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

by Sue Moorcroft

  Nico shoved his phone back in his pocket and returned to the Goodbody table to stew silently, his pleasure in the gathering ruined. And Hannah? Vivvi’s phone call had proved that he’d been right to hesitate. His baggage just grew by the day.

  It was several hours later that he sat down at his new kitchen table with his laptop open and Vivvi on the phone. By the end of the session – interrupted three times by the girls – he’d discovered from the Home Office website how to travel with a child who didn’t belong to him. He’d forwarded the template letter of parental permission and all Loren would have to do was fill in dates, destination, reason for the trip, Nico’s relationship to Maria via Josie and sign it. Vivvi pledged to courier it to Nico along with Maria’s passport. Nico emailed Gloria Russell, Maria’s case worker, to apprise her too.

  Booking a flight ticket for Maria proved easy enough and, by phoning the airline, he managed to get the two bookings under one reference. He requested that Vivvi meet the cost and, after a silence, she supplied the credit card details to allow that to happen.

  They were both glad to hang up by the time they’d thrashed everything out and Vivvi didn’t ask to speak to either of her granddaughters. Nico didn’t suggest it. Vivvi couldn’t see past her own problems and he’d had enough of listening to her.

  When he got off the phone, though he knew he must call his parents, he chose to spend time with the girls first. Josie, he discovered, had decided to dive into her Christmas card kit and the bedroom looked as if it had been glitter-bombed. So did a giggling Maria.

  Josie was blinking back angry tears because she hadn’t done a good job on the cards she’d made. ‘Maria was crawling all over them!’

  Nico ruffled her hair. ‘It probably would have been better to sit up at the kitchen table and let me help you but it was me who asked you to take care of Maria so I’ll buy you a new set soon. How about we throw this lot away and vacuum, then you two mucky kids can jump in the bath and wash the glitter away?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Josie, good spirits restored, grabbed a rubbish bag while Nico wielded the vacuum cleaner and accidentally hoovered one of Maria’s socks off the end of her foot. She shrieked in delight so, refusing to tackle a filthy dust bag in pursuit of a sock, he hoovered the other off too, reducing both girls to tears of laughter.

  When they’d bathed and the glitter had gurgled down the plughole, they returned to the girls’ bedroom and Josie suddenly squealed, ‘Snow!’

  Nico squinted through the window to watch the occasional floating flake in the light from street lamps. ‘Wow, yes, just about.’

  They curled up on Maria’s bed facing the window so they could see the tiny flakes dancing and floating on the air as he read them One Snowy Night and they enjoyed the kindness of Percy the Park Keeper. Maria fell asleep and Josie decided she’d get into her own bed with her Pokémon magazine rather than return downstairs.

  Back in the kitchen alone, Nico got himself a beer and made the first phone call. ‘Hej, Mamma.’

  Carina apparently read his voice. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Wrong’s not the right word.’ He laid out the Maria situation. ‘As we’re supposed to be staying with you I should have checked it was OK before I booked her flight but I couldn’t risk all the seats being sold.’ He didn’t suggest he stay with Lars instead because she might take offence and Lars’s house was no bigger than hers.

  ‘It changes things,’ Carina observed.

  Nico wasn’t fooled by her neutral tone. ‘How much do you mind?’

  She made a musing sound. ‘Is “mind” the right word? I would say I’m wary.’

  He considered. ‘Wary I’m being taken for a mug?’

  A pause. ‘Not only that.’

  His eyes were tired and dry. He rubbed them, gazing around Honeybun Cottage’s sitting room. As it was so small and was the route between the kitchen and the foot of the stairs he’d stuck the sofa and TV in there and that was all. He tended to divide his time between kitchen and his bedroom. It was surprisingly restful to live in a compact house and here he didn’t need room for Emelie and sometimes Tilly. His place in Islington was more than twice the size and much more than twice the hassle.

  Swivelling to lie down with his feet on the sofa arm, he asked, ‘So what are you wary of?’

  She sighed. ‘Is she a nice little girl?’

  ‘Yes,’ he assured her. ‘You needn’t worry that I’ll bring some awful imp into your house. She’s as little trouble as a two-year-old can be. She’s cute.’ His mother loved small children.

  After a short silence, Carina said, ‘If you’re OK with the situation then I am too.’ Nico couldn’t get her to say more and finally ended the call, still wondering.

  He got another beer before he telephoned his dad. Lars wouldn’t be difficult but Nico felt he needed the pick-me-up. He was tired. Strained. His mind kept straying to Hannah but he had to make sure everything was OK surrounding Maria.

  Poor little Maria. His heart shifted uncomfortably. She’d come into the world by accident and nobody had made adequate provision for her care. Many kids resulting from contraception failure were born to parents who forgot the pregnancy had been a shock in the joy of the child’s arrival. But some …

  Some kids were never welcome.

  He rubbed his eyes. Difficult days made him want to eat a huge bar of chocolate to feel better. He wouldn’t, because he didn’t have a huge bar of chocolate in the house – no coincidence, that – and because he knew the urge to purge would hit him within thirty minutes of eating it. He was having nothing to do with that cycle. He’d dumped it in a place labelled ‘the past’.

  He picked up his phone again. His dad’s warm, rolling tones would be comforting.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sky was inky black over Carlysle Courtyard. Hannah parked the car and jogged into the courtyard, gazing in satisfaction at the black tubs of purple heather and crinkly white brassicas. Christmas lights surrounded the doors and windows of Posh Nosh, Daintree Pottery and Mark’s Models. Paraphernalia’s front window was half-stocked with its highly ornamental stock.

  With a rattle like gravel, a shower of hailstones flung themselves into the courtyard, pinging off windows and bouncing on the ground. Hannah hurried into Posh Nosh for her meeting with Perla and Teo, Mark, Daintree, Gina and the others. They were already there when she jogged in brushing hail from her shoulders.

  ‘Hi. Wintry weather we’re having! Wow, doesn’t it look amazing in here?’ She had to lift her voice over the clatter of hail on windowpanes, gazing at Posh Nosh’s interior in satisfaction. The kitchen gleamed and Wedgwood blue chairs and tables awaited customers. Green swags and red berries hung between so many tiny white lights they looked like fairy dust. ‘Won’t keep you but I want to go over the plans for the Christmas Opening.’ She began to pass out printouts, the hands accepting them matching their owners. Daintree’s nails were rimed with grey clay, Mark’s fingers smeared with glue, Perla and Teo’s hands the kind of clean that came from constant encasement in nitrile gloves and Gina sporting salon-worthy purple talons.

  Hannah raised her voice above the ratta-tat of hailstones. ‘We have ten days. Anyone going to struggle? My notes say Fen Stones and Pix & Frames hope to be up and running this weekend and Teo and Perla on Friday.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Fantastic.’ Hannah beamed. ‘And the rest of you are already open, though visitors are still building. The Christmas Opening should drag the punters in.’ She felt bright and buoyant. ‘Here’s the opening-day running order. At eight a.m. the yellow and green balloon arch will be erected at the end of the drive and a Christmas gazebo in the centre of the courtyard. Hopefully we won’t have hailstones at the time!’

  Laughter rippled through those gathered around the rectangular table as the hail increased in volume, crossing the roof in waves.

  Hannah continued. ‘Each shop will have a big jar of sweets to offer to customers and I’ve li
ned up a couple of students to wander about giving out mince pies. Half the gazebo will form Santa’s grotto – Santa and an elf already booked – and I’ll be around to encourage people into shops, also dressed as an elf.’ She paused for laughter before going on. ‘Demos will take place beneath the gazebo. Mark’s constructing a balsawood sleigh at eleven, Teo making chocolate truffles at noon, Daintree—’

  ‘Ah. Here you are. Good morning,’ boomed a voice.

  Hannah swung round to see Christopher and Cassie Carlysle striding down the large room towards them, Christopher beaming, Cassie pinched and apprehensive. Behind trailed a dreamy-looking man with untidy dark hair, reminding Hannah of a taller, better-looking Mr Bean. Beside her Mark muttered, ‘Oh, shit.’

  Daintree groaned. ‘Just what we didn’t need.’

  Hannah looked sharply from dismayed face to dismayed face. ‘What?’

  Before anyone could enlighten her, Christopher drew the dark man forward. ‘Look who’s here!’

  A couple of the traders muttered, ‘Hello, Simeon.’

  Shock flaring, Hannah stared. ‘Simeon?’

  ‘Of course! You probably haven’t met our son, have you, Hannah?’ Christopher rubbed his hands together as people did when trying not to betray how uncomfortable they were.

  ‘No,’ Hannah agreed hollowly. She should get up and shake hands, not sit here thinking someone had swapped her legs for cooked spaghetti.

  ‘Christopher,’ Cassie said tentatively. ‘I really feel—’

  But Christopher ploughed on with the air of someone intending to get a difficult job over with. ‘Simeon’s back now,’ he pointed out. Then he smiled apologetically at Hannah as if waiting for her to join up the dots.

  Feeling sick, Hannah looked at a pale Cassie. ‘What does this mean?’

  Christopher answered. ‘It means Simeon can manage Carlysle Courtyard again.’ He didn’t add ‘of course’ but his blustery tone implied it.

  Hannah ignored him. ‘Cassie?’ Cassie looked as if she might cry. Simeon, as crimson as his father but less leathery, stared over everybody’s heads.

  Christopher snapped, ‘If you need it spelling out, Miss Goodbody, Simeon’s returned to take this project back. I’d like you to hand over to him this morning.’

  Hannah’s heart thundered in her ears. ‘Cassie employed me so I’m afraid you can’t sack me.’

  Christopher sucked in a huge, indignant breath. ‘Cassie, tell her!’ he barked. Then, before she could, ‘Miss Goodbody, I hold the purse strings here.’

  Under the gazes of everybody in the room Hannah rose, forcing her knees not to buckle. ‘Cassie?’

  Cassie swallowed audibly. ‘You’ve got every right to be upset, Hannah. Every right.’ Her eyes pleaded for understanding. ‘But Simeon’s our son.’

  ‘I see.’ Hannah wondered why, at times of shock, your mouth went dry. Squaring her shoulders, she said, ‘If you make the second payment, which is due today, I’ll hand over everything to Simeon—’

  ‘What?’ Christopher went from scarlet to puce. ‘I was expecting a partial refund. How on earth do you justify that?’

  Hannah gave up her attempt to deal professionally with the person who had engaged her and rounded on Christopher with a hiss. ‘Because I’ve worked my arse off – eighteen hours a day, sometimes – to rescue this mess. I have emails agreeing to pay me a sum and I’ve only had one-third of it. Nowhere in those emails is there a proviso for the project being snatched away from me with no notice and no courtesy but I’ve accomplished everything except executing the social media plan for the final ten days and putting up the posters and delivering the flyers for the official opening. I’ve done well over two-thirds of the agreed work.’

  Christopher actually took a step back. ‘Those emails were a gentleman’s agreement at most,’ he rumbled.

  Hannah snapped, ‘They constitute a contract. Gentlemen’s agreements only work when you deal with gentlemen.’ Christopher had the grace to look discomfited. Unable to meet the eyes of the traders, though she felt both alarm and sympathy coming off them in waves, she steamed on. ‘And to be blunt, if the second payment isn’t forthcoming then neither is a handover. You’ll be in as big a mess as you were when I got here because the information’s not yours until you’ve paid for it.’

  Christopher opened his mouth again but Hannah addressed Cassie, saying, bitterly, ‘I accepted this work in good faith and I expect to hear from you.’

  The silence she left behind was colder than the wintry scene she found outside, where the last of the hail was plinking down like the final words in a gigantic icy argument.

  ‘Hannah!’ Daintree hurried after her, hugging herself against the winter wind. ‘Are you OK? I’m so sorry this has happened. But you wouldn’t really go without handing over?’

  She looked so agonised that Hannah halted. In her fury and humiliation she hadn’t considered the innocent traders. A glance told her that a couple of the others were watching from the Posh Nosh doorway – Teo in a white apron and Mark in a brown smock. She’d begun to view the Carlysle Courtyard folk as her friends. She knew Mark lived with a cousin because his wife asked him to leave the family home, that Daintree wore headscarves because she’d developed alopecia during a past, abusive relationship. Perla and Teo had borrowed family money to start their business.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, giving Daintree a hug. ‘But it’s like there’s a conspiracy to take away anything I earn.’ Albin considered it OK to hold back what he owed her for stock indefinitely and Christopher sodding Carlysle had so obviously expected her to roll over and accept a loss that it made her want to yowl like an angry cat. Trembling, she ran to the car and drove numbly along Fen Drove, as cold as if she’d stood naked in the courtyard for the entirety of the storm.

  Knowing she’d burst into tears if she went straight in to Nan she parked at The Cross and stomped round the corner into The Angel to order a large cappuccino and a chocolate brownie. Carola, blonde hair tucked under a fetching cap, gave her an old-fashioned look from behind the counter. ‘Thought you’d be at Posh Nosh,’ she said pointedly. ‘My info is you’re running things up at Carlysle Courtyard.’

  ‘Your info’s out of date!’ Hannah gritted out as she paid for her order. She waited in silence for the coffee machine to spit and hiss and Carola to add sprinkles to the froth and press a holly leaf shape into it.

  ‘Not having a good day?’ Carola asked more mildly as she slid cappuccino and brownie onto a tray.

  Unable to speak for tears, Hannah shook her head and grabbed the tray, choosing a table in the furthest corner of the room. She’d drunk half the cappuccino when Cassie phoned, voice trembling.

  ‘That was handled quite dreadfully,’ Cassie said. ‘I can only apologise. You must think Christopher’s an utter pig.’

  Hannah swallowed. ‘What I think is best left unsaid.’ But she kept her voice calm, understanding that Cassie was caught in the middle.

  ‘I hadn’t realised Christopher would go at things like a bull in a china shop,’ Cassie went on. ‘I do apologise. It was nothing personal. Honestly!’ she added, when Hannah made an indignant noise. ‘He was just jubilant that Simeon had finally faced his responsibilities and wanted to clear away all obstacles to returning him to Carlysle Courtyard.’

  Hannah managed not to snort that Christopher hadn’t so much cleared away obstacles as galloped roughshod over everyone else’s rights and feelings. Making this call couldn’t have been easy and if Hannah were to have any chance of that second payment it would be through Cassie. She eased her throat with a swig of cappuccino. ‘So where do we go from here?’

  Cassie sounded grateful for the opening. ‘I’d like to take you up on your offer. I’ll pay the second one thousand pounds into your account and you do a proper handover to Simeon.’ Then, in a small voice, ‘Please.’

  ‘OK,’ Hannah agreed heavily. All her beautiful plans and hard work were to be handed over to someone else and her fun, glittery opening would go ahead
without her. ‘Can Simeon meet me this afternoon? I need to go home, get Nan a meal and put stuff together.’

  They agreed on two-thirty and after Hannah ended the call she emitted a loud, ‘Bleurgh.’

  Carola looked startled. Then she turned to the coffee machine. Hannah, slumped dismally on one elbow, suddenly saw a fresh, steaming cappuccino slide onto her table. She looked up.

  ‘You let the last one get cold,’ Carola whispered. ‘But if you tell them at Posh Nosh I give away free cappuccinos I’ll deny it.’

  Half-laughing, Hannah thanked the older woman by clasping her hand, ashamed she’d stalked in here in a snit. ‘I’ll carry the secret to my grave.’ It was one more example of the kindness of the villagers.

  Once she’d drained the second cappuccino she trudged off back to Nan’s and let herself into the warm, worn kitchen. There she discovered her grandmother playing snap with Josie – quietly, because Maria was asleep in her buggy.

  ‘Snap!’ whispered Josie, slapping down a two of spades on a two of hearts. ‘Hey, Hannah!’ She jumped up and gave Hannah a hug.

  Holding the warm little body in her arms, Hannah thought how nice hugs were when you felt like crap. ‘Hello, Josie. Have you come to play with Nan?’

  Josie slid back onto her chair. ‘Daddy brought us. He needs to take a ’portant phone call.’

  Nan’s magnified eyes fixed on Hannah. ‘Nico has something to sort out.’ Her tone suggested she knew more but couldn’t air it in front of the children.

  ‘Right.’ Hannah nodded. ‘I’ll make sandwiches for lunch soon.’ Intending to go up to her room first, she opened the door into the dining room, which led, cottage style, to the sitting room, and then the stairs. She was in the sitting room before she spotted Nico in one of Nan’s beige armchairs, his phone beside him.

  Her heart jumped and she jumped with it. ‘Sorry! I didn’t know you were in here. Josie said you were on the phone but I assumed you’d gone home for the call.’

  The small twitch at the corner of his mouth might have been a smile but he was deathly pale. ‘I’ve imposed on your grandmother. I don’t know many people in the village.’ His hair was on end.