bewilderment at the massive banner stretched from one side of the village hall to the other, saying Congratulations, she did a double take, on Your Wedding. ‘But …’ The whole village were there, glasses of bubbly in hand. All looking at her.
‘I thought you deserved a party darling.’ Jamie had made his way out of the crowd, and took both her hands in his. Looking straight into her eyes in that way she loved. ‘I hope you’re not cross, I mean I know you didn’t want a big wedding, but,’ he paused, the hint of a smile twitching at his beautiful mouth, ‘maybe a good party?’
‘Oh Jamie.’ The tears were rushing to her eyes in a very embarrassing way, so she buried her head in his neck.
‘You don’t like it?’
‘I love it.’ She pulled away, wiped the back of her hand over her eyes then stared again. ‘Everybody …’
‘Everybody is here love.’ It was her dad, appearing as if by magic from the side of the room, two glasses of champagne in his hands. He handed one to Sally, and one to Jamie, before clapping Jamie on the back and nearly sending him flying.
‘But …’
‘As I never got to give my darling daughter away on her wedding day, then I’m going to do it now. You don’t think I’d miss out on that, do you?’
‘Oh Dad.’
Sally didn’t really hear much of her dad’s speech. She just stared at him for a while, tears filling her eyes, then looked at her mother, who was wiping her own tears away even more frantically than Sally (but smiling the whole time), then she looked at Jamie.
‘You did this for me.’ It came out as a tiny whisper, but he heard.
He nodded.
‘You knew …’
‘I knew you wanted to get married your way, and so that’s what you did. But the whole village love you, Sal.’
‘And they all love a bloody party.’ Matt bashed his brother on his back. ‘Right get that bubbly down your neck. We’ve got to listen to the school’s twelve peacocks flying or whatever it is, then we can get this show on the road properly. Right,’ he rubbed his hands together, ‘get the kids sorted Timmy boy, and I’ll start serving the beer.’
Timmy boy shot one of his terrifying headmaster stares in Matt’s direction, but the effect was spoiled slightly when he blinked and took a slight stagger back. Matt’s grin broadened, and before he could say anything, or anybody else could notice, Jill leapt in and gently steered the headmaster to the side of the hall.
‘You sit down and enjoy it, Mr Parry, me and Lucy will sort it out. You deserve a rest after all the hard work you’ve put in.’
Lucy tried not to grin, and with the help of Jill did her best to gather the children together.
The Hargreave twins formed a mini chocolate-fuelled whirlwind, Poppy and Ted were cross-legged on the floor in the centre having a heated argument about slugs and newly born kittens, and Daisy decided it was the right moment to release the chicken that she’d smuggled in under her shower-curtain king costume.
Maisie started to giggle as Charlie made a dive for the hen, which decided it wasn’t ready to give up its freedom. It headed off towards the buffet table as fast as its little legs would take it, neatly dodged Jamie, who collided with Charlie, and then with a squawk of indignation leapt in the air and landed plonk in the middle of Jane Smith’s trifle – sending
a shower of cream and jelly over Billy. He whooped with delight, and set off doing what looked a bit like a rain dance as the chicken flapped frantically splattering everybody in sight with hundreds and thousands, before it strutted off across the white table cloth in indignation leaving a trail of blancmange and jelly footprints behind it. For a second it hesitated, and everybody held their breath, then it shook one of its tiny feet and the piece of fruit that had got skewered on one of its nails flew off, span slowly through the air and landed on Timothy Parry’s head.
Jim, who should have known better, lunged forward and deftly caught the chicken, then pushed it down firmly on his lap. ‘It can watch from here. Daft bugger.’
The children by now were far too excited to remember any of the dance steps they’d been taught. The combination of a chat to Father Christmas, followed by all the adult cheering and an escaped hen had sent them all a bit giddy, and even Liz Potts hadn’t got the heart to insist they did it properly.
The song, Lucy decided, had probably never been sung quite so quickly – which was probably a good thing given the hyper state of the lords-a-leaping and ladies dancing, and she really didn’t trust the twelve drummers drumming, even if they were normally sensible Year 6’s. Thank goodness that they’d ditched authenticity and gone with a cardboard cut-out partridge, which was flapping rather violently as Sophie shouted out the final line with vigour each time they came to it.
‘Aren’t they sweet?’ Jill nudged Lucy, who jumped. Sweet wouldn’t have been the word she’d have used right now. Why Jill was whispering was also a bit of a mystery, even the donkey couldn’t have made itself heard above the might of the Langtry Meadows Primary School children when they were in full flow.
‘Sweet?’ Okay, she couldn’t keep the incredulous tone out of her voice, but Jill chuckled as Maisie skipped on the spot, her earlier reservations about being a ‘silly dancing lady’ now gone.
‘Them, you idiot.’ She nodded in the direction of Sally and Jamie who were looking very loved-up indeed, and Lucy gave a sigh of relief.
‘Oh, them! For a moment I thought you’d lost your marbles.’ She sighed, they did look happy. Sally had been bowled over by the surprise party. It was just a shame she couldn’t solve her own and Charlie’s problems so easily. ‘He gets her, doesn’t he?’
‘It looks that way.’ Jill smiled. ‘It took them a long time to get together, but we always knew that one day …’
The children clattered to the end of the song, and the Hargreave twins let go of the pear tree which hit the ground with a loud thunk, followed by a flutter as Sophie cast the partridge on the top. The audience decided that signalled the end, so after a good round of applause they gathered up their children and directed them towards the hot dogs and pizza that were being served at the far end of the room.
‘Phew, I think I need a drink.’ Lucy let out a dramatic sigh as laughter echoed round the room. She linked her hand through Charlie’s arm. ‘What do you think?’
‘Sounds like a good idea to me.’
‘I think it’s past my bedtime.’ Timothy, who’d been watching the proceedings like a genial uncle who didn’t have a care in the world (which could have been down to three glasses of mulled wine) cleared his throat. He patted Lucy’s arm. ‘Excellent job today my dear, you’ve all done an excellent job. Splendid team, splendid. Oh,’ he paused, ‘nearly forgot.’ He held up a finger. ‘Elsie wants a word, something that’s been playing on her mind. See you on Monday morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Now, what did I do with my scarf?’ He pottered off, in the general direction of the door, his scarf already firmly knotted around his neck.
‘I’ll get refills shall I? While you see what Elsie wants?’
‘You still find it strange calling her Elsie don’t you?’
‘I do, she’s been Miss Harrington to me since I was,’ Charlie grinned, ‘knee-high to a grasshopper. In fact, I still don’t think I dare call her Elsie to her face. Go on, she’s summoning you.’ He dropped a light kiss on her lips. ‘I’ll check Maisie’s okay. Mulled wine or bubbly?’
‘You are kidding me? If I have one more glass of Matt’s rocket fuel I’ll fall over, bubbly please.’
Elsie, Lucy realised, had her gaze fixed firmly on them, but as she got closer she realised the old lady was looking uncharacteristically nervous. There were pink splodges of anxiety on her cheeks, and the slightest of trembles in the hand that rested on her knee.
‘We,’ she shot a glance in Jim’s direction, ‘have an announcement.’
Lucy’s mother, Trish, smiled encouragingly and Jim, one hand on his crutch, patted her arm with his other.
‘I didn’t want to make a fuss, but,’ Elsie took a deep breath, straightened her backbone and seemed to find conviction from somewhere deep inside. When she spoke again the words rang out in her normal forthright tone. ‘I would like you to meet my darling son.’ She paused, then waved a hand with a dramatic flourish, just to make certain there could be no confusion. ‘Jim.’ And there could be no doubt at all of the note of pride in her voice.
Lucy looked from Elsie to Jim, then at her mother, who had the softest of smiles on her face.
‘Here we go.’ Charlie held a glass in front of her face, but Lucy didn’t really see it. ‘Sorry, is there something wrong, am I?’ His tone dropped to one of uncertainty.
‘No, Charles, there is absolutely nothing wrong at all.’ Elsie, who had obviously gained confidence now that she’d spoken the words once, smiled. It was the happiest smile Lucy had ever seen. It lit her eyes, which were damp with emotion, brightened her whole face. ‘I have news, a baby.’
When Lucy glanced up, Charlie had a startled look in his eye, and she grinned.
‘Meet my son, Charles.’
‘Your?’
‘Jim is my son.’ Elsie looked delighted with her power to shock, and was positively chuckling. The same familiar chuckle that Lucy had heard from Jim a thousand times, just not quite as deep or rumbling. They had the same nose, the same direct stare, the same urge to nurture the village, the same kindness.
She’d had the slightest of suspicions when Jim had his accident, when Elsie had been so distraught and had vowed to tell her son the truth. But she’d not seen it clearly until now. When they were sat side by side. So different and yet so alike.
Jim had obviously been drawn to his mother, even though he didn’t know that was who she was. He’d called on her, helped her out when he could, was company. And Elsie had watched him silently, from the side-lines, as he grew up. Watched him as a baby, a boy, a man.
Now she looked relieved. At peace.
Lucy smiled. It had taken a lot of bravery for Elsie to talk to Jim. She was frightened of being hated, of being shunned, but how could lovely Jim have done that to her?
‘But now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a lot to catch up on.’
Jim nodded as Elsie stood up, then helped him to his feet. The roles had been reversed. For so long he’d been there for Elsie, now she was grabbing the opportunity to do what she’d always wanted to. Look after him. Her child. ‘Not had much of a chance to chat, have we? Been a lot to sort with the party and everything.’ He tapped his crutch on the floor. ‘Right then, we’ll be off will we?’ Wavering on his feet, he grinned at Lucy and Charlie. ‘Summat good came out of the nipper running off then. If I hadn’t buggered this leg up then who knows when the old fool would have told me.’ He shook his head, but the look he swapped with Elsie said it all, the gentle affection that had always existed between them had moved to a deeper level.
‘Things usually happen for a reason.’ Her voice was soft.
‘I’ll stay on here for a while, if that’s okay?’ Trish’s tone was gentle, she wanted to give them space. Time together.
‘Splendid. We will see you later.’ Then Elsie took a step forward and did something totally unexpected. She put her hands on Lucy’s arms and kissed her. ‘Thank you, dear. Thank you so much.’ The words were so soft, Lucy was sure nobody else
could hear them. Tears sprang to her eyes as Elsie drew back.
‘And thank you.’ Lucy whispered back as she glanced over at Trish, and Elsie followed her gaze. This was what life in Langtry Meadows was all about. People. Helping each other.
Chapter 22
The grass was crisp, crunchy beneath their feet as Lucy and Charlie made their way across the field, Roo and Piper running ahead with Maisie in hot pursuit.
The last time Charlie had been in this field had probably been when Maisie was missing, and Lucy glanced up to see if it bothered him.
He looked down at her at exactly the same time, and the corners of his generous mouth lifted into the small, private smile she loved to share with him.
‘Okay?’ She kept her voice low.
‘More than okay.’
‘I do love you, Charlie.’
‘Love you too.’ He squeezed her hand in his. ‘We’re lucky to be living in a place like this, aren’t we?’
‘Daddy, Lucy, hurry up, stop talking.’ Maisie skidded to a halt in front of them, then whirled around and headed back across the field. ‘Follow me, I know the way.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Very lucky.’
‘How’s your mum settling in with Elsie?’
‘Oh she loves it.’ Lucy had been surprised just how quickly her mother had settled into her new home in Langtry Meadows, and as she’d done so she seemed to have cast off a heavy cloak that had dragged her down for so long. ‘She’s happy; happier than I’ve ever seen her.’ She’d been blind to how her mother felt as she’d been growing up. Too busy with her own problems to appreciate her mother’s sacrifices, how she’d left Stoneyvale, Dad, her abusive husband, so that she could bring up her daughter in safety. To be independent.
That life had haunted Lucy until she’d moved to Langtry Meadows – the place she’d least expected to save her. And now, it seemed, it was saving her mother too.
‘This way, Daddy, Daddy.’
Charlie suddenly laughed, and started to run, taking Lucy with him. Her feet slid on the damp grass, Roo ran circles round them barking with excitement and Maisie giggled as they reached her and Charlie swept her up into the air.
Coming Home to Jasmine Cottage Page 23
