'I could get used to this,' Christy had said.
'So could I,' Cathy had replied.
And now, watching Daisy showing Dylan how to make snow angels, laughing and happy as a six-year-old should be, Cathy made a decision. She couldn't afford to live in a place like Little Pondale, obviously, but perhaps there were some flats or smaller houses in one of the nearby villages, or the town fifteen miles or so away, that she could rent. Granted, she had only been away from Milton Keynes for twenty-four hours, but in her heart she already knew she didn't want to return. She didn't know how Christy would feel about it, and Cathy would miss her best friend dreadfully, but other than Christy, now that her grandad had gone, there was nothing and no one to keep her in Milton Keynes. But there was someone she definitely wanted to get away from.
'Good morning.' A male voice behind her said, momentarily making her heart skip a beat until she realised she didn't recognise it. 'They look as though they're having fun. My name's Glen and I'm the vicar at St Michael and All Angels. Well, temporary vicar. How are you settling in? I hope the blizzard didn't terrify you.'
Cathy turned to face him and was surprised at how young and handsome he was. For some reason she had assumed the vicar in a village like this would be old, with wispy grey hair, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and a welcoming, friendly smile, like her grandad had been. Not that he had been a vicar. But whenever she thought of elderly, friendly men, she saw her grandad's face. She missed him so much. When he died, it broke her heart all over again, even though the cancer had been killing him for years and now he was finally free from pain.
'Good morning, Reverend,' she said, smiling. 'It did keep us awake until the early hours, but once we fell asleep, we slept like logs. As for settling in, we already feel at home, thank you, and yes, Daisy and Dylan here, are having a wonderful time.'
'Why temporary?' Christy asked. She had been inside making mugs of hot chocolate for the four of them and must have been on her way out again as the vicar was speaking.
Cathy raised her brows, also curious about that.
'Let's just say that the former incumbent had to leave in rather a hurry,' Glen said, smiling oddly.
'That sounds intriguing,' Cathy said, the warmth of Glen's smile making her feel even more at home.
'You'll no doubt hear all about it.' He shook his head but he was smiling. 'But not from me. So, is it just the four of you? And more importantly, do you like carol singing?'
'It's just the four of us,' Christy replied. 'And before we answer that, perhaps we'd better ask why?' She winked at him and smiled.
Cathy tutted quietly. 'You shouldn't wink at a vicar, Christy. It's not polite.'
Glen laughed. 'You can wink at this vicar as much as you like. I don't mind at all. The only reason I asked was because we're having a carol singing charity evening on Saturday and I wondered if you'd like to join in.'
Cathy and Christy glanced at one another and smiled. 'Mia and her friends have already told us about that. And yes, we'd love to. Although we're not sure the children will last for very long. And they're usually in bed by seven, or eight at the latest.'
Glen nodded. 'Of course. Why would they want to stand around in the snow when they could be playing in it instead? Or curled up fast asleep in their beds. Both of which I'd rather be doing, to be honest. But as I'm the vicar, I suppose I should make some effort. No doubt Mia has told you about Lake's Bakes. Jenny, who runs the bakery, makes the most delicious bread and cakes in the country, I'm sure, and she's a lovely person too.'
'Yes,' Cathy said, grinning. The locals certainly liked to promote the businesses in the village. 'And the cheese at Little Pond Farm is the best we'll ever taste.'
'I can vouch for both,' Glen said. 'And if you feel like a break from cooking while you're here, the food at The Frog and Lily is very good. Nothing fancy. Just the usual pub fare, only tastier than most. If you pop in on the carol evening, there's even a free buffet.'
'Thanks,' Christy said, 'but we can't really leave the children.'
'They're welcome in the pub. And you don't have to stay for long if you want to get them home to bed. Anyway, that's entirely up to you, of course. I'd better get on. I was actually on my way to Hettie's, when I saw you and the children playing and felt I wanted to come and say hello. Oh, you probably haven't met Hettie and her husband Fred yet, but she has one thing your children may like.' He leant forward conspiratorially. 'A pet white rat and he's called Prince Gustav.'
Christy shuddered dramatically. 'A pet rat? I'm not sure I like the sound of that.'
'He's perfectly harmless, and completely lovable,' Glen said, grinning. 'Much like Hettie and Fred. But a little word of warning about Hettie. She's lovely, as I said, but she believes in lots of myths and superstitions and she's also, let's just say, very interested in other people's business, so watch out for that. But she really is a dear old lady, and Fred is always keen to help. They live in Duckdown Cottage just a little farther up the lane, two doors before Sunbeam Cottage, Mia's home.'
'That's good to know. Thanks.' Christy said, before glancing at Cathy. 'I thought you said Mia isn't at Sunbeam Cottage now?'
Cathy nodded. 'She's moved to Little Pond Farm, or so she said yesterday.'
'Ah yes.' Glen nodded his head and smiled. 'She's staying at Jet's for the holidays and renting out Sunbeam Cottage. She did mention it on Monday, but I had completely forgotten. Bye for now then. See you on Saturday I hope, if not before. Goodbye Daisy. Bye bye, Dylan.' He gave them a little wave.
'Daisy. Dylan. Say goodbye,' Cathy prompted, but they were far too busy falling backwards in the deep snow, making more snow angels and giggling their heads off, to take any notice.
Glen laughed. 'Don't worry. Let them have fun. There's nothing quite so heart-warming as seeing children playing and to hear that innocent laughter. You have lovely children.'
'Thank you,' Cathy and Christy said in unison, Cathy wishing that everyone felt that seeing Daisy playing and shrieking with laughter, was heart-warming.
Chapter Eighteen
After leaving Cathy, Christy and the children, Glen headed back up the lane but instead of going straight to Hettie's, he turned to his left and trudged through the deep, pristine snow on the village green, skirting around the ice-covered pond and leaving a tell-tale line of footprints directly to the door of Lake's Bakes. He hadn't really spoken to Jenny since Monday night when he walked her home, and thought that maybe today, when most people would be indoors because of the snow, would be a prime opportunity.
He had popped into the bakery on Tuesday to buy some cakes for those attending choir practice on Tuesday night, but the queue had been outside the door and Jenny clearly didn't have time to stop and chat. He had bought a selection of cakes, asked how she was, reminded her that she was more than welcome to come along and mime at choir practice, and then he had left. Jenny had been friendly and even smiled once or twice, but she definitely wasn't as keen to chat as she had been on Monday night, and she didn't come to join the choir.
On Wednesday, he hadn't been able to get out until the afternoon; his uncle, the Bishop, called with news in the morning which meant Glen had to fill out paperwork and write a report. It also meant he had to do some serious thinking and after that, he had decided that perhaps it was better to avoid Jenny Lake.
But as much as he had tried to stay away, he found he had a craving for cavallucci, and by mid-afternoon, it was a craving he could no longer resist. The sky looked ominous and the forecasted blizzard was well and truly on its way as he rushed from his cottage towards Lake's Bakes, only to find Hettie in there, chatting, and clearly in no hurry to leave.
'You can go before me, vicar,' Hettie generously offered.
'No, no,' Glen said, raising his hand to gesture that he wouldn't hear of such a thing. 'That's fine. I'm in no rush.'
Hettie raised her eyebrows. 'You looked in a rush to get here. We saw you racing across the green.'
'Racing? I wasn't raci
ng. I was simply trying to get out of the cold. And as it's so warm in here, I'm in no hurry to leave.' He smiled and hoped they both believed him.
Jenny smiled back. 'It's not that warm in here, Glen. There's a definite draught coming from that door, even when it's closed. I'll be glad if this blizzard does arrive. It'll give me an excuse to close early and to go and sit in front of the fire in my cosy sitting room.'
Hettie looked shocked. 'Close early? But what if people want bread or cakes?'
Jenny smiled again but pulled a face. 'If this blizzard is as bad as they forecast, bread and cakes will be the last thing on people's minds, Hettie. And if they really are that desperate, they can always ring the doorbell. Most people know me well enough by now.'
Hettie clasped her hands beneath her bosom and pursed her lips. 'I suppose that's true. Good heavens.' She glanced through the bakery window. 'It's suddenly looking mighty dark out there. I think they're right about that blizzard. I'd better get home before it starts.'
No sooner had she said those words than it arrived, and in a matter of seconds the winds were whistling across the green and rattling the bakery door.
'I think you might get blown over out there, Hettie,' Jenny said. 'Perhaps Glen will be good enough to see you home. What can I tempt you with, Glen?'
'Oh. Yes of course,' he'd said, before mumbling his order of a loaf of bread and a bag of her mini gingerbread men.
Glen had cursed his luck. He hadn't be able to stop and talk to Jenny. He could hardly have let Hettie try to walk home alone, and by the time that he got back, Jenny had closed up. He had been more than tempted to ring the doorbell of Baker's Cottage, pretending that he had wanted something else in addition to the bread and biscuits, but he knew she would see it as an excuse to speak to her. Besides, the blizzard was really setting in and he decided it was best if he got home and in the warm. Where most sensible people already were.
During Wednesday evening, when it had sounded as if a tornado was tearing through Little Pondale, he had considered battling the elements and going to see if Jenny was okay, but it sounded like yet another pathetic excuse, even to him, and thankfully, his common sense prevailed.
This morning he had intended to go directly to Hettie and Fred's, but then he'd seen the children playing and he had a sudden urge to go and say hello. After that, he really had meant to go to Hettie's yet here he was, walking towards Lake's Bakes.
He smiled when he saw the window display. Hadn't Jenny said that Christmas was not her favourite time of year? For someone who didn't like Christmas, the window was looking very festive today. Iced, baked biscuits in the shape of stars, Christmas wreaths, holly leaves and Christmas trees hung in rows, dangling from red ribbons. They were interspersed with gingerbread men and women, 'dressed' with colourful icing and hanging from gold ribbons. Striped candy canes hung from green ribbons at each end and below all these gently swaying delights were trays of Christmas biscuits, mince pies, cavallucci, iced cinnamon swirls, mini pannetone, panforte, struffoli and many more delicious treats. He pushed open the bakery door and little silver bells jingled above his head.
'Hello, Glen,' Jenny said, beaming at him. You're my first customer today. What can I tempt you with?'
His mind went completely blank for a second or two. Why did she always have to use those words? Didn't she know the images they conjured up in his mind? Images that some might feel were inappropriate for a vicar.
'Um. Hello, Jenny. Gosh it's cold, but your bakery is looking very festive. I thought you didn't like Christmas?'
Jenny shrugged, before smiling warmly. 'It's the oddest thing. I've never liked Christmas. Not since becoming an adult, at least. But helping out at Jet's on Monday, and seeing all the decorations in the village made me feel as if I was a bit of a grouch. And it's been a very quiet morning so far, due to the weather, I assume. So I thought, why not? I only meant to make a few biscuits to hang up, but I seem to have got a bit carried away.' She laughed as she waved her arm in the air.
'Well it looks wonderful. And very welcoming, not to mention extremely tempting. But talking of the weather, did you get through the blizzard intact? I mean the cottage. Was there any damage? Several of the Christmas decorations in the lane have either blown down or fallen over. One of the reindeer on Mia's roof looks to be making a run for it. I must call and tell Jet about it. He'll want to make sure it's secure. We can't have reindeer flying about the village, can we?'
He was rambling again. He rather hoped he'd got past that after Monday night, but nope.
'Not until Christmas Eve,' Jenny replied, grinning. 'As for the blizzard. No damage, as far as I'm aware, thanks. It was a bit frightening though, wasn't it? At one point I was tempted to rush over to your place, just to have someone to talk to during the worst of it. But by the time I thought about it, I could hardly even see your cottage door. Then I realised that I couldn't simply turn up unannounced, merely because I was a little frightened by the weather.'
'You're welcome to turn up at my door anytime, Jenny, and you don't need an excuse. Not that I'm saying that was an excuse. What I meant was, you don't need a reason.'
Her eyebrows crinkled but she smiled. 'Thanks. That's kind of you. I'll bear that in mind. As it was, I turned my music up really loud on my iPad in my bedroom, and lounged in a warm bath of Christmas spice scented bubbles with Michael Bublé and a glass of mulled wine. I can highly recommend it.' She winked at him and her smile grew wider.
Okay. Now she must be doing this on purpose. He'd have that image in his head all morning. Only he would be in the bath with her, and they wouldn't just be listening to music and drinking mulled wine.
He cleared his throat. 'That sounds like a perfect evening.'
'Almost.' She lowered her gaze. 'I've made some mince pies. They're sweet mincemeat, cranberries and orange, a bit like Hettie's only these have a dash of Grand Marnier added to the mixture. Would you like to try one?'
'I'll take three, please. I'm on my way to Hettie and Fred's right now. I didn't want to go empty-handed. Fred's kindly printing out carol sheets for Saturday evening. He really is a genius with Photoshop. He's making them into little booklets, with pictures of robins and holly and mistletoe and such. He said people could retain them, as keepsakes of the evening, which I think is a lovely touch. I'm pretty good with a computer but I can't do half the things he can. I'm going to hand them out today, and at the same time, check how people are coping in this snow. Some of the villagers are elderly and can't get out in it and they don't have anyone to run errands for them.'
'That's so kind of you, Glen. I know they'll appreciate it. Not many people would think of others the way you do.'
'Don't sound so impressed. It sort of goes with the territory.'
'Don't make light of it,' she scolded. 'You know as well as I do that not all vicars would go to such trouble.'
He shrugged. 'It's no trouble. This is a small village. It won't take me longer than an hour or two, and it beats writing reports or filling in forms.'
She looked him directly in the eyes. 'You're a kind man. There aren't many men like you these days.'
He gave an exaggerated frown. 'That makes me sound incredibly boring, somehow. Isn't that the sort of thing women say to a man who asks them out, when they're not interested but they don't want to be rude and simply say, 'Get lost, loser,' or something like that?'
'Well if it is, that wasn't how I meant it. I meant it as a compliment. No. It's not a compliment, it's a statement of fact. You are a kind man. You've been nothing but kind to me since the day we met. And believe me, Glen, that doesn't make you in the least bit boring. Quite the opposite, in fact.'
What did that mean? That it made him interesting? And if so, in what way? Was she telling him that she liked him? Or was she merely being friendly? There was only one way to find out.
'I thought I might pop into the pub tonight, if the weather doesn't get worse. If Michael Bublé's busy, you're welcome to join me.'
The silenc
e was deafening and the look on Jenny's face told him all he needed to know.
'Join us, I meant,' he added hastily. 'It's rugby practice tonight. Somehow I managed to agree on Monday at the supper party that I'd go along and try out for the team. Jet said we all adjourn to the pub afterwards, but as the field is under two feet of snow, I suspect it'll be straight to the pub. Anyway, it's just a thought if you fancy getting out for the evening. And I'll happily walk you the two hundred yards or so home, or one of us will, I'm sure.'
Okay, he must shut up now. This hole he was digging himself was about to cave in.
'Thanks,' she said, visibly relaxing a little. 'But I'd planned to spend the evening in my kitchen. I've got some new recipes I want to try out for the festive season. Have fun though.'
She put the mince pies in a box and handed it to him. He gave her ten pounds in return and when she held out his change, he nodded towards the charity box on the counter, for a local animal sanctuary. 'Put it in there. See you tomorrow, I expect. Have a great day, Jenny.'
She smiled. 'Kind, you see.' She dropped the coins in the box. 'You have a great day too, Glen. And don't let Hettie fill your head with stories. She told me one the other day about a Wishing Tree. It's up on Frog Hill, near Frog's Hollow. Did you know you mustn't go there on a Monday?'
He grinned at her and nodded. 'Yes. She's told me about the curse of Frog's Hollow. She also told me about the tree the other day. I'm afraid I don't believe in such things though so she was wasting her breath with me.'
'No. I don't suppose you would. And as if a tree could grant a wish anyway. What a lot of nonsense. See you soon.'
Oddly though, the look in her eyes as she said it made Glen wonder if that was what she really believed, but she didn't say anything more about it.
'Total nonsense,' he said. 'See you tomorrow.'
He gave her a final smile before shoving the door open and closing it quickly behind him to limit the draught. Then he made another path through the snow, this time around the other end of the pond and down and across the lane to Hettie and Fred's cottage, all the while envisioning Jenny and that bath and him, with Christmas music playing softly in the background.
Christmas on Lily Pond Lane: A fabulously festive, heartwarming romance (a standalone in the Lily Pond Lane series) Page 10
