Christmas Wishes: From the Sunday Times bestselling and award-winning author of romance fiction comes a feel-good cosy Christmas read

by Sue Moorcroft

  Cassie, visibly stressed by the tenants’ grumbles, said, ‘I’ll show you the office,’ and ushered Hannah to a little building at the back of the others where a laptop computer lay on a desk.

  ‘If that holds the records for the project, we’re laughing,’ Hannah observed. With Cassie’s permission she began to rifle through a stack of paper. ‘Tenancy agreements.’ She read a file tag. ‘And, thank goodness – there’s planning permission for a sign on Fen Drove to show people where to turn in.’

  Cassie began to cheer up. ‘Simeon’s had the sign made. Dark green with gold and white lettering.’ She showed Hannah a pair of crossed fingers and a beseeching expression. ‘Can you get Carlysle Courtyard ready for a nineteenth of December Christmas Opening? The conversion’s cost a bomb and if the tenants start walking out …’

  Hannah flipped through delivery notes for a multitude of building materials, wondering if everything had at least been paid up to date. ‘Given the necessary budget and manpower,’ she agreed absently.

  Cassie bit her lip. ‘Christopher’s being tricky about the budget.’

  Slowly, Hannah dropped the delivery notes. The exhilarated resolve that had carried her through the morning vanished like the mist that lay in hollows in the fields beyond the car park. She smiled ruefully at Cassie’s anxious expression, making her voice reasonable. ‘I’m afraid this isn’t a charity project and I’m not a volunteer. If there’s no budget I won’t waste any more of your time.’

  Panic flitted over Cassie’s face. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

  Hannah shrugged. This unwillingness to pay her worth so hard on the heels of Albin making her wait for what she was owed prompted her to put in a reckless bid. ‘I’d charge three thousand pounds to get Carlysle Courtyard open by December nineteenth. That would include getting the shops presentable, sorting out any snags, arranging the PR and the Christmas Opening itself. I’d support the traders through stocking and merchandising, place ads and have flyers and posters printed for Bettsbrough, Middledip and Port-le-Bain. Social media accounts are a must but you don’t have time to develop a strong following for this year so I’d make use of community feeds wherever possible.’ Adrenalin thundered around her body, her words pouring out in breathless sentences. ‘I’d need additional funds for cleaning, hedge trimming and to get the roadside sign erected.’

  Cassie’s chin wobbled.

  Hannah’s heart sank. ‘But if there’s no budget then I’ll just wish you well.’ She shook Cassie’s hand and left the office feeling colder than the icy breeze dictated. She almost reached her car in a murk of disappointment when Cassie called after her.

  ‘Wait!’ She caught up with Hannah, her jaw set in determination now. ‘I accept.’ She thrust out a business card. ‘Send me images of posters and flyers and I’ll get them printed because I’ve got a friend who’ll shove them up the queue for me.’ She held her hair back in the wind. ‘OK?’

  ‘I’ll need the first one-third of my fee up front,’ Hannah answered, examining the contact information on the card, trying not to feel suspicious.

  Cassie nodded. ‘Invoice me.’

  ‘OK,’ said Hannah cautiously. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, that was quite a change of heart.’

  Cassie drew in a huge breath, then blew it out on a shaky laugh. ‘It was one of those “I am woman, hear me roar” moments. You see, Christopher inherited the estate and he’s quite protective of it. But he asked me to sort this out so I’m going to do it my way.’

  Hannah wondered how Christopher would take that but if Cassie was empowered to employ her then that was all she needed. ‘Then I’ll start in right away. Do you know why the builders left the site in such a state?’

  ‘I’m afraid they got their final payment late. Just because of the general muddle,’ Cassie added hastily.

  Hannah could imagine. ‘I think we should cut our losses there, as time’s of the essence and we’ve lost their goodwill. I’ll hustle hard to get a commercial cleaner here.’

  Cassie looked enthusiastic. ‘I’ll bring estate workers in to do it. They can take care of the hedges too.’

  Though she wondered why the hell Cassie or Christopher hadn’t got on with these jobs, if they had the manpower at their beck and call, Hannah assumed a congratulatory expression. ‘That’s brilliant! I’ll make arrangements with the traders.’

  Another twenty minutes in the office and they’d phoned Simeon and demanded access to the laptop and necessary files. All had been emailed to Hannah.

  ‘Gosh, I feel empowered.’ Cassie looked a hundred per cent more relaxed. ‘But I’ve got to rush because I’ve got reflexology with Liza at The Stables Holistic Centre at Port Manor Hotel at two.’

  She drove away, still looking determined, and Hannah turned her attention to telling the traders on site about the clean-up starting tomorrow and that she’d be driving the Christmas Opening on the nineteenth. She thought Mark was going to cry. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he kept saying. ‘The relief! You’ve no idea. I ploughed my redundancy into this venture and I’ve been lying awake at night worrying.’

  ‘Us too,’ said Perla, whose ponytail was swishing happily now rather than like a cobra about to strike. ‘The girl who’s supposed to be supplying us with deli was quite nasty on the phone last night.’

  ‘Can you hit a deadline of the nineteenth? It’s only two and a half weeks away.’ Daintree looked around dubiously at the messy buildings.

  ‘It looks worse than it is,’ Hannah assured her. ‘People with the right tools and know-how will get rid of those splodges of plaster and paint in no time, and then they’ll clear up the yard and the drive. In four or five days you’ll be able to move your display stands in. Some of you might be trading ahead of the official opening.’

  ‘You must have a magic wand,’ said Teo. He gave Perla a big exuberant kiss.

  ‘But I have to vanish now and get lunch for my nan.’ Hannah checked her watch and leaped, energised, into her mum’s Volvo.

  At home, over lunch, she told Nan all about her morning. Nan gave her a one-armed hug. ‘You’re one of life’s “doers”, duck!’

  The afternoon flashed by in a welter of telephone conversations and emails, Hannah organising information and identifying unpaid bills or vital tasks missed. Then, at just after four she received a call from Christopher Carlysle.

  His voice was clipped. ‘Before you get too carried away, I think we ought to talk.’

  Hannah hesitated. It felt like a pivotal moment, one where she could definitely cause friction and offence. Or she could forge a better understanding.

  ‘The Carlysle Estate has belonged to my family for years,’ Christopher began icily.

  Hannah took the opening. ‘Mrs Carlysle explained that when she said you’d asked her to deal with Carlysle Courtyard and she engaged my services.’

  It was Christopher’s turn to pause, probably absorbing the fact that contradicting Cassie’s instructions might rebound on him. ‘Obviously, as my wife—’ He halted again.

  ‘I’d hate to upset her,’ Hannah said, musingly, not exactly telling Christopher that it wasn’t appropriate to talk to him without Cassie’s say-so … but not exactly not saying it either.

  Another silence. Then he said, grimly, ‘I’ll call in at the site tomorrow or the next day. See you then.’

  ‘I look forward to it,’ Hannah agreed, relieved to have hopped a hurdle without crashing into a dirty great ditch on the other side. She returned to work. And when she checked her bank account she saw that a thousand pounds had been deposited from Carlysle Estate. Yesssss!

  By five, she took a break and realised they’d almost run out of teabags. Nan drank gallons of the stuff. ‘I’ll pop to Booze & News,’ Hannah said, pulling on her coat. She skipped out, head full of Carlysle Courtyard’s potential to provide a challenge – and income – with a mixture of on-site and remote working, exactly suited to the Nan situation.

  At the shop she found not Melanie behind the counter but Jodi
e Jones, who’d been a year above Hannah at school. ‘I’m only supposed to be covering a few hours,’ Jodie grumbled, scanning the barcode on Nan’s favourite PG Tips pyramid teabags. ‘I’m supposed to be dropping an order at the garage before they close at five-thirty but Melanie isn’t back.’

  The mention of the garage made Hannah realise she owed Ratty a big thank you for introducing her to Cassie Carlysle and giving her something to do other than resent Albin and mourn Hannah Anna Butik. ‘I can take it. I’d like a bottle of wine too, please. That Merlot with the black label looks good.’

  When she’d paid, she cradled the box a grateful Jodie passed over the counter and, clutching the wine bottle by its neck, crossed Main Road to the garage, passing cars lined up on the forecourt in the light spilling through the open doors. Only one guy was still working, Pete, the blond one, hair hooked behind his ears as he curled over the engine of a vintage sports car. He grinned and took the box of coffee, sugar, milk, plastic bags and paper towels from her. ‘Has Melanie got a new delivery girl?’

  Hannah retrieved Nan’s teabags off the top. ‘She’s off somewhere and Jodie’s stuck in the shop. Is Ratty around?’ She gestured with the wine. ‘I got him a thank you because he helped me out.’

  ‘He’s at Honeybun Cottage sorting the water out for their new tenant. You could pop down or leave it with me.’ Pete carried the shopping to the back of the garage where a kettle stood. ‘Do you know Honeybun? First on the left down Ladies Lane.’

  ‘I’ll deliver it personally, thanks.’ After saying bye to Pete, Hannah stepped back into the darkness of the late afternoon, swinging the bottle as she strolled past trimmed hedges towards Ladies Lane, which, further down, would touch the edge of the Carlysle Estate near the wood and lake.

  Two men were putting up the tailgate of a removal van in the lane as she neared Honeybun Cottage. She looked up the drive and saw Ratty, hands in pockets, talking through the open doorway to whoever was inside. ‘The water should be OK now,’ he said, ‘but I’ll get someone out if not.’ He noticed Hannah hovering. ‘Hi. Are you here to see me? Or to meet our new villagers?’

  ‘I brought you something.’ She ventured closer, stepping over cushions of thyme growing between paving slabs in the light from the windows. She handed him the bottle. ‘Thanks for introducing me to Cassie.’

  Ratty began to say something but then a man stepped into the lighted cottage doorway. ‘Hannah? Are you back in England?’

  Her heart somersaulted. ‘Nico?’

  The light shadowed his face. His hair was messy and he needed to shave but he looked a lot less bleak than when she’d seen him last at Hörnan in Gamla Stan.

  Then Josie popped out beneath his arm, her face shining. ‘Hello, Hannah! We met you at the wedding, didn’t we? We’ve come to live here. It’s called Middledip.’

  Maria, not to be outdone, squirmed under Josie’s arm, socks drooping off the ends of her toes. ‘’Ullo!’ Her round face creased in a grin. The three of them looked like a picture entitled ‘We are family!’ Ratty glanced between them and Hannah with an expression of interest then thanked Hannah for the wine and melted away into the evening.

  Nico’s blue eyes held an unsettling expression. Was it consternation? Brain whirling, Hannah dropped her gaze to Josie. ‘Wow, you’ve come to live here? I didn’t know that was going to happen.’

  ‘I’ve left my old school, Maria’s staying with us and Mum’s staying at Grandma’s,’ chattered Josie. ‘Come and see our new room. Maria and I are sharing.’

  ‘Well—’ Hannah took a step back.

  Josie patted Nico’s arm. ‘You were going to make coffee, weren’t you, Dad?’ Then, beckoning as if she could scoop Hannah into the house if she did it enthusiastically enough, ‘We can show you upstairs while my dad boils the kettle.’

  ‘Mydad kettle,’ Maria echoed, puffing her lips and sticking out her belly.

  With a small smile Nico stepped back. ‘Come in. Apparently, I’m about to make coffee.’

  Hannah didn’t have the heart to disappoint the girls. ‘I’ll remember I have to rush home before you get to the coffee stage if you like,’ she murmured, stepping past him into a kitchen where boxes littered the uneven flagged floor between plain wooden units.

  ‘C’mon!’ yelled Josie. Bare lightbulbs lit their way through a room where a sofa stood smothered by more boxes and into a miniature hall. Both girls took the staircase on all fours, Josie scurrying like a spider and Maria hopping like a frog.

  It didn’t take long to admire the new bedroom. Black bin bags stuffed full enough to pop were shoved against two bare single beds and wardrobes with matching drawers. ‘Dad’s going to get curtains. There are two windows,’ Josie pointed out.

  ‘One, two!’ yodelled Maria and jumped onto a bin bag.

  ‘I’m going to FaceTime with Mum later so she can see us in our new room.’ Josie tugged Hannah out across the tiny landing to another door. ‘This is Dad’s room.’ Another bare bed, this time a double, stood among the boxes and bags. ‘And the bathroom.’ Josie showed Hannah a room with just space enough for loo, basin and a bath with shower over.

  Honeybun Cottage was even more compact than Nan’s home. Still chattering a mile a minute, Maria scurrying in her wake and echoing the occasional word, Josie led the way back downstairs.

  Though Hannah had opened her mouth to say, ‘Must rush now!’ in the kitchen she found the kettle boiling and Nico waiting to ask how she’d like her coffee. He smiled at the girls. ‘Dinner’s in the oven. Josie, maybe you could take Maria up and get your duvets and sheets out. You know which bags they’re in, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah! And the pillows!’ shouted Josie, spinning around and racing back the way she’d come.

  ‘Yeah!’ echoed Maria, scurrying after her.

  Hannah found herself alone with Nico, leaning on a worktop and drinking instant coffee made with powdered milk. Bumping and squealing came from immediately above their heads, marking the whereabouts of the girls’ bedroom. ‘Sorry there’s nowhere to sit.’ He gestured towards the space in the middle of the room. ‘I need a kitchen table. We have a breakfast bar built in at home. In Islington, I mean.’

  ‘Right,’ Hannah murmured, trying to process events. ‘You’ve actually moved to Middledip to live?’

  Softly, he laughed. ‘A lot’s happened in the past couple of weeks. I’ve handed my laptop in and cleared my desk. Loren found she couldn’t cope again. Her mum begged me to take Maria temporarily so I requested unpaid leave until we go to Sweden for Lucia.’ He lowered his voice. ‘We go on the eleventh so Vivvi and/or Loren should take Maria before then. I’m afraid Josie will miss her. Anyway,’ he went on. ‘My boss wasn’t happy and we agreed a parting of the ways that gives me financial breathing space. I chatted to Ratty about his empty rental property at Rob’s wedding, wishing I could afford it for weekends in the country. I loved the village when I was a teenager.’ He sipped his coffee, eyes becoming shadowed. ‘Josie’s been unsettled and unhappy at school. My cousin who was au pairing for us wanted to move in with her boyfriend and my nanny couldn’t be flexible about childcare for Maria. I rang Ratty and asked if the cottage was still empty.’

  ‘So it’s a permanent move?’ Hannah asked, trying to ignore a fresh tingle of curiosity over what had happened to Loren and him ‘working on things’.

  He shrugged. ‘The tenancy agreement’s six months. When I discovered I could let my Islington house for more than four times what the rent is here, it was a good opportunity to try village life and Christmas in the country. Hopefully, I can get Josie into the village school.’

  ‘Rob and I went there. It’s always been lovely.’ As he’d been speaking Hannah had noticed how relaxed he was and the smoothing out of lines around his mouth. He wasn’t gaunt now but he could still do with ten extra pounds, she thought critically.

  ‘So what are you doing back in the village?’ he said, watching her as she drained her coffee cup.

  ‘Nan’s broken
her arm,’ she said, placing her empty cup in the sink. ‘I came to stay so Mum and Dad could go on their trip. It’s hard to look after yourself one-handed at any age, let alone ninety.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear Nan Heather’s hurt herself. Please give her my best wishes.’ His expression of concern became a frown. ‘You’ve left your assistant to run Hannah Anna Butik?’

  Sudden heat seared her cheeks at the memory of Albin’s amused contempt as he comprehensively manoeuvred her out of her own business. That last time in Stockholm she’d hoped to pour the story into Nico’s ears but he’d been so remote compared to his heated attention at the wedding – right before he’d snuggled up to Amanda Louise. In fact, he’d blown hot and cold from the first moment their paths had crossed again six weeks ago. The idea of exposing her naivety and hurt feelings to him now, just because he’d popped up in her home village with a smile, made her stomach shrink. Instead, she pasted on a grin and answered evasively. ‘Julia’s perfectly capable. Thanks for coffee. Welcome to Middledip. Say goodbye to the girls for me.’

  She hurried off, pulling up her hood against the sleet as she crossed The Cross to Rotten Row, clutching Nan’s teabags and telling herself it didn’t matter that Nico was so unexpectedly living in Middledip. Nan’s arm would heal in a few weeks. The Carlysle Courtyard Christmas Opening would have been achieved.

  Hannah wouldn’t be around to see what Nico did next.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nico’s first job on Wednesday morning was to visit Middledip Primary School, a one-storey brown-brick building up Port Road. He had fingers and toes crossed that there was a place in Josie’s year group he could apply for. The alternative was to find a school in Bettsbrough but she needed friends who lived in the village.