***
Noel packs our display trees away and loads the back of the truck with empty crates, even more now than when we started because Iain arrived mid-afternoon with more trees and pumpkins, and another crate of Glenna’s goodies, and they all sold out too.
There’s one bunch of mistletoe left from the second batch and I hang it over Fiona’s stall on my way to the winning tree to turn off the fairylights and the tealights in the pumpkins. I kneel down and crawl underneath the tree and feel around until I can reach the battery pack disguised at the back, trying to avoid taking my eye out with the scented needles, and nearly scream in surprise and bang my head on a branch when I emerge to find Fergus and Fiona behind me. The tree must get a fright too because it chooses that moment to drop a load of needles, most of them into my hair.
‘Oh, sorry, lass, we didn’t mean to make you jump.’ Fergus thrusts a gingerbread wheelbarrow at me to make up for the scare.
‘So there is something going on between you.’ Fiona folds her arms across her chest. She’s trying to look serious but there’s a smile playing on her face. ‘I knew I wasn’t imagining it, stubble rash or no stubble rash.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I open the gingerbread biscuit and nibble a wheel off, trying to keep a straight face and not give anything away, because just the thought of Noel makes me grin uncontrollably.
‘I was having a lovely chat with Glenna earlier,’ Fiona says. ‘She happened to mention that he didn’t come in until very late last night, and that she heard him talking to someone – a female someone – when the snow started falling, and that he was singing to himself as he got ready this morning.’
If gingerbread and bathbombs fail, they can definitely turn to a career in surveillance. ‘We were both up late working. He was telling me to make sure I set my alarm because we needed to be on time this morning, and he knew I’d have brained him with a pumpkin if he’d honked his blasted truck horn outside my window one more time.’
‘I suppose that’s why neither of you can get the smiles off your faces, no matter how hard you try,’ Fiona says.
‘That’s just because he’s won the competition.’ I bite another gingerbread wheel off to stop myself smiling.
‘You look happy in a way that you didn’t when you first got here.’ Fergus shares a glance with Fiona. ‘And he seems happy in a way that he never has before. He’s been protecting himself so hard since his last relationship that I didn’t think he’d ever trust anyone again, but I’ve never seen him as relaxed around someone as he is with you. We were just trying to say that we think those two things are probably related. And we’re really happy for you both. It’s so nice that you get on so well after everything that’s happened between you.’
I cock my head to the side in confusion. What exactly does he think has happened between us? Fergus must’ve eaten too many gingerbread Hoovers today because he’s not making any sense.
‘After all what?’ As I say the words, a stone of dread immediately settles in my stomach. Things never go right for me, and so far, everything has been wonderful with Peppermint Branches, and meeting Noel has been a gorgeous, sexy bonus. Something has to go wrong at some point, and I suddenly have a crushing and irrevocable feeling that I’m about to find out what.
‘After losing Peppermint Branches, of course,’ Fiona says. ‘He put on a brave face and said he wasn’t bothered, of course, but he was devastated. You could see it in his whole demeanour. I don’t think he smiled again until he brought you along to the market. We were so pleased that you two liked each other and were able to put it all behind you or it would’ve been so awkward.’
‘Losing it?’ I ask as the confusion builds. Maybe he was supposed to inherit it or something … He speaks about Evergreene like a beloved grandfather, but there’s obviously a history between him and the son, so maybe something happened there and that’s the vague feeling I keep getting that there’s something he isn’t telling me.
Fergus gives me a look like I’m the one not making sense here.
‘In the auction, obviously,’ Fiona says with a giggle. ‘You’d expect someone who works with their hands to have much nimbler fingers, but you won fair and square, and he knows that. I think it says a lot about his character that he’s been so gracious about it. You must’ve been worried that he’d be a bit funny with you when you first met him.’
The gingerbread turns to stone in my mouth. R-five-hyphens-81. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Those hyphens hide the letters ‘oscoe’. Everything that didn’t quite make sense suddenly adds up perfectly. ‘I must’ve been worried because I was moving in next door to the other bidder?’
They nod along, unaware that they’ve confirmed my greatest fear. They have absolutely no idea that I didn’t know. I sink back on my knees and look up at the unlit tree, and I feel like the whole market is falling down around my ears. Tears form in my eyes and I blink them furiously, trying to stop myself crying. I can’t let Fergus and Fiona know that they’ve just revealed a secret that Noel’s obviously been trying very hard to keep.
‘Nooo.’ I do an overexaggerated handwave and force the tightest smile in the history of the universe. ‘I wasn’t worried. He’s … well, he’s Noel, isn’t he? The friendly pumpkin farmer with a heart of gold. I knew he’d be a gentleman about it.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter now you’re together, does it? What a lovely story to tell your grandkids one day.’
I almost laugh at the absurdity of that statement. Never mind grandkids because we are most definitely not together now I know that. Now it all makes sense.
No wonder he was so grouchy when I first arrived. No wonder he was irritated and incredulous and wanted to know how I’d won the auction with mere seconds left on the clock. And I was stupid enough to believe he was just making conversation.
He must have hated me. Peppermint Branches means the world to him, and this clueless girl turns up having snatched it literally from underneath his fingers. I swan in and nonchalantly tell him I was drunk and didn’t have a clue about Christmas tree farming and I’d won the auction without even trying. I know Noel. I know how seriously he would’ve taken that auction. How much he would have got his hopes up when there were no other bids until the last few minutes. He would’ve pinned everything on winning that.
And then I ripped his dream away from him. He must’ve been heartbroken. Devastated.
He must have wanted it back.
He even told me that his father wanted to buy Evergreene out one day and run both farms together and I still didn’t fall in. Those two farms are his life, his love. His heart. It’s not me who’s given his heart back to him – it’s working on Peppermint Branches again. Helping me, supposedly. But why would anyone do that? Why would he help me so much, teach me so much, when he must hate me for stealing the farm he wanted? I thought he was doing it out of kindness because he could see I was out of my depth. But if it’s that simple, why didn’t he tell me about the auction?
Fiona clicks her fingers in front of my face like she’s waiting for a response to a question she’s asked several times.
‘Oh, er, yes,’ I mumble, hoping it was the right answer. I feel like I’m floating above the market, looking down on everything through a fog. In the few weeks I’ve been here, I’ve grown to trust Noel completely, and now I feel like the metaphorical rug has been physically pulled out from underneath me.
‘We definitely need you to share a stall next year,’ Fiona is saying. ‘Magical things happen when you two work together. He’s never sold as many pumpkins as he has this year and look at how many Christmas trees you’ve sold today. It’s simply wonderful.’
The gingerbread biscuit hangs limp in my fingers. ‘It’s great,’ I croak out. My voice is raspy and my throat is dry. I can barely get my words out, and I’m not sure if I want to cry or scream or both.
They share another glance like they’re not sure what’s wrong with me. ‘Do you want a hand with
those pumpkins? You didn’t bring a bag to carry them back in.’
I look down at myself like I might accidentally have a carrier bag attached to my person. ‘No, it’s fine. They can stay until tomorrow.’
‘Noel usually clears them up. They start to go off.’
‘Let them rot.’
Fergus’s eyebrows shoot up so fast that they nearly meet his rapidly decreasing hairline.
‘I mean, until tomorrow,’ I say quickly. I can’t let them know I’m upset or give them any reason to think they’ve said the wrong thing or go and tell Noel that I know. ‘First thing, when I come to replace them. It’s been a long day, I just want to get home to bed, and it’ll be quieter tomorrow, there’ll be plenty of time.’
‘I bet there are plenty of reasons to get home to your bed tonight, hmm?’ Fiona puts such a clear emphasis on what she thinks will be going on in bed tonight that even Fergus blushes.
‘And on that note, we’re going to go for a cuppa before Fergus gets overexcited and we end up spending the evening in the A&E department. Have a good night!’ She slips her arm through Fergus’s as they walk off towards the hot drinks counter and I watch as he tucks her arm in against his side and tugs her closer.
I should be excited to rush back and tell Noel about that adorable display of affection, but everything’s different now. This changes it all. I sink back onto my knees as I watch them disappear around the corner and the tears come without my permission. My hair has fallen down again and I pull it forwards to hide my face and concentrate on picking the dropped needles out of it.
The stall. His kindness in allowing me to share his stall. The way he even used his winner’s speech today to push Peppermint Branches. I thought he was being nice to talk about my business. Isn’t he just making sure that he’s got plenty of customers for when he inevitably takes over?
I always used to think that people are only nice to you if they want something, and Noel’s the one who’s been changing that, who’s made me have a bit of faith in people again. How can I have come to trust him so much in such a short amount of time? Why was I so hypnotised by his piercing and his hair that I didn’t stop to question his motives?
Everything he’s done must’ve had a purpose behind it. Gorgeous, funny, warm guys like him don’t fall for plain emotional wrecks like me – they see a weakness and they exploit it. Like Steve did. Noel certainly saw my weakness in the car on that first night, and he grabbed his opportunity. He didn’t win the auction, but he saw a chance to wrestle the farm back from my grasp. That’s why he changed so much. Not because we had a connection or because he liked me, but because he saw an opportunity to gain my trust, to ‘help’ me, because I was so clueless and grateful for his advice that I never stopped to question why he was helping me or if the advice he gave was sound.
And now I know he’s been lying all along.
It’s a genius plan, really. Keep your enemies closer and all that. He’s shown me everything, from what trees to cut to how to propagate seedlings for future years, and I’ve trusted him blindly. But how do I know if anything he’s said is true? How do I know if he’s told me the opposite of what I should be doing, so he can swoop in and takeover like a hero when it all inevitably falls apart? What if the only thing he’s been helping me to do is run the farm into the ground so I’ll have no choice but to give up and sell it on to him?
Chapter 15
‘Where’s the “Hot Scot Pumpkin Farmer Who Looks Like Luke Evans” you keep texting me about then?’ Chelsea asks through the phone.
‘I don’t keep texting you about him,’ I say. ‘I’ve barely mentioned him.’
‘You’ve barely mentioned him today. Is he there? Can you put him on and make him say “murrrderrr” a few times for me?’
No matter how much I don’t feel like laughing, a giggle escapes at the idea. Noel would laugh. And be all too happy to oblige. ‘He’s not here.’
She makes a noise of disappointment. ‘Where is he, then? Sawing down trees topless? Toplessly dragging stumps out of the earth with his bare hands?’
‘Why does he have to be topless?’
‘Because you keep texting me about his arms and his chest. If you mention those mystical forearms one more time, I’m liable to drive up there to see for myself.’ She sighs reflectively. ‘Ooh, ruggedly tearing the branches from Christmas trees with his teeth? Topless, of course. Sawing wood back and forth, gentle but firm at the same time? No shirt, the breeze blowing his hair …’
‘It’s snowing! No one’s going shirtless in that.’ I’m in the kitchen, still the only room with a window, and the wind outside is blowing up the already fallen snow and hurling it around. ‘It’s a bit of a blizzard actually.’
‘Men can still go topless in the snow. You’d have an excuse to warm him up then. Seriously, Leah, hasn’t anything happened between you yet?’
‘Oh, something’s happened all right.’ I tell her about what I found out on Friday.
It’s Monday afternoon now and I haven’t seen Noel since. After Fergus and Fiona left, I told him I needed air and walked home, and when he phoned that night, I told him I was tired and going to bed.
Since Friday, the stall at the market has been invaluable now that it’s Christmas tree season, and every tree I’ve sent there has been sold, along with the wreaths, but I’ve made Iain go in my place with the excuse that I need to get the farm ready to open to the public this weekend. This Saturday will be the last day of November and it’s officially opening day, so it’s not exactly an excuse. There is tons to do. There are final checks of the caravan’s food preparation area, and still plenty of trees left to shear. If the snow keeps up, then I’ll have to grit every inch of the path around the farm. The Santa I hired has had to be shown around and it’s taken a while for the background check paperwork to come through. Apparently Noel’s been painting the finished sleigh a beautiful metallic red with gold edges and sparkly silver stars – or so one of the farmhands has reported back to me because I don’t want to run the risk of seeing him – and I’ve sprinkled glitter all over the freshly cut grass in the empty field opposite the house, ready for where it will stand for children to meet Santa.
‘What does it matter if he was the other bidder?’ Chelsea sounds confused. ‘You won and he didn’t, end of story. I lost out on a fabulous handbag the other day because Lewis distracted me. Another bidder got it for an absolute steal, but fair’s fair. I’m not going to track them down and claw it off their arm.’
I laugh at the thought and it makes me realise how much I miss seeing Chelsea every day. We text all the time, but it’s not the same as meeting for lunch or a quick drink on the way home from work. ‘This is a bit more complicated than a handbag, Chels. And the point is that he lied about it. It wouldn’t be as bad if he’d just told me, believe me there’s been plenty of opportunities, but he didn’t.’
‘Probably because he knew you’d react like this.’
‘On the first day I arrived, I mentioned the other bidder to him. Why didn’t he say, “oh yeah, by the way, that was me”? He didn’t know how I’d react then. If he was anything like the straight-to-the-point, honest, stand-up guy I’ve thought he was, he wouldn’t have kept it hidden.’
‘He probably knew how it would look. If you’d have known, you’d have been sleeping with one eye open waiting for him to poison you in the night.’
‘Which is exactly what I’m doing now, except he’s been killing me with kindness. He’s given me so much advice, Chels, and I’ve trusted everything he’s said. He even told me not to worry about studying books on Christmas tree farming because I could ask him. He obviously said that because the books might give me good advice that goes against the rubbish he’s been telling me to make sure everything goes horrifically wrong and the only way out will be to give it up and sell it to him.’
There’s a crash outside as something blows over in the wind, and Chelsea sighs. ‘Are you sure he didn’t say that because he wanted an excuse to spen
d time with you? All men like to feel needed.’
I walk to the door and pull it open, entering a battle of wills with the wind that does its best to pull it back again. A flurry of snow hits me in the face as I stand in the open doorway. I look out across the fields in front of me as I shake it out of my hair. The novelty has already worn off. It’s barely stopped snowing since Thursday night. The roads are impassable now and we’re so far out in the countryside that no gritting lorries come past. The white stuff has settled up to mid-calf level, with drifts along the roadside and around the house that are much deeper. I just hope it melts by Saturday because, although the trees look pretty covered in snow, the reality is that the whole farm is obscured by the blizzard, the fields look bleak and empty, it’s freezing, and the wind is galeforce. No one is going to come to pick their own Christmas tree in this. Not many people would be daft enough to risk leaving their houses.
I can’t help thinking about Noel and wondering where he is, though I’m annoyed at myself for still caring. All his pumpkins are gone from the fields now, only the ones he’s stored in the barn for winter remain, and the view from my backdoor is white and bare. Even his farmhouse in the distance is concealed by the fog. I kick a chunk of snow off the top step and think about him feeling needed. Chelsea’s kind of got a point there. He’s said as much in one of his unguarded moments. But if it was that simple, why didn’t he tell me that he wanted Peppermint Branches too?
Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm Page 26