Merry Mistletoe: Kindle Single (Tales From Appleyard Book 1)

by Emma Davies

  ‘Why are you doing all this for me, both of you – and please don’t think I’m not grateful. You know that’s not the case, but I have only broken my arm, and I will manage. It’s nearly Christmas and you both must have a million and one other things to be doing or places to be?’

  Amos looked at Sam, who looked back at him. ‘Because it’s Christmas Freya, season of goodwill to all men,’ he said.

  ‘And all women,’ added Sam.

  Freya sighed, she could see she wasn’t going to get anything out of either of them.

  ‘I also need a ton of shopping, a few Christmas presents and to pack the contents of the house up. That is of course once I’ve sorted it all out.’

  ‘Okay…’ said Sam slowly, ‘so what shall we do tomorrow?’

  ‘Oh ha bloody ha,’ retorted Freya, and then clapped a hand to her face. ‘Oh God, I forgot to order more boxes. I meant to do it at the weekend.’

  ‘Well I don’t think we’re going to be twiddling our thumbs are we,’ grinned Amos. ‘Those of us that can anyway. Can I suggest that first, I make another pot of tea, and then Freya you can get on the internet and order more boxes. Once we’ve done that perhaps we can have a lesson in wiring up the stuff for the wreaths and see whether we’re any good at it. The rest we’ll take as it comes.

  It didn’t help that Freya got a fit of the giggles and then could hardly speak let alone demonstrate the art of bow making, but they established very quickly that Sam had two left hands. Amos on the other hand was a very neat worker and after a few more practice runs Freya was happy that he could carry on by himself.

  ‘I think you must be my fairy Godmother,’ she laughed, taking up a bow and trying to fix it in Amos’ hair. She couldn’t of course with only one hand and so it slipped to one side where eventually it tangled in his curls coquettishly above one ear. Amos said nothing but simply carried on working.

  ‘So, having established that I’m spectacularly shite at this, does that mean I’ve drawn the short straw and get to sort out crap in the attic?’

  ‘It does I’m afraid. The boxes won’t be delivered until tomorrow, but there’s a huge amount of stuff I can probably throw away from up there. Might as well make a start now. You’ll need your coat though, it’s freezing up there.’

  ‘Oh deep joy.’

  Amos watched them go with a smile on his face. There were occasions when two was definitely preferable to three.

  Freya was right, it was freezing up in the attic, but the room was amazing – full of crap, but still amazing. It ran the whole length of the house and was lit by five huge windows all set into the eaves, three at the front and two at the back. As an attic it served its function very well, but Sam could see that the scope for it to become other things was huge. Their own house was pretty impressive, but it had none of the charm and comfort of Appleyard and after Stephen had finished ripping out most of the ground floor to make a showcase open plan area, there were also very few private spaces. This would make a brilliant workroom; the light was fantastic. He watched Freya walking around disconsolately and thrust his feelings down as far as they would go.

  ‘It’s a bit daunting isn’t it,’ she said. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

  ‘Well I’m yours to command, so pick a corner and we’ll work our way along. Do you want to sit down?’

  ‘I’ll be fine for a bit I think. I might be warmer anyway, moving around.’ They hadn’t been able to get Freya’s coat on, so instead she had a throw from the lounge tied around her. ‘If we make a bit of space over on this wall first, we can stack the things that can go. Do we need a separate pile for charity shop donations do you think, as opposed to things that are just plain rubbish?’

  Sam groaned. ‘I knew you were going to say that; typical woman hoarder.’

  ‘I am not!’ retorted Freya. She made her way over to a tall chest of drawers that was standing to the far left. ‘See, for example everything in here is just old clothes – jumpers and stuff – but there’s nothing wrong with any of it.’

  ‘So why don’t you wear them then?’

  ‘Well most of it doesn’t fit anymore, and they’re ancient and really old-fashioned now.’

  Sam said nothing. The silence stretched out while Freya stared at him until a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘… Oh right, ok, I get it. It’s rubbish, let’s just chuck it.’

  ‘Ruthless, that’s what we’ve got to be, ruthless. Repeat after me?’

  After an hour and a half they had systematically cleared a whole side, emptying cupboards and boxes, until only the furniture itself remained, or things that Freya really wanted to keep and which could now be wrapped up and packed properly. Sam kept checking on her from time to time, but she seemed to be coping well with the removal of things which after all must hold a lot of memories for her. He pulled another box towards him into a clear space and tugged open the flaps. At first he couldn’t make out what was inside; it seemed to be just a bundle of cloths, until he pulled out a tunic covered in upholstery tassels and trimming, made from the brocade of an old curtain. He knew it was an old curtain because up until he’d been about ten it had hung in his dining room.

  He held it up to get a better look. ‘Jesus,’ he said laughing, ‘I can’t believe you still have these.’

  Freya, who was sitting on a trunk leafing through an old book, turned to have a look. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ She grinned.

  ‘It certainly is. Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou Romeo,’ he squeaked in a high-pitched falsetto. ‘Oh, no, sorry that’s your line.’ He cleared his throat, lowering his tone to a gruff deep voice instead. ‘But Soft! What light through yonder window breaks.’

  He reached back into the box, pulling out an elaborate headdress. ‘Here you go Juliet, try that on for size.’

  She leaned over to take the feathered monstrosity, plonking it on top of her head. ‘I can’t believe we never made it to Broadway. I mean, we were good weren’t we; really good?’

  ‘Well your dad said so, and he never told a lie,’ replied Sam, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘The summer holidays had a lot to answer for.’

  ‘Oh I think this was one of our slightly better schemes. Although I’m not sure taking our three-man plays on a nationwide tour was ever going to truly catch on. I think, as performers, we were much misunderstood.’

  ‘How old were we then?’ he grinned.

  Freya narrowed her eyes, looking at Sam intently. ‘It was 1992 and we were twelve.’

  He looked surprised. ‘You can remember the year?’

  ‘Don’t you? That’s why there were only three of us. It was the year Merry got glandular fever and spent practically the whole summer in bed. It was the year after we went up to secondary school.’

  ‘Oh God … yes, you’re right … and Stephen spent two days in a huff because I got to play Romeo and not him. We had to let him play every other part in the whole play, and the only way he could do it was to wear all the costumes at once.’

  ‘I’d forgotten that bit,’ hooted Freya. ‘And then, in the one of the rehearsals he couldn’t get his tights off, and spent the whole of the next scene with them around his ankles. He got so mad at us because we couldn’t stop laughing.’

  Sam shook his head, laughing as he remembered the hilarity that had engulfed them as children. ‘It could have been yesterday couldn’t it?’

  ‘Twenty three years ago Sam, that’s what it was,’ said Freya softly. ‘Half a lifetime ago.’

  He looked up at her, noticing the change in the tone of her voice. ‘Still, good times Freya.’

  She swallowed. ‘Yes they were.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, brushing at her eyes. ‘It’s just that –’

  Sam was there, by her side, holding her hand. ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘I feel it too.’

  She shivered all of a sudden, thinking how good it would be to have Sam take her in his arms, but knowing that it was the last thing he’d wan
t to do. Slowly she withdrew her hand.

  ‘I don’t think I need to keep the costumes,’ she said in a quiet voice.

  He held her look for just a second before pulling the hat from her head and stuffing it back into the box with the tunic. He gave a quick glance at his watch.

  ‘Another hour or so, and then we’ll think about stopping for some lunch. Is that okay?’

  Freya nodded. ‘I think these boxes are full of old toys and stuff. They can pretty much all go I think.’

  Amos placed a teapot on the table as Freya lowered herself gingerly onto a chair. He took one look at her, and fetched the painkillers from the dresser. Sam was only seconds behind with a plate of beans on toast.

  ‘Sorry, we should have stopped before now.’

  Freya gave a wan smile. ‘It’s fine really, I’ll be okay in a bit once I’ve taken some of these. It’s only just crept up on me, now we’ve stopped. Besides, it was good to get that last bit finished.’

  ‘It was, we’ve done well this morning.’ He handed her a fork. ‘Go on, eat up before it gets cold,’ he said, taking a seat too. ‘I’ve cut it up for you.’

  ‘Thanks Sam,’ smiled Freya, ‘This looks good enough to eat.’

  Sam glanced at Amos and rolled his eyes.

  ‘I can’t believe you got so much done this morning Amos,’ added Freya, looking at the pile of greenery and ribbon which they had pushed to one end of the table. ‘I think I’ll be able to get quite a few wreaths made up with that lot.’

  ‘Well I was on a bit of a roll,’ admitted Amos. ‘I enjoyed it actually; it’s quite soothing once you get into the rhythm of it. Good thinking time.’

  ‘Oh – and what were you thinking about?’ asked Freya being nosey.

  Amos tapped the side of his nose. ‘This and that,’ he said, ‘nothing important. I do have a favour to ask though? I wondered if I might borrow your iPad for five minutes later. I want to check something on the internet.’

  ‘Of course, just help yourself whenever. There’s nothing incriminating on there, unless you count my appallingly bad score on Candy Crush. It’s not locked either.’

  Amos nodded his thanks and carried on eating.

  Freya had to admit that she did feel better after the food, but she wasn’t sure she could face another session up in the attic. Things had been just a little too close to home at times.

  ‘Shall we get rid of the rubbish before we carry on do you think?’

  ‘Amos and I will do that,’ said Sam. ‘You’re going to put your feet up for a bit. And don’t argue,’ he continued, seeing the look on her face. ‘There’s no point killing yourself on the first day. Besides which I need to run a few errands while we’re out.’

  They’d already done two laborious journeys with armfuls of stuff before Freya realised what they were doing. She straightened up from the dishwasher where she was stacking the last of the plates.

  ‘Erm, how are you going to get all that stuff to the tip?’ she asked.

  Sam looked at her as if she was deranged. ‘In the van,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Yes, I know that, but it doesn’t matter how it gets there, does it? I mean you’re just going to throw it all in higgledy piggledy?’

  Sam scratched his head. ‘Pretty much.’ He said, clearly wondering if there was any other way.

  ‘Okay, come with me.’ She led the way back upstairs, passing Amos on the landing with another load. ‘About turn,’ she said, ‘and bring that lot with you.’

  ‘No, I haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about either,’ muttered Sam, ‘but I would do as she says.’

  Back in the attic, Freya crossed to one of the large windows overlooking the front lawn. The van was parked in the yard, neatly to one side.

  ‘Could one of you open the window please?’

  Sam and Amos exchanged more looks, but Amos did as she asked, moving the catch on the sash and pushing the window open as far as it would go.

  ‘Now just throw.’

  ‘Pardon?’ said Amos.

  ‘It’s a hell of a lot quicker than carrying it all down two flights of stairs. Just throw. It’s all rubbish anyway, what harm is it going to do?’

  ‘You’re mad,’ grinned Sam, ‘but I kind of like your thinking. Wheelbarrow to the van at the other end, done in a flash.’ He picked up an armful of clothing and hurled it out of the window. ‘That’s strangely satisfying,’ he laughed.

  ‘Ruthless you said,’ fired back Freya, ‘so I give you ruthless.’ And with that she left them to it, smiling to herself all the way downstairs as he she listened to the gales of laughter floating after her.

  Freya was still asleep by the time they got back, right where Sam had left her, tucked up under a blanket on the sofa. He’d put Love Actually on the DVD before he left but it had long since finished, the final credits frozen onto the silent screen. He watched her for a moment, his eyes soft in the dim light, before re-joining Amos in the kitchen.

  ‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ he asked, Amos’ head bent over the iPad.

  ‘Yeah, getting there. Just looking at a few things. Does the name Paul Streatfield mean anything to you?’

  Sam came to sit beside him so that he could see the screen. ‘I don’t think so, why?’

  ‘It’s just a name I’ve heard your brother use a few times now, that’s all. It pricked my interest.’

  ‘Who is he anyway?’ asked Sam.

  ‘A property developer – look.’ Amos angled the screen towards Sam so that he could get a better look.

  Sam pulled the iPad closer and studied it for a moment before gazing back at Amos and echoing his worried frown.

  ‘Shit,’ he said.

  11 Days to go…

  It was Sam’s idea to visit Worcester, but while Freya could see the logic in it, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to be here. There were too many reminders of Christmases past tugging at her brain.

  It was three in the afternoon by the time they arrived having dropped off her wreaths at the hotel first. That had taken rather longer than planned since Merry and Tom insisted they stay for lunch. Merry declared that it was the least she could do since her pregnant state meant she’d been unable to help Freya pack. Hospitality was what they did best, and as Freya looked around the hotel at the other guests enjoying a sumptuous pre-Christmas break she could see the appeal.

  The reception hall was a glittery double height room, dominated by the huge tree which was smothered in white and gilded sparkles. A marble fireplace roaring with flame enticed people onto the squishy deep red sofas, in front of which a table groaned with plates of mince pies, sugar dusted shortbread and a tower of Ferrero Rocher. Sitting in the dining room, chatting with old friends, it was easy to forget everything else for a while and let Christmas wash over her in an oasis of seasonal charm.

  When they finally reached it, the town was still thronging with people. The day was cold and clear, and as they emerged from beside the cathedral, the lights and sounds from the shops drifted over to them. Instead of following the road into town, Sam steered Freya away to the left and through the elegant Cathedral close to the quieter riverside beyond. As they walked through the arch that lead onto the path beside the river, Freya looked at the markers on the huge wall beside them showing the height the river had reached when in flood. It amazed her that some of them were ten feet or so above her head and they were already standing maybe twenty feet above the river itself. It was an important reminder that despite the torrents of life, things endured, maybe not unaltered, but they remained nonetheless. Right now, when everything she held dear seemed to be slipping away from her it was hard to see how things could ever get back to even a slight semblance of what they had been before.

  Sam took hold of her hand, perhaps sensing how she was feeling, or just wanting to provide support as she walked. His hand was warm and solid and the feeling of it was as familiar to her as breathing. It would be so easy to allow her feelings to drift back in time but she knew that Sam wa
s only being friendly, marking time until she left, and finally gave him the closure she had never allowed him before. She should have pulled away but she was so tired it was somehow easier just to hang on.

  She tried to enjoy the chilly air and let her mind drift away from the reality of her current problems, but everywhere she looked tiny sparkles of fairy lights caught her eye and brought her back to the one thing she was dreading. Christmas. She usually loved it all: the shops decked out way before time, the Christmas music playing over and over and the cheesy films on the TV. Most of all though she loved the lights; the darkened villages and houses transformed at dusk into winter wonderlands of colour. She loved this over-spilling of joy and exuberance, and although it had only ever been her and her dad at home she had always strung rows and rows of lights though Appleyard. Until this year.

  She walked a little closer to Sam, his thick puffy jacket warm to the touch. The sky was turning violet as the day gave way to dusk and the lights were beginning to glow off the river. They had walked the whole way in virtual silence and Freya felt no need to talk, but soon they would be heading back into town and the thought brought her back to the reason for their visit.

  ‘Where would you like to go?’ she asked Sam.

  He too seemed lost in his own thoughts and it took him a little while to respond.

  ‘I’ll follow you,’ he said. ‘Wherever you want to go. I can shop any time after all.’

  That was undoubtedly true, but when Freya tried to think what she might need to buy she realised she had no stomach for shopping; she had wanted to come and soak up the atmosphere, because it was something she always did, and without it she would feel even more lost. In truth there was only one shop she wanted to visit, but she was loathe to name it for fear of seeming even more of a sentimental fool.

  ‘Can we just wander and see what happens?’

  ‘No problem,’ said Sam, falling silent beside her once more.

  They made their way up from the bridge into the town centre, weaving though the crowds into the market square, where the huge Christmas tree stood over the market stalls, ablaze with lights. A Salvation Army band was still playing and the brass notes rang out rich and clear. She stopped to listen, noting that Sam too had slowed his pace.