‘Come on, then,’ Anthony said, leading the way in, all businesslike and determined. ‘Do you know what you want? Spruce, fir or pine?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll know when I see it.’
‘Ah, the perfect tree will call for you, will it?’
‘That’s right.’
In the end, the perfect tree turned out to be a six-footer that wouldn’t fit into Anthony’s car. ‘You can’t have that!’ he laughed. ‘We’ll never get it home. Go smaller. Five-foot max.’
‘But I like it,’ I said, stroking its green fronds sadly. ‘Look what a lovely shape it is!’
‘You’ll find another one you like just as much.’ Putting an arm on my back, he steered me gently towards the smaller trees. ‘That was a fir tree, anyway. At least you know you like the fir trees.’
He was right. I did find another tree I liked just as much. They were all beautiful, in fact. I walked around them in childlike wonder, absorbing the atmosphere of the forest, inhaling the smell of the trees and the earth and the cold, cold air. Snow started falling again, slowly, magically.
‘Are you going to get one?’ I turned to look at him and was surprised to find he was watching me. My heart banged fiercely in my chest as I stared back. The snow swirled around his head, and settled on the shoulders of his coat. He shook his head, smiling. ‘What will you do on Christmas Day?’
‘I’ll go to work.’
‘What about when you come home? What will you do then?’
He shrugged. ‘It will be just like any other day.’
‘You could come to us. Mum would love to have you.’
‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly intrude.’ He smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He was adorable. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and melt into him.
‘I don’t like to think of you all alone on Christmas Day.’
‘I won’t be alone. I’ll be at work.’ He shook his head. ‘I promise you, Rachel, it’s just another day to me.’
‘But…’ I was going to say, how could it be when it reminded him of his father’s death, but it seemed insensitive to bring it up. Especially when I’d dragged him along to a Christmas parade and a Christmas tree farm. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He kept smiling and his blue eyes were bright. Maybe he needed to make some new, happier Christmas memories so he’d feel better about this time of year in the future. They wouldn’t repair what had happened in the past, of course, but maybe he wouldn’t dread Christmas quite so much. ‘Well, like I said, you’d be more than welcome around our table. But no pressure, of course.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’ He smiled at me again and then turned towards the large tepee tent that was twinkling with fairy lights. ‘Shall we see if there’s something to eat in there? I’m starving.’
‘Okay.’
I paid for the tree and left it with the attendant, who used a contraption to push it into a big net so its lovely branches were flattened down. Anthony took my hand again and we went inside the tent. Bench tables were arranged inside and a raised fire pit burned in the centre. More fairy lights lit the interior and spotlights roved around the white canvas walls. Frank Sinatra was crooning ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ and suddenly I felt a bit weepy and emotional. I blinked, desperate to get rid of the tears pooling in my eyes before Anthony saw, but he chose that moment to ask me what I wanted to eat.
‘You okay?’ He put an arm around me, pulling me close so I was pressed up against his warm body.
‘Oh yeah, just…’ I indicated the surroundings. ‘Nostalgia, I suppose.’
‘Nostalgia? You’ve been here before?’
‘No. Ignore me.’ I shook my head, pulling away. I didn’t want to talk happy childhood memories when he had sad ones. ‘I’ll have a hot dog if you’re buying.’
‘I’m buying. Go and sit down.’
I sat at the nearest bench, mortified at being so overemotional in front of Anthony, but still unable to do anything about it. The music and the surroundings were having a weird effect on me, and all I wanted to do was bawl my eyes out. It was ridiculous. Blowing my nose on a napkin, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before Anthony came back, carrying a tray with two coffees and our hot dogs.
‘It’s not quite what I had in mind,’ he said, sitting down opposite. ‘But all this fresh air has made me hungry. We can go somewhere else on the way home if you like. A pub or something?’
‘No, this is fine for me,’ I said, taking a sip of the coffee. ‘I’m not very hungry.’
‘Aren’t you?’ He looked vaguely disappointed as he bit into his hot dog. My throat had contracted with the effort of trying not to cry so I could barely swallow the coffee, let alone the food. He frowned as he chewed and I took another mouthful of coffee and made a huge effort to pull myself together. The thing was, I wasn’t unhappy. I just felt overwhelmed by how Christmassy it made me feel. It made me ache with nostalgia and remember how Christmas was when I was a child. Going to church on Christmas Eve, singing carols, putting my stocking out for Santa to fill, spending time with my grandparents. I wondered how Christmas was for him before his father died, or if that tragic event had robbed him of any happy memories.
‘So, what have you been doing today?’ I asked, and then immediately wished I hadn’t. I had no desire to hear about him questioning Patrick.
‘I’ve been over in Manchester on a murder investigation.’
‘Really? I thought you were fraud?’
‘I am. The victim was wanted for fraud.’
‘Oh dear. Was it grim?’
‘Yes.’
I pulled a face. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’
‘It’s hard sometimes, but you get used to it to some extent.’ He leaned his elbows on the table and frowned down at his plate. ‘Not so used to it that you don’t feel anything any more. I never want to get like that. But I can cope. Most of the time, anyway.’ He looked up and met my eyes, and I smiled at him. ‘How about you? I take it you had a better day today? With no stupid men knocking you over or getting arrested outside your shop?’
‘It’s been much quieter today, thank goodness. So, you’re not involved in questioning Patrick or anything then?’
‘No, he’s been transferred down to London. I just get a pat on the back for locating him, and that was thanks to you, anyway.’
I shook my head. ‘I still don’t understand why you thought he’d come back to me.’
‘I knew he would eventually.’ His eyes rested on my face. ‘Call it a hunch or whatever you like, but the moment I saw you, I knew I’d struck gold. I knew you’d be the key to catching him.’
‘Why?’ I laughed, incredulously. ‘That makes no sense!’
Anthony chewed his hot dog and nodded slowly. ‘It does. Everything else in his life had turned to shit. You were the only thing left.’
‘But I wasn’t, because our relationship had turned to shit months ago.’
‘But he’d burned all his bridges everywhere else. Most of his associates have been caught anyway, and he knew we were watching his home address.’
‘But surely he had other people. He’s probably got a string of other women all over the country.’
‘There’s no one quite like you, though, Rachel.’ He gave me a shrewd look, one eyebrow raised. ‘I knew the moment I saw you, you were the one.’
Even though I knew he didn’t mean I was the one for him, my heart still swelled and beat a little faster. I blushed. ‘Well, I’m glad your hunch paid off and it earned you some Brownie points. I take it he’ll go to prison.’
Anthony nodded. ‘How do you feel about that?’
‘I’m glad. I mean, I’m sad for his children, but…’ I shrugged. ‘All this just proves I never knew him and our relationship was a waste of time.’
‘Ah, I don’t know. We can learn something from everyone we encounter in life.’
‘So, what did I learn from Patrick? Not to date any
one in case they turn out to be a criminal? Not to get engaged?’
He smiled. ‘I’ll drink to that one.’ He raised his mug of coffee and I chinked mine against his. ‘To not getting engaged.’
I chuckled and we looked at each other curiously. Excitement tingled in my veins.
‘I can’t support the not dating, though.’
‘Really? And why’s that then?’
He carried on looking at me, smiling. ‘Well, if you dated me, at least you’d know I wasn’t a criminal.’
‘Are you asking me out, Detective Inspector Bascombe?’
‘Well, maybe I am.’
I smiled into my hot dog. ‘Well, maybe I might just say yes.’
We finished our food and went back out into the night. The snow was falling faster now and a fine dusting coated the floor.
‘I’m just going to nip to the toilet,’ Anthony said.
‘Okay, I’ll meet you by the mistletoe.’ I didn’t even think about it when I said it. I just headed towards the display of holly wreaths and mistletoe I’d seen on the way in. The wreaths looked very similar to the ones we were selling already, but the mistletoe looked lovely and fresh. Thinking we could do with some to make more mistletoe balls for the shop, I reached up for a particularly luscious-looking sprig from the top of the display. As I was trying to unhook it, I sensed something moving towards me on the left. Turning to look, Anthony’s lips clashed against my mouth and his nose squashed mine.
‘Ow!’ I said, stepping back in shock and rubbing my nose. ‘Sorry.’
He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Why are you apologising to me? It was me who kissed you badly not the other way around. Sorry. I went for your cheek, but you turned.’ He cringed. ‘Awkward!’
I laughed, still rubbing my nose and so hot with embarrassment that I imagined the snow to sizzle and steam when it touched me. ‘It’s okay.’ I cleared my throat and cast around for something to say that might make it better.
‘Come here,’ he said, taking my arms and turning me towards him. Leaning down, he kissed me gently on the mouth. It was only a brief kiss, but the warm, moist pressure of his lips made me dizzy and breathless. ‘Better?’ he said, drawing away.
‘Much better.’ My body was a mass of tingling excitement as I smiled up at him, wishing the kiss could have carried on for ever.
‘Phew!’
I laughed. ‘I think we’d better go. They’re starting to close up.’
I paid for the mistletoe and collected my tree. Anthony carried it to his car for me. There seemed to be a mass exodus occurring in the car park. People were stuffing trees in the back of four-wheel drives or tying them to roof racks. Anthony started the car engine and turned the heater to high. I slid into the passenger seat and smiled at him.
‘Thank you for bringing me here. It was lovely.’
‘You’re welcome. Bit cold, though.’ He reached for my hands and rubbed them between his. Let’s see if we can get home before this snow gets worse.’
He pulled away and the snow flew towards his windscreen like we were in some kind of snow-themed kaleidoscope. His windscreen wipers slapped backwards and forwards, clearing it away.
‘Gosh, it’s getting quite bad, isn’t it?’ I said, leaning forward to peer out of the window. ‘It’s settling on the grass.’
‘I think they’ve forecast rain for the early hours so it will probably be gone by the morning.’
‘Shame.’
‘Noo. Causes too much disruption. It’s fine for about twenty minutes when you build a snowman and make a snow angel, but after that it’s just a pain in the arse.’
‘I suppose so. And I’m lucky, I guess. It’s not like I have transport issues. I can just walk to work.’
The snow continued to fall steadily all the way home. We chatted a little and laughed a lot, and suddenly Anthony was pulling up outside my house.
‘I can’t wait to decorate my tree,’ I said, clapping my hands excitedly and climbing out. The wind whipped my hair around my face and snow clogged my eyelashes as I made my way up the path to my front door. As soon as I opened it, I knew that something was wrong.
I stood in the doorway for a moment and listened.
Drip, drip, splash, drip, drip, splash.
Had I left the tap on? Stepping inside, I switched the hall light on. I could smell water. My shoes squelched as I got closer to the kitchen. Flicking the light switch on in the kitchen, I looked up to see water seeping through the ceiling, flowing down the wall cupboards and plopping onto the floor.
Anthony appeared behind me, dragging my tree. ‘What’s happened?’ he said.
‘I think… I think…’ I couldn’t get the words out. Leaving the tree at the door, Anthony peered over my shoulder.
‘Oh, blimey. I think your water tank’s burst. Either that or you’ve left the bath running.’ He ran upstairs. ‘No, definitely your tank,’ he called down a couple of minutes later, while I just stood there, staring. ‘Do you know where your stopcock is?’
‘Under the sink, I think.’ I waded through the water towards the sink and opened the cupboard door. Water seeped through my shoes and dripped onto my head as I squatted down and removed bottles of cleaning products so I could reach the stopcock. Anthony appeared beside me and took over.
‘Go and turn all your taps on to empty the tank.’
‘Okay.’ My legs were shaking as I went upstairs. It was like some kind of nightmare. If I’d thought the kitchen was bad, it was nothing compared to upstairs. The bathroom ceiling sagged and water was cascading through. And the water wasn’t only coming through in the bathroom, but all along the landing and into my bedroom, too. A dark stain was spreading across my bedroom carpet as water dripped from the ceiling. Pushing my horror to one side, I turned on all the taps and flushed the chain on the toilet. Anthony came up the stairs behind me and looked up at the bulge in the ceiling.
‘We need to get rid of that water up there. Have you got a stepladder and a screwdriver? I’ll poke a hole through to release the water.’
The stepladder was downstairs in the cupboard under the stairs. I found a bucket and took them back up to Anthony, shutting the front door as I passed to stop the fierce wind that was blowing into the hallway. The house felt even colder because it was so wet. My teeth chattered as I passed him the ladder and watched him climb up with the bucket to catch the water. He pushed the screwdriver into the soft plaster and water gushed out into the bucket. He’d taken his jacket off and I watched his white shirt turn transparent as the water splashed out of the bucket and over his shoulder. He must be freezing. I covered my face with my hands, unable to cope with the horror of it all.
‘Have you got a mop?’ he said, pouring the now-full bucket into the bath before straightening up to catch the rest of the water. ‘Or towels to mop this lot up?’ He had water running all the way down his front now and his hair was wet. He shook his face to get rid of the water.
‘Oh yes.’ Shaking myself into action, I ran downstairs to get the mop bucket. I wasn’t even sure where to start. My whole house was flooded with water and all I could think about was Anthony’s shirt going see-through and the way his hair had gone all curly because it was wet. It was probably just stress. My mind was fixing on anything that meant I didn’t have to deal with this disaster.
I ran back upstairs with the bucket and began mopping up the water from the bathroom tiles.
‘I don’t suppose you have a wet and dry vacuum?’
I shook my head as I carried on mopping. The amount of water was staggering. Anthony emptied the third bucketful into the bath. His shirt was now covered in black specks and bits of plaster.
‘I’m so sorry about this,’ I said, ringing out my mop once more. ‘My life is never like this usually. I don’t know what’s going on. I must have trodden on a crack in the pavement or something.’
‘Everyone gets a period of bad luck every now and then. It will pass.’
‘You’re drenched,’ I said, emptying the mop bucket into the toilet. The taps were still on and the sound of rushing water was making me need a wee. ‘You must be freezing.’
‘Yeah, not the best night of my life, I must admit.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Stop apologising. It must be ten times worse for you.’
I carried on mopping. Anthony made another hole in the ceiling, a little further on from the first. More water came through, and suddenly the ceiling ripped and tore and water gushed through, almost toppling Anthony off the ladder. I rushed to steady him, wrapping my arms around his legs as the bucket fell, bouncing into the bath and knocking my shampoo and shower gel off the side. I got a face full of gritty water and turned my head away from it, hair plastered to my head. Anthony was completely soaked now. He touched my shoulder and I let go of his legs so he could climb down from the ladder.
‘Miss Jones,’ he said, gravely, reaching for the towel on the back of the bathroom door. ‘I think this just might be the worse date of my life.’
And suddenly we were laughing.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, meaning it but laughing hard at the same time. Placing a hand on either side of my face, he kissed me deeply. Our skin was cold and wet and gritty, but I didn’t care about any of that. All I cared about was the feel of his mouth and lips and the way he was holding me tight.
‘Hellooooo? Coooeeeee?’
Anthony withdrew from the kiss, frowning. ‘Who’s that?’
I groaned. ‘My next-door neighbour. I’ll be back in a second.’ I went out of the bathroom and down the stairs. ‘Hi,’ I called Jenny, who was standing in the doorway, peering up the stairs. Her scarf was wrapped round the bottom half of her face and her woolly hat was pulled down so low that all I could see were her eyes and nose peeking out.
Meet Me Under the Mistletoe Page 14
