The water shot up her nose and trickled into her ears. Snow looked nice, white and fluffy. As soon as it came into contact with body heat it turned into icy cold water. She made the fatal mistake of inhaling deeply, taking a mouthful of combined snow and earth and choking wildly.
Two strong hands grabbed her underneath the arms and hauled her upwards, extricating the foot from the boot that had welded her to the ground. Her sock-clad foot instantly went to the ground and the coldness shot up her leg.
Andrew was laughing at her. He wasn’t even trying to pretend that he wasn’t. This was a shoulder-shaking doubled-over laughing attack. She gave him the biggest shove that she could, sending him flying onto the snow. He landed right next to her boot, but it didn’t stop him laughing.
She grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at him, but it was too soft and powdery to form a proper snowball. “Is that the best you can do?”
She blew her wet hair off her face. “Look at me, I’m soaked. You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”
He didn’t even make an attempt to stand up. “I might have. You forget. I’ve spent years crossing these fields – just not in a pair of boots like these.” He reached over with one hand and yanked the stuck boot from the ground. “Here, stick it back on. It’s a long way up that hill.”
“We’re still going?”
“Of course we’re still going. I thought you wanted to get on to that website.”
She looked over at the hill. From the house it hadn’t looked too far. But from here, standing in the middle of the field it seemed miles away. Trudging across a snow-covered muddy field was a lot tougher than it seemed. She could already feel her heart thudding in her chest and the heat rising from her body.
She let out a sigh. “I do. We have to – if we want to have anything that resembles a Christmas dinner tomorrow.”
He pushed himself up from the snow, ignoring the fact his jeans were soaked to the skin and held out his hand towards her. “Come on then. If your boots get stuck again, I’ll give you a backie.”
“I haven’t heard that expression in years. Not since I was at school.”
He started walking in long strides, pulling her along with him “Can you remember that far back?”
She shrieked. “Cheeky! You can talk. You’re older than me.” She pulled his hand to stop him walking so quickly. “What age are you anyway?”
“Thirty.”
“Snap.”
His head whipped around. “I thought you were twenty-six.”
“I am. On my online profile. Come on, Andrew, you must know that all female presenters lie about their age. That’s normal in this job.” She shrugged. “Maybe this time next year I’ll decide I’m only twenty-five.”
“You don’t need to lie about anything Juliette. You’re a very attractive woman. Rod was a complete fool.” They’d started walking again, and she stumbled at his compliment. It was unexpected. And a little embarrassing.
“Come on, Andrew. My feet are squelching, my hair is hanging like straw and my face is probably as red as my jacket. I hardly think anyone would find me attractive right now.”
“I do.” The most simple words in the world. She sucked in a breath. The cold air smarted her throat.
“Oh, come on, Andrew. I’m a mess. And I’m probably going to get replaced next year on the show. Kenny’s already looking at younger presenters – he just doesn’t know that I know.” Her voice tailed off. “That’s just the way things are these days.”
Andrew spun around and put his hands on her shoulders. “Why on earth would Kenny replace you? You’re the best presenter the channel has got. You’re beautiful. You’re intelligent. But most importantly you’re interested. You’ve no idea the idiots I have to work with. Believe me, Juliette, they’d be nuts to let you go.”
There was a real fire in his eyes. A real intensity to his words. Something burned inside her. The last twenty-four hours of wishful thinking and currents in the air between them. The momentum was building. Her fingers itched to reach up and touch the stubble on his chin. To brush across the tiny scar just under his chin and ask him where he’d got it. As for his lips…
“Juliette, is this about Rod?” The words cut her fantasy dead.
“What?”
“Don’t you dare let that idiot affect your confidence. So what if he replaced you with an eighteen-year-old topless model? He obviously wanted someone on the same intelligence level as himself. The guy was no match for you. No match at all. You were way out of his league.”
There was such passion in his words. Such intensity. For a few seconds she almost believed him. But the truth was she looked and felt like crap. Sleeping in a strange, cold house had rattled her nerves. The uncertainty of maybe getting replaced in a job she loved was making her jittery. Wondering if she might never get a Christmas dinner was making her tetchier than she could ever have imagined. And not quite knowing how she felt about the man standing in front of her? That was just adding to the confusion in her already befuddled brain. She was tired. She’d spent much of last night reading the fascinating history of the house and the Campbells. She was starting to think thoughts about Andrew that were completely unprofessional. So unprofessional they brought a smile to her face and a rush of blood through her veins.
It was a nice antidote to the last few days of looking in the mirror and putting her hands over her breasts, feeling inadequate and completely rejected.
She gave her best attempt at a smile. “I know I shouldn’t be upset about Rod. I know that. But Christmas is a crap time of year to be on your own. Everyone else in the world seems to be part of a happy couple or happy family. It’s the first time I’ve ever really looked at my age and wondered what I was doing with my life.”
He lifted up a finger and twirled it around a strand of her wet hair. “I thought that’s what people did every Christmas. That’s normal for me, Juliette. I don’t know any alternative.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. She’d never expected him to say anything like that. She’d always imagined in years gone by he’d have a whole host of gorgeous women to spend time with. Somehow the thought of Andrew on his own just didn’t sit right with her.
“You’ve never spent Christmas with your family – your girlfriend – your friends?”
He gave the slightest shake of his head. “Not for years. I had a brother. He died when I was twelve. My mum and dad just couldn’t do Christmas after that. They still got me presents, but all the other traditions went out the window. The tree, the decorations, the dinner.”
Juliette’s stomach clenched, her hand flew over her mouth. “But why didn’t you say anything when I moaned at you last night? I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She glanced back towards the house. “This place must bring back a whole host of memories you don’t need. Do you want to go someplace else?”
“No.” His voice was quiet but determined.
“What happened to your brother?”
He bit his lip. “Douglas had a form of leukaemia. Treatments weren’t very advanced then and he became sick really quickly. He was my best friend. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. Dad died twelve years later and mum quickly showed signs of early onset dementia. She’s actually the happiest I’ve ever seen her in the nursing home. It’s as if getting away from the house lifted a whole heap of bad memories from her system.”
He was looking right at her. It was as if he’d finally had a chance to offload. Andrew Campbell was a guy who played his cards close to his chest. He hardly gave anything away. “Sometimes you have to make new memories, Juliette. When you mentioned the decorations and the tree last night it made me realise what a sad place Garnock Hall was. It’s time that things changed. My brother and I used to love picking a tree from the forest, helping Dad cut it down and dragging it back to the house. Why shouldn’t I do that again?” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Maybe it will scare the ghosts away.”
She laughed and put her hands on the front of his chest. “I didn�
��t mean to put you in an awkward position.”
His mood was definitely lightening. “You can’t get more awkward than a thirty-year-old man who doesn’t have a clue about Christmas dinner inviting a pretty girl back to stay.” He reached up and grabbed her hand. “Let’s get to the top of this hill and see if we can get a signal on your tablet. I’m beginning to like the sound of Christmas dinner in Garnock Hall.”
His fingers threaded through hers and she didn’t object. The dampness of her clothes and hair, along with her squelching feet were forgotten. She’d been feeling sorry for herself. She hadn’t even imagined what he was going through. She was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t even stopped to think.
There was something nice about the warmth of his fingers mixing with hers. It was reassuring. And even though her legs were burning on the climb up the hill it was a welcome distraction.
By the time they reached the top she was breathing hard.
“Right,” said Andrew. “We should get some sort of signal up here. What was the name of that website?”
Juliette pulled out the tablet. There was a flicker in the top right hand corner. A few milliseconds of one bar of a 3G signal. She typed quickly. “It’s Bramble House Blog. It’s based somewhere in the US but apparently has international Christmas recipes on it. One of the girls at work was raving about it. She said their cinnamon and chocolate rolls were to die for.”
“I thought we were looking for a turkey recipe and stuffing?”
She met his gaze with a grin. “We are. But a girl’s got to have chocolate. Haven’t you learned anything?”
She started to walk around, shifting her tablet from place to place in an attempt to get a better signal. “I’ve got it!” she shrieked as it finally connected.
“Quick.” Andrew’s head was right on her shoulder. “Find out how to cook the turkey first.”
She pulled up the page. For a few seconds the signal faltered and they both held their breath. Then it appeared. Christmas Turkey and Stuffing. “Read it! Memorize it!” They started reciting the ingredients out loud together. “Breadcrumbs, herbs, wait…shouldn’t someone write this down.” She turned her head and bashed noses with Andrew. “Youch!”
His hand reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. How about we just put our heads together and try and remember?”
His lips were only inches away from hers. Her reaction was instant. She licked them, unconsciously preparing for them to be kissed. If she moved forward just a little…
His face broke into a smile again and his hands rested at her waist. “You okay?”
She blinked. She must be imagining things. He obviously couldn’t feel the strange pull that she did. No wonder. She most likely looked like a drowned rat.
Her gaze went back down to the screen. “Stuffing,” she murmured. “Pork sausage meat, sage, onion, an egg and breadcrumbs.” She flicked the next page. “Brussels sprouts and bacon, extra virgin olive oil, chicken stock, butter, onion, garlic.” She groaned, “How are we going to remember all this? We haven’t even reached the soup or potatoes yet.”
His hands tightened a little at her waist as he continued to read over her shoulder. “We’ll just have to wing it. I’m sure we’ll manage to put something together.” He looked back towards the house. “We should head back. We can scribble a list before we go into the village.”
They walked back down the hill, this time without the hand holding. It was odd how much she actually missed it. Her feet were more than just a little soaked now. There was no way she could go back in the house with these sopping wet boots.
As they reached the door she knocked the snow from her boots and pulled them off outside. “Not much point in keeping these.”
Andrew unlocked the door and waited until she’d pulled her sodden socks from her feet then swept her up into his arms. He walked through to the library and took a few minutes to start the fire. The chimney in here was apparently clear and the heat from the fire instantly warmed the cold room.
She slid her arms out of her jacket and gave her hair a shake.
“Can I get you anything?”
The fire was starting to crackle. If she’d been at home she would have stripped off her clothes and put on her dressing gown. But there was no chance of that here. “A cup of tea would be great. I’ll change into my other suit and do something with my hair so we can finish the filming.”
“Are you sure you want to do that today? We could do it tomorrow if you want? All this talk of food is making me hungry. What’s say we just go to the village and buy what we can?”
“Sure, sounds great. Just let me dry off a bit first.”
He disappeared off to the kitchen and she hugged her damp knees up to her chest and wriggled her bare toes.
If anyone had suggested she’d be working on Christmas Day she would have baulked at the thought. But somehow it didn’t seem so bad.
She looked out the window at the snow-covered landscape. Her skin was finally starting to lose its chill, the heat of the fire was making steam rise from her damp clothes.
Andrew had been nothing but hospitable. She’d thought she was only person who’d struggle with Christmas this year, but her problems seemed to pale in comparison with his.
A family home that seemed to be a money pit. A mother in a nursing home. And a house full of memories of a dead brother. A house that could be haunted and was certainly tinged with sadness.
When was the last time Andrew had celebrated a happy Christmas?
Now she felt truly pathetic. She’d lost a crappy boyfriend. Not a brother. Not, potentially, a home. Her family was still intact. She had her mum, her dad and her sister and family, all in good health. Andrew didn’t have any of that.
She looked at the list of ingredients she’d scribbled on an old receipt she’d found in her pocket. The instructions about basting and stuffing the turkey. The scrappy notes about chocolate tiffin she’d pulled up online before the signal gave out. She was probably supposed to have looked for the recipe for Christmas pudding but she’d always hated it. Andrew would have to make do with a tray bake filled with digestive biscuits, marshmallows, raisins, cherries and lots of chocolate.
She stood up and stretched out. Her legs were aching from the walk up the hill. Her notes were lying on one of the library tables for filming tomorrow. She had pieces on Elizabeth Campbell who may have been pushed down the stairs, Angus Campbell who’d duelled with his brother and been killed, and Annie, the ten-year-old kitchen maid who’d apparently been scalded and died from her burns. Every one was a compelling and tragic story. Every one would make good television.
But there was another story that was swilling around her brain. The story of Andrew’s brother. Could he be the one haunting Garnock Hall?
A shiver crept down her spine. Andrew didn’t even believe in ghosts. There was no way she could even suggest something like that to him.
She walked over and perched on the wide windowsill looking out towards the forest. A forest full of Christmas trees all topped with snow. It would look perfect on the front of any Christmas card.
Andrew said there hadn’t been a Christmas tree in this house for years. How sad. He was sure there were some decorations stashed in the house.
It was time to fill this house with the smell of a freshly cut tree and aroma of Christmas dinner. Never had a place needed it so badly.
She would help bring some life back into these empty rooms. And maybe she’d remember what the spirit of Christmas was all about.
Maybe she could help Andrew remember too…
Chapter Five
‡
The drive to the village was bumpy, with the car sliding in parts along the country roads. Juliette was bundled back up in her red parka with her feet in an old pair of wellingtons that Andrew had found for her in a cupboard in the house. He’d no idea who they belonged to and she’d had to put two pairs of his thick socks on her feet before they finally stayed on.
“Are you
sure we’re going to be able to get everything we need?” She was looking around anxiously as they drove down the main road in the village, past the pub, the post office and the few village shops.
“We’ll be fine.” He pulled the car up in front of the old grocery store. “We’ll get a few things in here. Then, we’ll go the butchers next door where Jim agreed to pluck the turkey for us.”
She climbed out the car and looked along the street. It was already starting to get dark even though it was only three o’clock. The orange street lamps were sending a warm glow across the snow-dusted street.
This was so far away from the rush and roar of London it was scary. This street could be a scene from a Christmas card. It sparked a little thought in her head.
But Andrew wasn’t waiting. He strode ahead into the tiny shop. “Hi, Mrs. McGregor. Would you be able to help us with our shopping list?”
The elderly woman was standing behind the counter in the old-fashioned shop with an apron tied around her waist. Most of the counter was taken up by the biggest, oldest cash register Juliette had ever seen. It made her fingers itch to touch it.
Mrs McGregor walked around the counter and gave Andrew a bear hug. “Andrew Campbell, it’s lovely to see you. When did you arrive?”
“Late last night. There are problems with the roof so I had to come and sort them out.” He gestured towards Juliette. “This is Juliette Connolly, my colleague. We’ve got some work to do while we’re here. What we don’t have is any Christmas dinner.” He put the list on the counter top which Mrs McGregor dutifully ignored. She was too busy looking Juliette up and down.
“And where are you from?”
“London.” Why did that feel like the wrong answer? Mrs McGregor made a sound that resembled a tut and set a wire shopping basket on the counter.
“Do you have a turkey?”
Andrew nodded. “I got one from the Strachans’ farm. Jim said he’d pluck and prepare it for us.”
Mrs McGregor might have been old – probably in her eighties – but there was nothing wrong with her legs or her arms. She started throwing things into the basket. Juliette was starting to feel anxious. She hadn’t even looked at the list.
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