What Happens At Christmas...

by T A Williams

  Holly decided not to press him on what sort of stuff had happened to break the camel’s back and send him home to the UK. Instead, she surprised herself. ‘And what about Dolores?’ If Holly hadn’t been drinking wine most of the day she wouldn’t have dared ask the question. As she heard herself speak the words, she began to sober up remarkably quickly.

  ‘Ah, yes, Dolores. She’s very attractive, isn’t she?’ Holly had to agree, so she nodded and he went on. ‘I met her a few months back. She interviewed me for a promotional thing the studio bullied me into doing on local TV down here. She was looking for somewhere to rent within an hour of work. I have a little cottage a few miles along the road towards Plymouth that I bought as an investment a few years back so, hey presto, she’s renting that place.’

  ‘She seems very affectionate towards you.’

  ‘I’m just a loveable character, I suppose. Anyway.’ Now it was his turn to change the subject. ‘So how come you’re on your own, if you are?’

  ‘I’m obviously just not a loveable enough character.’

  ‘Come on. You’ve got the richest man in this part of England eating out of your hand. All right, so he’s seventy-odd, but he’s got impeccable taste, and you’d have free foundation garments for the rest of your life.’

  For a moment, Holly was on the point of telling him she was invited for dinner with Justin the next night, but she decided not to say anything about him. Instead, she tried to give Jack an honest, rational answer. ‘I tell you this, Howard Redgrave’s a real sweetie. He reminds me of a benevolent grandfather.’ She paused for thought and then revised her description. ‘No, forget that; he reminds me of a slightly naughty old uncle. And he was very close to my dad, so that sort of strengthens the link as well.’

  ‘Well, leaving him out of the equation, it seems strange to me that you haven’t grabbed yourself some lucky guy, or am I barking up the wrong tree?’ There was a twinkle in his eye. ‘Or could it be that the raven-haired beauty beside you in the Porsche a couple of weeks back is your significant other?’ He winked at her. ‘Could it be that you prefer your Lassie to your Pal, to use a canine metaphor that our hairy friend lying down here on the floor might appreciate?’

  Holly found herself giggling. ‘Funnily enough, that raven-haired beauty suggested something very similar about you the other day.’

  He raised an eyebrow and smiled at her. ‘Really? Is that what you think?’ The atmosphere intensified around the kitchen table.

  Holly shook her head. ‘Funnily enough, I don’t.’

  There was silence between them for a full minute, during which Holly clearly felt her heart beating more rapidly, wondering if the next step would be for Jack to prove the veracity of his sexual orientation. She knew that she would have no intention of stopping him if he did. She dropped her eyes to her water glass and waited. Finally, he drained his remaining wine and stood up.

  ‘I’d better get off home. You’re looking tired.’

  Holly got up as well, conscious of the tension in the room and rather fearful that she had been the cause of it. She went across to the door with him. When they got there, he stopped and turned back. ‘Thanks a lot for a very nice impromptu dinner. I enjoyed our chat, Holly. I really did. And I’m always happy to meet this old fellow.’ The dog had followed them to the door and was standing back, waiting to see if he was going to go out for a walk.

  ‘Thank you for coming and for the wine, Jack. But I bought that for you. You should drink it yourself. But, do come round any time. I’ll be very pleased to see you.’

  He opened the door and left. No kiss, no hug, no handshake even. Nothing. Holly watched as he walked to the gate and then closed the door softly. She rested her back against the coats hanging there and shook her befuddled head to clear it. Of course he wasn’t gay. She had sensed a sexual tension in the room a few minutes earlier with origins that were most certainly heterosexual. But, at the same time, she was woman enough to sense his hesitation. Something was wrong, but what? And what about her? Now that her lumberjack had magically morphed into a Hollywood great, did this now make him more attractive? Did it matter if she found him attractive? Was he destined to just be a friend? She just couldn’t work him out.

  Holly looked down into the two big brown eyes staring at her from the floor. ‘I think a breath of air will do us both good, Stirling. Coming for a walk?’

  At least the dog’s response was utterly predictable.

  Day Six

  Wednesday

  Melissa’s little get-together with the ladies of the village came as a shock to the system for Holly. First there was the fact that she was quite a considerable lot younger than most of the group, second that the group consisted of no fewer than seven women, all quite obviously keen to find out as much about her as they could, and thirdly for the surroundings. Melissa and Bertie’s house was like something from a very elegant bygone age.

  The coffee arrived in blue and white willow pattern porcelain cups, their handles so delicate Holly was afraid of breaking them. They were accompanied by matching milk jug, saucers and side plates, complemented by silver teaspoons and embroidered linen napkins. A cut glass bowl full of sugar lumps, along with a pair of silver tongs, took pride of place in the middle, even though nobody took any. Every single chair was an antique masterpiece and the coffee table itself was an exquisite piece of workmanship with the slenderest bowed legs holding it up. The walls of the room were covered with old oil paintings of landscapes, seascapes, animals and venerable gentlemen, and there was hardly any free space left. The central chandelier was composed of so many bulbs, Holly lost count.

  Melissa, her Marge Simpson blue hair now even more striking in daylight, introduced Holly to the other ladies. Their ages ranged from maybe late thirties to closer to ninety. Holly smiled and shook hands with them all in turn, finishing with the two sitting closest to her on the sofa. As she did so, suddenly, the morning became a whole lot more interesting. There was no doubt about it. The younger lady, introduced to her as Amanda, was the same busty redhead Holly had seen alongside her father in Howard’s 2012 photo yesterday. The brunette, Susan, had been in the 2014 photo arm in arm with him. Surely, one of these had to be the source of the lilies on his grave. Holly settled down to what would, she sincerely hoped, prove to be an informative morning. First, however, she had to brave a veritable broadside of questions.

  She had to field questions as random and varied as where she had gone to school, whether her blonde hair was natural and where she bought her shoes. Those were the easy ones. The ones concerning her father and, inevitably, her mother, proved trickier. She did her best to answer as truthfully as possible, except when she deemed the questions to be too personal. These, she just dismissed as diplomatically as possible, with, ‘I really wouldn’t know,’ or, ‘I’m afraid my mother’s the only one who could answer that.’

  Gradually, she weathered the storm and started asking a few questions in return. She discovered that Melissa’s husband Bertie had been in the antiques business for many years and everything in the house had come from auctions and house clearances. One of the other ladies was a retired high court judge, another a former missionary. She chatted with Amanda, the redhead on the sofa beside her and found that they got on well together. She was divorced or separated, while the brunette turned out to be the wife of the professional at the Castle golf club.

  It was clear that they all knew her father well and she learnt a lot of new things about him in the space of the hour and a half that she was there. She heard of his amazing repertoire of funny stories, his ability to imitate any number of different accents and his undoubted charm. One or two of the ladies rolled their eyes when describing his boyish good looks and athletic physique. Yet again, the one thing that emerged quite clearly to Holly was that her father had been a popular and well-loved member of Brookford society.

  Finally, Melissa gave Holly a white card, printed in gold, inviting her to a lunchtime drinks party the following day. ‘Sorry
it’s such short notice for you, Holly, but I do hope you’ll be able to come. All these ladies here will be coming and quite a few other people you already know, I’m sure.’

  Holly thanked her and accepted, for two reasons. First, it seemed the right thing to do to attempt to bond with the inhabitants of Brookford, at least for her dad’s sake. Second, because that would hopefully give her the chance to get Amanda or Susan alone for a chat to find out if they could tell her any more about her father.

  Holly was still reflecting on all the things she had heard about her father as she walked home. Of all the little snippets of information to emerge from the coffee morning one of the most fascinating was the fact that he had always been impeccably dressed. One or two of the ladies had agreed that his clothes were flashy. While Holly didn’t for one moment think that any item in her expensive wardrobe could possibly be described as flashy, she did see a parallel here. Even more stunning, however, was the discovery that he was well known for his obsession with cleanliness. Visitors to his house had always been struck by the spotlessness of the interior of his house with everything scrupulously in its place. Once again she had to agree that this sounded very, very familiar. The more she learnt about her father, the more she was coming round to seeing just how very, very similar she and he had been. And yet, she thought angrily, he and she had been artificially separated for a quarter of a century.

  She was still feeling angry when she turned the corner from the green and saw a smart little blue Fiat 500 parked outside Jack’s door. This didn’t do anything to reduce her sense of annoyance. Having seen it before, she had no doubt who the owner was. It looked as if Dolores was paying Jack another visit. Maybe she had just come round to pay the rent, but somehow, Holly had definitely got the feeling that Dolores would have happily given him more than that. Whether Jack would have accepted or refused the offer remained to be seen. She snorted as she put the key in the lock and opened her door.

  Inside, Bob Banks the plumber was just finishing off. His van had arrived at seven-thirty, before Holly and Stirling had even got up. Seeing the headlights, she had jumped out of bed, pulled on some clothes and let him in. Since then, he had been working on the installation of the new boiler. When she got back from Melissa’s coffee morning, he had almost completed the job. By one o’clock, he had finished and Holly thanked him profusely for getting it done so quickly. His final words to her were the ones he had used before. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  Holly decided to skip lunch and go to the Teign Valley Store, determined to stock up with food for the holiday period, bearing in mind that Julia was bringing her boyfriend, and that there was the possibility of snow. Holly remembered Jack’s story of the bad snowstorm some years ago when the village had been cut off, and she intended on taking no chances. She decided to take Stirling with her, and when he stopped to cock his leg on Dolores’s front tyre for a second time on the way out, she didn’t scold him. In fact, very quietly, she whispered, ‘There’s a good boy.’

  This was the dog’s first outing in Greta and, to start off with, he wasn’t too sure about getting into the car or about sitting perched on the tiny back seat. She even tried folding the seat back down to form a sort of parcel shelf, but that didn’t help. He spent most of the journey sitting upright, his long nose resting on her shoulder, his head totally obscuring the rear view mirror, and she wondered what a policeman would say if he saw her. There were few people about and no sign of the police, so she didn’t worry unduly about it, although she could have done without his slobbering on her neck.

  She decided to give him a walk as they crossed the high moors. She parked in a lay-by and they set off over the open moorland together. Although the sky was overcast, it wasn’t raining, and the footpaths through the heather and bracken weren’t particularly muddy. Holly was pleased to find that her new trainers were easily able to cope with the conditions and, although there was a bitterly cold wind, she and Stirling soon warmed up as they climbed up to one of the iconic hilltop tors; solid granite rock formations sculpted by the elements over millennia. The view from up here was spectacular and Holly could even see as far as a grey line in the distance that was the English Channel.

  They encountered sheep, hairy black cattle and Dartmoor ponies – some of them mothers with foals. If the predicted snow really did arrive, she hoped they would all be able to find shelter, as they looked very exposed up here. She remembered Mr Cookson, the farmer, telling her he was moving his animals down to lower ground, so maybe these would also be looked after. Stirling ran around excitedly, covering three or four times the ground she did, but always coming back when she called. She was delighted to see that Mrs Edworthy had been right. He totally ignored all the livestock and only chased a lone rabbit who disappeared into a jumble of rocks. Her dad had trained him well.

  When they got down to the Store, she stocked up with food and bought some Christmas decorations. There was no way she would be able to fit a Christmas tree into the Porsche, so she resolved to ask Jack when she got back if he had any contacts. As it was, she only just managed to squeeze the shopping into the car, carefully keeping the bags containing food away from the ever hungry dog.

  When she got back home again, the first thing she noticed was that the little Fiat was no longer parked outside Jack’s house. She dumped the shopping bags on the table and returned to the car for the rest of the shopping. Once she had finished carrying in the shopping she sat down at the kitchen table. Stirling appeared at her side and nudged her gently, but insistently, with his nose. Holly looked down at him.

  ‘Sorry, Stirling, I almost forgot your lunch.’ She got up, prepared his bowl of food and set it on the floor. Then she spent ten minutes squeezing the food she had bought into the fridge. When this was all done, she made herself a cup of tea and took a couple of biscuits out of the packet in the fridge. She wasn’t very hungry after the cakes at Melissa’s house, so this would do her until the evening when she was going out with Justin.

  Now that Dolores had left, she decided it would be safe to go and ask Jack about the Christmas tree. Stirling had taken to his bed by this time, so she left him in the house while she went over to Jack’s door. She rang the bell and waited. He opened it almost immediately.

  ‘Hello, neighbour.’ He gave her a smile. ‘Tea, coffee, wine?’

  She smiled back. ‘Erm, no thanks; I’ve just had tea. I’m looking for something a bit more substantial. I don’t suppose you know of anywhere I could still get a Christmas tree at this late date, do you?’

  ‘Come on in.’ He beckoned and she walked into the kitchen, getting a surprise to see it now festooned with Christmas decorations. ‘Happy Christmas!’ He pointed to a seat. ‘I’ve just made a pot of tea. Sure you won’t join me?’

  Holly started to shake her head and then weakened. Somehow the idea of spending time with him really did have considerable appeal. ‘Oh, all right then. I’ve just had one mug of tea, but another won’t hurt.’ She sat down and waited to hear if he could help with a Christmas tree. He still had his same old jeans, but he was only wearing a t-shirt on his top half, and he looked flushed. For a moment Holly wondered if Dolores had only just left and he was still in a post-coital glow. He soon explained the rather less romantic reason for looking hot.

  ‘I had Dolores here a few hours ago.’ Holly looked up, waiting with dread for a tale of their sexual exploits, but she needn’t have worried. ‘Her drains were all blocked up. You know, in the cottage she’s renting off me? Well, she wasn’t a happy bunny today. She’s got some important meeting thing this afternoon and the water was overflowing in her bathroom, so she couldn’t take a shower, and she was panicking. Anyway, long story short, she came here with her change of clothes and used my bathroom while I went there with my drain rods and a bucket. I’ve just come back from spending the best part of an hour lying stretched out on my side with my arm down a drain, trying to unblock it.’

  Holly was grinning by now. ‘And did you manage?’
<
br />   He nodded. ‘Finally, yes. And do you know what the blockage was?’

  Holly shook her head, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

  ‘A hedgehog.’

  ‘A hedgehog? A dead hedgehog?’

  ‘Bloody right it was dead. What I’ve been trying to work out is what the hell a hedgehog was doing down a drain. He should have been safely tucked up somewhere hibernating by now. All I can imagine is that the poor old thing fell into an open manhole somewhere along the way and got washed down until his body finally got stuck, jamming the pipe.’ He smiled at her and waved his palms in her direction. ‘It’s all right, I’ve been cleaning my hands for the last ten minutes with the stuff I use for washing the kitchen floor and a scouring cloth. I haven’t got much skin left, but what’s left is definitely clean. Now, about that tea.’

  He poured two mugs of tea and joined her at the table. ‘Right, so you’re looking for a Christmas tree? Four days before Christmas?’ He grinned. ‘Nobody could accuse you of putting the decorations up too soon.’

  ‘I know. I’m normally really organised. It’s just with everything that’s been happening lately, I’ve rather let Christmas slip. I bought a few baubles and some bits and pieces of tinsel this afternoon, but most of the good stuff had already gone, unless you’re into glow in the dark Santas and plastic gnomes.’

  Jack nodded. ‘I’ve got a few streamers, but otherwise I use natural stuff.’ Holly looked round the room. He had laid holly branches across the tops of the cupboards and hung ivy from the beams. In the corner of the room he had a small Christmas tree. She couldn’t see any mistletoe. ‘If you cross the stream on the little wooden bridge, there’s loads of ivy and still some holly with good red berries here and there all the way up to the moor. Take a bag and some secateurs and you can collect whatever you want.