A Winter Flame

by Milly Johnson

  And for a few moments, watching the ridiculously gauche creamy-white calves balancing awkwardly on their long pin legs, Eve forgot the world outside their little bubble. Flakes of snow began to drift down on her head, so perfect that Eve wondered if they were really coming from the skies. As she looked up, she heard a trio of triumphant ‘Yeah’s.

  ‘At pissing last,’ said a Welsh voice from high up a Christmas tree.

  ‘Language, Dai,’ said another voice from the ground. ‘The boss is over there.’

  ‘Captain or missus?’

  ‘Missus.’

  ‘Shit. Sori, missus.’

  Were they all calling him Captain now? Had he instigated and encouraged that? It fitted in nicely with his military obsession. Well, if he thought she was going to start saluting him and jumping to attention, he had another think coming. She was only surprised he hadn’t started the rumour off that he was a Field Marshal.

  She stomped through the forest, joining the white path just as the little train passed her at 125 miles an hour.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s being adjusted, missus,’ called Thomas, his voice fading to an echo as he sped off through the trees like Casey Jones on whizz. And is that what they are calling me – ‘missus’? Eve wondered again. Missus. It made her sound at best sixty, at worst like a battleaxe. That didn’t help her ratty mood.

  Back at the cosy-warm Portakabin, Eve got out her address book to chase the firm who were printing the menus for the restaurant. Kicking some ass would do her good, she thought. And it did. There was nothing like venting your fury on a bit of incompetence to get the blood flowing to all the right areas and blasting fake Captains out of her head. She rewarded herself with a cup of coffee from the snarling machine in the corner, and was just about to sit down and kick some more ass with a sweet supplier when there was a soft tap at the door and a dear, familiar voice said, ‘It’s only me.’

  ‘Come in, Violet. You don’t need to knock,’ said Eve. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Violet. ‘And of course I need to knock. You might be in the middle of a meeting.’

  ‘Blimey, Violet, are you okay?’ said Eve, handing over a coffee and seeing her cousin’s face full-on. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for a fortnight. Violet’s huge and usually sparkly mauve eyes were as dull as dirty dishwater and she was shivering. ‘Sit down,’ Eve commanded, and pushed her into a chair.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Violet, sounding anything but. ‘I just haven’t slept very well.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Eve. ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’

  Violet so wanted to open up the floodgates holding everything back. That had been her intention coming to the Portakabin. She couldn’t work in the ice-cream parlour, looking at Pav’s beautiful back as he put the finishing touches to the last horses. All she could think of was their flop of a love-making session last night, and who Pav might be thinking of whilst he was bringing her to orgasm, something that had always excited him to do before because her pleasure was more important to him than his own, he had always told her. She had lain awake in the wee small hours of the morning torturing herself with pictures of him rolling around in bed with Serena, enjoying her much younger, curvier body, as Violet imagined her. But instead, all she said was, ‘I’m a bit under the weather, I think.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be down,’ Eve said, hoping to gee her up. ‘You’ve got too many lovely things in your life to be depressed.’

  Violet took in a deep breath. ‘I think Pav—’

  Then the phone rang and interrupted her flow. Instinctively, Eve picked it up and wished she hadn’t. It was the printers reneging on all the promises they had just made to her. She made a ‘sorry’ face at Violet.

  Violet made an ‘I’ll go’ gesture, to which Eve replied with an ‘I’ll come and find you in a bit’ mime. Violet waved an ‘It’s fine, don’t worry’ at her, put down the untouched coffee cup and left.

  Eve continued with the call and didn’t go and find Violet as she had promised. Her head was too full of trying to piece together all the things she knew about Jacques and make them into a picture she could recognize. Later, when she remembered that she hadn’t gone to catch up with Violet, she waved it off as unimportant. Violet knew she was busy and would understand. It wasn’t as if her cousin, with her gorgeous young artist, thriving business and beautiful cosy cottage, could have that much on her mind now, was it?

  Chapter 37

  ‘You think he’s what?’

  ‘I think Pav has got someone else,’ said Violet, a second before bursting into tears and feeling two arms close around her shoulders.

  ‘No way. Pav isn’t a bumhole like that,’ said Violet’s friend Bel. ‘I’d put my life savings on that.’

  ‘What the hell makes you think that?’ asked Max, from the other side. The formidable Max McBride. The three women had only known each other little over a year, when they had been shopping for wedding dresses in a strange little shop in Maltstone. A friendship had been struck so deeply between them, it was as if they had known each other in previous lives. So much had happened to them in that year and it had acted as cement on their bond with each other. All three of them were living such different lives when they had first met. But neither Max nor Bel liked to see that old sadness return to Violet’s eyes.

  ‘He couldn’t . . .’ Violet raised her eyebrows, ‘you know . . . last night.’ She stuck her finger up in the air.

  The tension in both Max’s and Bel’s shoulders dissipated. ‘Is that it?’ they both laughed in unison and relief.

  ‘Men aren’t machines,’ said Max. ‘It does happen occasionally.’

  Bel nodded. ‘You think because he couldn’t get it up for one night that he’s shagging about? You silly cow. You’re both running around like blue-arsed flies trying to get one ice-cream parlour up and running and overseeing the other. He must be under pressure as well as you.’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ said Violet, as a huge tear plopped down onto her jeans. ‘He’s been disappearing for hours at a time. He comes in late. And I caught him on the phone last week talking to someone. He put the phone down when I walked in and said it was a wrong number. And when I pressed redial and rang 1471 they both connected to the answerphone of a woman called Serena.’

  She looked up to see two very blank faces that didn’t know what to say. Then Bel leaped up from her seat, ‘I’ll frigging kill him for you if he’s messing you about.’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Max. ‘Think logically. This is Pav we’re talking about. He’s adored you from day one. You need to do some more detective work before you set your judgement in stone.’

  It was then Max’s turn to have two gobsmacked faces staring at her. Max was usually the impulsive, headstrong one.

  ‘Blimey, you’ve changed. What’s he done to you? Been putting bromide in your tea?’

  Max laughed at Bel. ‘The love of a good man makes me see things through much clearer eyes. And your Pav is a good man.’ She smiled beatifically. ‘Obviously, if he turns out not to be a good man, then I’ll hold him down whilst you rip his bollocks off. Have you asked him what he’s up to, V?’

  ‘No,’ said Violet, drying her eyes on the paper tissue which Bel pulled out of the box on the big, chunky coffee table. ‘I daren’t. Oh, I’m sorry, Bel. I’m totally ruining your lovely news.’

  ‘Oy, don’t be daft. We will have less of that talk or you can forget being joint godmother,’ said Bel, who – along with her husband – had just passed the first stage of the adoption process. She couldn’t have children of her own and she and her lovely man knew they had a gruelling time of interviews and waiting ahead of them, but also that it would all be worth it in the end. ‘I can’t see that Pav—’

  ‘Please don’t tell me it’s my imagination,’ cut in Violet. ‘I know he’s up to something.’

  ‘Violet, you need to talk to Pav,’ said Max, putting her large hand on Violet’s and giving it a squeeze.

  ‘I daren’t.’ She dropped her he
ad into her hands and Max and Bel grimaced awkwardly at each other.

  ‘Can’t you ask your cousin to do a bit of interfering?’ said Bel softly.

  ‘I tried to talk to her yesterday, but she’s got enough on her plate,’ replied Violet.

  And though she would never have said it aloud, because she knew how it would have sounded, she felt that Eve was the lucky one out of the two of them – being loved to the end, rather than feeling her relationship slip away and her heart begin to crack a little more each day.

  ‘Ask him,’ ordered Bel. ‘You can’t sit back and suffer like this. It might be nothing.’ She was sounding less convinced by the second that this was nothing, and hoped her voice didn’t show that.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ replied Violet, knowing that she wouldn’t. Knowing that she was afraid of the answer he might give. Knowing that by forcing him to admit what was going on, she would push the remaining time she had with him towards the finish line.

  Chapter 38

  When Phoebe May Tinker walked through the front entrance of Winterworld, Eve could quite easily have believed that her eyes were going to pop out of her little head. Her mouth was still stuck in a perfect O of wonder as she felt snow dropping on her head. Those German snow machines were something else; what they produced was the stuff of Christmas cards – thick, soft flakes that fell onto the trees and made everything look as if it had been sprinkled with sugar.

  ‘So Phoebe, what would you like to see first?’ asked Eve, not used to Phoebe being so very quiet. ‘Shall we take the train to see the reindeer?’

  Phoebe nodded slowly. Eve hoped the train had been adjusted. The previous day it was faster than ever and Thomas was just a blur as he passed her waving. She didn’t know what it was running on, but she wished she could have some of it in the morning. Her side and back still niggled and she was still more fatigued than she cared to admit. The shingles virus really had slowed her down these past weeks and she hated not running at full power. The doctor had said it might take years for the nerves to recover.

  Thomas and another engineer were deep in Welsh conversation when Eve and Phoebe approached the track.

  ‘Any chance of a ride to the reindeer?’ asked Eve.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Thomas, seeing the little girl and putting on his official cap, which lay on a bench next to a clipboard. ‘Climb aboard then, young miss. And missus.’

  Eve tried not to bare her teeth. Flaming ‘missus’. What a ridiculous title to have. It wasn’t in the same league as ‘Captain’, she thought with an inner snarl. Talking of which, she hoped he wasn’t around today. For the last couple of days he had been up at Winterpark helping Effin’s men in the children’s activity centre, leaving Eve in the office doing what she enjoyed best – sorting out nitty-gritty. Evelyn had set a small army of contractors on to take care of wages and staffing, stuff which would be dealt with in-house in the future, but it certainly made things easier at the beginning because running a theme park didn’t come with a manual. That said, Eve was enjoying learning on the job. And though she would hate to admit it, between herself and Jacques, all the ‘I’s were dotted and the ‘T’s crossed.

  The train kangarooed forward and Phoebe squealed with delight, whilst Eve grabbed onto the safety bar in front of her.

  ‘Is this really safe?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Thomas. ‘We’ve managed to adjust the speed now.’ Then he set off at G force. The train went so fast that they arrived before they had set off.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Thomas. ‘It seems to have reverted back to ’ow it was before.’ He took his cap off and scratched his head in a totally clichéd way, then plucked the walkie-talkie out of his top pocket and started gabbling in Welsh into it. And back out of it came Effin’s Celtic screech.

  ‘Llai Tomos y Tanc, a mwy Tomos y Wanc!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Thomas. ‘He says I’m less Thomas the Tank and more Thomas the w—’

  ‘Yes, I think I got that,’ Eve quickly spoke over him.

  ‘That was fun,’ said Phoebe, her red curls blown behind her. ‘Can we go back on the train as well?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ replied Eve as diplomatically as possible. It wasn’t exactly the leisurely trip looking at the trees and all the coloured twinkling lights she had imagined as Phoebe’s introduction to the park. ‘Anyway, do you want to see the snow ponies first or the reindeer?’

  ‘Oh, the reindeer, the reindeer!’ shrieked Phoebe.

  ‘You’ll have to be very quiet, Phoebe, as they don’t know you yet and might be a little frightened.’ Eve took a large carrot and an apple out of her handbag. ‘Hold this. Holly loves these. Right now, steady, no sudden movements.’

  Eve unlocked the gate and took Phoebe’s hand, making the familiar clicking noises which Holly responded to as they walked into the paddock.

  ‘Is she in her stable, Auntie Eve?’ asked Phoebe.

  Eve nodded and halted halfway across the pen. ‘Holly.’

  Eve saw the point of an antler poke out of the stable. That was strange – did Holly have antlers?

  ‘We have a carrot and an apple for you,’ she trilled.

  ‘Oh good. That’s two of my five a day taken care of then,’ said a man’s voice from inside the stable. Then Jacques’ head, complete with an antler headdress, popped out.

  Eve jumped a foot. ‘What in Pete’s name are you doing?’

  ‘I’m cleaning the stable,’ said Jacques. ‘Daft things prefer to be in here with me as I’m doing it. I’ve chased them out three times.’ He took off the headgear. ‘One of the lads left this in here for a joke. Sorry, couldn’t resist.’ His eyes dropped to Phoebe. ‘Hello, young lady, I’m Jacques. You must be Princess Anne.’

  Phoebe giggled and Eve thought, Not someone else charmed by him. She watched as Jacques strolled over, took off a giant glove and presented his equally giant hand to the little girl, which she shook heartily.

  ‘Jacques,’ she said, rolling the word around in her mouth like a toffee. Had Eve not been so focussed on what Jacques was wearing – the world’s biggest coat – she would have heard the cogs turning in little Phoebe May Tinker’s brain.

  ‘I’m Phoebe May Tinker.’

  ‘My goddaughter,’ added Eve, wondering why Phoebe was staring at Jacques’ legs so intently.

  ‘So you want to see Holly and her babies. And I do believe Father Christmas is here today in his grotto. Are you going to see him as well?’

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ Phoebe yelped, jumping up and down.

  ‘He’s here, is he?’ said Eve. She couldn’t wait to see him for herself.

  ‘Yes, he’s here and looking forward to meeting you.’

  ‘Again?’ added Eve with a sarcastic grin.

  ‘Of course.’ Jacques’ returning grin was wide and made his eyes crinkle up. ‘Maybe you’d like to ask him for a ring for Christmas.’

  Oh, here we go, Eve sighed wearily.

  ‘He’s checking his new grotto out for comfort,’ Jacques whispered to Phoebe. Then he turned back to the stable and addressed the animals within.

  ‘Come on, you lot,’ he called. ‘You’ve got visitors.’

  He made his own clicking noises which seemed to work much faster than Eve’s, much to her chagrin. Holly emerged to a gasp of delight from Phoebe, especially as she was tailed by her two almost white babies. Phoebe held her carrot out with a little shaky hand. Jacques closed his hand around her arm and pulled her forward a few steps.

  ‘She knows my smell,’ explained Jacques. ‘So she’s more likely to come over if I’m here.’ Infuriatingly, he turned to look at Eve over his shoulder and winked at her.

  Holly edged close and Phoebe clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the squeak that almost burst out of her as the gentle reindeer dropped her head and took the carrot from Phoebe’s hand. The little girl stared with pure fascination as the reindeer chewed and her two babies sought protection from the stranger by staying very close to mum’s side.

 
; ‘Which one is Blizzard?’ she asked Jacques. Why didn’t she ask me? thought Eve to herself with a humph.

  ‘This one,’ said Jacques. ‘He’s slightly bigger than his brother. We haven’t got a name for him yet. Don’t suppose you have any ideas?’

  ‘I’ve already asked Phoebe that one,’ grunted Eve. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Hey, do you know there are only twenty-five letters in the alphabet at Christmas?’ said Jacques.

  Eve waited for the world’s oldest punchline.

  ‘That’s my favourite Christmas joke,’ said Phoebe, grinning. ‘No L.’ And she pulled a piece of paper out of her Hello Kitty handbag which she proffered to Jacques. ‘And it’s my number-one favourite name for the baby reindeer.’

  ‘Noel,’ Jacques read down the list. ‘These are all such lovely names – Snowflake, David, Jingle. But I think you’re right, Noel is the one.’ He gave a thumbs-up. ‘Don’t you think so, Auntie Eve?’

  Eve narrowed her eyes at him. God, he really was a charmer. Standing there all blue-eyed and Dr Doolittle-like, stroking a reindeer. And weren’t animals supposed to be able to suss out what people were really like? Had he managed to pull the wool over their eyes as well? She bet he had a trail of broken hearts behind him. Some daft women would have been mightily flattered by all those marrying references.

  However, Eve did have to agree with him that Noel was perfect for the baby reindeer.

  ‘Well done you, Phoebe, we have a name for our baby.’ And right on cue, the newly named Noel made a snuffly noise and fell over onto his side as if he’d had a jug of carrot wine. Phoebe shrieked with delight.

  ‘I’m just about finished here,’ said Jacques. ‘Why don’t you go and see the snow ponies next door and I’ll catch you up. Then we can all go and see Santa together.’

  Eve opened her mouth to give an alternative plan, but she couldn’t beat that one because Phoebe was jumping up and down. She gave Jacques a discreet sneer and in return he gave her a smile of triumph. Bloody man.