'China? I backpacked through parts of China. It's a beautiful place, and I was only talking to Mia and Hettie about it this morning because Bear's girlfriend has just moved there.'
'What a small world!'
'Did someone say my name?' Bear asked, glancing over his shoulder and grinning.
'We were talking about China,' Jenny replied.
'Oh.' Bear frowned and shook his head. 'Everyone seems to be talking about China recently. I told you about my girlfriend, didn't I, Glen? And if I didn't, I know Hettie would've done. Or I should say, ex-girlfriend. It's probably just as well she's gone. Things weren't working out. And now I'm young, free and single again.' He winked at Jenny, and gave her a devilish grin, which she ignored. 'I'm going to the pub with Toby. You two fancy joining us?'
'No thanks,' Jenny replied, perhaps rather too quickly. 'It's been a long day, and I've got an early start again tomorrow. I'll say good night now because I'm heading across the green.'
'I'll walk you to your door,' Glen immediately said, before replying to Bear's invitation. 'I think I've had enough to drink tonight, thanks all the same.'
'Thank you.' Jenny meant to add that it really wasn't necessary for him to walk her home as it was only a matter of yards, but somehow the rest of the sentence didn't reach her lips, and instead, she merely smiled.
'See you around then,' Bear said, giving a half-hearted wave.
'Good night,' said Toby, smiling warmly. 'See you tomorrow, Glen.'
'Good night,' Glen replied with a friendly wave before turning his attention to Jenny and once again offering his arm. 'It's harder to see the ice on the grass. I'd hate you to fall over this close to home.'
She nodded and linked her arm through his. 'What's happening tomorrow?' She hadn't meant to ask that, and had no idea why she had. 'Not that it's any of my business. Sorry.'
'No need to be sorry. It's choir practice. I've reinstated the choir. I mentioned it yesterday.'
'Did you? Gosh. I don't remember. I do remember you mentioning the charity carol singing on Saturday, though.'
He grinned. 'I believe you said you make a dog sound like a prima donna.'
She laughed. 'I did, and I do. Believe me.'
'So just come along and mime. You said you didn't want to go tonight, but you had fun. Come on Saturday evening. You might enjoy yourself more than you think.'
They had reached her door and she stopped and turned to face him. 'I might. That's possible. May I think about it and let you know?'
'Of course. And I'll see you tomorrow, if there's anything you want to ask.'
'Tomorrow? I'm not coming to choir practice, Glen.'
'I know. But I'll be coming here tomorrow. It seems I've got a bit of an addiction to the things you bake.'
'Oh. Well, I'll look forward to it.'
For a brief moment, they stared into each other's eyes, while soft, white flakes of snow fell silently around them. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted and a vixen screamed to her mate, but all Jenny could think about was how blue Glen's eyes were, and how eminently kissable his mouth looked right now.
'Good night, Jenny. God bless.'
'Good night, Glen. Pleasant dreams.'
'I'll see you tomorrow then?'
'Yes, Glen. Until tomorrow.'
She quickly turned away, unlocked the door and closed it behind her before she did something she might live to regret.
Chapter Twelve
Nothing could ruin Glen's mood today. Not even Hettie Turner. Last night he was sure he had seen something in Jenny's eyes that gave him hope, and when he had gone to bed he had dreamt the most wonderful dream. He was living in a vicarage, covered with wisteria, while a large flock of chickens and an equally large brood of children ran freely and gleefully around a flower-filled garden. Jenny sat beside him on a wicker loom chair, pouring tea from a porcelain teapot into matching porcelain cups, and plates on the wicker table overflowed with a selection of Jenny's delicious cakes.
When he first woke up, he wasn't sure what had surprised him the most about the dream. That the vicarage seemed to be in the middle of nowhere; certainly not a town, and definitely not a city, and, aside from the wisteria, had looked a lot like the cottage he lived in now. That he and Jenny appeared to be the parents of a great number of children. Or that they kept chickens. He was still thinking about it as Hettie was rebuking him.
'There's not much point in holding choir practice, vicar,' Hettie said. 'If you've forgotten to ask the organist to come. It's been several weeks since the last one and no one will remember the tunes.'
'I'm sure we'll be able to make do,' Glen said, with a friendly smile.
'Make do? I would've thought you'd want to make a good impression for the Bishop. I've heard rumours, you know. If this place doesn't get back on its feet, this parish may be merged with one of the other villages. We can't have that, vicar. This church has been here since September 29th 1018. It says so on the foundation stone. Although the village has been here much longer than that. Alfred the Great stayed here, you know. But Little Pondale without St Michael and All Angels is unthinkable, vicar. The diocese won't leave it empty, will they? They'll probably try to sell the place off to recoup some of the money the last vicar embezzled. Some obnoxious property dealer will turn the place into luxury flats and charge a fortune for them. There'll be fast cars, and even faster women tearing about the place. And what about the Angel Bell? Been here for centuries that has. Dear Matilda paid to have the belfry restored to make sure it was here for generations to come. What will happen to that? Sold off and melted down? And all because you forgot to send an email to the organist.'
'I take your point, Hettie,' Glen said, trying desperately hard not to laugh. 'I'll call the organist right now. And then I must go and get some cakes for this evening. I thought it would be a nice touch.'
Hettie linked her hands beneath her bosom and beamed at him. 'Nice touch indeed. I wasn't born yesterday. You can tell me, vicar. You've got a glint in your eye for our young Jenny, haven't you? I saw the two of you last night. If you'd like me to put in a good word, I'm happy to do that. But only if you plan to stay. Can't have you breaking the poor girl's heart. I'm pretty sure that's what happened to her in Florence. That's why she's here, you know. To get over a disappointment in love. Do you plan to stay, vicar?'
'I don't know,' he said, after thinking about it for a moment. 'I honestly don't know.'
'Well then, we'll just have to see how things go, won't we? I believe in destiny, you know. I mean, look at me and Fred. If dear Matilda hadn't put that clause in her will, meaning Mia had to come here to live, Lori wouldn't have come to stay and started the book club, and I wouldn't have met Fred. Destiny, you see.'
'Or God's plan, perhaps, don't you think?'
She pursed her lips. 'Well, I don't know about God's plan, but I do know about the Wishing Tree, if you want to give destiny a bit of a helping hand.'
'Excuse me? The Wishing Tree?'
Hettie nodded. 'Yes. The Wishing Tree. It's halfway up Frog Hill, fairly close to Frog's Hollow. That's the pond where everyone goes skinny-dipping on Midsummer's Night. But don't go there on a Monday.'
Glen shook his head. This was getting confusing. 'I'm sorry? Why shouldn't I go there on a Monday?'
'Why, because of the curse, of course. The curse of Frog's Hollow. Has no one mentioned it?'
'No. And there's no need, Hettie because I don't believe in curses.'
'Neither did my Hector. But a car hit him, tossed him in the air, and he landed on his head. Dead as a dodo. And all because he went to Frog's Hollow on a Monday.'
'Hector was your first husband, is that right? I'm sorry for your loss.'
'Oh don't be, vicar. Hector stayed with me for years after. Until I married Fred, in fact. Hector gave me away on my wedding day. Moved on to his next life, now he has. I miss him. But he couldn't hang around forever, could he, vicar? But I was telling you about the Wishing Tree.'
Glen blinked seve
ral times. What was Hettie going on about?
'Ah yes. The Wishing Tree.'
'Now it only works in December, so you haven't got that long. And if it's love you're looking for, with a particular person, you need to write their name on something and tie it to the tree or place it at its base. No pins, mind. You mustn't go sticking things in the Wishing Tree. How would you like it if someone came and stuck a pin in you, vicar? So you leave it at the tree, or tie it to a branch and then you make a wish.'
She beamed at him, and he waited for her to continue, but she didn't.
'That's it?'
She nodded. 'That's it.'
'So a person could be waiting around forever for their wish to come true.' He couldn't help grinning now.
'Oh, good heavens no, vicar. The wish will come true in seven days, if the tree decides you're worthy.'
He raised his brows. 'If the tree decides?'
'Of course, vicar. Trees are living too, you know. And most of them have been around for a lot longer than us. Trees are wise. The Wishing Tree, more wise than most.'
'Thank you, Hettie. I'll bear that in mind. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an organist to call, and some cakes to buy.'
'And I must go and give Prince Gustav and Fred their lunch. Remember, vicar, the tree only works in December.'
'I don't think I'll forget, Hettie. I'm sure I'll be thinking about this conversation for days to come.'
He walked towards the church door, shaking his head as he did so. One thing he could safely say about Little Pondale was that it certainly had some characters.
And it also had the most beautiful woman he was sure he had ever seen.
London might have people as odd as Hettie, but it didn't have Jenny Lake, and as ridiculous as it was, it seemed that Jenny was racing up his list of requirements for a possible, future posting.
Chapter Thirteen
Cathy Cole pulled up outside Corner Cottage and yanked on her handbrake.
'Are we there yet?' her six-year-old daughter, Daisy asked, raising her head to peer out the window, but keeping her earbuds firmly in place.
'Yes, honey,' Cathy's best friend, Christy replied, nodding her head. 'Is Dylan awake?'
'What?' Daisy asked, still not removing her earbuds.
Christy pointed at the little girl slumped beside Daisy and mouthed the words with emphasis as well as saying them. 'I think you mean, pardon. And I asked if Dylan is awake?'
Daisy merely shrugged and Cathy sighed, smiling at Christy. 'Sometimes you can get more sense out of a turnip than you can from my child.' She glanced out the window at the snow-covered cottage, one of a row of several along the length of a narrow but quaint little lane. 'This place looks just as it did in the photos on the website, doesn't it? Only it wasn't covered in snow. I'm so excited about this, Christy. I know we've all been through some rough times lately, but this Christmas is going to be great. I'm sure of it.'
'I'm not sure I like the owner's taste in Christmas decorations,' Christy said, leaning across Cathy to look out at the cottage. 'Are those light-up candy canes? And is that really a plastic snowman on the lawn?'
Cathy grinned. 'There's one on the roof too.'
'Dear God.' Christy collapsed back in her seat. 'Kill me now.'
Cathy nudged her arm. 'The inside looked a bit old-fashioned but rather twee from the photos. Perhaps the owner thought we'd like these decorations because we've got young kids.'
'Hmm. So where do we have to go to get the key?'
'To Sunbeam Cottage.' Cathy grabbed her phone from the built-in charger plate and looked at the screen. 'The woman was right about phone reception, look. Absolutely zilch.'
'At least that means we'll get some peace and quiet. If he can't get through on the mobile, and you didn't tell him where we were going, he can't keep pestering you. I suppose coming to the back of beyond has an upside.'
'Shush!' Cathy put her finger to her lips. 'Not in front of Daisy.'
'Daisy can't hear a word. But sorry, I forgot. So where's this cottage then?'
'A few doors up, I think the woman said. I'll drive slowly and you keep an eye out for the name. She did say it was a big yellow cottage about halfway up Lily Pond Lane.'
'Well, this is Lily Pond Lane and I can see the pond. Oh. I can also see a yellow cottage from here. And oh dear God. It's got the same snowman on the roof. And … reindeer. Four, twig-looking reindeer. I simply can't wait to meet this woman. I can almost picture her now.'
'Perhaps she's got kids too.' Cathy released the handbrake and drove towards Sunbeam Cottage, narrowly avoiding a chubby, red-faced woman who appeared from nowhere, two cottages down. 'Sorry,' she shouted, raising her hand in a gesture of apology, but the woman merely glared at her and hurried across the lane and over the snow-blanketed, village green.
'Don't kill one of the locals the minute we arrive,' Christy said, a huge grin spreading across her lips.
Cathy stopped outside the cottage. 'I'll go. No point in all of us getting out in the freezing cold.'
'I'm so glad you said that.' Christy wrapped her long, heavy cardigan across her body even though she couldn't possibly be cold. The heating was on and set to a balmy twenty-three degrees.
Cathy stepped out and sucked in her breath. It was absolutely freezing. She dashed to the boot, yanked out her coat and gloves and, wrapping her scarf around her neck, quickly put them on, stepping from foot to foot to try to keep the circulation going in her legs while she rummaged for her handbag. It hadn't felt anywhere near as bitter as this when they'd left Milton Keynes this morning, or when they'd stopped halfway to have the breakfast they missed by leaving so early.
She jumped up and down in front of the car to show Christy just how cold she was before dashing up the icy path, slipping and sliding as she did so. She reached the door and rang the bell. She rang it again after a couple of minutes. And again, a minute or two later.
'Okay, okay. Where's the fire?' someone shouted from inside.
Oh dear. This wasn't a very good start.
The door sprung open and a dishevelled-looking woman about Cathy's age stood yawning before her.
'This had better be good,' the woman said. 'It's only just nine and choir practice adjourned to the pub. Oh. Who are you?' The woman's perfectly shaped, blonde brows met, and cool blue-green eyes looked Cathy up and down.
'Good morning. Sorry. We wanted to get here before the blizzard they forecast for today arrives and I thought … It doesn't matter. Um. I'm Cathy Cole. My friend and I are renting Corner Cottage for the holidays.' She gave her friendliest smile and kept her fingers crossed behind her back. So many things had gone wrong lately. She couldn't bear another disappointment.
'Cathy? Oh yes. Cathy. Come in, come in. It's freezing out there. Sorry. Forgive me snapping. Had a few too many wines last night and didn't get to bed until two a.m. because we were Googling reindeer and sleighs. But you don't want to know about that.' She stepped aside to let Cathy pass. 'I'm Ella. Oh God. And this gorgeous hunk coming down the stairs in just his jeans is my boyfriend, Gill. Would you like a cup of coffee, Cathy? Gill will be making a pot as soon as he gets dressed.' She grinned and shook her head.
Cathy hadn't noticed the man nearing the foot of the stairs, but now that Ella had pointed him out, Cathy silently agreed with her. He was a gorgeous hunk. Tall, broad, with wavy chestnut brown hair, expensive-looking glasses that made him more handsome, not less (she could spot a designer frame a mile away) and a six-pack any woman would like to run her hands over.
'Hello. I'm pleased to meet you both. I won't stay for coffee, if you don't mind. My friend and our kids are in the car. I just need the key please, and to pay you. I assume we should pay in advance and then settle up for extras at the end of the holiday? I'd rather not use a credit card, if that's okay with you. I've got plenty of cash and I'm happy to leave some now to go towards the extras.'
Ella yawned again. 'Extras? Um. What extras are you expecting?' She glanced anxiously towards her boy
friend.
Cathy smiled. 'I meant for things like the electricity and gas we use. Those are often billed at the end of the holiday.' Not that she knew that for certain because this was the first rental holiday she had ever been on, but she'd read that on the internet, so assumed it must be true. 'And for any damage caused. Not that there'll be any, I promise. Christy and I are careful and our kids are well-behaved.'
'Are they? The extras, I'm talking about. Not your kids' behaviour.' Ella smiled, but again she glanced at Gill, who shrugged and made his way along the hall.
'Call Mia,' he said. 'She'll be up because Jet will have got up with the lark, as always, and they'll already have had breakfast.'
'Good idea,' Ella said. 'It's not my cottage, you see. It belongs to my best friend, Mia Ward. She's at her boyfriend's house. Again.'
Cathy glanced over her shoulder at the closed front door. 'Is it possible for me to pay you, sign something, and leave extra, then sort it out later, please? My daughter's six and she doesn't like being away from me for longer than five minutes, at the moment, so she'll start getting anxious and possibly crying, any second. Not that there's anything wrong. It's just that … we've been through some big changes over the last couple of years and she hasn't coped that well with the most recent ones. Changes at home are unsettling for children. Sorry, now I'm rambling.'
'No. It's my fault,' Ella said, with a friendly smile. 'We've been through a few changes here, so I know how unsettling they can be, for adults, let alone children. My brother was dating Mia but his ex-girlfriend … God! Listen to me going on. There's plenty of time for us all to get to know one another. I'll get the key. I know Mia printed out an invoice and that'll probably be with the key. Gill? Is there an invoice with the key to Corner Cottage? It'll be near the wine rack. The key's on the hook above it.'
'Yeah,' Gill called after a moment's silence, before appearing in the hall, key in one hand, invoice in the other and handed them to Ella, who glanced at the invoice and passed it to Cathy.
Cathy took her purse from her bag and counted out the notes to pay in full, adding another one hundred pounds for the extras. It shouldn't come to that, but she'd rather pay more, in the hope that this Mia woman wouldn't insist on taking her credit card details. She didn't want to use her credit cards. He could trace those. And that meant he would find them. Which was something she wanted to avoid at any cost.
Christmas on Lily Pond Lane: A fabulously festive, heartwarming romance (a standalone in the Lily Pond Lane series) Page 7
