'I'll leave that up to you, dear hearts,' he said. 'There are a few things I need to do this evening. You don't mind if I leave you for an hour or two, do you?' He didn't wait for a reply, before disappearing with his coffee for the remainder of the evening.
It was as if a cloud descended. No sooner had her dad scampered than her mum said she had some presents to wrap for the Women's Institute meeting the following evening and if Juliet didn't mind, she would go and do that now so that tomorrow would be completely free.
A second or two later, Zoe told Juliet she was shattered.
'It's been a really long day, sis and I fell over this afternoon when I was walking Cinnamon. I'm fine,' she said, gesturing stop with her hand before Juliet asked the question. 'Every bone in my body is aching now though. I think a long, hot bath is actually what I need. Would you mind if we caught up in the morning? You could probably do with an early night after your journey anyway.' She simply smiled as she rose to leave and gave Juliet another quick hug before dashing into the hall.
Juliet let out a little sigh. 'Well, Cinnamon. It looks like it's just you and me.'
Cinnamon raised her head a fraction, one long, red furry ear flopping across one eye before letting out a louder sigh than Juliet's and dropping her head back to the floor as if it was all too much effort. That was followed by a brief trumpeting sound and a smell like rotten eggs permeated the scent of spices lingering in the air.
'Cinnamon!' Juliet screwed up her face and waved her hand in front of her nose to try to bat away the awful smell.
Cinnamon smacked her jaws together a few times, stretched out one paw and made a self-satisfied, rumbling whine of contentment from deep within her throat.
'Thanks. What a great homecoming this is turning out to be.'
Juliet glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, festooned with sprigs of holly and mistletoe. At half past eight on a Sunday night in Bristol, she would be curled up in front of the TV watching some drama or other on the BBC, a bowl of Marks and Spencer winter berries and prosecco crisps on the side table together with a bottle of prosecco to wash them down. If she searched the cupboards, she would probably find both, and if she kept the volume low on the TV in the sitting room, she wouldn't disturb her family. But somehow the thought of it made her feel even more melancholy than she had earlier. To be alone in her flat watching TV was one thing. To be in a warm and cosy cottage surrounded by her family, and to do that, was a different thing entirely.
She got up and wandered into the dining room. The antique mahogany table still looked incongruous in here; and that was without its extension leaves. In the dining room of The Grange, it had looked perfect and had room to spare even with the three extensions added and surrounded by thirty matching chairs. Here, if they had guests, everyone had to breathe in to squeeze between the walls and the backs of the eight chairs they'd brought with them.
Now, with the chairs pushed in she could walk to the window – but she soon wished she hadn't. From here she had a clear view of Mistletoe Park, across the road from the cottage. It had once belonged to The Grange but was sold off over one hundred years ago and was now common land, managed by the local council. The massive Christmas tree with its myriad coloured lights stood at one end, opposite the church, and she could see the glow in the dark, though not the tree itself.
If she turned her head to the left, she could see Mistletoe Mount at the other end of the park. At the top stood The Grange and although she told herself not to, she couldn't stop from looking up at the house she and her family had once called home. And possibly still would, if it hadn't been for Harrison Bow and his grandad.
The house reflected her mood as she stared at it. Not one light could be seen. It looked cold, forbidding and depressing. She could only make out the shape of it in the darkness but she still knew every inch of it – unless the Bows had changed it, of course. She had been told they hadn't, but who knew with that lot? Every word they spoke was a lie. Perhaps they'd ripped out its ancient heart of oak, plus the later Georgian additions and painted everything white, modernising it all.
In the days the Bells lived there, the place shone out like a beacon. The wood floors were polished until you could almost see your own reflection, the fires in every room were lit, the lights burned bright from dusk till dawn and the windows glowed with a warm welcome. This time of year, every tree within fifty feet of the house would have been dressed in fairy lights, together with a massive Christmas tree, or two. Candle lanterns were lit in the drive. A large wreath hung on the doors which were surrounded by boughs of pine entwined with holly and mistletoe. Cars would queue to park outside as guests of the family piled into the cosy interior, looking forward to all the forthcoming festivities. Food and drink would flow as easily as the conversations; games would be played, carols sung; long walks taken on frosty mornings in the woods behind the house; ice skating on the lake in the grounds; and on Boxing Day, they would ride their horses and the antique carriages through the park.
Even after twenty years, Juliet missed it all so much it hurt. She had been able to keep her own horse, Morning Star, for a while, though he was long since dead. The rest, together with the carriages and virtually everything else apart from a few items of furniture and personal family possessions, had been sold with The Grange and what remained of the estate after centuries of dwindling funds in the Bell family's coffers.
The tail lights of a car were approaching The Grange and she peered at them in the distance as the vehicle came to a halt. The hall light went on and a shaft of yellow beamed onto the drive as the front door burst open. The Grange was little more than the size of a doll's house from where she stood but she could see someone running towards the car in the beam of light and two more people getting out of it. Just black stick figures silhouetted in the darkness and the light.
Her heartbeat quickened as she watched them and when she brushed a lock of hair from her face, a river of ice ran through her.
Was one of those people Harrison Bow?
Chapter Four
'You're here!'
'Damn,' Harrison said, getting out of the car and grinning at his exuberant young brother. 'I knew I'd taken the wrong turning. I was hoping to be in New York.'
'Yeah, yeah.' Luke bear hugged him.
'Been working out?' Harrison raised an eyebrow and looked Luke up and down, holding him at arm's length now. Luke spent every spare hour in the gym or in the pool. Appearance meant a great deal to him. It still amazed Harrison how different they were. Harrison couldn't care less about such things.
Luke shrugged nonchalantly and grinned. 'Oh, you know. You should try it bro. You're getting on a bit now. You don't want to end up like the old man.'
Harrison stiffened at the mention of their grandfather but he continued the friendly banter. 'Not so much of it, kid. Thirty-eight is the new eighteen. Haven't you heard? Which makes you about five. So say hello to Kiki and run along like a good boy and tell Daphne we're here.'
Luke's grin broadened. 'I told her the minute I heard your car.' He tipped his head to one side and smiled at Kiki. 'Hi Kiki. Welcome to the dungeon. It's a jolly place, as you can see. We don't have any staff other than Daphne and a couple of people who do the cleaning. Oh, and a gardener. But Daphne's the only one here at this time of the night, so if you need a hand with your bags, it'll have to be mine.'
Kiki smiled. 'Hi, Luke. I can manage, thanks.'
'That Merc sounds like it's on its last legs, too,' Luke said, returning his attention to Harrison. 'Isn't it time you traded it in for a new one?'
Harrison opened the boot and handed a plain black leather holdall to Luke. 'It's a vintage Mercedes. You don't trade in vintage cars for new ones. Haven't you learnt anything from all your years living here with the old man?' He grabbed a second matching holdall which he threw over his shoulder along with Kiki's Louis Vuitton one and put her matching suitcase on the ground, extending the handle before grabbing his laptop bag and handing it to Luke. 'Guard that
with your life.' A moment later they all headed towards the house.
'Most people don't drive their vintage cars around in the snow.' Luke gave him a mock look of disapproval.
'Ah. So you have learnt something. You believe things of value should be hidden from sight and only brought out to show off to everyone before being locked away again. I don't follow that philosophy. I believe if you own something lovely you should enjoy it.'
Luke peered around Harrison and grinned at Kiki. 'Did you enjoy the drive down here? I bet you'd have preferred to be in my brand new BMW, wouldn't you?'
'Not with you at the wheel, no.' She threw him a smile. 'Where is it?'
He gave a bark of laughter and darted a look at Harrison. 'Locked away in the garage. But only because it was such a fantastic present from my big bro and I want to look after it.'
Harrison tutted. 'You've crashed it already, haven't you? How long did that take? You've only had it for five weeks.'
Luke shoved the front door further open with his backside and frowned. 'I haven't crashed it.'
Harrison raised his brows. 'Really?'
'Yes. Really. It's in the garage because of this weather. Snow does untold damage to paintwork you know.' Luke put the holdall on the floor and sighed. 'Oh, okay. But it's only a tiny scratch. Hardly visible, in fact. And it happened today. Because I was rushing to be back here in time for your arrival. I thought you'd get here around five, not well after eight. Some idiot had parked outside Dobbie's and the wing mirror caught mine as I drove by.'
Harrison shook his head. 'Don't you mean you hit the wing mirror of the other car as you sped past? I assume you stopped to check if you'd done any damage to their vehicle?'
'In this weather? It was during the blizzard we had earlier and I'd gone past before I realised. Anyway, I only clipped it so at worst, it'll have a tiny scratch, like mine. Hardly worth exchanging insurance details for that.'
'But worth offering to pay for the repair, if necessary. God, Luke. Don't turn out like the old man and think you can just breeze through life and run over anyone or anything that gets in your way.'
'I don't. And I'm nothing like Grandfather, believe me. I didn't think, that's all. I was in a rush and it's not the first time I've clipped wing mirrors. It never causes much damage.'
'Even so. Did you recognise the car? Was it someone local?'
'I could hardly see it in the blizzard. But if it'll make you happy, I'll ask around tomorrow and if I find out whose car it was, I'll offer to pay for the damage. Okay?'
'Good. Ah, Daphne. Hello. How are you?'
'Good evening, Harrison. I'm well, thank you. And yourself?'
'Fine thanks. This is Kiki, my assistant. And friend,' he added hastily as he walked towards the ornate, central staircase. 'Which room have you allocated? I may as well take the bags up straight away.'
'The Rose room.' Daphne turned and smiled at Kiki. 'I hope you like it. It's one of the most feminine and has a beautiful view over the rose gardens at the side of the house and down towards the park. No roses at this time of year of course, but the winter bedding is always colourful although due to all this snow, you can't even see that at the moment. But the room gets the early evening light and it's bright and cosy. It's also close to Harrison's and I thought, as you're here working, you'd want to be nearby.'
'Absolutely. Thank you, Daphne,' Kiki said. 'I'm sure I'll love it.'
'The Rose room?' Harrison hesitated for a milli-second, halfway up the stairs. 'No, that's fine. Follow me, Kiki and I'll show you.'
She hurried after him and as they turned right at the top of the stairs and walked along the hall, she said, 'Oh wow. They've all got little paintings below the names. And such pretty writing. Which room is yours? Or does it have 'Harrison's room. Keep out' and a painting of a skull and crossbones or something below it?'
He grinned at her and nodded at a door with the words, 'Lake room' in beautiful, calligraphic handwriting, above a tiny painting of a lake. 'That's mine. It overlooks the lake, oddly enough.'
They also passed 'Sundown room' before they reached Kiki's, and Harrison waited for her to ask.
'Whose room is that one?'
'Luke's.'
'So where's your grandad's room?'
'At the other end of the house. He's in the 'Twilight room'. Which is actually quite apt in so many ways.'
'And Daphne's?'
'Willow room. It overlooks a willow bed. But they're not all named for their view. Some, like the Floral room, are named for the internal decoration.'
'Fascinating.'
He grinned at her. 'You mean boring. But it's better than having a number on each door, and with twenty bedrooms, it could easily get confusing.' He opened her bedroom door and switched on the light and then, almost to himself added, 'I'd forgotten how beautiful this is.'
'Twenty bedrooms? I didn't realise it was so big. I mean, it looks it from the outside but even so. Your grandad must be loaded to keep this place going.'
'What? Oh yes. It certainly isn't cheap. I'll leave you to get settled in, but you won't have long. Luke wanted us to have dinner with him and that'll be at nine. Hopefully, the old man will have eaten earlier so he'll only join us for a drink beforehand, and he'll go off to his room. Come downstairs as soon as you're ready. Let Daphne know if there's anything you need.'
Kiki smiled and glanced around the room as she entered. 'Wow. I feel as if I've stepped back in time. I should've brought a flapper dress and long strings of pearls. Is there an en suite?'
'No need to look so panicked.' He walked towards one of the walls which were covered in hand-painted, rambling roses and pushed one of the rose buds. A door swung open revealing a fully equipped, relatively modern bathroom, along with a claw-foot, bath. 'The en suites were added in the early nineteen hundreds and several were hidden like this one. Purely for aesthetic reasons. Prior to that there were more bedrooms, but many were divided up to form the en suites. Most have been updated recently. See you downstairs.' He smiled at her and left.
Only as he went into his own room and took in the sheer beauty of it did he realise that Kiki hadn't said she liked her room. His boasted intricately carved woodwork, ornate ceiling, antique light fittings, large, Georgian windows and original shutters. And the Rose room was one of the prettiest in the house. In fact, it had been Juliet's room when she and her family had lived at The Grange. He could remember her telling him that she loved the view over the park, down to the church, and the river, the old stone bridge, and the apple orchards beyond.
His fists clenched unwittingly and he could feel the tightness in his jaw. He should've had a word with Daphne about the rooms. He shouldn't have allowed Kiki to have that one.
He cursed himself under his breath. He was being ridiculous. It was a room, not a living, breathing thing with feelings and memories. The room wouldn't care who slept in it and Juliet would never know.
Even if by some chance they bumped into one another while he was here, they were hardly likely to discuss The Grange. In fact, they were hardly likely to discuss anything. They weren't on speaking terms. They hadn't spoken for twenty years.
But if, by some miracle they did, would Juliet be likely to admit she had been wrong? And could he, even after all this time, forgive and forget the things she said?
He dumped his bags on the floor, shrugged off his coat, slung it over an armchair and turned to head back downstairs. Why was he even thinking about Juliet bloody Bell? He was obviously tired. What he needed was a drink or two, and a good meal. Followed, perhaps, by a game of billiards with Luke.
He shot a glance at the closed door of the Rose room before marching down the stairs. Perhaps one of the other bedrooms could be made up. After all, Kiki didn't seem exactly thrilled by the room. She might actually prefer to be in one of the others.
He'd have a word with Daphne and see.
Chapter Five
Merry's Christmas Tree Farm was on the outskirts of Michaelmas Bay, a town fifteen miles or
so away, but Juliet and her family felt it was well worth the trip, even in such snowy conditions. Besides, it was much milder this morning. Unseasonably warm, according to the radio presenter. The clouds had dissipated, the sun was shining and the snow was already starting to thaw as they drove to the farm at ten that morning. This was where they had purchased their tree every year since Robin Merry, the youngest son of arable farmers, Ashley and Ava Merry, had run the Christmas tree farm.
Robin began it as a sideline when he was a young boy and word of mouth ensured that his popularity had grown, year on year. He sold the trees from one particular field at the entrance to the main farm and a wooden sign went up the moment Merry's Christmas Tree Farm was open for business, usually in the second week of December.
A few years ago, Robin converted a shepherd's hut and made it look like an igloo on the outside. Inside, sheepskin rugs lay on a dark wood floor and in one corner a large cast iron pot containing mulled wine, simmered on a wood burning stove. There was a wooden bench and a small table, plus several large, comfy cushions scattered around the floor, with Christmas-themed curtains at the windows and the front door. It looked more like one of those upmarket glamping places than it did his office-cum-shop, and Juliet was pleased to see it hadn't changed since last year.
'Merry Christmas,' Robin said, beaming at Juliet and her family as they pulled up outside his office and got out of her dad's car. His Santa hat sat lopsided on a shock of hair the colour of golden treacle which framed his ruddy complexion. 'Lovely to see you again, Rosa, Bernard, Zoe and Juliet. The snow's a bit deep today but I've picked out a few trees I thought you might like. If you don't want one of those though, feel free to take a walk around.'
One of the reasons Robin was so popular was that he seemed to have a knack of, not only remembering all his customers by name, but also exactly what they were looking for, even though he only saw many of them once a year, during December.
Bells and Bows on Mistletoe Row Page 3