by Emma Jackson
‘How were the roads yesterday?’
Her expression said it all. There went that minor spark of hope. ‘I’ll get on with phoning the butcher eh? Get replacements for those cuts of meat Henry pinched. Then once they’re delivered, I’ll cook my arse off so as much of it is done for you as possible. Yeah?’
The tight band around my chest loosened a fraction. ‘Yes. Thank you, Neeta. I’d appreciate that.’
We were halfway through breakfast when she broke it to me that the butcher didn’t have any more turkeys. They could replace the other cuts of meat but, unsurprisingly, the turkeys were all gone. I should have made Henry return that food. Why did I let him take it? Or at least I should have called the butcher yesterday, like Henry had said he was going to so he could hide the fact that he’d pinched Christmas dinner. If it had been anything else, I could have just taken it off the menu and apologised to the guests, but no turkey? On Christmas Day? I was going to have to go trekking out in the snow again and who knew how long that would take?
I decided to put it out of my head until breakfast was finished. Perhaps my subconscious would work on the problem for me…and when I figured out how to split myself into two people, I could sell the secret to the military.
When Nick came down to breakfast neither his nan nor Stephen were with him. He fetched himself cereal and orange juice from the buffet, sat at a table in front of the windows and looked out over the snowy rear gardens. Whenever I checked on him – which was a lot okay – he hadn’t even touched his food.
I hoped he wasn’t having regrets. I wasn’t. Last night almost felt like a dream now. A really hot, confusing dream – but I remembered enough to be sure that for the remaining days of his stay, I would not object to having him around me…and by that I meant I wanted to plaster myself to his body and not let go.
I sat down with him as soon as I’d done the majority of the serving. I just couldn’t help myself. It looked like a photograph outside: nothing moving, nothing changing, just white-white and grey-blue shapes.
‘Thank you for yesterday,’ I said. ‘I can’t remember if I thanked you for helping me with the mince pies, but it doesn’t matter because you deserve an extra thank you even if I did.’
He turned his head away from the window and gave me a faint smile. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person, or maybe it was Christmas Eve and he was sad. I immediately felt awful. Here I was, sizing him up like a prime steak and he was crashing into his grief, trying to deal with his first Christmas without his mother.
‘It was my pleasure. All of it.’ He reached across the table and stroked his fingertips lightly over the back of my hand, stopping at the cuff of my jumper, and I lit up like one of those touch-sensitive lamps. I glanced around the room and he laughed a little, some colour coming back to his cheeks. ‘Is there a rule prohibiting staff from fraternising with guests?’
‘I was just checking in case anyone needed anything,’ I protested.
‘You should look in this direction then. I need something.’
My gaze locked with his and the heat in it shocked me. Breakfast service had certainly never been this interesting. An intense craving to lean over and kiss him gripped me. I had a feeling it would wake me up more than another cup of coffee.
I am ashamed to admit I flipped my hair over my shoulder before I could stop myself. The only way to save myself from such obviously flirty behaviour was to own it. ‘You’d like something hot?’
‘Yes, please.’ His fingers crept under my sleeve, sliding around to touch the sensitive skin on the underside of my wrist. Goose bumps raced up my arm.
‘Well…we do full English breakfasts, scrambled eggs, omelette, toast, porridge—’ He laughed, and I was pleased to see the humour back in his face. ‘Is your nan okay?’
‘Yeah, she’s fine. Just sleeping it off…again.’
‘And Stephen?’
‘He finally snapped out of his trance and then kept me up for another hour talking me through the horrors of natural labour.’
‘Oh my God, did Noelle have him helping or something?’
‘No. He was downstairs, they were upstairs, but it was still too close as far as he was concerned.’
‘Poor baby,’ I crooned. ‘Listening to a woman going through agony must’ve been terrible for him.’ I expected him to laugh, it was just a joke, but he frowned down at the tablecloth instead. ‘What did I say?’ He stayed quiet and I dared to ask something further. ‘Is it something to do with why you didn’t want to drive them to the hospital yesterday?’
‘It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing the little marks his glasses left there and then forced a smile. ‘So, what can I do to help you out today? Any more mince pies to bake?’
‘Sadly no. Our other chef is in today, so I’ve just got hideously boring things to do, like turning down rooms and cleaning up after breakfast. And the bar too. I mustn’t forget the bar.’ I tapped my forehead, trying to imprint the to-do list in my brain and the problem I’d been trying to forget resurfaced. I dropped my voice to a whisper. ‘Oh, and I somehow need to find a turkey.’
‘Right. I could do that.’
‘If you’re intending to walk into the village, I can tell you now, you will not find one. Unless you’re planning on mugging a local.’
‘There goes my first idea. Or, if Lydia doesn’t mind us borrowing her 4 x 4 again, I can drive to the closest supermarket. Stephen was going to return it to her this morning.’
‘Oh. Oh, okay. That’s worth a try. I’ll text her. I’m sure she won’t mind.’ I pulled my phone out of my apron and sent off a quick message. So far between Nick and Neeta they were solving my problems for me. And while that was a good thing for the hotel, part of me wondered if I would ever be able to cope with things on my own.
‘When I get back, I can help you with the other hideously boring stuff too.’
‘That’s really kind but not necessary. You’re on your holiday. And surely your family want to spend some time with you too.’
‘They don’t mind.’
‘Still…’ I chewed on my bottom lip and his eyelids lowered to half-mast as he studied it.
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour.’ He dropped his voice and leaned in closer to me. ‘I’ll only kiss you anytime you look like you want me to.’
I laughed. ‘That is definitely not going to work then.’
‘Okay. Amendment: I’ll only do it when you tell me I can.’
‘Hmmm.’ With every trembling nerve ending in my body, I wanted him to join me. But he’d turned my brain to mulch last night and I needed to be working at full capacity.
‘Beth, I do want to help, and I need to keep busy today. If I’m with you, I think I’ll find it easier…’ He broke off, picking at the edge of his napkin, suddenly finding it fascinating.
It was the closest he’d come to telling me about what he was dealing with. I wanted to take him upstairs to my flat, make him a cup of tea and talk to him about it. Maybe just hold him, if that’s what he wanted. Tell him that the hole that had been torn in his life would never really repair but that he’d learn to live around it.
‘Okay, Nick.’ I caught his hand again. ‘But I’m a hard taskmaster and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.’
I left him to finish his breakfast as I started clearing away and when he was done, I took him into the kitchen and introduced him to Neeta. She set him to work but I warned her she couldn’t use him for too long; as soon as Lydia texted me back to say it was okay, he’d need to go off hunting turkey.
I walked out into the lobby slowly, my eyes lingering on the Christmas tree that was sans-angel. Mum had wanted everything to be perfect. She always wanted everything to be perfect, but Christmas was like her icing on the cake of being an all-round amazing woman. Without her around, the hotel was like that tree, doing its job but not quite right.
I was heading upstairs to help Elise finish turning down the rooms but as I reached the
main staircase I thought I heard Julius’s dulcet tones, so I did a swift about-face and took the back staircase instead. Just like yesterday, Elise was already steaming through. I was going to tell my mum that she needed a raise and try to send her home early. It was Christmas Eve and she had a little girl and I figured that would be some kind of thanks for all the hard work she’d put in covering the last few days. Maybe I was trying to make up for ruining Henry and Joseph’s Christmas too.
As I was helping her finish the last couple of rooms on the first floor my phone vibrated with a text.
Lydia: Of course you can use the car… Could you bring it back this afternoon?
Me: No worries, I’ll ask Nick to drop it off.
Lydia: No…you…come and have a cup of tea and a chat…
Me: I really don’t think I’ll have time.
Lydia: It’s Christmas Eve…you haven’t got time to talk to me before I go to my brother’s?
I blew out a long breath, thumbs poised over the keys on the screen. Damn it.
Me: I’ll do my best.
Lydia: See you soon. :)
When we’d finished the rooms, I checked the latest from the Hotel Hopper as I was walking downstairs. This would be the verdict on the Mince Pie Evening.
‘Rustic Vibes
‘Yesterday evening, in contrast to the crowds and noise of the festival, I stayed in for the Everdene Hotel’s special entertainment. It was definitely quieter and extremely comfortable. Complimentary mince pies and mulled wine were provided in the bar for all guests, with a gentle Christmas soundtrack playing in the background. On the whole a pleasant experience but with a buffet dinner and the mince pies decidedly rustic, I must admit to being disappointed about the food.’
Well, that was brief and to the point. All my efforts distilled into about three sentences. Obviously, Neeta or Henry’s mince pies would have been better than mine. I couldn’t disagree with that but there was a creeping tone of disgruntlement in the reviews that did not bode well. At least I had Neeta for today. Worrying about one thing at time seemed best.
In the kitchen, Nick was wiping down the counter and Neeta was on the phone, her voice was raised, as much as her gravelly tones could ever be raised. As soon as she saw me, she waved and pointed to the stool to indicate that I needed to sit down and wait for her to finish. My gut instinct told me I would probably be best off running in the opposite direction, but I overruled it.
She hung up with a sigh, gave me a look and went to the fridge. She came back with a small ramekin dish full of something chocolaty and a teaspoon. This was going to be really bad. Nick stopped wiping and leaned back against the edge of the sink, watching.
‘Okay.’ I took the spoon, dipped it in what turned out to be mousse and lifted it to my mouth. ‘Lay it on me. What’s gone wrong now?’
‘The butcher says he can’t deliver. His van can’t get traction up the hill.’
I put the spoon in my mouth and let the gorgeous, creamy cocoa sooth away the impact of her news. Neeta was a genius. Although if I received every piece of bad news this way, I would be the size of an elephant by the time my mum got home. ‘Is he still parked down there now, or did he leave?’
‘He left.’
‘Will he come back?’
‘He says he will if we clear the road.’
I licked the spoon again to make sure it was completely clean and tapped it against my closed mouth. ‘Is there some reason he can’t walk the stuff up to us? I mean, it’s one hill, not the whole way across town.’
‘Yeah, but we’re talking about a massive side of beef, a leg of lamb, two gammon joints, bacon, sausages—’
‘Jesus – we need to get more vegans staying in this hotel.’ I took another spoonful of mousse and caught Neeta and Nick exchanging a look. It was clearly a worried look. ‘And this carnivore-fest is vital to tomorrow’s dinner, yes?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘And I guess if the butcher can’t get up the sodding hill, Domino’s are going to have trouble too.’
They exchanged another look.
‘Well, I guess we just go and collect it in Lydia’s car. She’s said she’s happy for us to use it, but we’ve got to get it back to her this afternoon.’
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Nick said. ‘Because Stephen’s already gone.’
‘Say again?’
Nick straightened and ran his hand through his hair, grimacing at me. It was a good job we weren’t going to get into a relationship because if he constantly pulled that little-boy-caught-up-to-something look on me, I’d end up letting him get away with everything. The danger in getting hurt was not from the men you didn’t trust, it was from the ones you did.
‘Stephen came down. I told him what was happening. He offered to go. I’m sorry. I said he should wait until he heard it was okay, but he seemed eager to get out.’ Nick’s gaze flicked to Neeta and she was busy examining her nails, which meant she must’ve witnessed the exchange.
I sighed and took an even bigger mouthful of pudding. The dish was nearly empty.
What were my options here? Call back Stephen so he could collect all the meat on his way back up to the hotel…but that would mean abandoning the hunt for the turkey, and every hour that went by no doubt left the supermarket aisles emptier and emptier. I could delay the butcher’s delivery until Stephen came back, but that also delayed Neeta making a start on all the extra cooking she’d offered to do, to help me out with the dinner tomorrow…
No. Better to deal with the butcher’s delivery myself. If Stephen arrived back early that would be a bonus. ‘I’ll have to go down the hill to meet them then.’
‘How are you going to get the food back up here? You can’t carry it all by yourself,’ Neeta protested.
‘I can help,’ Nick offered, moving to stand beside me.
‘I’m gonna get that tattooed to your forehead if you’re not careful.’ I offered him a spoonful of mousse and he rested his hand behind me on the counter, leaning in close to take it in his mouth. My stomach went all trembly and when I looked back at Neeta she was smirking. I cleared my throat. ‘I have an idea that might make it a bit easier anyway. Can you call him again, Neeta, and ask him to come back in about an hour?’
‘Sure thing.’
‘Great. Now let’s get this menu sorted for lunch before a pipe bursts or someone sets fire to the library.’
I met Nick on the porch after I finished clearing up the bar from last night. No more snow had fallen but it was at least a foot deep everywhere and the cold snaked in every possible crack of the many layers I was wearing. We could hear voices carrying easily across the unnatural stillness of the snow and we followed higgledy-piggledy footsteps to where the four younger kids staying in the hotel were building snowmen in front of the lounge windows, so their parents could watch them from inside in the warm.
One of the little girls was frowning as she patted more snow on a small lump a short distance from the large snowmen the older kids were working on.
‘What if he doesn’t come to hotels?’
‘I’m sure he’ll come. If he can get down chimneys and knows whether you’ve been good or bad, he must know if you’re staying somewhere else,’ one of the boys reasoned and scooped up another armful of snow. He nodded at us as we were walking by. ‘’Cuse me, you work here right? Does Father Christmas come to the hotel for kids who are on holiday?’
‘Oh, yeah, absolutely.’ I paused by their snowman and helped as he struggled to dump the large armful on top. ‘We have special instructions for when children are staying. All you have to do is make sure you put out something for him, just like you would at home and write a note and we post it up the chimney and then he knows to bring your presents here. Y’know—’ I beat the snow off my big blue ski gloves by smacking my hands together ‘—as long as you’ve been good.’
‘Isn’t that a bit short notice?’ another girl asked. This one was older – maybe old enough to start thinking there was something fishy going on.
The kids chorused some thank yous and I led Nick around the corner of the hotel and across the lawns.
‘When did you stop…’ I lowered my voice ‘…believing?’ The ground was a perfect blanket with the exception of one set of paw prints from a fox or a cat, cutting diagonally across it.
‘Stephen told me when I was five,’ he admitted.
‘Oh no, the rotter. Is he much older than you?’
‘Five years.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘What about you? When did you find out?’
‘When I was seven. I wanted to talk to him face to face because I figured if he had the kind of power to get presents to all the children in the world, surely, he should’ve been doing something about sick kids and famine and war. I hid under my bed on Christmas Eve and waited until he came in to do my stocking and tried to lasso his ankles – except obviously they weren’t his, they were my dad’s and he almost broke his neck.’
He laughed out loud, head tipping back as he looked at me with crinkled eyes. I felt it like a kick in the chest.
We came to a large outhouse at the back of the property and I pulled the massive bunch of keys from my pocket, sorting through them until I found a small silver one and slipped it into the padlock on the door. It turned but when I tugged nothing happened. The cold had frozen it shut.
‘Oh great,’ I muttered and started looking around the front of the building for an alternative means of entry. There were small windows along one side, but I didn’t fancy breaking one and having to wriggle through.
Nick stepped up and gave the padlock a test tug to verify that it was, indeed, very stuck. ‘Can I give it a try?’
‘Sure, knock yourself out.’ I moved back a pace as he propped his boot up against the wooden door to give himself some leverage and then yanked. Hard. It gave but he lost his grip and landed on his arse in a pile of snow. I turned my head away to try to hide my amusement.
