The Little Village Christmas

by Sue Moorcroft

  Ben settled down in Gabe’s rocking chair and switched on the little kitchen TV for company. He’d fed the range half a scuttle of coal and was reluctant to go to the additional trouble of lighting the fire in the lounge.

  He picked up the pad Gabe always kept on the windowsill and began to write.

  Dear Lloyd,

  Just to update you, Imogen chose not to share information with me. I do feel entitled to that information so maybe you and I can chat in due course? Mum tells me your release should be coming up. Do you know the exact date yet?

  He chewed the end of his pen for a minute then, conscious that this was the first time he’d written to his brother in all the time he’d been in prison, filled the rest of the page and most of the next with chat about Uncle Gabe being under the weather and Ben’s visit to Didbury, carefully omitting any mention of the stunt Imogen had pulled, until he could sign off with a clear conscience.

  Then he opened his laptop, picked up Gabe’s wifi and went online to see what the Internet had to tell him about a prisoner’s release. It broadly coincided with what Penny had told him, speaking in terms too general to be really helpful about ‘supervision’ and ‘conditions’ when a prisoner was released on licence. Burrowing down further, he discovered a list of likely conditions and they did, indeed, involve good behaviour and not undermining the purpose of the licence period. Finally he found the information he’d been searching for – that a person could be recalled to prison if they were to commit another crime or be charged with another crime. He could see why his parents and Lloyd would be keen that no whiff of hitherto unaccounted for problems should come to the noses of the authorities.

  Pen still in hand, he gazed sightlessly at the Sunday evening drama on the TV, turning over in his mind the consequences of Lloyd’s drink-driving offence. Lloyd had paid for his crime with the loss of his liberty, incarceration and an uncertain future. To Victor and Penny it meant the worry and stigma of having a child in prison. Imogen had lost her physical perfection and her marriage; her career had been radically affected. Ben had paid for Lloyd’s mistake with his wife – not just the relationship, but the bitter conclusion that she wasn’t the woman he’d thought her, even if he wasn’t yet sure what she actually was. He was uneasily aware of being changed by suffering collateral damage and though his real self was emerging once again, it was a slow process.

  Was it unreasonable that Ben thirsted for the knowledge that might provide the key to it all?

  He slapped his hand on the chair arm in frustration. His promise to his mother not to wake sleeping dogs and set them on Lloyd had been given automatically but now he was bound by it, which could well hamper his getting at the truth for at least the next couple of years.

  His heart gave a giant beat. On the other hand, if he did get at the truth he might be faced by a dilemma, of possessing the kind of knowledge that would send his own brother back to jail, cause his parents more agony … and even implicate Imogen. Was that possible? He concluded that he didn’t know it to be impossible.

  Suddenly he had more sympathy for his parents not wanting to know what had taken Lloyd and Imogen out into the countryside, drunk, in the middle of the night.

  He supposed that all he could do was wait. Sooner, rather than later, Lloyd would be out.

  To give his thoughts a happier direction Ben took out his phone and went to the folder of photos of the treasures he’d taken from Gabe’s loft. He could begin listing some on eBay until it was time to feed Barney, wake Gabe for his next dose of antibiotics and then seek out the bed in the spare room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the first day in November Alexia had reason to feel optimistic as she hurried through the frosty evening – the ground glittering and crunching beneath her winter boots – beaming, despite being late for the meeting she’d arranged with Gabe and Ben. She arrived in Gabe’s kitchen in a flurry of frozen breath and apologies. ‘Sorry, but for once something good’s happened and I’ll tell you about it later. How are you, Gabe?’

  Gabe’s reply from his rocking chair, wrapped in a blanket, was to explode with a coughing fit that went on for a worryingly long time. ‘About the same,’ he gasped, when he’d finally managed to draw air into his lungs. He was thin and white, his hair lifeless. ‘I just can’t shake this damned chest infection.’

  Ben pulled out a kitchen chair for Alexia, frowning in concern. ‘His GP came out and says he doesn’t know why he’s not shaking this off. He’s prescribed different antibiotics.’

  ‘I might have to have …’ but Gabe exploded into another coughing fit, his eyes wide and almost panicked as he tried to get his breath. ‘A chest X-ray,’ he wheezed before the next coughing bout.

  Conscious of an uncomfortably cold feeling, as if all her earlier elation had turned to ice and sunk to the pit of her stomach, Alexia jumped up and, finding the kettle warm from the range top, made him a drink of warm water and honey to try and soothe him.

  Gabe looked about ten years older than usual as he thanked her for it then leant his head on the chair back and closed his eyes.

  The frown on Ben’s forehead deepened. ‘I hope the new meds work.’

  Alexia could only agree. Ben looked tired too. He still wore the dark green trousers and sweatshirt she knew to be the garb of the Carlysle estate workers and washing up stood in the sink. He’d never actually gone back to live at Woodward Cottage since Gabe had been ill. Alexia had helped where she could, checking on Gabe, cleaning out the chickens or mucking out Snobby’s field shelter. She’d even taken Snobby out on a leading rein like a big dog because he was getting no exercise without Gabe to drive him in the trap. Gabe, between racking coughing episodes, had seemed more worried about The Angel than his own health so she’d continued to devote the rest of her spare time to keeping that on track.

  With a big sigh, Ben flopped down at the kitchen table. His hair looked as if the wind had been tossing it around.

  ‘Been up in the trees today?’ she asked.

  He pulled a face. ‘Wish I had. All week I’ve been stuck either in the estate office or walking the estate talking Christopher through what I’ve planted where and why and what else needs doing. I’m more than halfway through my year’s contract so he wanted an overview. One good thing, though.’ He brightened. ‘He’s let me take the stuff to make a portable enclosure for Barney from the estate stores. I put it together when I got home and Barney’s busy investigating.’

  Gabe stirred slightly. ‘Be better for him than being stuck indoors.’ He coughed again, violently, then let his head roll so he could open his eyes and look at Alexia. ‘How are things going at The Angel?’

  She had her report all ready. ‘Roof complete and watertight. Concrete went down on the ground floor today so they can screed soon. Plumbing and electrics have begun upstairs but they can’t move down while the floors are wet. As you know, Carola’s got the bit between her teeth with the café furniture—’

  With a wave of his hand, Gabe interrupted. ‘You are all such good friends to me, especially you, Alexia. Do exactly as you see fit with everything, and thank Carola for me.’ He ended on another bout of coughing.

  ‘While we’re swapping news, I have some,’ Ben mentioned. ‘The auctions have come to an end, both at the local auction house and for the stuff I listed on eBay, and they’ve made over three thousand between them. It’s all landing in my accounts so I’ll be able to transfer it over to you, Gabe.’

  ‘Three thousand!’ gasped Alexia. ‘That’s going to make life a lot easier.’

  ‘Fantastic, thank you. Use it as you need it, Alexia.’ Gabe’s breathing was laboured and too quick. His hands lay on the blanket that covered him. They were beginning to look thin and knotted.

  ‘There’s more to list,’ Ben promised. His voice reflected nothing of the consternation in his eyes as he watched Gabe closely. ‘I’ve just been keeping it manageable.’

  With a tired nod, Gabe coughed again. ‘What is it you were going to tell us, Al
exia?’

  She remembered her good mood when she’d bundled in through the door, before finding Gabe looking frighteningly worse. She followed Ben’s lead and kept her fear from her voice, though. ‘I’ve had some good luck. Do you remember me telling you that I heard one of the local radio presenters, Quinn Daly, complaining on air that she’d fallen out with her interior decorator and wouldn’t get their ground floor decorated in time for her big family do at Christmas?’

  ‘You emailed and offered to start right away.’ Ben nodded.

  A little bubble of excitement fizzed up Alexia’s spine. ‘The only benefit of everything that’s happened was I could make myself free, especially as their job’s decorating only. At the weekend I met Quinn and her significant other, Ruby. The last decorator has taken all his mood boards with him, but that suits me fine. They had a lot of materials ready for me to work from so it doesn’t mean too much strain for me but there’s a bit of wiggle room to bring in my own ideas, too. It’s very hands-on so I’m getting paint in my hair and generally enjoying myself.’

  With another paroxysm of coughing, Gabe had to lean forward and crow for breath before he could speak. ‘I think I’m going to have to go back to bed.’ Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

  Ben rose to help him.

  Alexia realised she was losing her audience. ‘Just a second. The reason I’m telling you this is that I told Quinn about The Angel and she’s asked me to go on an afternoon radio show she’s planning about refurbishment and restoration. I want to do it, of course, because it’s brilliant promo for me, and I need it. But I’d like your permission to talk on air about The Angel and what happened, Gabe. Quinn thinks the fact that we’re overcoming the difficulties by adapting to them gives the story a lot of human interest.’

  Gabe had half-risen from his chair, Ben at his elbow, but now he fell back again. ‘That sounds like a good idea, though it’s interesting use of the word “we” as I’m currently contributing precisely nothing.’ He coughed again, ending on a wheeze. ‘Go for it,’ he added breathlessly. ‘The facts should be out in the wider world. The programme might help others avoid being conned.’ He coughed so hard that it almost shook the blanket from his shoulders. When he’d overcome the spasm he turned to Ben. ‘Will you take over for me?’

  Ben glanced around the kitchen. ‘With what?’

  ‘The Angel. I’ll give you access to the bank account because Alexia’s going to have to make payments to tradesmen soon and I just can’t arsed, to be honest. Any chance?’

  For a moment, Ben looked as if he’d argue. Then his expression softened. ‘Of course. But you’ll soon be back on your feet.’

  Gabe laughed, but it turned into a cross between a crow and a gasp. ‘Ever the optimist.’ He let Ben help him up and, managing a fragment of a smile for Alexia, dragged himself through the door to the stairway. The sound of his coughing diminished as he climbed slowly. Then Alexia heard the creak of footsteps overhead and Ben’s voice.

  Thinking she might as well make herself useful, she rinsed the plates and a saucepan in the sink then did the washing up, automatically putting the kettle on to boil as she hadn’t managed a cup of tea before leaving home. She made tea for all of them but it wasn’t until she’d delivered one to Gabe and told Ben there was a cup waiting for him downstairs that she realised it might seem that she was creating reasons to linger. She was just debating whether to commit the sacrilege of adding cold water to hers so she could drink it quickly, or pour it away so she could leave right away, when Ben bounced back down the stairs.

  ‘Is it going to be a problem?’ were his first words as he returned to the room.

  Alexia blew on her tea. ‘What?’

  ‘Gabe asking me to act for him. I could hardly say no but I’ll have to ask questions if I sort of deputise for Gabe. I wouldn’t want you to take that as a criticism.’ His grey eyes looked apologetic. ‘I’ll be keeping him in the loop and involving him if there are particularly knotty problems.’

  ‘If he can hear you over the coughing?’ Alexia grinned. ‘It’s OK. Welcome aboard. In fact, how would you like to bring your truck to pick up the floor tiles on Saturday from a warehouse in Peterborough? They’re so damned heavy it would take two trips in my vehicle.’

  With a yawn, he dropped into Gabe’s rocking chair and tipped his head back tiredly, much as Gabe had done earlier. ‘It’s not as if we have anything else to do, eh?’

  ‘I’ll make the two trips if you’re busy—’

  He waved that idea away, closing his eyes. ‘Why don’t you bring me up to speed on everything so I get a sense of whereabouts in the project we are.’

  ‘We’re seven and a bit weeks away from opening.’

  His eyes flipped open. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘We’ve got to be. I told Gabe to give me till Christmas, so we’re opening on the Saturday before.’

  ‘But when you said that the ship hadn’t been attacked by pirates.’

  She smiled at his picturesque analogy but managing a project meant focusing on reality. ‘Do you know how much business rates are? Gabe needs to get money flowing in instead of out. Your eBay money is a godsend.’

  ‘Good.’ He sounded so weary that rather than recite the schedule of works to him Alexia just sipped her tea and watched as his breathing grew slow and deep, his chest lifting beneath his folded arms. His face relaxed in sleep, a shadow of stubble defining his determined jaw, his permanently windswept hair falling to one side. He looked like an off-duty Prince Charming taking a nap because Disney didn’t need him in this scene. She finished her drink and quietly deposited the mug on the table, prepared to creep away so as not to disturb him.

  But then he jerked awake and sat up. ‘Sorry. You need to tell me when I’m being self-indulgent. Or grumpy. You’ve got just as much on as I have, if not more.’

  Although his tone was light she caught an undertone of impatience with himself. ‘We’re all entitled to a touch of grumpiness now and then. You’re worried about Gabe.’

  ‘Deeply. But so are you.’ He stretched his way out of the chair and pulled Barney’s tub out from a corner. ‘Want to see Barney’s new home? I’m just going to bring him in. It’s stupid – as he’s an owl – but I don’t quite feel comfortable with leaving him out at night yet.’

  Alexia pulled on her coat and accompanied him into the raw darkness. She held the torch while he opened the side of the low-slung mesh run and coaxed Barney back into his tub. Barney screeched gustily but it seemed more for the fun of it than because he was objecting in any way. While Ben shut the run up again Alexia watched over Barney in case he tried to flutter straight out of his tub and onto the ground, then they carried him back into the kitchen where he screeched continuously from the safety of the tub.

  ‘He’s getting really loud,’ she observed, pulling her zip a little higher and moving back to the door, ready to go home.

  ‘Not kidding. I’m thinking of wearing ear plugs when I’m trying to sleep.’ He checked the clock on the wall. ‘I’m going to stretch my legs for ten minutes. How do you feel about me walking back with you if I promise I’m not going all Sebastian on you and “walking you home”? I just want to get some fresh air.’

  She laughed. ‘OK. I’ll show you the chairs and table we’ve done, if you like.’

  Ben locked the kitchen door behind them and they set off in the darkness, using their torch apps to light their way along the ruts of the track. ‘Is Carola still helping?’ he asked as they picked their way towards Main Road.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this but she’s a boon. If she carries on as she’s begun she’ll make my life considerably easier because she finds rubbing down even awkward things like spindles the height of good fun. Also, she’s found someone she says will take Snobby out on the leading rein. Unfortunately, that someone’s Seb.’

  She was aware of him turning towards her, even in the dark. He hesitated as if choosing his words. ‘Is it a genuine offer?’

  Sh
e sighed. ‘It could be that he thinks it’ll mean us spending time together but his sister’s always had ponies so he would be useful. Poor Snobby needs some company and it would stop him turning into a tub of lard.’ They turned into Main Road, a fresh gust of wind almost sending Alexia flying.

  Ben huddled into his jacket. ‘Give me his number and I’ll call and talk to him. If it’s just a ruse to get close to you he’ll backtrack if he realises he’ll probably be dealing with me and that will be the end of it. If he will do it then it’ll be useful because with my job, Gabe, the chickens and The Angel I don’t really need to add taking a pony for a walk to my list.’

  ‘Let’s try that.’ Conscious that more and more tiny threads were connecting their daily lives Alexia made her voice businesslike as they reached her cottage. ‘Let me open the workshop up so you can see what I’m doing with the furniture.’ She fished in her pocket for her keys.

  The interior of the workshop seemed calm after the squalling wind outside, even with the door still ajar. She exhibited the table and chairs she’d secured through Freecycle already in their top coat of blue-green plus two wheelback chairs rubbed down and undercoated.

  ‘I like the colour.’ He ran his fingers over one of the chairs. ‘It’s like an unsettled sea.’

  Alexia was pleased. ‘That was pretty much the effect I went for. This is only the beginning. Carola’s been promised another table, circular pine with four chairs. One of the chairs needs a new leg but I know a joiner with a copy lathe so that should be OK. The problem’s going to be storage as we collect more, especially as, now you’ve been clever enough to add a bit of cash to the pot, I won’t feel so reluctant to buy from charity shops or house clearance places. Actually,’ she went on, ‘now you’re the guy with the purse strings I need to talk to you about the kitchen at The Angel because I need to brief the electrician. Can we arrange a time? I know you’re too tired now.’