Gorgeous Reads for Christmas (Choc Lit)

by Sue Moorcroft

  At the same time, she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he was wrong about his beautiful partner. Hazel had seen no evidence of softness.

  The day got progressively worse. Tabitha asked Hazel to do a number of menial tasks, the majority not in her job description, but – recalling Jonathan’s concern – Hazel gritted her teeth and got on with it.

  ‘Oh, and could you pick up my dry cleaning in town?’ Tabitha asked airily. ‘It’s a jacket I need for a meeting tonight, but I haven’t got the time to go myself.’

  ‘I haven’t got the time either, with all this other stuff you’ve asked me to do!’ Hazel snapped.

  ‘There’s no need to take that tone with me. I only asked.’

  ‘And I only replied.’

  ‘I’ll go.’ An architect named Patrick stepped in. ‘Hazel hasn’t got a car, and I need to pop into town myself anyway. It’ll save her the trip.’

  ‘Take her with you then,’ Tabitha pouted.

  Patrick shrugged. ‘What’s the point of that? She’s got enough to be getting on with. Just give me the ticket.’

  Although she could hardly complain, Tabitha handed Patrick her dry cleaning stub with a vicious glare. He left, winking at Hazel, and she had to bite her lip to prevent a smile. There was no point in antagonising Tabitha further.

  By the end of the day she was so tired she could barely eat the delicious pasta Irene had prepared. Sensing her less than buoyant mood, Irene dismissed her offer of help with the dishes and sent her to bed. There was no sign of George, and Jonathan didn’t appear for supper either.

  As she undressed, Hazel noticed the strange light again. This time it seemed to flicker, as if someone was walking back and forth in front of it. It made her think of an adventure story she’d read as a child, about smugglers signalling to ships with a lantern, but Jonathan’s estate was inland and surrounded by endless fields. There was no one to signal to, surely?

  There was bound to be a perfectly logical explanation, one that had nothing to do with romantic notions about smugglers delivering contraband goods. Hazel decided to investigate the grounds at the first given opportunity, if only to rein in her wild imaginings.

  Then again, perhaps she was just seeing things because she was tired.

  She rewarded herself with a lie-in on Saturday morning, then called Aunt Rose’s nursing home, where the staff informed her that the residents were out on a day trip. Her aunt would love to see her the following day, they said, and Hazel confirmed that would fit in well with her plans.

  After breakfast in her kitchenette, which the ever-thoughtful Irene had stocked up the day before, she put on her red coat and boots and found the access to the enclosed gardens on the map of the house.

  The incessant drizzle had finally stopped, and the air was cold and damp. A heavy smell of mulch greeted her as she made her way down one of the gravelled paths of the formally laid-out garden. She slowed her pace for a moment to fill her lungs, realising how much she’d missed the country air. A blackbird hopped along in a flower bed beside her, overturning soggy leaves in its quest for worms.

  At the end of the formal garden, a gap in the wall led to the park itself, and Hazel headed for where she’d calculated the green light originated.

  That was as far as she got. From out of nowhere, a furry bolt rammed into her. She fell to the ground and held up her hands to fight off the muddy paws and rough tongue which seemed to assault her from all corners.

  ‘Lulu, no!’

  ‘Bad dog! Get off!’

  The huge ball of fluff was hauled off her while two young voices scolded it.

  Still winded, Hazel lay on the damp grass, rejoicing that she still appeared to be in one piece. A young boy appeared in her field of vision.

  ‘Here, let me help you up, miss.’ Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Hazel’s hand and unceremoniously pulled her upright. ‘Sorry about Lulu. I took the lead off her because I didn’t think anyone was here.’

  Hazel rose and began to brush down her coat, then realised the futility of it. She was covered in mud, grass and white dog hairs. Sighing, she looked at the children. They were identical twins, that was obvious, with cow-licked brown hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes; perhaps nine or ten years old.

  ‘I’m Seth,’ said the boy who’d helped her to her feet. He pointed to the other boy, who was restraining a huge Golden Retriever. ‘This is my brother, Ben. And that’s Lulu.’

  Whining, Lulu wagged her tail furiously and tried to pull free, but Ben had a firm grip on her, which was impressive, given the dog’s size.

  ‘She wants to say hello,’ explained Seth.

  ‘Hello,’ said Hazel, cautiously eyeing the enormous beast.

  ‘Proper hello. Sit, Lulu.’

  Tongue lolling, the dog sat down on its rear, and Seth placed Hazel’s hand on her silky head. ‘She won’t bite. Say you’re sorry, Lulu, for ruining the lady’s coat.’

  The dog’s jaw split into a cheeky, panting grin, and Hazel laughed. ‘She’s not sorry at all. You need to have a serious word with her. Which reminds me, what are you two doing here? This is private property.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘We live here. Who’re you?’

  ‘You live ... Oh, you must be Jonathan’s children. Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Hazel, the new secretary.’

  ‘Hi, Hazel,’ they said in unison.

  ‘But I’m confused. I thought you were away at school.’

  ‘It’s half-term,’ said Ben. ‘Two whole weeks off.’

  ‘Yay!’ Seth punched his fist in the air.

  Lulu barked in sympathy.

  ‘Don’t you like it there?’

  ‘S’all right, I suppose,’ said Ben.

  ‘We kinda miss home, and Dad,’ said Seth.

  Hazel smiled reassuringly. ‘Well, you’re here now, and I expect you’ll get to see a lot of him.’

  Seth’s face clouded over. ‘He’s always busy.’

  ‘That’s because he has to work, dumbo,’ said Ben.

  ‘I’m not a dumbo! You are!’

  ‘Am not!’

  ‘Am too!’

  ‘Boys, boys! No need to argue. Of course he’s busy, but I’m sure he’ll find some time to spend with you over the holidays.’

  Two pairs of eyes met Hazel’s, and she read the sceptical look in them.

  ‘There’s your grandfather too,’ she added, having spied George on his lawnmower at the far end of the park.

  Seth crossed his arms. ‘Grumpy old Grandpa.’

  ‘Maybe he has a reason to be grumpy.’ The more Hazel got to know the inhabitants of Combury Manor, the more she realised that all was not well in Paradise; George and Jonathan barely on speaking terms, two children feeling neglected by their father, and a manipulative would-be lady of the manor.

  She recalled Jonathan’s words: your time is yours. She could do nothing about Tabitha and her transparent motives, and so far she hadn’t managed to befriend George, but as long as Seth and Ben were home for the holidays, she could try to spend some of her free time with them.

  ‘That leaves us then,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I don’t have to work all the time so maybe we can do something together, now that Lulu has decided she doesn’t want to eat me. Your father told me you have a fantastic library. Perhaps you’d like to show it to me?’

  The twins greeted her suggestion enthusiastically, and all three headed back to the house, depositing their boots in the scullery which led to the garden. Hazel eyed the stained coat with regret, then hung it on a peg. She’d need to take it to the cleaner’s next time she was in town.

  The library proved to be an impressive room on the first floor, with a splendid view of the formal gardens and the park at the back. The walls were covered in oak shelving which stretched across the doorway and the window recesses; a spiral cast-iron staircase led to a narrow walkway, where the books at the top could be reached. An ornately-carved fireplace dominated one wall, with an oil painting above it, and in a corner
– cosily tucked underneath the walkway – stood a squashy leather sofa.

  Lulu made a beeline for the sofa and curled up on it with a doggy sigh.

  Hazel studied the portrait above the fireplace. The sitter was a woman, graceful and slender like Tabitha, but with dark hair and dark eyes. Casting a glance at Seth and Ben, she had an idea who the woman was.

  ‘That’s our mum,’ said Ben, noticing her interest. ‘She died when we were little.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure you must’ve loved her very much.’

  Seth shrugged. ‘We don’t remember her.’

  ‘What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘She was in a plane crash.’ Making exaggerated aeroplane dive-bombing noises, Ben described this as if it was a cool thing to have happened, as only a young boy might do. The action brought a lump to Hazel’s throat. How sad for the boys to have lost their mother so tragically. It reminded her of her own loss, and her heart went out to Jonathan and his family.

  ‘Good thing you still have your dad and granddad then,’ she said gently. Noticing Seth’s face clouding over again, she changed to a safer subject. ‘I really like this library. Do you sit in here a lot? I bet you snuggle up on that sofa for storytime.’

  ‘We don’t have storytime,’ said Ben.

  Seth nodded. ‘Dad doesn’t read to us. We always read by ourselves.’

  ‘Oh, well, would you like me to read to you sometime? It’s a fun way of sharing a story.’ Hazel felt an unexpected prickling between her shoulder blades. Was it really so hard for Jonathan to find half an hour to spend with his children? It wasn’t right. ‘How about it? Or are you too old for stuff like that?’

  The boys nodded uncertainly.

  ‘That might be cool,’ Seth said.

  ‘What kind of stories are you into?’

  Ben stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘Adventure stories,’ said Seth.

  ‘Adventure stories. Right, let’s have a look.’ Hazel ran her hands over the spines and discovered that the books were in alphabetical order by author, which made things a lot easier. Reaching ‘S’, she stopped and pulled out Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. ‘Here’s one.’

  ‘When are you going to read to us? Will it be when we’re in our beds?’ Ben sounded confused. ‘That’s, like, for babies, right?’

  The idea of reading to these two enchanting boys while they were fresh from their showers and in pyjamas was very appealing, but Hazel suspected that to do that she’d probably need a nanny certificate or a CRB check, which she didn’t have. Besides, Ben was right, that seemed too childish. Instead, chasing Lulu off the sofa, she sat down and patted the seat next to her.

  ‘Why don’t we read some of it now, then maybe we can play something else later? Maybe football.’

  ‘Girls don’t play football,’ Seth announced as he dropped down beside her.

  ‘This one does, but first we’ll read, okay?’

  They read for over an hour, then had lunch with George in the kitchen. In the afternoon they played football in the park where Hazel proved, with a spectacular save in their makeshift goal, that she wasn’t ‘‘just a girl’’. When they high-fived after their game, she realised that she’d risen a few notches in the twins’ estimation, which for some peculiar reason made her feel absurdly pleased.

  Just as they were walking back to the house, Jonathan appeared, and the boys ran to his side, speaking excitedly at the same time. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he noticed Hazel coming up behind them.

  ‘I didn’t know you’d met my boys, but they seem to have had a good time. I’m glad,’ he added, but there was a rueful look in his eyes as if he felt guilty for not having spent time with them himself. To the boys he said, ‘Fancy going to McDonald’s for tea?’

  The boys greeted his suggestion like a pair of excited puppies.

  With an arm around each boy, Jonathan’s eyes met Hazel’s, and she read the uncertainty in them. ‘Would you be interested? I know it’s nothing fancy, but ...’

  ‘I’d love to come.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Jonathan, smiling broadly.

  Shifting allegiance, the boys grabbed Hazel by the arms and almost dragged her through the house to the waiting Land Rover.

  At McDonald’s, Hazel couldn’t help admiring the way Jonathan handled his two lively children. When they announced that they wanted everything on the menu, he explained patiently that fast food wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world and only a special treat because it was the weekend. Later, when they squabbled over who was to sit next to Hazel, he was firm but fair and got them to take turns, between their burger and their ice cream.

  When they’d had their fill and ran off to the outdoor playground, Jonathan slumped in his seat. ‘Having kids is hard work,’ he groaned.

  ‘They’re lovely, though.’

  Jonathan was watching Seth and Ben through the window with a faraway look in his eyes. ‘I only wish ...’

  ‘What?’ Hazel prodded gently.

  ‘I wish they had a mother. It’s very difficult being both Mummy and Daddy at the same time. There’s no one to share the burden with, or even the good times.’ His eyes returned to hers. ‘It hurts. I can’t describe it any other way.’

  Hazel’s stomach twisted itself in knots at his words, and she just stopped herself from reaching across the table to take his hand. He was her boss, and she needed to keep her distance. Instead, she said, ‘I think you’re doing a good job.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I do.’

  He sent her a brilliant smile, and she smiled back shyly. As they sat grinning at each other, the boys came haring back, complaining about another child who was bothering them, and Jonathan announced that it was time to go anyway. In their agitation, Seth and Ben seemed to have forgotten all about Hazel’s presence, concentrating instead on their father. Although there was no reason why this should bother her, she couldn’t help feeling a little left out.

  The feeling of being an outsider returned later when she went to fetch her red raincoat to bag it up for the dry cleaner's. Instead of hanging on the peg where she’d left it, it was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, and there were shoe prints all over it as though someone had deliberately trodden on it.

  Her immediate thought was Tabitha, but she hadn’t been at work today, as far as Hazel knew.

  Then there was George, which made more sense. She still hadn’t managed to approach him, but she was even more determined now. If he thought he could chase Hazel Dobson away like that, he was in for a surprise.

  She’d smother him with kindness, that’s what she’d do.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was bright and sunny the next morning when Hazel caught the bus into town to see Aunt Rose. True to her word, Alison stopped outside the manor on her route, and Hazel sat right behind the driver’s seat so they could chat.

  ‘I don’t mind working on Sundays,’ Alison explained. ‘Because it’s the weekend, people are always in a happy mood. No one bats an eyelid if I make an unscheduled stop or help one of the elderly folk off the bus, because no one’s in a hurry to get anywhere.’

  In town, Hazel found a dry cleaner open on a Sunday, handed in her red raincoat, and then made her way to Hillview Care Home where Aunt Rose lived. She’d never been there before, although she’d seen the brochures her aunt had sent, and her lips curved with amusement. Hillview wasn’t placed on a hill at all, but snugly tucked away on a quiet side road, among 1930s semi-detached houses.

  Despite the misleading name, the atmosphere was warm and welcoming, and Hazel was relieved that her great-aunt had chosen so well.

  A carer showed Hazel into the residents’ lounge. Tastefully decorated in understated pastels and furnished with oak tables and armchairs, it appeared to be both comfortable and practical for people who were elderly or infirm, or both, like Aunt Rose.

  Her aunt had dozed off in her wheelchair, and the carer gently pla
ced a hand on the old lady’s shoulder. ‘Your niece is here to see you, Mrs Dobson.’

  The old lady woke with a start, disorientated for a moment. When she saw Hazel, her face lit up. ‘Hazel, my dear, you came.’

  Hazel bent low to kiss her aunt on her papery cheek. ‘I’ve been longing to see you in your new place.’

  ‘Would you and your niece like some tea?’ asked the carer.

  The old lady smiled. ‘Aren’t you a sweetheart? That’ll be lovely, thank you.’

  Watching the carer disappear, Hazel sat down in a chair next to her aunt. ‘I see you’ve already twisted everyone around your little finger,’ she commented, with a wry grin.

  ‘Naturally.’ Aunt Rose chuckled. ‘And how is this new job?’

  Thinking of Jonathan, Hazel smiled shyly, then she remembered Tabitha’s beautiful, calculating face, and her smile dropped. ‘It’s quite different, but I expect I’ll get used to it.’

  ‘That bad, eh?’ Aunt Rose sent her a sharp look. ‘I took the liberty of making enquiries when I heard where you were going to work. Remember my friend, Esther? Her son, Tom, works at the council, and he tells me that things aren’t what they appear to be at that place.’

  ‘In what way?’ Hazel recalled the strange light and wondered if that was what Esther’s son meant.

  ‘There was some building work going on, that’s how Esther’s boy knew about it. Then they applied for machinery licences, and waste disposal certificates, and what not. And there’s all manner of comings and goings in the night, Tom says. It’s very mysterious.’

  ‘Jonathan lets some of the outbuildings out to smaller companies,’ said Hazel. ‘Surely if they’ve been given permission to do what they’re doing, then it’s okay?’

  Aunt Rose pursed her lips. ‘Tom reckons that permission was only granted because of pressure from above.’