And after that conversation the air seemed to clear a little. We still argued, of course, but in a more amicable, bickering kind of way and Mercy commented that she was glad we were getting on so well.
‘Once Randal is permanently based here, we will all be able to work as one big, happy team,’ she added, but I thought: not if Lacey has anything to do with it!
Guy had resumed the flirty messages, though they were less frequent, but I didn’t need Lacey’s warning to know the value of this renewed interest … though the painting had showed another side to him, since obviously he’d not only thought of me while off enjoying himself with Randal’s fiancée, but chosen a gift I’d love.
He was full of contradictions.
Ceddie Lathom, my former prison visitor, came to stay a night on his way up to the Lake District to see friends and it was lovely to see him again.
‘My dear, you’re positively blooming,’ he said, beaming at me much as Mercy did, and then kissing my cheek.
‘It was a wonderful day for me when you directed my attention to Tabby,’ Mercy told him. ‘She’s literally been a godsend for Godsend!’
‘I knew at once she was what you needed,’ he said. ‘And where is Randal?’
‘He went down to the mill, because they’ve begun fitting out the new café, but he’ll back shortly,’ she said.
He was, too, but though he greeted the visitor in a friendly way he then turned and snapped at me: ‘Where did you vanish to earlier? I wanted you. You’re the one who changed all the orders, so you might at least be there!’
‘Mercy needed me to help her arrange the shipping on the next sewing machine consignment,’ I said, ‘and I can’t be in two places at once.’
‘I see that Randal can’t do without Tabitha, either,’ said Ceddie, twinkling. ‘And you told me they’d become engaged, Mercy? Bless you both!’
‘Oh, no,’ I said quickly as Randal’s expression became even more thunderous. ‘Randal is engaged, but to someone else.’
‘Silly me,’ said Ceddie. ‘Who is the lucky girl?’
‘She’s called Lacey Bucknall and very beautiful, Ceddie,’ Mercy told him. ‘They’re to have a January wedding.’
‘Beauty is as beauty does,’ Silas said darkly, so Lacey’s sporadic attempts to charm him during her last visit hadn’t entirely won him over.
Emma went quiet, once Des returned from Qatar, though she did manage to give me a ring one day and said he still seemed to be making more effort to be less jealous, but he insisted that she and Marco fly out to Qatar at half term, because he was definitely going to be offered that year-long contract after the next one, and he wanted her to move there.
‘So are you going?’
‘I told him it was a long way to travel just for half term, but I gave in in the end. I suppose it’s only fair to have a look at the place and he says there’s a good international school Marco could go to, so I’d better check that out …’
Emma sounded troubled, but said we’d have a good catch-up when Des had flown off again. I wished he’d migrate permanently.
There seemed to be an endless demand for structural engineers in far-flung places, but he’d been involved in a lot of prestigious projects, so I suppose he was good at what he did, even if not brilliant at being a husband.
The first couple of times that Randal visited Mote Farm I’d been happy to see the back of him, but now when he returned to London to work out his notice, the house felt strangely empty … not to mention the mill, where he’d seemed to be everywhere at once.
For the next few weeks, however, he travelled back up again at every opportunity he got, though Lacey didn’t reappear … and nor did Guy, though he continued sending me occasional messages despite my even more infrequent replies.
I sincerely hoped Lacey had been telling the truth and there was nothing going on between them now … for Randal’s sake. I found, for all his abrupt bossy ways, I didn’t really want to see him hurt.
Liz was home again for the last of the summer holidays and had been helping Mercy, so I was free to spend long hours making crackers with the others for the ever-increasing orders.
The next year should be easier, because we’d be producing the new designs from January onwards, so it wouldn’t be an unusually late rush to get them out there.
Which was good, because I’d had little time to do any of my own work, other than the occasional greetings card design and lots of sketches. I was starting to long for the day when I had my studio and the opportunity to develop my work in different directions …
Liz saw my drawing of Randal when she was looking through my sketchbook one evening and she said she’d never seen him looking quite that peaceful and relaxed.
‘No, it was only because he was unconscious,’ I told her.
She grinned but said she thought we made a great team, while Lacey, who she hadn’t met yet, sounded exactly the wrong kind of girl for Randal. I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that.
As always, I missed her when she went back to school for the autumn term.
Summer had flown by and though it hadn’t been entirely all work and no play, since Mercy was a great one for organising impromptu picnics to the open-air riverside Lido over in the village of Sticklepond on hot days, it had certainly been exhausting – and as we moved ever closer to the day we’d open the mill to the public, which Mercy had decreed should be held on the last Saturday in September, it was only likely to get more so!
Randal finished work and came back up, though at some point in the future when things were less frantic, he’d have to empty and sell his flat.
His presence took a lot of weight from my shoulders; he seemed to have regained his health and his energy in one mighty bound.
It was due to Mercy Marwood’s magical cooking, I was convinced of it.
The Liberty special order was finally completed and dispatched, and the workers settled down to turning out the new crackers like clockwork Santa’s elves.
Speaking of which, at Emma’s suggestion I’d commissioned the couple who ran Marco’s theatre group to make Santa’s grotto. It would look like a cottage with a snowy roof and, inside, Santa would sit in front of a fireplace hung with Christmas stockings and receive the children.
It was basically two stage backdrops really, so it seemed the most economical way of doing it. They came and installed it and helped with the finishing touches, too: drifts of fake snow lining the path and the branches of the little fir trees around it.
Randal, who’d been inclined to take umbrage that I’d gone ahead and sorted this while he and Mercy were away, had to admit it was perfect … as was the Christmas shop.
Suzanne, Arlene’s friend, had taken charge of that and was unpacking the stock and setting up the displays. And the background electronic tape created by the friend of one of Arlene’s sons sounded wonderfully atmospheric.
Silas and I arranged the items in the cabinets in the museum rooms, which were now lined with information boards illustrated with blown-up family photographs evocative of the Victorian era. It was everything we’d hoped it would be: the story of a benevolent Quaker dynasty, trying to keep the local families in work and living above the poverty line.
I caught Randal in there having a good look and he said, ‘You’re quite the little Quaker yourself now, aren’t you? Going to meetings and helping Silas …’
‘I don’t go to the meetings regularly yet, I’m just an attender, but the more I find out about the Quaker ethos and history, like the way they always considered men and women equal and were involved in the abolition of slavery, the more I like it. It’s a very all-embracing and relaxing religion.’
‘I suppose it is,’ he agreed, and then went back to overseeing the fitting out of the new staff room.
He now had his own desk in the office, since the small back photocopying room has been knocked through into the main area, but he was seldom to be found sitting at it. He constantly snapped his orders at me or demanded my
help as if he’d again forgotten I was Mercy’s PA, not his, but then, sometimes he did remember and thank me. But I didn’t mind anyway, since I felt we were now all one big team working towards the same goal.
Occasionally he came up to the pub with us in the evening and, if Jude wasn’t around, played a mean game of dominoes.
By then the mill opening day was so close and there was so much for Randal to do that he’d been down to see Lacey only once and there was certainly no sign of her wanting to come up here and get involved in what we were doing.
And neither had there been any sighting of Guy, so either I’d entirely lost what little allure I had, or he had other fish to fry … and I hoped in the latter case it wasn’t a bronze beauty called Lacey.
Chapter 49: On the Case
Q:What did Adam say on the day before Christmas?
A:It’s Christmas, Eve!
Jeremy had been totally silent since his abortive visit so I hoped he’d given up and I could finally put the past behind me and forget about him …
But then one day Arlene came into the museum, where I was buffing up the old printing press to black and gold gleaming perfection, and announced, ‘Someone’s looking for you, Tabby.’
And there was Luke Dee, looking thin, tense and pale – but then, he always had reminded me of an anaemic tapeworm. I don’t think he noticed Randal, who I’d roped in to move the hand press and who was now adjusting a badly angled light in one of the display cabinets.
‘I went up to the house and some cleaning woman said you might be here,’ he said.
‘Well, as you see, I am, but I can’t imagine what you want this time,’ I said, feeling exasperated. ‘Did you know Kate and Jeremy had the gall to turn up a few weeks ago, demanding that stupid ring – which I haven’t got, by the way. I’ve no idea where it is.’
‘Yes, but I don’t care about that,’ he said. ‘It’s Kate. She thinks I’m going to let her walk all over me when we divorce and take half the house – which my parents gave us the deposit for – plus everything else of any value in it, including the car!’
‘Well, I’m sure I’m very sorry, Luke, but it really has nothing to do with me and—’
‘But it has,’ he interrupted. ‘When I told her she’d have to fight me through the courts before I’d give her anything I wasn’t forced to, she was livid.’
‘Hell hath no fury like a tapeworm scorned,’ I said, but he wasn’t listening.
‘When she’d gone I packed up all her stuff and dumped it on Jeremy’s drive and she came out and totally lost it. She said she didn’t know why she’d married me in the first place, but I was too stupid to realise she’d been having an affair with Jeremy all along.’
‘So was I,’ I said.
‘She said she’d realised what she was letting go and luckily she knew a way of getting rid of you, and then basically admitted she’d lied about your involvement in that scam so she could have Jeremy to herself.’
‘I’d sort of worked that out actually, Luke,’ I said. ‘It took me a while, but I got there.’
He stared at me. ‘But – aren’t you furious? I mean, you went to prison because of her lies!’
‘I was, but now I’ve moved on – or I’m trying to, if you lot would only leave me alone!’
‘I thought we could go to the police and I’d tell them what I know.’
‘Luke,’ I said patiently, ‘I can see you’d like to get back at her by getting her into trouble, but I’m not going to be part of it.’
‘But you must want justice? She ruined your life, just like she’s ruining mine.’
‘No, she hasn’t. In fact, she did me a good turn, because I love living here and I never want to leave.’
‘But – you could clear your name.’
I sighed wearily. ‘I always knew I was innocent and nothing will erase the time I spent in prison. It would be just my word against hers, too – so no, I don’t want to take it further. But thanks for telling me.’
He didn’t give up that easily, but in the end, frustrated and still angry, flounced out.
I said over my shoulder, ‘You can come out now, Randal,’ and he appeared from behind the big central showcase.
‘That was a bit awkward,’ he said. ‘He was well into it before I realised what he was saying, or I’d have left.’
Then he grasped my shoulders and held me at arm’s length, looking down at me and frowning. ‘So – you really weren’t involved in that scam?’
‘No, nor having an affair with my boss.’
‘I never really believed the affair part of it anyway,’ he said, ‘but once I’d got to know you a bit, I asked Charlie if he was sure you were guilty of the scam. And I’m sorry,’ he added.
‘That’s OK: as I said to Luke, it’s all turned out for the best.’
‘I really mean it – I am sorry, Tabby.’
I looked up at him and our eyes met and held … His were deep, green-flecked and mysterious as mountain tarns …
His hands tightened on my shoulders and we drew closer, just as we had that night in the garden … and then Mercy’s voice, calling my name, broke the spell of the moment and we stepped quickly apart. Or maybe Randal stepped away and I was the only one touched by the magic?
I only knew that, unlike Guy, I’d have let him kiss me, forgetting all about Lacey and my dreams of cosy singledom.
Randal must have told Charlie Clancy what Luke had said, because he turned up on Saturday, when Emma and Marco were visiting, to apologise in person.
I accepted his apology and told him I’d looked so guilty on the film that I didn’t really blame him. Then Mercy predictably invited him to stay to tea with us.
Emma had been inclined at first to cold-shoulder the man who had caused her best friend to go to prison, but was won over once he started playing with Marco, enacting duels with invisible swords, up and down the wide staircase in the hall.
In fact, it turned into a really fun afternoon, with even Randal joining in. I didn’t know he could do fun: he’d kept it pretty quiet till that moment.
Charlie seemed increasingly smitten with Emma as the afternoon wore on, to the point where he could hardly take his eyes off her … not that it was likely to get him anywhere, because she was still determined to fly out to Qatar at half term and give her marriage a chance.
Mercy invited Emma, Marco and Charlie to the opening day of the mill: but by then she had invited everyone!
There was one desperate last scramble to have everything ready on the morning the mill was to open, but finally the staff were in place, the pine and incense smell of Christmas was spicing the air and the faint jingling of bells and whistling of snowy breezes was drifting through the building.
Lillian and Joy were poised at a table behind one of the viewing windows ready to demonstrate their cracker-making skills and the sign at the bottom of the steps to the café had been turned round to read ‘Open’.
There was quite a crowd waiting outside for the moment when Mercy, beaming and rosy with happiness, cut the ribbon across the door and welcomed everyone to Friendship Mill. Most of the inhabitants of Little Mumming seemed to be there: all the Martlands, including Guy, Old Nan, the elderly vicar, Henry, and even Nancy Dagger and her father-in-law, Nick. And of course the cracker workforce and Arlene and her family, too.
The adverts Randal had placed in the local papers appeared to have brought in people from much further afield, as well.
Or perhaps it was the lure of today’s free tea, coffee, cold drinks and cakes in the café, which would be served till eleven thirty, after which the lunch service would start. Bluebell Lyon, who was running it, was going to serve coffee, lunch, cakes and afternoon tea till she closed at three every day, except our closing days, Sunday and Monday. Mercy had put her foot down about Sunday opening and wouldn’t be budged.
‘That’s archaic,’ sniffed Lacey, when she had finally made her appearance about an hour after the opening ceremony and been handed a leaflet about the
mill on the way in.
She’d been dropped off by Guy so late the previous evening that everyone but Randal, who waited up for her, had gone to bed. Then we’d all had to come down to the mill early, so we hadn’t seen her till now.
Randal was troubleshooting any glitches that came up, Mercy was giving the older Martlands tea and cakes upstairs, Silas had stationed himself in the museum and I was to relieve the two cracker-making demonstrators when they felt like a break, so Lacey was left to amuse herself.
Or rather, let Guy amuse her, because I saw them together in the café a little later, heads together and talking like a pair of conspirators – or maybe arguing like a pair of conspirators, because Lacey looked cross. One day the wind would change and her pretty face would stay that way.
The day passed in a blur and so did what seemed like an endless stream of people. They lingered at the viewing windows and over the museum displays, bought oodles of stuff in the shop and cleaned out all the hot lunch dishes in the café and most of the cakes.
‘Success beyond our wildest dreams!’ said Mercy, smiling happily once the last visitors had gone, the tills had been cashed up in the office and all the staff departed for home. The café closed earlier, of course, to allow time for cleaning the kitchens, but the agency would be sending in a team to take care of the rest of the building early on Monday morning.
‘Yes – and you must be exhausted,’ Randal said. ‘Silas went back home in the buggy soon after lunch.’
‘Oh, no, I’ve spent lots of time sitting in the café talking to friends – and even total strangers,’ she said cheerfully, ‘but perhaps I should leave you two to lock up and go back to the house, because of getting dinner ready, though when Lacey said earlier that she had a headache and was going back to lie down, I asked her to pop the casserole into a slow oven if she felt better later.’
This seemed an unusually domestic scenario for the glamorous Lacey.
‘My God, Lacey!’ exclaimed Randal. ‘I’d forgotten she was here, it’s all been so frantically busy. When did you see her, Mercy?’
A Christmas Cracker Page 31