Mia frowned at him. 'It's not funny, Jet, so as much as I love that grin of yours, be serious. We've got to find a solution to this.'
'The only solution,' Gill said, 'is to disappoint one set of people. You've only got one cottage to rent, and unless you're good at performing miracles, you can't make one cottage turn into two.'
'Oh hell.' Mia took a deep breath. 'It's my cottage so I suppose it'll have to be me who does it. And as I didn't take the booking from the woman, I can explain that it was an error. Perhaps if I offer her a free weekend sometime, it might let her down a bit more gently. I don't expect she'll be able to find somewhere else, but the sooner she knows, the better chance she'll have.' She sighed and walked towards the front door, glancing briefly at Jet who looked deep in thought.
'Er.' Ella looked apologetic. 'You may have a problem if you're thinking of telling my lot to look elsewhere. I don't believe I took a phone number, now I come to think about it.'
'What?' Mia stopped in her tracks. 'But they've paid the rental invoice, so you must have their email address at least.'
Ella cleared her throat. 'Um. No. I forgot to ask. As I said, I was in a rush.'
'If they haven't paid, how do we know they're coming?'
'Oh they're coming. I told you. The woman was over the moon about it. She'll obviously pay when she gets here on Wednesday.'
'Or she won't turn up,' Gill said. 'That'll solve your problem. Perhaps it would be wise to wait and see if she arrives, or if she calls back. She must've thought it was a bit odd not to have to pay in advance, or at least, leave a deposit.'
Mia frowned. 'But if she does turn up, I can't then tell her I've already rented it out to someone else and that she and her friend and their kids won't have anywhere to stay and will have to go home for Christmas, can I? And I can't let the Hardmans down. As I said, it's the parents' anniversary and they met in Little Pondale. And they have paid in advance.'
'Her number may still be in the call log on the phone,' Gill suggested.
'It was the landline,' Ella said.
Gill pulled a face and grinned. 'I know. I'm well aware you can't make or receive calls on mobiles. But all modern landline phones have a call log too. Unless you've deleted it. I don't think either of you would've done that.'
'That's good,' Mia said.
Ella nodded. 'Although it means you've got the awful task of telling the poor woman that she'll have to find somewhere else for her and her friend to give their kids an old-fashioned Christmas.'
Mia frowned. 'And whose fault is that?'
Ella shrugged and screwed up her face. 'Mine, I suppose. I really am sorry. Even more so for those poor kids.'
'Mia. Wait,' Jet said, as Mia continued towards the front door. 'There is another option.'
She turned to face him. 'Oh? What's that?'
He coughed lightly and adjusted the collar of his waterproof jacket as if it were too tight and then he looked her directly in the eyes. 'You could move in with me. Just for Christmas, I mean.'
Had Mia heard him correctly?
'Move in with you?'
He ran a hand through his lustrous, midnight-black hair and his mouth twitched. 'Don't look so shocked. It'll only be temporary. But it does solve your problem. That way, if the women and kids do arrive this Wednesday, you can rent them Corner Cottage, and then the Hardmans can have Sunbeam Cottage from this Friday and you can simply tell them that this cottage became available and is the nicer of the two. Which it definitely is. They'll be so pleased, they won't care that they're not getting the place they thought they were.'
'Move in with you for Christmas?' Mia still couldn't believe it. Jet had definitely come a long way in the last few months, but she hadn't expected this. He'd gone from a man who had never had a long-term relationship or told a woman he loved her; who only wanted fun and then waved women goodbye; who was so anti-relationships and marriage that it was almost unbelievable – to this. A man who was in a loving relationship with her. He told her he loved her every single day. Sometimes more than once a day. He'd shown her it was true. And now he was actually offering to let her move into Little Pond Farm … with him. Even if it was just for Christmas. Miracles clearly did happen. She looked him in the eyes. 'Are you sure, Jet?'
He frowned before the twitch at the corner of his mouth took hold again and burst into a loving smile. 'Absolutely. It'll only be for a couple of weeks and if we get the heavy snow the forecasters are predicting, it'll save either one of us from having to trudge through it to see each other.'
Ella coughed. 'Ahem. I hate to interrupt this astonishing moment, but what about me and Gill?'
'We could go back to my place in Cambridge for Christmas,' Gill suggested, but he didn't look keen.
'You're welcome to come and stay too,' Jet said, dragging his gaze from Mia and grinning at Ella. 'You know there're seven bedrooms in the farmhouse. But I'm not putting wooden reindeer or plastic snowmen, or anything else Christmas related on my roof, so don't even think about suggesting it.'
Ella grinned. 'Just the light-up candy canes down the length of your drive then and, of course, as your front lawn is much, much bigger than this one, possibly two or three snowmen, and maybe even two matching Christmas trees?'
'Too much?' Mia asked him, laughing, when she saw the look of horror on his face.
'Way too much. I'll agree to one tree, with lights, and that's it.'
'A big tree?' Mia coaxed. 'And maybe a row of candy canes leading to the door?'
He sighed as if he knew he'd lost the battle. 'Okay. One tree and one row of candy canes. But that's definitely it.' He smiled. 'So we're doing this? You're moving in to my farmhouse?'
Mia nodded. 'We'd love to. And I promise you Jet, this will be a Christmas you'll never forget.'
He gave a short burst of laughter as she ran to him and hugged and kissed him. 'I don't doubt that for a minute,' he said, bending his head to kiss her properly.
'We don't have time for that,' Ella interrupted. 'If we're moving in with you, we've got to start moving our stuff out of here.'
Mia eased herself out of the kiss and smiled. 'We don't have to move anything until Wednesday. If the women don't arrive, we can all stay put. And anyway, we haven't got much stuff to move. Most of it was Mattie's. It won't take long to shift our clothes and the few possessions I brought with me when I came to stay here. You still haven't moved any of your own stuff down, so it's just your clothes. Neither has Gill. But we will have to find a place for my rowing machine. We can't leave that in the dining room if the Hardmans have to have this cottage.'
Chapter Two
'Morning vicar.'
Glen Fox smiled at Ella and her friends, and returned the cheerful greeting. He had only been in Little Pondale for two weeks but was quickly getting to know the residents, most of whom, like Ella, Mia, Jet and Gill, seemed very friendly. But there was something a little odd in the way Ella looked at him and smiled; as if he reminded her of a private joke or some such thing.
'Your cottage is looking very festive,' Glen said, taking in the mass of lights, reindeer and snowmen occupying almost every square inch of the roof and front garden.
'You should see inside,' Ella replied, winking at him. 'And there's a tree, a couple of reindeer and another snowman in the back garden too. Mia and I love Christmas.'
Glen raised his brows. 'I would never have guessed. I hope that means I'll be seeing you all in church.'
'Ah.' Ella grinned at him. 'About that. We're not really church lovers since the last vicar tried to bump off Jet with one of the angels from the church roof, and got his girlfriend to send Mia threats.'
'And tampered with Jet's brakes,' Mia added.
Jet nodded. 'Not to mention embezzling church funds.'
'Yes,' Glen said, shaking his head. 'The Bishop filled me in regarding the church aspects, and I'm obliged to Hettie Turner for making me fully aware of the rest of the former Reverend Thomas Tyburn's nefarious activities. Disgraceful behaviour. We're all
mortified. But I sincerely hope that one man's appalling dishonesty and criminal behaviour will not reflect on the rest of us. If there is anything I can do to persuade you that we're not all bad, I'll willingly do it.'
'You can reinstate the choir,' Mia said. 'Everyone in the village wants that. Choir practice was Tuesday evenings and we all miss it.'
Glen beamed at them. 'Then I have good news for you. Hettie was bending my ear … I mean, Hettie was suggesting the very same thing in church this morning, and I've decided to do exactly that. Does that mean I can look forward to the pleasure of seeing you all in church this Tuesday evening?'
Mia and Ella grinned at one another.
'We'll all be there,' Mia said. 'You can count on it.'
'But I can't sing,' said Gill.
'That's never stopped Ella,' Jet joked.
'Oi! Watch it Jet Cross, or the vicar won't be the only one who tries to kill you,' Ella said, but she was laughing.
'Former vicar,' Glen corrected, smiling. 'Hettie also informed me that the choir has a carol singing evening for charity each year. Obviously it's rather short notice but I'm going to try to organise that for this coming Saturday. Her husband Fred has kindly offered to produce some leaflets. I'm off to see him now and they'll be dropping through all the letterboxes in the village today. May I put your names down for Saturday?'
'Of course,' Jet said. 'This will be Mia, Ella and Gill's first Christmas in Little Pondale, but I've been involved in the charity carol singing since I was old enough to walk and it's a really good event. Not only does it help the chosen charities, it's also fun for those taking part.' He directed his gaze to Mia. 'We carry candle lanterns and go from cottage to cottage, finally ending up at The Frog and Lily where Freda and Alec lay on a festive buffet, with turkey sandwiches, sausage rolls, mince pies, mulled wine and spiced hot cider punch. It usually turns into a bit of a party.'
Mia smiled. 'You don't have to convince me. I'm in.'
'You had me at The Frog and Lily.' Ella grinned at Jet and winked at Glen.
Gill frowned. 'Freda and Alec may not be feeling terribly festive this year. Didn't Toby say they might be going to Spain?'
'Yes he did,' Mia said. 'But he's not going. He told me that as much as he still loves his sister, he's not ready to forgive her and pretend that none of that stuff happened. He's going to stay and run the pub, even though that means it'll be the first Christmas his family has spent apart for as long as he can remember. Which is very sad, when you think about it.'
Jet nodded. 'True. But if I know Toby, and believe me, I do know Toby, he'll make sure it's Christmas as usual at The Frog and Lily.'
'Well,' Glen said. 'That's something else for us all to look forward to. I'll put you on the list for Saturday. I'd better get to Fred and Hettie's now or Hettie will send out a search party. See you all on Tuesday. Have a lovely Sunday.'
'Er, vicar,' Ella called after him as he turned and walked away. 'You're heading in the wrong direction. Duckdown Cottage is two doors down the lane, not across the village green.'
Glen glanced over his shoulder and smiled. The sarcasm in Ella's voice was evident.
'Thank you, Ella. I know it is. I simply thought I'd pop into Lake's Bakes and see if Jenny had some of those delicious mini panettones. She very kindly gave me a gift box of baked treats as a welcome present, and while everything in the box was delicious to say the least, the mini panettone made me feel as if I'd died and gone to heaven.'
'The cinnamon swirls are pretty heavenly too,' Mia said.
Ella grinned. 'All Jenny's buns are divine, aren't they, vicar?'
Glen was once again certain there was something in the way Ella winked at him, but he simply nodded, smiled, waved and walked on. Ella was right though; Jenny Lake's buns were indeed divine. And Jenny was rather special too.
He hadn't been particularly keen to take over at St Michael and All Angels, especially after hearing what went on there, and the thought of living in a village appealed to him about as much as going on a day trip to hell, but his uncle was the Bishop and had asked him for a favour. Glen couldn't turn him down. Besides, it was only a temporary post. Someone would replace him in the New Year, or the diocese might even merge two parishes into one, so his uncle said. In any event, he merely had to spend a few weeks here, and that couldn't be too bad. Dull and boring maybe, but he had books to read and the scenery was stunning. He had planned to try his hand at watercolour painting; that was something his mother loved to do and he had always promised himself that, when he had some spare time on his hands, he would give it a go himself. And then, at exactly seven on the first night he arrived, his doorbell rang and when he had opened the door to his cottage, he thought his dreams had come true. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing on his doorstep, her wild, red hair like dancing flames in the bitterly cold north-east wind and the light from the street lamps; her cherry-red lips the epitome of the word 'temptation'; her warm hazel eyes like beacons of hope in the dull and boring weeks ahead. He had actually been lost for words.
And so, it seemed, had she. But she was the first to speak.
'I brought you these,' she had said, smiling up at him with outstretched hands. 'I'm Jenny Lake from Lake's Bakes, the bakery across the village green.' She nodded in that general direction. 'I'm fairly new to the village too. I've taken over from my cousin, Justin Lake who owns the place. He moved to Hollywood and he's already a star even though his film's not out until next year. I've come here from Florence. I loved it there but … well, sadly my boyfriend broke my heart and I needed to get away, so it was perfect timing.' She stopped suddenly, winced, screwed up her face and blushed profusely. 'Sorry. I have no idea why I told you all that. I don't usually tell complete strangers my entire life story.' Her colour deepened and she averted her gaze. 'Here. I've brought you a selection of my cakes and biscuits. Just a few to have with a mug of cocoa tonight before you go to bed, or with coffee for breakfast, or … Oh gosh. Sorry. My mind seems to be wandering. Um. Lovely to meet you, Reverend. Welcome to Little Pondale. Good night.'
She had turned and hurried away, the wind playing with that incredible red hair and all he could think of to say was, 'Thanks.'
He shook his head and smiled now as he crunched his way across the grass, the remnants of the morning frost still glistening in the pale lemon sunlight. She must've thought he was a complete imbecile that night. And her opinion of him clearly hadn't improved much since.
He'd gone to the bakery the following morning to thank her properly but she had seemed a little off with him and the bakery had been packed. That was a surprise. Little Pondale was hardly large, by any stretch of the imagination but every single villager and their relatives must have been in the bakery that day. And every day since. People were actually coming now from other villages, some from miles around and some from the nearest town, fifteen miles away. Who could blame them? Jenny's cakes were the best he had ever tasted and her bread was like no other bread he'd eaten. Everything she made was delicious. And he would know. He'd bought something each day for the last two weeks. At this rate, he would have the girth of Father Christmas if he wasn't careful.
But he still hadn't managed to say more than two or three words to her. It was true that he wasn't known for giving lengthy sermons, but he could usually have a long conversation with people. Not with Jenny Lake, apparently. All the while he was in the queue, he could think of lots of clever things to say. Lots of compliments to pay her. Even a few jokes to make her smile. But the minute she looked into his eyes and said those fateful words, 'Hello Reverend. What can I tempt you with today?' he turned into a gibbering idiot. Once, he was sure, he actually dribbled. Or perhaps it just felt as if he had. In any event, all he ever seemed to manage was to point at something on display, hand over some cash, smile like a clown on cocaine, mumble an inaudible, 'Thanks', and stumble out of the bakery.
This time it would be different. Today would be the day he finally had a conversation with Jenny Lake
. A sensible conversation. And, if he was really brave, he might even ask her if she would join the choir. He was sure she would have the voice of an angel.
Chapter Three
Jenny Lake was about to close up. She had been on her feet since five and opened the bakery at seven. Being a small shop in a village meant she wasn't governed by the Sunday opening hour restrictions of stores and supermarkets, but she always closed at twelve on Sundays. Working six and a half days a week took its toll and she relished her lazy Sunday afternoons. Not that she did much lazing. She took the opportunity to get out and about; to walk along the glorious, sandy beach behind the cottages on Lily Pond Lane, or to the top of Frog Hill where the view was three and sixty degrees of sea, and countryside and a sky that seemed to go on forever. Her cousin Justin had left her his car, so sometimes she went for a drive to one of the neighbouring villages, or into the nearest town to browse around the shops. But no matter where she went or what she did, her mind, and more particularly, her heart, were never far away from Florence. She'd definitely left her heart in Florence, but for all the wrong reasons. There were no doubt shards of it, like broken marble, scattered around for everyone to see and point at as they visited the galleries and museums. “Wasn't that Jenny Lake's heart?” they would say. “The one that Silvio Meoni sculpted to love and trust and believe in him before he smashed it to smithereens with his lies and deceit and cheating.”
Jenny clicked the lock on the door and was just about to draw down the blind when she saw Reverend Glen Fox striding towards the bakery. She glanced at her watch. It was precisely twelve. She could tell him she was closed and send him away, but the smile on his face when he saw her was so warm, so genuine, that she didn't have it in her to do that. Besides, it wouldn't take her more than thirty seconds to serve him. He hardly ever said more than one word to her. Even the night she'd taken that welcome box to his cottage all he'd said was, 'Thanks'. It seemed very odd for a vicar. More so since she'd attended one of his services. He hadn't seen her as she'd crept in and sat at the very back but he had been eloquent on that occasion and his sermon had been friendly and inspirational. He'd been confident; he'd smiled a lot, he'd even made a few small jokes, all in good taste. He'd been the complete opposite of the man he was whenever he stood in front of her. The only consistent things about him were that he was tall, broad-shouldered, had the sort of blond hair that made you want to run your fingers through it and the type of mouth that made you want to kiss it. But it was his eyes that had taken her breath away that first night. Blue eyes that reminded her of a summer day in Florence – eyes that twinkled with a hint of devilment. Not at all the kind of eyes one expected to see on a vicar's face, however handsome he may be. Although why couldn't vicars be sexy? They were human, after all. Not that she was in the least bit interested in him in that way. Without her heart, she couldn't ever fall in love again. And that was just the way she wanted it. Love was for fools, for dreamers, for those who had no idea of reality. Or for one or two lucky ones, such as Mia and Jet, and Ella and Gill. Perhaps one day when she was old, like Hettie, she might love again. She might find the happiness that Hettie had with Fred. But for now, she would get out of bed each day, look at the grey English skies or the odd day of pale sunshine, like today, and wonder what Silvio was doing beneath the ever-blue skies of Florence. And which woman he was with today.
Christmas on Lily Pond Lane: A fabulously festive, heartwarming romance (a standalone in the Lily Pond Lane series) Page 2
