Christmas in Peppercorn Street

by Anna Jacobs

  He’s worried about you and Gabby. He asked me to tell you that he’s unhappy about what his son is doing, and he wonders if he could meet you sometime to discuss the situation. He’d not tell Martin about it.

  What shall I say to him? Or would you like to contact him directly? This is his email address. And what is his horrible son doing now? Surely Martin’s stopped pestering you? I haven’t seen him at the shops recently and thank goodness for that. Perhaps he’s no longer coming up to the north on business.

  Claire didn’t even try to answer the email straight away. She would work out what to tell her mother tomorrow when she wasn’t too tired to say it tactfully. She didn’t want her mother to worry about the latest incident.

  But no way was she letting her father-in-law know where she was, or meeting Tom. Even if he didn’t pass the information on to his son, his wife would if she got hold of it.

  She doubted Hilary would have changed about that. The woman had never been able to see any real faults in Martin, often dismissing unkind things he’d done with remarks like, ‘He must have been having an off day. We all have those. No one is perfect, you know.’

  Pity she couldn’t trust her in-laws, though, for Gabby’s sake. Her daughter had mentioned them a few times at first after they fled from Martin. She hadn’t said a word about them for a while now, though.

  Christmas would probably remind the poor child of them again because her in-laws had always bought her lovely presents and made much of her. There would be very few gifts this year, like last year. Only what she could afford, probably a pretty top and a book. She wouldn’t even dare let her own mother send anything but an email link to a gift token, because she didn’t want even her to know where they were.

  Martin had often boasted of his skill at hacking into accounts and had proved that his boasts weren’t lies since they split up. Though he hadn’t found her new account, thank goodness.

  Where would she and her daughter go after Christmas? She couldn’t impose on Luke for too long, however kind he was. Even three weeks was a big ask.

  Well, she’d worry about that later. At least now she could give Gabby some sort of Christmas.

  She hoped she would be able to help soften the difficulties between Luke and his teenage daughter while they were here. That would indeed help repay him, she was sure. He was a very caring man and she’d seen for herself how stiff Dee was with him sometimes.

  Maybe she could bake a few special Christmassy things for them all as well. She wasn’t a bad cook when she had the ingredients.

  Christmas ought to be special, full of joy, a time for families to get together.

  The security camera worked well and Martin had watched from a distance as his wife discovered her burnt-out car and burst into tears. Serve the bitch right for taking his daughter away from him, he thought gleefully.

  Then a man came into view, putting his arm round Claire’s shoulders in a familiar gesture, as if he cared about her. And she didn’t pull away.

  It felt as if Martin’s skull would explode with anger at that and it took him a minute or two to regain control of himself.

  Where was his daughter at the moment? She wasn’t at school and they hadn’t been at home for the last two nights or they’d have found the burnt-out car sooner. Had they been staying at this man’s house? His daughter would presumably have been left to her own devices there while Claire cosied up to her lover.

  He had to find out where she was and take his daughter away from her immorality. Had to make sure the child had a well-structured life again, with proper patterns of behaviour established.

  The man walked out of sight, reappearing with a ladder. Surely he couldn’t have – but yes, he had discovered the camera, damn him! The transmission suddenly blurred and cut off.

  How the hell had they discovered it? He’d hidden the camera so carefully under the edge of the roof tiles, covering most of it with cobwebs and nearby muck.

  Well, this was only a setback. He’d find them again, whatever it took.

  He’d be the one to do the disappearing trick then. But with his daughter. And he’d have the money from the house sale, plus some other funds he’d put together in the past couple of years.

  His move to another country would need planning in careful detail. Unfortunately, with it being near Christmas, the settlement would be slowed down.

  He got into bed thinking, Just you wait, Claire, damn you! You’re in for a big shock. You’re not taking my daughter away from me. I’m taking her away from you.

  He was still smiling as he felt himself slipping into sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Claire woke early and lay there, warmly cocooned, listening to the faint sounds of a sleeping household. Occasional louder noises drifted up from the streets: a car starting up or footsteps running along the pavement outside, as if someone was starting the day by exercising, even in the winter darkness.

  She looked at the bedside clock, its numerals showing in bright green that it was six o’clock in the morning. She’d slept straight through the night, a very rare thing for her.

  The lamp she’d left switched on in one corner showed that Gabby was still asleep in the other bed. This wasn’t a school day, so presumably Dee wouldn’t get up until later than usual. What time did Luke start his day? How long dare she linger in bed herself? She was tempted to stay for a while. Very tempted.

  On the floor between the beds, Helly was watching her but not trying to get onto the bed or ask to go out, thank goodness.

  No one else seemed to be stirring, so Claire padded to their bathroom, marvelling at how warm the whole house was. Then she gave in to temptation and got back into bed, snuggling down with a happy murmur.

  When she woke again it was nine o’clock, Helly was no longer there and Gabby’s bed was empty with the covers thrown back.

  She listened and could hear sounds from downstairs in the kitchen. Was Gabby there? Highly likely. She went to the top of the stairs and heard her voice. Since she trusted both Luke and Dee to keep an eye on her daughter, she had a quick shower and got dressed, looking at herself ruefully in the mirror. Her jeans were old, the top had been mended and the sweater darned, but they were clean and hardly creased at all, which was the best she could achieve sartorially.

  Her shoulder was feeling a little better and her headache seemed to have gone completely, which was a relief.

  She went downstairs to join the others, opening the kitchen door quietly and staying where she was, enjoying the scene before her. Gabby had her back to the door and was spreading jam with great care on a piece of toast, Dee was chatting to her and Luke was watching them both with an indulgent expression on his face. The dog was watching Gabby’s every move in case any titbits fell down on the floor.

  It was Luke who first noticed Claire’s presence and gave her a lazy smile. ‘Welcome to what’s left of the morning, sleepyhead.’

  Gabby turned round, rushing across to give her mother a kiss. ‘Me an’ Helly tiptoed out an’ let you sleep.’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’

  Dee had turned round and was smiling as well. She was pretty when she smiled, or would be without the black clothes. ‘Shall I make you some toast and get you some fruit? And do I call you Mrs Small or Claire?’

  ‘Claire. Breakfast would be lovely. Whatever’s handy will be fine, thank you.’ She moved towards the table. ‘I’m sorry to be so lazy, Luke. You should have woken me.’

  ‘Why? You obviously needed a good long sleep and no one needed to go anywhere or do anything in a hurry. Sit down and relax.’ He reached out for her hand and pulled her into the chair next to him. ‘Our waitresses will see to the food.’

  Gabby’s giggle filled her with delight and before she could stop herself, she’d whispered to him, ‘I’d give anything to keep her happy like this.’

  ‘To keep both of them that happy,’ he replied in an equally low voice, then added more loudly, ‘We’ve decided to have a peaceful day and if you feel
like a short stroll in the late afternoon, we can amble down to Saffron Lane. The café there does wonderful cakes, and it’s Winifred next door who usually bakes them. Most of the tourists and visitors will have left by then.’

  ‘Winifred’s the older lady next door, right?’

  ‘Yes. It’s not everyone who can start a new career at eighty-five, is it, and a very successful one, too. She makes the most delicious cakes I’ve ever tasted and produces them for the café.’

  ‘What’s the draw at this Saffron Lane?’

  ‘It’s a small artists’ colony set up by Angus and Nell – last year, I think. There’s a group of six renovated houses from the early twentieth century. They were requisitioned for security work during World War II and not given back to the Denning family for several decades afterwards, so they escaped demolition and smaller houses being crammed together on the site. Strange how the effects of the war still linger in some places, isn’t it?’

  ‘Amazing.’

  ‘The houses are now inhabited by artists of various persuasions, who are the main but not the only people selling their work in the gallery at the café. There are some beautiful things to see, even if we don’t buy anything.’

  ‘Sounds like an interesting place, especially if it’s close enough to walk to.’

  ‘It is. And there’s a small museum on site, too, a secret communications centre from the war with hidden passages under it. The government set up places like that in case of invasion. This one was somehow forgotten and has remained completely untouched. It’s rapidly becoming a feature of this town for those who enjoy their history. I’ve been meaning to go round it ever since I moved here. I don’t know why I haven’t.’

  ‘Perhaps we’d better not go there, though, if a lot of people visit it. I don’t want to run into anyone I know.’

  ‘I think you’ll be quite safe and we’ll be going at the quiet time of day, after the rush has passed.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Dee and Gabby have already decided they’re going to pretend to be sisters whenever we go out, and that you and I have to pretend to be married.’

  She was a bit surprised at this and must have shown it.

  He shrugged. ‘Your ex won’t be looking for two sisters, will he? So to back up the girls, we have to pretend to be married. Besides, he doesn’t sound like the sort of person to go to art galleries, even if he knew you were living in Sexton Bassett, which he doesn’t. He won’t have any way of tying you to this town.’

  ‘Hmm. You’re right. He’s definitely not interested in art and he’d throw a fit at the idea of wasting his precious time at a gallery or museum. He’s very scornful about artists, doesn’t even care about books or movies, except for reference books. The only things he thinks worthwhile are science and technology, and their contribution to the shaping of the modern world. He can rabbit on for hours about that.’

  ‘Rabbit on!’ He chuckled. ‘I like that expression. My aunt used to use it when people talked too much. Mind you, I do think science and technology are interesting and important, but they’re not the only disciplines humanity needs. What I enjoy most is architecture.’

  ‘Dad’s an expert on the history of conservatories and he’s going to write a book about it,’ Dee put in.

  He flushed and looked at Claire apologetically. ‘I know quite a bit about conservatories because that was what my company built. I’d like to write a book on the topic, just a small book with photos – a coffee table book rather than a learned tome. I’ve collected some lovely photos over the years and people might enjoy looking at them.’

  ‘Sounds interesting.’

  ‘I think it is. Conservatories go back a long way, you know, though they weren’t always called by that name: orangeries, greenhouses, sunrooms, take your pick.’

  It was cute how he modest he was, blushing like that, Claire thought. And how long was it since she’d had an interesting, adult conversation as they were having now? She loved finding out new things so followed up with, ‘How long ago did people start building conservatories, then?’

  ‘Wealthy landowners built them from about the sixteenth century onwards; middle-class people didn’t usually manage to get them till the nineteenth century, and there was an increase in building them around the 1970s for all sorts of people.’ He broke off. ‘Don’t get me started or I’ll bombard you with information and bore you to death.’

  ‘I don’t think you could ever bore me, Luke.’

  ‘I hope not.’

  They stared at one another again, well, they did until they were interrupted by Gabby clearing her throat to get their attention. ‘Breakfast is served.’ As Dee mimed applauding her, she giggled and put a dish of fruit salad down carefully in front of her mother.

  ‘Thank you, darling.’

  Dee placed a small pot of yoghurt nearby and said, ‘This is the first course, Claire. Please save some room for the toast. Dad always buys the best jams you’ve ever tasted. He has a whole shelf of jars he’s bought from farms and markets all over the country.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘OK, I admit it. I have a weakness for toast with real fruit jam, not coloured, thickened sugar. So sue me.’

  From the way he shot a quick glance at Dee, he seemed both surprised and grateful to have received a compliment from his daughter, Claire thought. Another step in the right direction.

  Hadn’t Dee shown her pride in him before? She ought to have done. He was a lovely man.

  In the middle of the afternoon, Luke persuaded them all to put on their coats and scarves and go out for a walk.

  Dee pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure I want to go. Mum always said history wasn’t very interesting.’

  Luke looked so annoyed, Claire said hastily, ‘I find historical places very interesting. Perhaps your mother hasn’t had time to find good ones to explore.’

  She saw the exact moment when Dee noticed Gabby’s disappointment and was glad when the girl added in an off-hand voice, ‘Oh, why not? I’ll be in good company, whatever the place is like.’

  The child’s face lit up and Dee lost her grudging look, giving Gabby a quick hug.

  That warmed Claire’s heart, as did the way Gabby slipped her hand into Dee’s as they walked along. She held her breath but her daughter was allowed to leave it there and the two girls began chatting about some pop star she’d never even heard of.

  Dealing with teenagers could be like treading on eggs sometimes. You had to be very careful not to break the shells, because they were more fragile than they looked.

  Luke also watched the interaction between the girls and had a sudden foolish longing for someone to hold his hand, Claire for preference. But of course she didn’t. And he couldn’t push himself on her.

  He led the way down the slope from the top end of Peppercorn Street, walking briskly and pointing out the pretty entrance to the big house on the right, then going on to the small street on the left at the lower end of his land.

  A car with four people in it was just pulling away as they arrived, leaving only one car parked there, so the café was almost empty. Nell looked up from behind the counter and smiled a greeting and mimed ‘just a minute’. She put two mugs of fancy coffee on the counter and then got plates out and put pieces of cake on them, presumably for the two young women sitting in a corner.

  ‘We’ll look at the museum first, if that’s all right with you, Nell,’ Luke called to her. ‘After we’ve done we’ll come and try some of the chocolate cake that’s winking at me from the display.’

  ‘Good choice. It’s my own favourite.’

  He put the money for the museum fee on the counter and led the way upstairs. There they were shown round the communications room by a cheerful young man who lived in one of the houses, and he explained how it had worked.

  After that, to both children’s excitement, their guide asked if they wanted to go down into the secret passage below ground.

  ‘Can we really?’ Dee asked.

  His daughter had completely forgotten to be bored fr
om the minute they came up here, Luke noticed in amusement. Well, who could be bored with Gabby asking a dozen questions a minute and a real secret passage to explore?

  When they returned to the café and gallery on the ground floor, they chose cake and drinks, then wandered round the displays as they waited for it to be served.

  Gabby stood entranced next to a little metal ornament of an imaginary breed of dog whose tail was on a spring and wagged at the slightest touch. If she and her mother were still there at Christmas, Luke decided, he’d buy it for her.

  ‘Dad.’

  He turned to see that Dee was holding a bright patchwork cushion.

  She shot him a quick but strangely hesitant glance. ‘Could you lend me some money to buy this, please? I don’t have enough with me. I’ll pay you back when we get home, I promise. It’ll be just the thing to brighten up my bedroom.’

  ‘It’s gorgeous but I’d much rather buy it for you as a present. You don’t often ask me for anything and fathers do like to buy things their daughters … given the chance.’

  She gave one of her almost-frowns as if surprised by this, then nodded. ‘Right. Thank you.’ But the slightly puzzled expression was back and it lingered on her face for a while.

  He didn’t let himself ask what or who had made her think he didn’t want to buy her presents, but he could guess.

  When they’d finished their snack, they walked slowly back up to Peppercorn Street. It had been a lovely outing and Luke wished they could do more of this, not only for his guests’ sake, but to help build more connections between himself and Dee.

  Her mother hadn’t said anything about what Dee was to do at Christmas and anyway, as far as he knew, Angie was still in Spain. He hoped she wouldn’t invite Dee to spend the holidays with her. He was enjoying getting to know his daughter better and was mentally starting to plan their Christmas.

  He hoped Angie would leave Dee with him permanently, though you could never tell with her. He didn’t want to have to go to court to keep his daughter with him, didn’t even know whose side Dee would be on about this. But he wanted her to stay, wanted it so very much.