Copyright
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street,
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © Sue Moorcroft 2017
Cover illustration © Carrie May
Cover design © Head Design 2017
Sue Moorcroft asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008260019
Ebook Edition © October 2017 ISBN: 9780008260026
Version 2017-09-13
Dedication
To Mark West and Dominic White.
Thank you.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
About the Publisher
Prologue
‘Are you serious?’ Ben stared at his mother.
Penny twisted a tissue in her hands. ‘I’m only telling you that Dad said if you hadn’t taken up with that girl then none of this would have happened. Lloyd wouldn’t be … where he is.’
Ben sank onto his parents’ floral sofa, the cotton cold beneath his sweating palms. ‘That girl’s name is Imogen.’
‘In a way, I can see Dad’s point. Everybody in Didbury knows her family. The Goodbodys breed like rabbits, live off benefits and their garden looks like a scrap yard. They’re like something from a reality TV show.’
‘Imogen’s never claimed a benefit in her life. She’s put in long hours in a demanding sales environment, in spite of her background and in spite of people badmouthing her.’ Ben wasn’t sure whether he was more outraged by his parents’ prejudice or by being put in the position of defending Imogen.
His mother didn’t let his dig deter her. ‘The Goodbody men are chancers and the women are slu—’ She flicked Ben a glance and chose a primmer adjective. ‘The women are man-eaters. If she was supposed to be on a spa weekend with an old uni friend, why was she in a car with Lloyd in the middle of the night? Dad warned you you’d never have a quiet mind if you married her, so why did you insist on working away so much? You’re such a decent, straightforward man, but didn’t you see that it was like throwing petrol and a match together? At least Lloyd’s single. Imogen was married to you—’
Ben leapt to his feet. ‘Lloyd’s my brother!’ He ought to have been used to being the second child in all senses, but no way could he get his head around his mother holding him in any way responsible for this mess.
Penny buried her face in her hands. ‘And those aunties of Imogen are going round painting her as an innocent victim and you as a callous husband!’
‘Do you think I don’t know? The Auntie Mafia never pass me in the supermarket without asking what happened to “For better, for worse”.’
And his petition for divorce had goaded them to literally hiss at him in the street. He hadn’t wasted his breath defending himself because he understood Imogen’s family’s loyalty lay with their own. They’d never heard Imogen’s words: I don’t think we’re going to get past this, Ben. If you can’t forgive me then divorce me. Her pain when he’d demanded to know how he could forgive her when she refused to tell him what had really happened that night had been too deeply personal and painful a moment to share with anyone but her.
Penny gulped. ‘And now the Goodbodys are giving you a hard time and you’re selling up and leaving Didbury.’
Her words reminded Ben of the depressing task that had been interrupted by this conversation: dismantling their home. Stilted phone calls to Imogen about what she wanted packing into her brothers’ vans, his heart convulsing as he imagined her, white-faced, trying to be brave.
The very same heart that couldn’t forgive her.
He turned wearily for the door. ‘I’m not leaving because of Imogen’s family, Mum. I’m leaving because of mine.’
Chapter One
THE MIDDLEDIP COMMUMITY WRECKING PARTY
Help us strip out The Angel pub
ready for its transformation into
THE ANGEL COMMUNITY CAFÉ
and we’ll give you …
BEER AND BBQ
Saturday 9th September
TONIGHT!
Over the course of the wrecking party, enthusiastic villagers had shifted the rubbish of decades from the once-splendid Angel public house to the skips outside. Most of the Victorian building’s fabulous period features had been dismantled.
Alexia clambered up on a stepladder in what used to be the ‘Bar Parlour’ of The Angel to make an announcement above the hubbub. ‘I declare the “wrecking” over! Now let’s party!’ Jumping down amidst cheers and calls of, ‘Thanks, Alexia!’ she ignored the surge of people towards the cool boxes of beer and instead she gazed around the long-neglected room. The lovely old door with its etched glass had been moved to storage along with the once-polished Victorian bar. Dozens of flickering tea lights had been lit in place of the industrial lights rigged for the stripping-out.
Someone had brought a docking station for their iPod and music began to echo off walls freshly stripped of red flock wallpaper and nicotine stains. Dusty people chattered around the mood boards that depicted Alexia’s vision of the pub’s transformation to The Angel Community Café.
Alexia’s best friend, Jodie, appeared at her side, her long dark hair overlaid with a cobweb, and pushed a cold can into Alexia’s hand. ‘Here. You deserve a drink.’
Alexia pulled the ring tab with satisfaction. ‘We all do. I love this village. Forty people have given up their Saturday to help us.’
‘They want a community café and they like free beer!’ Jodie raised her voice to match the increasing noise. ‘Shane says he’s
stowed the mirrors, tiles and etched glass screens upstairs so there’s nothing to damage if folk let off steam. He’s gone to fetch the burgers and sausages from your fridge. Shall we find someone to help us set the barbecues up? Seb’s around somewhere.’
‘Not Seb,’ Alexia protested. ‘I don’t need my ex breathing down my neck. There must be someone else mug enough to sacrifice drinking time in favour of carting more heavy stuff.’ Alexia’s gaze shifted to the only person in the room she didn’t know, a man with tousled corn-coloured hair. She’d watched him help take up the black and white tiles to be stacked in the back of Shane’s truck and moved off-site to be cleaned. Most people had joked and chatted as they worked but the fair man had offered only the occasional reply if a remark was tossed in his direction. Now, T-shirt and jeans dusty, he was alone, leaning on a wall. ‘Him,’ she suggested.
Jodie followed her gaze. ‘Two minutes single and you’ve got your eye on the brooding stranger?’
Alexia grinned. ‘It’s four weeks. And what’s the point of being single if you can’t show interest? Come on.’ She cleared the dust from her throat with a swig of beer before threading her way towards the man who was idly watching a group of four laughing women trying to dance on the mortar where the floor tiles had been. His gaze focused in on Alexia only once she was standing in front of him.
She introduced herself and gave him the benefit of her best smile. ‘I’m project-managing the refurbishment of The Angel. And this is Jodie, who’ll run The Angel Community Café when it opens.’
‘I’m Ben.’
Alexia disregarded the economy of his reply. It was probably overwhelming to be the only person here who didn’t know every other person here. ‘Thanks for helping. Aren’t you Gabe Piercy’s nephew?’ Gabe had been uncharacteristically reticent about why his nephew had turned up on the edges of Middledip village and then kept almost entirely to himself.
‘That’s me.’ His hair slid over one eye as he nodded.
‘Gabe’s probably told you that he’s bought The Angel because the village can’t sustain a coffee shop unless it has some community value—’
Ben finished for her. ‘So he’s set the rent low to make the café viable and the book club and all the other local groups are going to bring business in.’
Alexia took a step back. There was ‘brooding’ and there was ‘abrupt’ and in her eyes Ben had just crossed from one to the other. ‘Sorry if I’m being boring, but this is such an amazing building, I’m excited to see it brought back to life. And,’ she added tartly, ‘in case you’re worried that your uncle’s being ripped off, the village has raised money towards the refurb. Gabe will end up with a sympathetic restoration, and a share of the profits from the café that’s far in excess of what he’d earn if he kept his money safe in the bank.’
She prepared to turn on her heel and find someone friendlier to haul barbecues around for her but Ben put out a hand, looking rueful. ‘No, I’m sorry. Like Gabe, I’m a bit of an oddball and, worse, I’m an oddball having a bad day. My mind was on something else when you came up.’ He managed a faint smile. ‘Let’s begin again. It’s a great community effort and Gabe tells me you’re not charging for managing the project.’
Before Alexia could protest about Gabe being termed an oddball or explain why she was working gratis, Jodie jumped in to claim a vicarious share of the accolades. ‘And my boyfriend Shane’s doing the building work for “mates’ rates” because I’m in partnership with Gabe for the business side of the café. By the way, thanks for taming the jungle at the front so we can actually see The Angel from the road for the first time in decades.’
At this reminder, Alexia forgave Ben his earlier instance of gracelessness. Twice on site visits she’d enjoyed watching him dangling from a harness, not above wondering what his face was like without his hardhat and visor. ‘In that case you’re practically one of us boring community volunteers so I don’t feel so bad about hitting on you to help drag barbecues about.’
A brief pause as he stared at her. Then, ‘Hit on me? Lead the way.’
‘Great.’ Blushing, sure he knew it had been accidentally-on-purpose that she’d said ‘hit on you’ rather than ‘hit you up’, Alexia led him through groups of chatting villagers to one of the doors to what had once been the kitchen, evidenced by a pair of white pot sinks, both cracked. The borrowed barbecues were lined up in the middle of the floor as if waiting to be invited to the party. ‘That big green one’s on wheels. The other two have to be carried.’
‘You wheel, I’ll carry.’ Ben wrapped his arms around the sphere of a battered steel kettle barbecue and heaved it from the floor while Alexia and Jodie began dragging the green barbecue into the hall and over the steps of the side door. Ben had fetched the second barbecue in the time it took for them to manhandle it across the weeds that heaved up the aged tarmac.
They were selecting the most even ground when Shane drew up with the food Alexia and Jodie had shopped for yesterday.
‘Shane!’ cooed Jodie, throwing open her arms to take up what was these days a familiar position – wound around her boyfriend.
Shane was good-looking, Alexia acknowledged. His short hair and square jaw went with the kind of body that reflected his physical job. He wasn’t the stable influence Alexia would have chosen for her lifelong friend, though.
‘No Tim?’ Alexia enquired.
‘Nah, he’s gone off somewhere. C’m’ere, gorgeous.’ Shane swung Jodie, lifting her off her feet, making her squeal.
Alexia could imagine stolid Tim preferring to go home than come to a party. Shane chattered enough for both of them, anyway.
‘Right. This is Gabe’s nephew, Ben, who—’
Shane pumped Ben’s hand without waiting for the rest of Alexia’s introduction. ‘All right, mate?’ Brimming with bonhomie, he joined Ben in hooking up the gas bottles that fired the barbecues and dragging a battered table out of a skip to bear the food.
Seeing Shane opening another beer for Jodie, though she was protesting and giggling that one was enough, Alexia glanced from the packs of food to Ben, who hadn’t vanished at the first opportunity as she’d thought he might. ‘Fancy manning a grill?’
He shrugged. ‘OK.’
It took twenty minutes for the grills to become hot enough and they could take up their stations flipping burgers. Ben looked after the grill to Alexia’s left while Jodie cooked to her other side, when she wasn’t giggling with Shane. She seemed tipsy already so she probably hadn’t stuck to her intention to only have one drink.
Alexia frowned. ‘You should take more water with it, Jodie.’ She tried to sound jokey rather than judgy, but Jodie was already trying to play Jenga with the sausages.
Shane used his beer can to wave Alexia’s concern away. ‘She’s fine, aren’t you, darlin’? She’s grand. She’s lovely.’ He nibbled Jodie’s neck, prompting an explosion of giggles.
Jodie allowed herself to be smooched off into the shadows and Alexia rearranged the Jenga sausages so they could actually cook. She sighed. ‘Jodie’s going to have a sore head tomorrow if she keeps this up.’
Ben’s eyes remained on his grill. ‘It’s her head. People make their choices about drinking and have to put up with the consequences.’
Alexia wasn’t sure if the slight edge to his voice was disapproval of Jodie’s tipsiness or of Alexia’s grumble. But as she was in danger of being landed with Jodie’s grill as well as her own, she felt justified in lifting her voice in mild protest. ‘Hey, Jodes, I thought you were the cook around here? Shane, any chance you could start slicing bread rolls? This food’s going to be ready soon.’
Reluctantly, Jodie swayed back to her post. Shane sent Alexia a dark look, but reached for the bread.
Gabe stepped out of the porch. Behind him, the once impressive front door, currently beribboned with peeling varnish, squeaked on its hinges. Gabe sniffed the air. ‘I smell sausages and my belly’s rumbling.’ Known for his silver ponytail and mismatching sartorial choices,
today, along with his hungry expression, he wore a button-down shirt tucked into jogging bottoms.
Alexia grinned. ‘We’re just about ready with the first lot of food.’
Gabe turned with alacrity. ‘I’ll call everyone out.’
In seconds, hungry villagers were pouring out to grab paper plates to heap with carbohydrates and cholesterol. Fat sizzled and Alexia’s eyes began to sting as the press of bodies left the smoke nowhere to go. ‘Ouch.’ She tried to wipe her face on her sleeve.
‘Here.’ Ben passed her a sheet of kitchen roll with a smile that flashed so briefly she almost missed it.
It chased away his frown lines and almost made her forget the waiting queue. ‘Thanks.’ She smiled back. Maybe Ben simply took a while to relax around people and warm to them. Maybe—
But then a familiar voice claimed her attention. ‘Alexia, you’re looking good.’
Alexia jumped. She hadn’t noticed the tall man who now hovered in front of her barbecue. ‘Seb! But I look as if I’ve been living in one of the skips.’ She tried not to feel guilty at laughing her ex’s compliment off. ‘Burger?’
‘Yes, please.’ Sebastian held out his plate. ‘Shall I walk you home later?’
Alexia’s heart sank. Seb always reminded her of a genial bear with his brown hair and burly shoulders, but he acted more like a sheepdog. ‘No need.’
‘So you’re going on somewhere?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ll check back with you.’
Alexia fought down the urge to snap, ‘You can’t act like an over-protective boyfriend now you’re not my boyfriend!’ Instead she tried to let him down lightly. ‘Thanks, but you know nobody needs walking home in the village.’ She smiled past him at the next person in the queue. With an air of reluctance, Sebastian moved on.
The Little Village Christmas Page 1
