Christmas Secrets in Snowflake Cove

by Emily Harvale

  A few moments after Evie had shut the front door, it burst open and Raven, dressed from head to toe in black – black combat boots, black jeans, black jumper, long black coat, black hoody – stood scowling, holding the wrought iron door knob in her hand.

  ‘You said you were gonna get this fixed.’ Raven tossed the knob onto the oak console table, knocking over a rack of leaflets entitled: A Fabulous Festive Season at Snowflake Inn. Evie and her mum had spent days using various design and photo editing software to produce those leaflets. Now they drifted to the floor or fluttered around the reception area like colourful autumn leaves. Raven ignored the sprawl of paper, grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut. ‘This place should be knocked down. Why do we have to do this now? It’s almost dark.’

  Evie forced a smile, ignoring the fact that Raven had been able to open and close the front door without much effort, in spite of the creaking hinges, and the door knob coming off in her hand.

  ‘Because we need to find out if the latest storm did any damage, and as for the lights, we’ll need to go into Michaelmas Bay first thing in the morning and get replacement bulbs if any of them don’t work. Then we’ll have to get the ladders out and climb up and fix them before we can even think of asking Zachary Thorn and his team to pay us an unscheduled visit. We want Snowflake Inn to look its sparkling best, don’t we?’

  ‘The only way to do that is to set the place on fire and rebuild it with the insurance money.’

  Evie blinked at her niece. That might actually solve their problems. If only it were that simple.

  ‘No matter how bad things become none of us could ever do that, Raven. Partly because we wouldn’t dream of doing anything illegal and partly because, in spite of it looking its age, it would break all our hearts if anything happened to this inn. Snowflake Inn has stood proudly on this little isle for almost four centuries and neither time nor tide has lessened its beauty.’

  ‘Whatever. I’m gonna see what Grandpa is up to. You don’t need me to help you count lights. I hate maths, anyway.’ Raven turned away and stomped through the puddles sending arcs of water into the air in front of her as she followed in the direction of her grandfather, heading to the east end of the sixteenth-century building.

  Raven was right about the door knob. Evie had said she’d get it fixed, although it only seemed to come off in Raven’s hands. Evie had told her dad about it and he’d smiled and said he’d add it to his list. She should probably add it to her own list. She kept hers on her phone; he seemed to keep his in his head and from the sheer number of things still outstanding, his list must be erased every night when he went to sleep. She’d asked him to fix the hinges weeks ago.

  ‘At least it’s not raining,’ Evie yelled, before Raven disappeared around the side of the inn. ‘That’s one good thing.’

  ‘For about five seconds,’ came a stroppy reply.

  In complete contrast to Evie’s dad, her niece could find something bad in everything – even when things were going well. According to Raven, the Starrs were doomed. And not just the Starr family. Raven didn’t think the future looked bright for anyone. She was going through what Raven’s mother – Evie’s sister, Severine – called, ‘Raven’s dark phase’. Which was probably why Severine had buggered off to New York for two weeks and left Raven at Snowflake Inn.

  ‘Raven hates New York,’ Severine had said, when she phoned to inform them of Raven’s impending visit. ‘She insisted I visit Harvey’s family without her. You know how she is with strangers. She told me she wanted to spend some quality time with her wonderful aunt and fabulous grandparents.’

  Severine had clearly made most of that up, because by the end of the day Raven arrived, she asked: ‘When can I leave this hellhole and go home to London? I’m fifteen and perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

  ‘Social services may not agree,’ Evie’s mother, Molly had replied.

  Evie’s gran did nothing to improve Raven’s mood. ‘I came here seventy-three years ago when I was your age and I’ve never left.’

  ‘Jesus, Grammie! How many more times are you gonna tell me that?’ Raven tossed a lock of waist-length black hair over her shoulder and stormed up to her room, slamming the door so hard that the downstairs windows rattled. That was two days ago.

  The future for the Starrs wasn’t looking very bright – or very merry – unless they found a pot of gold, and Raven’s mood altered drastically. That would take a lot more than miracles or magic. But Zachary Thorn might help with that, too, in a roundabout way. If not, it was going to be a pretty grim Christmas this year – and possibly the last Christmas the Starr family would spend at Snowflake Inn.

  Chapter Two

  Evie peered up at the Christmas lights draped along the full-length of the outside of the inn. They were swaying limply in the wind and looked more like a row of wet socks dangling from a washing line than the ‘glowing crystal icicles capturing the iridescent colours of the Aurora Borealis’ – which was how they had been described on the box they came in, two or three years ago. For the price they cost, Evie could have paid for a trip to see the real Northern Lights. OK. Slight exaggeration. But they were bloody expensive and they shouldn’t look like this after only a couple of years. Several of the bulbs were dead, some were broken and the rest were dim or colourless in the fading, late afternoon light. Hardly the sparkling, colourful and glowing sight Evie was going for. Festive lights should offer warmth and cheer to approaching guests, not look washed out and broken. Guests might get the impression that the inside was equally as cold and unwelcoming. She drew a rough diagram with an app she’d downloaded to her phone and made a note of how many bulbs were dead. At this rate, it would probably be cheaper to buy a brand new set. Her heart sank at the thought.

  Raven reappeared, her black coat flapping as if she actually was about to take flight. She didn’t weigh much more than a feather by the looks of her. If the wind picked up to the strength it had last night, Raven stood a good chance of being blown away. The poor girl looked miserable with her head bowed and her hands shoved deep into her pockets. Evie’s heart went out to her. Severine had no right to go off to New York with her latest boyfriend to meet his family, and leave her daughter behind, especially at this time of year. Severine would return in time for Christmas, possibly with her new man Harvey in tow, but that wasn’t the point. Raven needed her mum, as much as she tried to pretend otherwise.

  Evie tapped the call button on her phone, pressed it against one ear and cupped her hand against the other, like ill-matched ear muffs. The winds were increasing and the thud of waves echoed around her as the tide came in. It barrelled down the narrow channel just a few metres away between the rocks of Snowflake Isle and the mainland. Sprays of seawater shot high into the air, the spume of which rained down like falling snowflakes.

  ‘This is how Snowflake Cove got its name,’ she said, glancing at Raven who was now standing in front of her, sulking. ‘Well, because of this snowflake-like spume and because the isle is similar in shape to a snowflake.’

  ‘Thrilling,’ Raven said, shoving her hands even deeper into the massive pockets. ‘I hope you’re telling that to whoever’s on the phone, and not to me, because if not, you’re getting as bad as Grammie. I’ve heard that a hundred times and each time is as boring as the last. I couldn’t care less how this lump of rock was named. Can I go back inside? It’s freezing out here and Grandpa seems to think he’s six, not sixty.’

  ‘I thought you’d like something to occupy your time. We could really use your help.’

  ‘What? Standing around staring up at stupid lights, waiting for my fingers to drop off and my toes to get frostbite. Yeah. That’s a brilliant idea. I told you before we came out here that you’re a nutter doing this now. And you’re an even bigger nutter if you think I’m gonna hold a ladder while you climb up and replace light bulbs tomorrow, especially in this weather.’

  Raven had a point. The winds were growing in intensity and there may well be a g
ale on the way, if not another full-blown storm. Plus, the light was fading fast. Perhaps tomorrow would bring better weather. Zachary Thorn and his team would be in Michaelmas Bay the day after that, so there was very little time.

  ‘You go in and put the kettle on. I’ll get Dad. I’m calling Juniper but she’s not answering and she hasn’t switched on her voicemail. I want to ask if she will look in a couple of shops in town and give us an idea of the cost of new sets of lights. She can tell us when she comes into the bar tonight.’

  Raven seemed to brighten a little. ‘Juniper Green? Is her brother coming too?’

  ‘Roland? I don’t know. He doesn’t usually come over. He doesn’t live in Snowflake Cove, he lives in Michaelmas Bay.’

  Raven tutted and the spark faded from her eyes. ‘I know where he lives. I’m not stupid, you know. He’s lucky not having to live in this dump. I just thought he might come with her, that’s all.’

  ‘Do you like him? Isn’t he on Facebook or something? You could invite him over for supper if you want.’

  ‘Don’t make it into something it isn’t. I haven’t seen him since that day we were all together during our summer holiday. He was fun to hang with, that’s all. I don’t fancy him or anything and we’re not all sex-mad, you know. I get enough of that crap with Mum, I don’t need it from you too. Jesus. When can I get out of here and go home?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. She stormed off towards the door, tugged at the edge to open it as the handle was still off, kicked it in frustration and was possibly about to do much worse if the door hadn’t been opened from inside.

  ‘Oh, hello darling,’ Evie’s mum, Molly, said to Raven, who raced past her without a word.

  ‘I think I’ve upset her again,’ Evie said.

  ‘How can you tell? Isn’t ‘grumpy’ her everyday persona? Gosh it’s freezing out here. I see the doorknob has come off again. I must get your father to see to that. Are you talking to anyone or just keeping your ear warm? I came to say there are mince pies, hot from the oven and shortbread biscuits aplenty, if you fancy a cup of tea and a bite to eat. I’ve just put another batch of pies in and once they’re done, I’ll start thinking about cooking supper. Where’s your father?’

  Evie giggled. ‘I’m calling Juniper but there must be something wrong with her phone because it just keeps ringing and … oh, hold on. It’s finally gone to voicemail. Juniper, it’s Evie. Call me as soon as you get this message please. I need you to look at Christmas lights.’ Evie rang off and shoved the phone in her coat pocket. ‘Um … Dad’s round the back, I think. Raven said he was acting like a child, so he’s probably searching for crabs in the rock pools again instead of checking for damage to the inn.’

  ‘That man and his crabs,’ Molly said. ‘Oh dear.’ She burst out laughing. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it came out. What I meant was I’ll never understand why your father has such a fascination with crabs. It’s not as if we can eat the ones we get on the isle. They’re far too small. Go and find him will you, sweetheart? I’ll put something here to keep the door ajar so don’t be long. We don’t want this bitter cold to get inside, do we? Jessie will complain we’ve given her pneumonia, and Raven will use it as an excuse to report us to child services or whatever, and that’s all we need before Christmas.’

  Evie smiled. Her mum was joking of course, but there might be some truth in that. ‘OK. See you in a mo.’ Her phone rang and, grabbing it as she leapt over a large puddle, she answered it without looking at the caller display. ‘Thanks for calling back. I need you to do me a favour. Can you nip into a couple of shops and look at Christmas lights, please? Ours are going to need replacing. But not the expensive ones. Money is tighter than Miranda Bradley’s knicker elastic. Oh! But you’ll never guess what. That sex-god, hot bod, Zachary Thorn is coming to Michaelmas Bay. Can you believe it? Gran told us, so it must be true. I’m going to try to think of a way to get him to come to Snowflake Inn for a drink. And anything else he fancies, if you get my drift? If we can get this place on the telly, even for a few minutes, it’d be a gift from the gods. A bit like the man himself. … Juniper? Juniper, are you there?’

  The person on the other end of the call cleared their throat and a deep, sexy and unmistakably masculine voice said, ‘Whoever Juniper is, she’s not here. Sorry. But who’s Miranda Bradley and why is her knicker elastic so tight? I’m asking for purely journalistic reasons, you understand.’

  ‘Eh?’ Evie glanced at the screen. That wasn’t Juniper’s number or the picture of the dancing reindeer that Evie and her best friend Juniper had linked to one another’s calls. ‘Is this some kind of joke? Who are you and why didn’t you tell me straight away that you weren’t Juniper?’

  ‘I was waiting for you to take a breath. You took longer than expected.’

  ‘What? Listen, if you’re trying to sell me something, forget it. I’m broke. And no, I haven’t had an accident so I don’t need a specialist firm to make a claim for me. Our windows are ancient, and the building’s Grade II listed, so double-glazing’s out, and I can’t afford life insurance, or any other kind of insurance for that matter. Thanks all the same. How did you get this number, anyway?’

  ‘Jessica Starr texted it to me. I’m not trying to sell you anything. Quite the contrary.’

  ‘Jessica … Gran? My gran gave you my number? Why?’

  ‘So that I could call you if I had any questions – and I have. Where do you live exactly?’

  ‘In Snowflake Inn.’

  ‘But where is Snowflake Inn?’

  ‘Oh? Are you planning a visit? Do you want to book a room? We usually don’t do that via my personal mobile but if you know my gran, then of course, I’ll happily make an exception.’

  ‘I don’t know your gran.’

  ‘But …? Sorry. Didn’t you just say that Jessica Starr texted you my number?’

  ‘Yes’

  ‘Well she’s my gran.’

  ‘So you said. That must be positively lovely for you both. But I don’t know her.’

  ‘Then why did she text you my number?’

  ‘I told you. So that I could call you if I had any questions. We seem to be going around in circles. All I want to know – other than the details of Miranda Bradley’s knicker elastic – is where the place is and how I get there.’

  Evie could tell from the timbre of his voice that he was grinning. She always smiled when taking calls on the business line of the inn. The act of smiling made one’s voice sound friendlier. Although this person didn’t sound particularly friendly. He sounded rather sarcastic … and bored, as if he had better things to do with his time. Had Raven got someone to call to wind Evie up?

  ‘I know it’s close to St Michael’s Bay,’ he continued. ‘But that’s about it. A postcode would be good. That’ll pinpoint it. It does have a postcode, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not St Michael’s Bay. It’s Michaelmas Bay. It’s spelt as Michael-m-a-s but it’s pronounced Mickle, as in nickel, and mass, as in … ass – which you’ll definitely know how to spell if this conversation is anything to go by. So it’s Snowflake Inn in Snowflake Cove, near Michaelmas Bay.’

  A snort of laughter shot through the phone.

  ‘Snowflake Cove? Seriously? Snowflake Inn in Snowflake Cove. Is that some sort of oxymoron? Snowflakes and salt water don’t really seem to go together.’

  ‘And you, no doubt, are the font of all knowledge regarding any form of moron. I think you’ll find snowflakes in Alaska, Canada, Iceland, Norway, Sweden. Need I go on? They all have salt water, and snowflakes at certain times of the year.’

  ‘But none of them have a village named after one. It’s rather twee. Do you have a Santa’s Grotto and a toyshop with employees of limited stature?’

  ‘Yes. And reindeers that fly. Don’t be ludicrous. The isle is the shape of a snowflake and when the tide … Oh never mind. If you’re coming to Snowflake Cove you’ll see for yourself. Are you coming here, or is this a wind-up?’

  ‘It’s not a wind-up. Alt
hough I wondered the same thing when Pops told me. I’m coming. If I can find the place. Can you simply text me the postcode, please?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that. Just as soon as you tell me who you are.’

  ‘Didn’t I say? I’m Zachary Thorn. Or sex-god, hot bod, as I believe you and Juniper know me. I’m looking forward to a drink in Snowflake Inn … and anything else that’s on offer. Once I know where the delightful-sounding place can be found. And I’d quite like to meet Miranda Bradley. Any chance of that?’

  Chapter Three

  John Starr skipped over a large puddle. ‘You’re looking a bit peaky, sweetheart. We’d better get you inside before you catch your death.’

  Evie glanced up at her dad. She had been staring at her phone for the last five minutes. After the humiliation of discovering she was speaking to none other than Zachary Thorn, she immediately ended the call and, a few moments later when he called back, rejected that one. She texted him the postcode, hoping that would satisfy him and apparently it had. Thankfully, he hadn’t called a third time. She couldn’t speak to him now. There was nothing she could possibly say to minimise her embarrassment. And yet, he had such a sensual, lilting voice, a tiny part of her wanted to hear it again.

  ‘Sorry, Dad. What?’