The Magic of Christmas

by Trisha Ashley

  While the bedding was going through the wash and dry cycle, I gave the cottage the sort of thorough cleaning it only gets when I’m trying to distract myself from something. It didn’t quite work, though, because I kept finding things of Jasper’s that set me off again.

  In fact, Nick walked in on me just before lunch and discovered me slumped in a sobbing heap in the old wicker basket chair in the kitchen.

  ‘Lizzy? What on earth’s the matter?’ he demanded, coming to a sudden startled stop and staring at me. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry, except that once at the hospital!’

  I snuffled back the tears and held out the large black Snoopy sock with a hole in the heel that I’d found down the back of the radiator. ‘It’s J-jasper’s!’ I wailed.

  Looking relieved, he bent down and hauled me to my feet, then gave me a little shake. ‘Oh, is that it? Come on, Lizzy, stop wallowing in pathos! He’s only a few miles away at university, not the other side of the world. You can go and see him any time you want.’

  I sniffled and tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. ‘No I can’t! He’s got to make his own life there, so I couldn’t possibly keep popping in and fussing. But it’s such a long time until Christmas!’

  ‘I expect he’ll come back for a weekend before then. Look, there’s no point in sitting here moping like a wet weekday,’ he added, ‘so get your jacket and let’s go.’

  ‘Go? Go where?’ I said indignantly, though at least I’d stopped feeling weepy.

  ‘I’ll take you out for lunch. You look quite decent — no need to change. Come on.’

  Considering I was dressed in my oldest jeans and a washed-out sweatshirt, he had to be joking.

  ‘I don’t think I want to go out, thank you, Nick,’ I began, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, so in the end it was easier to give in, though I insisted on changing, bathing my face in cold water and brushing my hair first.

  Lunch was fish and chips, well laced with salt and vinegar, eaten out of newspaper on the seafront at Southport, with the expanse of beach stretching away under a cold blue sky scudding with clouds.

  But that was after he’d made me walk for miles, so by then I was starving and, I admit, feeling much more optimistic.

  After he dropped me back at the empty nest, Annie came around with someone else’s Maltese terrier, so I didn’t have time to start moping again and, anyway, all that fresh air and exercise seemed to have numbed the pain a little.

  I even resisted the urge to call Jasper and see what he was doing, but instead got hot and sweaty stuffing his duvet back into its clean cover, a task somewhat like giving birth in reverse, but without the excruciating agony followed by a stranger trying out their embroidery skills on your private parts.

  The good thing about being pregnant (possibly the only good thing apart from the eventual baby) is that at least you know where your child is and have a pretty good idea what it’s doing. Now we were only joined by the frail umbilical cord of Jasper’s new mobile phone.

  Mimi and Juno’s Glorious Autumn Garden Colour luxury coach tour set off just after seven in the morning and, since I’m always up early, I volunteered to drive them to the pick-up point outside the New Mystery pub.

  Mimi was highly excited, but I was sure Juno had thoroughly searched both her luggage and her person for any sharp implements with which she might attempt to steal cuttings from the various stately homes they were to visit, so provided she kept her eye on her I was hopeful they would have an enjoyable holiday.

  While Juno was seeing to the luggage being stowed away, Mimi dashed into the corner newsagent’s shop to buy cough candy and Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls for the journey, and came back carrying several little paper bags, her cheeks bulging like a hamster’s.

  As the bus pulled away I looked up at Mimi, who was seated in the window, a sweetly angelic little old lady in a pink velvet Alice band and matching pearly beads. She waved benignly at me and I could have sworn something glinted in her hand …

  But I must have imagined it, or she was wearing a ring … though I’d never known her to wear one, since they got in the way of her gardening.

  The coach vanished down the high street and I turned the car for home, calling at Annie’s cottage on the way as much from the hope of hot croissants as to see if any more pet-sitting jobs had come up.

  It was a Danish pastry day, which was nearly as good, and she was bubbling with suppressed gossip.

  ‘Gosh, Lizzy,’ she said excitedly, ‘there were ructions last night in the village! Kylie’s boyfriend got leave from the army and came home a couple of days ago, and, of course, someone told him all about what Kylie’s been up to with Ritch. So he went round to Ritch’s and there were loud voices, then they had a fight! Or Kylie’s boyfriend hit Ritch, at any rate, and the police got called.’

  ‘Well, I did warn Ritch about the boyfriend, so it’s entirely his own fault.’

  ‘And Kylie’s,’ Annie pointed out fairly.

  ‘That’s true, but I bet she put all the blame onto Ritch.’

  ‘Ritch’s just phoned me up. He tried you first, but there was no answer. He wants one of us to go round and take Flo out, because he isn’t feeling well.’

  ‘Meaning battered and bruised? I’d better go on my way home and I’ll ring you later and tell you what he says — if I can catch you,’ I added. ‘You’re always out these days.’

  Mainly with Gareth, whom I still hadn’t had that quiet word with. What was holding him back? Perhaps I ought to give him the birds-and-bees talk I gave Jasper before he went to university?

  Except that that wasn’t such a great success, come to think of it: Jasper said he was sure he already knew much more about it than I did.

  Ritch took his sunglasses off to show me his black eye, but he seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed otherwise.

  Tigger certainly hadn’t lost any of his bounce. ‘Kiss it better?’ he suggested hopefully.

  ‘No chance!’ I told him severely. ‘And I did warn you.’

  He shrugged. ‘It was just a bit of fun on both sides, nothing serious. I don’t know what Kylie told him, but he swung a punch at me as soon as I opened the door and took me by surprise, then we had a bit of a scuffle until the police came and broke us up. I didn’t press charges.’

  ‘Magnanimous of you!’

  ‘It is really, because Make-up are going to have their work cut out disguising this shiner for a couple of weeks, unless they can work it into the storyline … That’s an idea,’ he added thoughtfully, heading for the phone.

  As you can imagine, the fight was the main topic of conversation at the Christmas Pudding Circle on Monday, when we were all crammed into Annie’s tiny cottage. But once we’d exhaustively thrashed that out, we got down to deciding which sweets we would make for the WI hampers and then divided up the big packet of Cellophane circles we’d ordered, from which we would make little cone-shaped bags, to tie up with shiny ribbon. Rum truffles fell to my lot this year, but I also volunteered to make sugar-free Fruit and Nut Munchies for our one diabetic Senior Citizen.

  Kylie was much subdued at the Mystery rehearsal, though at the same time strangely triumphant: I expect that’s the glow from having two men fighting over your charms. She didn’t look a bit embarrassed during the Annunciation scene, but I’d have curled up and died.

  Afterwards her fiancé, a stocky and pugnacious-looking young man, collected her and whisked her away, though he didn’t have to worry about Ritch tonight, because he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Nick, who seemed to be in a foul mood, said sourly, ‘Looking for Casanova? I hear Kylie’s boyfriend’s sorted him out big-time.’

  ‘Actually, there’s hardly a mark on him except a black eye, and I think he only got that because he was taken by surprise,’ I said coldly.

  ‘Oh? And did you kiss it better?’ he asked sarcastically, so clearly his mind ran along similar lines to Ritch’s. Must be a man thing.

  ‘No,’ I said shortly, go
ing slightly pink. ‘We’re not on kissing terms.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s not what Caz says.’

  ‘Caz? You’ve been discussing me with Caz? And I haven’t—’ Then I broke off, recalling that actually I had shared a kiss with Ritch.

  ‘Slipped your memory?’

  ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but Ritch did give me a kiss — for comfort. Tom’s parents showed up while you were away. They didn’t tell me they were coming, but Gareth let me know and I went to meet them at the churchyard. Only Polly’s been writing lies to them and turned them against me, so there was a horrible scene. It really upset me. Ritch picked me up on the way home and he was very kind.’

  ‘I bet he was,’ Nick said nastily.

  Up to this point I’d been automatically ambling in the direction of the pub, but I stopped dead and demanded, ‘What is the matter with you tonight? You were really nice to me the other day too, when I was upset about Jasper leaving home, and now you’re being horrible!’

  ‘I hadn’t had a chance to speak to Caz then.’

  I glared at him: ‘Have you told Caz to spy on me?’

  ‘To watch over you, after he told me about the mysterious jar of tomatoes and the mushrooms — which, by the way, you might have mentioned to me yourself!’

  ‘I dealt with it,’ I said shortly. ‘And it did sound a bit unlikely — The Case of the Poisonous Mushrooms — so I thought you might not believe me anyway.’

  ‘True, I can’t say it really convinced me until Leila told me about getting that pot of jam in the post. She had a friend run some tests on it.’

  ‘She did? And was it poisoned?’

  ‘It contained a strong emetic.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t send it.’

  ‘I didn’t think you had, but there doesn’t seem to be any real proof that Polly did either, does there? Still, I wasn’t taking any chances, so I asked Caz to watch out for you while I was away.’

  ‘There’s no need, I can look after myself. And what’s more, whatever I get up to is my own private business!’

  ‘Pardon me for caring!’ he snapped.

  ‘Look, Nick, I don’t know why you’re needling me like this tonight, but I’ve had enough, so good night!’ I said, and walked off. Though I felt his eyes boring between my shoulder blades, he didn’t follow me, so I expect he had other fish to fry.

  In the morning I found an old envelope on the doormat, with Marian Potter’s secret Lancashire hotpot recipe scribbled on it in Nick’s spiky handwriting, so I suppose it was an apology of sorts for his foul mood.

  Then when I opened the front door a parcel fell on my feet: The Perseverance Chronicles copy-edits had arrived with amazing speed. There was also a rough proof of the book cover, which was too twee for words: why did they always turn my solid northern sandstone cottage into something thatched, gabled and timbered to within an inch of its Anne Hathaway life?

  Chapter 22: Given the Bird

  This morning I made some sugar-free sweets, suitable for diabetics: a sort of sugar plum, without the sugar! I tried various blends of chopped dried fruit and nuts: apricot, almond, brazils, raisins, with a little orange juice to bind the mixture together. I rolled some into little log shapes and others into balls, and left them on a sheet of baking parchment to dry out for a couple of hours. I think they would keep very well in the fridge, but they were so delicious they didn’t last long.

  The Perseverance Chronicles: A Life in Recipes

  ‘Gareth found three large frozen geese on the vicarage doorstep this morning,’ Annie said.

  ‘Frozen geese?’ I questioned, putting a mug of tea and a plate containing three small wedges of apple pie in front of her, each marked with a different coloured cocktail stick flag. ‘I know we’ve had some night frost, but it hasn’t been that cold yet!’

  ‘Plucked, cleaned, oven-ready, with an anonymous note saying they were for the Senior Citizens’ Christmas dinner. Gareth called me right away, to ask my advice.’

  ‘That was a pretty generous donation,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Frozen …?’

  ‘Yes, they were in those big, see-through roasting bags, but there were no supermarket labels on them or anything like that.’ She looked down at her plate. ‘Three pieces of pie?’

  ‘Little pieces. I want you to taste them and tell me which one you think is best. Here, have some cream.’

  ‘All your apple pies taste wonderful.’

  ‘But Nick’s obviously taste better, or he wouldn’t have won the gold at the fête.’

  ‘Yes, but you won practically everything else, including Best Middlemoss Marchpane, Lizzy, so you might let him have that one small triumph.’

  ‘Not if I can help it.’ I watched her drizzle cream over the pie and asked, ‘So, what did you and Gareth do with the frozen geese?’

  ‘We took them up to the Hall. I thought we might as well, since Mrs Gumball cooks the Senior Citizens’ dinner anyway — with your help, of course — and there are huge freezers in the cellar she can store them in.’

  She tried another forkful of pie and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Nick was there, and he said this year he was going to help cook the dinner.’

  ‘He is? Then Mrs Gumball won’t need me as well, will she?’

  ‘I think she will, because I overheard Nick telling Gareth that you would both be helping her,’ Annie said. ‘And when we ran into Clive Potter on the way back, Gareth told him about the geese and how Nick and you were going to help Mrs Gumball to cook them for the Senior Citizens, so I expect it’ll be in the next Mosses Messenger.’

  ‘Then it can come straight back out again,’ I said sourly. ‘I have no intention of being the Demon Chef’s whipping boy. He can find another one.’

  ‘Whipping girl — and you’re very crabby today,’ she observed, then looked down at her empty plate as if surprised that she’d cleared it down to the last pastry flake. The coloured sticks lay round the edge like the hours on a clock.

  ‘Which slice did you like best?’

  ‘To be honest, I couldn’t really taste much difference,’ she confessed. ‘They were all delicious!’

  I sighed. ‘Maybe he uses Dark Arts and says a spell over his cooking pots?’

  ‘You’ll be able to watch him cooking the Christmas dinner and find out,’ she teased. ‘Has he done something to annoy you?’

  ‘When does he not do something to annoy me? But yes, he has excelled himself, because he set Caz on to watch me while he was away!’

  ‘But Caz already does watch you. I mean, he keeps an eye on the place because it’s part of the estate — and probably also because he thinks of you as family, however remote the connection.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, but Ritch kissed me the other night when he drove me home and Caz not only interrupted us, but he reported it to Nick!’ And I repeated to her what Nick had said, about not being sure it was Polly playing the nasty tricks and even thinking I’d imagined them at first.

  ‘Of course, I haven’t told him about Ophelia being in ARG, and I don’t suppose Caz has either. I’m not sure how he would take it and he might feel he has to tell Unks.’

  ‘He’d probably find it funny, Lizzy!’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him. He seems to find most things I do funny — except the bits involving Ritch. And that was a perfectly innocent kiss, even if it was any of his business who I kiss, which it isn’t.’

  ‘It was?’

  I grinned. ‘Well, it was a perfectly enjoyable one, at any rate, but just between friends. Ritch knows I don’t want a relationship with him — or anyone else,’ I stated firmly. ‘I’m getting quite tired of Unks, Mimi, Juno and now even Jasper trying to throw Nick and me together, when it must be clear it’s a complete non-starter.’

  ‘But, Lizzy, it’s very evident even to me that he’s concerned about you, and jealous!’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ I considered the matter carefully, then dismissed it. ‘I’ve noticed he’s a bit jealous, but I’m sur
e it’s not of me personally, but some dog-in-the-mangerish male thing to do with property. I’m part of his family and living on his land, as it were … except it’s still Unks’ land, of course.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong, Lizzy: you think I don’t notice these things, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I’m sure he’s in love with you.’

  ‘No way,’ I said positively. ‘Just because you’re in love, you think everyone else should be!’

  She went slightly pink under the freckles, but carried on doggedly, ‘And you missed him when he was away, so I don’t think it’s all one-sided, either.’

  ‘No I didn’t,’ I lied, ‘which is just as well, because that’s what he always does, isn’t it? He goes away. We split up the first time because he wasn’t going to let a little thing like our romance come between him and his globetrotting, recipe-collecting expedition. I’m only surprised he’s stayed around Middlemoss so long now, because he’s obviously getting itchy feet.’

  ‘Now, Lizzy, you know if it weren’t for Tom, he’d have spent much more time here in the last few years. He’s quite sincere about loving the place.’

  ‘He may love the place, but he’s only passionate about his cooking.’

  ‘Well, he’s using it to try and impress you,’ she insisted stubbornly. ‘He knows the way to your heart is through food.’

  ‘He’s certainly not going to do that by snatching my gold prizes away. Though if he has got any designs on my virtue, I’d probably do almost anything he asked, for that coffee granita recipe.’

  ‘Lizzy!’ she exclaimed, shocked.

  ‘Just joking,’ I said hastily. ‘But you’ve got it all wrong, because I’m not interested and he’s not interested. After all, if he cared about me that way, what’s to stop him from telling me?’

  ‘But you were only widowed in August and his divorce isn’t through yet, so that might be holding him back, don’t you think?’