Mishaps in Millrise: Parts 1-4 in one book – plus a little extra…

by Tennant, Tilly

  ‘You’d miss them really if you did.’

  Fred snorted a reply. At least, it could have been a reply but it was hard to tell. He ran his eyes over Phoebe before giving her a curt nod, which she took to mean hello.

  ‘Uncle Fred!’ Maria yelled before anyone could stop her. ‘Daddy and Phoebe are getting married!’

  Jack gave an awkward laugh. ‘We don’t have to put an ad in the paper with you around, do we spud?’

  Fred sniffed. ‘Congratulations, lad. What’s your mother said about it?’

  ‘She…um… doesn’t exactly know yet. We’ve only just settled it this afternoon.’

  ‘Well, I think you’d better tell her.’ His slightly unnerving stare rested on Phoebe as he spoke. ‘News in this town has a habit of getting around whether you like it or not and I doubt she’d want to hear it from other lips than yours first.’

  Phoebe reddened. He was obviously referring to Bat-Gate and his part in relaying the gossip he’d picked up via his employee. It didn’t seem to occur to him that he was at fault for this in any way, though; he just held her in a stern gaze. If it was designed to make her feel uncomfortable then it was doing a great job.

  ‘We’re going to phone and tell her as soon as we get home,’ Jack said. ‘In fact…’ he glanced at Phoebe for approval, ‘I suppose we could go straight there now.’

  Oh glee! While Phoebe had come to a certain understanding with Carol, she still couldn’t say she liked her, and she was sure the feeling was mutual. The last place she wanted to be right now was in that woman’s company. She gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘We could, I suppose.’

  ‘Great! She’ll be so pleased to see us with this news.’

  Phoebe doubted that. But she didn’t doubt that the next thing Carol would do was start to meddle in their plans. If she did and Jack took his mother’s side, there might be a divorce before there’d even been a marriage.

  ‘We need to tell my parents too, don’t forget.’

  Jack’s face fell. ‘Oh, am I supposed to ask your dad’s permission or something before we can go ahead?’

  ‘Maybe if this was 1915. As it isn’t, I think we’re ok. But we do need to tell them as soon as we can. I’d hate them to think they were second best.’

  ‘Of course… But we can’t do both at the same time.’

  There was a deep chuckle from Fred, who had been following the conversation while they’d almost forgotten he was there. As Phoebe looked around in surprise, she wondered if that was the first time she’d seen genuine humour of any kind displayed on his features. ‘Good luck, lad.’ With that, he let himself back into the shop and locked the door behind him, still laughing as he did so.

  Phoebe put on a bright smile for Jack. ‘Let’s go and see your parents first – I don’t mind, honestly.’ She wanted to add, let’s get the harpy over and done with, but she managed to stop that bit coming out.

  *

  While Edward had given Phoebe an affectionate hug and kiss on the cheek, the best Carol could do was a stiff display of teeth that Phoebe presumed was meant to be a smile. What on earth had attracted Jack’s dad to her was a mystery that the greatest minds would never solve. Whatever it was, she kept that particular virtue well hidden from anyone else. But at least they seemed pleased, and although they’d offered their opinions on dates and venues, they hadn’t tried to take over. Not yet, anyway, but there was time enough for that. They had discussed the virtues of an autumn or a winter wedding, versus simply waiting until the baby had arrived, and whilst Phoebe thought it was none of their business what date she and Jack chose, she was content to let them. It seemed to make Jack happy and she figured they would have time alone later to thrash it out properly.

  Far later than they had planned to leave, Jack bundled a now sleeping Maria into the car. He gazed fondly at her. ‘We’re so going to pay for keeping her up past her bedtime when she has to get ready for school tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s a special occasion, though,’ Phoebe said. ‘Although you’re right. You might struggle with me too; I’m shattered.’

  ‘Lightweight,’ Jack grinned.

  ‘It’s your fault.’

  ‘We had to come, though, especially with Fred knowing. Mum would have been really upset if she’d been the last to know.’

  ‘I know.’ Phoebe eased herself into the passenger seat.

  ‘I still think December would be good,’ Jack said as he climbed in beside her.

  ‘As good as anything, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s just that I like the idea. It seems fitting, in many ways. I mean, we’ve both had terrible Decembers full of tragedy, but we’ve also had great things happen too. We met in December, for a start. There seems to be a certain significance around that month. Why not make it stick with our wedding anniversary too?’

  ‘So, you want our wedding, Maria’s birthday and Christmas all in the same month?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Then you’ll have another birthday in January, as long as this little tyke behaves and comes out on time…’ Phoebe stroked her belly, ‘you know how to pack a schedule, don’t you?’

  ‘We may as well get it all out of the way at once,’ Jack laughed.

  ‘Ok…’ Phoebe gave him a wry smile. ‘I must need my head examining but it looks like December wins after all. I just hope we don’t live to regret it.’

  *

  Dixon nudged the office door open. He placed a mug of sweet smelling fruit tea down on Phoebe’s desk, and then took one to his own. Phoebe picked hers up and held it under her nose.

  ‘Blackberry and vanilla, if I’m not mistaken,’ she smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem. I’ve got the same. I haven’t tried that flavour before but it smells nice.’

  Dixon had taken to buying boxes of herbal and fruit teas instead of their normal caffeine-fuelled supplies as soon as Phoebe had explained she couldn’t stand the smell of tea and coffee during her morning sickness phase. But when she had told him that she felt better and could probably drink it again, he warned her that caffeine was no good for the baby and insisted they both continue with the alternative brews until after the birth. So the flavours had changed every week, and the tasting sessions had become a cute little ritual for them to share. Phoebe rather looked forward to being surprised by what he had bought for them whenever he went out for more. Quite why Dixon needed to carry on drinking them was a mystery, however, but Phoebe was beginning to wonder whether he might start with sympathetic Braxton Hicks at some point too.

  ‘I’ve just seen Sue Bunce on the stairs,’ Dixon added. ‘She says she’s still waiting for a date.’

  ‘She wants to go out with me? That’s lovely but I’m already engaged.’

  ‘Very funny. You know what I mean.’

  ‘I gave her a ballpark weeks ago.’

  ‘She needs more than that. Phoebe, I’m not sure whether you’ve noticed but it’s October and you don’t have that long left.’

  ‘I can work for ages yet, right up until the birth if I want to.’

  ‘You can but you know my feelings on that. We still need a date from you anyway and there’s no point in putting it off. Will I have to tie you to a forklift from the stockroom and drive you off the premises myself when the time comes?’

  ‘Don’t be silly…’ Phoebe sighed. ‘You’re right, as usual. I’ll go and see her later.’

  ‘Are you still worried you won’t have a job to come back to?’

  ‘No.’

  Dixon raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Ok, yes. A little. It doesn’t help that Adam hates me now. I get the impression he’d rather I didn’t come back.’

  Dixon sipped at his drink. ‘It is a funny business, that. He went from everyone’s best friend to the incredible sulk overnight. It makes you wonder whether his father ended up having a word with him about appropriate employer/staff boundaries, that sort of thing. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think it’s only you he’s stopped talking to.’

&n
bsp; True to her word, Phoebe had never told another soul about what had transpired between her and Adam in old Mr Hendry’s office the day he had gambled on a yes from her. But Dixon was right – not only had Adam stopped hounding Phoebe, he’d also removed himself from any social interaction with the staff as a whole and it had been the source of much gossip; at least, until everyone had got bored and moved onto the next scandal…. So for about two weeks really. That change of heart couldn’t be down to Phoebe alone, could it? She hated to think so and had thought many times about trying to get Adam to talk to her about what had changed but, in the end, she’d been too scared to. Perhaps it was best to let things run their own course now.

  The office door was flung open and Midnight strode in with a carrier bag. These days she was almost as much at home in that room as Phoebe, as she spent so much time there preparing to help Dixon after Phoebe had left. Steve had been horrified when it had been agreed over his head, and Midnight had asserted that although he was always complaining about her, his distress meant that really he had a secret crush and would be bereft without her on his tills every day. Whatever his reasons, he had kicked up quite a stink about losing Midnight from his staff but his complaints had fallen on deaf ears. Pretty soon after, Midnight had already begun to assimilate herself into the dynamic of Dixon’s team. Phoebe wondered sometimes whether Dixon was going to survive the assault.

  ‘Your weekly delivery has arrived.’ Midnight dropped the bag onto Phoebe’s desk and took a seat at the opposite side.

  Phoebe peered inside. She groaned as she confirmed what she already knew she would find in there. ‘Oh God, not more fruit.’

  ‘I bet you preferred it when Jack’s family hated you, eh?’ Midnight grinned.

  ‘How can he possibly expect one woman to eat this much in a week? I’m eating for two, not the Welsh rugby team.’

  ‘It’s nice that he wants to give it to you. Shows he cares… in his own weird fruity way.’

  Phoebe pushed the bag towards her. ‘You take it then.’

  ‘No way! I didn’t get this figure from eating greens. I like my strawberries processed in a vat of sugar and E numbers before they pass my lips.’

  ‘It was worth a try,’ Phoebe said, pulling the bag back towards her. ‘Jack’s just going to have to tell him.’ She turned to Dixon. ‘I don’t suppose you want any of this?’

  ‘I’ve already done my weekly shop, I’m afraid. It looks as though you’re going to have to eat it. Anyway, all those vitamins are good for the baby.’

  ‘That’s what Fred says. I suppose Jack can make some pies or something.’ Phoebe stowed the bag underneath her desk.

  ‘You can totally bring those back in when they’re done,’ Midnight said airily.

  ‘I think it’s kind of him to send you all that free stuff every week,’ Dixon said mildly. ‘Show’s he thinks a lot of you.’

  ‘He must love you,’ Midnight added, ‘because everyone says he’s a tightwad. It must be killing him to give stock away.’

  ‘I’d rather he cracked me a smile every now and again,’ Phoebe said. ‘He sends me fruit but when I go in to thank him – and I have to go in every time – he looks at me like I’ve drooled on his shoes.’

  ‘He can’t help his demeanour,’ Dixon replied. ‘Some people just aren’t gifted with natural charm.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  Dixon turned to Midnight. ‘You might want to step up your hours in here – Phoebe is going to set a leaving date today.’

  Phoebe opened her mouth to argue but Dixon’s smug expression closed it again. She knew when she was beaten. ‘I’m going to see Sue Bunce to sort it out.’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Midnight said. ‘So I get your desk?’

  ‘Yes, but don’t wreck it.’

  ‘As if!’

  ‘And try not to break Dixon either.’ Phoebe shot him a smug grin to match the one he’d sent her and he looked up with an argument of his own hanging from his lips.

  ‘Roger that,’ Midnight said. ‘Anything else is fair game though? I can’t wait to start on Steve. There’s going to be some serious revenge around here.’

  ‘Try to behave,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘I don’t know any other way.’ Midnight’s manic grin completely contradicted the statement she had just made.

  Phoebe swallowed her misgivings and prayed she’d still have a job to come back to once her friend had been let loose.

  *

  There was a definite feeling of déjà vu as Phoebe stood and stared at Jeff in his Santa costume. She was only relieved that she didn’t have to dress up as an elf and stand around in the grotto with him this time. ‘It looks a bit tired, don’t you think?’ she asked Dixon who stood alongside her. ‘We should probably get a new one this year if we have time.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that bad.’

  ‘Really?’ Phoebe turned to him. Sort of. She was finding it rather difficult to tear her eyes away from the disturbing bump in Jeff’s trousers. For once, she hoped he’d got a whiskey bottle in there.

  ‘We’ve had that suit for as long as I’ve been here.’

  ‘That’s why it’s knackered,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘It looks traditional.’

  ‘If traditional is another word for knackered then yes, it does.’

  Dixon looked hurt by her reply. It was then that she realised he was one of those people who dragged the same tired Christmas decorations from the loft, year in, year out, just because he always had. They’d be faded, the glitter worn away, the edges of stars snapped off, but he wouldn’t notice. All he’d see were fond memories of all the other Christmases he’d spent with them. She supposed it was quite a nice way to be, and maybe, one day, she’d feel the same about decorations she put up with Jack as their children grew. But it wasn’t right for a toy store that was supposed to be impressing its primary demographic. Christmas these days was a rather more glitzy, high-tech affair than when Jeff’s suit had received its first grotto guest.

  ‘I think we need a new one,’ Phoebe insisted, doing her best not to get dogged by sentiment. ‘Trust me on this. And the elf costumes need updating too.’

  ‘What!’ Midnight, who had been standing at the other side of Phoebe trying not to laugh at Dixon’s admonishment, now had to defend herself. ‘But I love the old ones!’

  ‘So do I, but they’re worn out.’

  ‘They’re well loved,’ Midnight pouted.

  Phoebe shot her a sideways smile. ‘I’ll let you choose the new ones with me?’ she teased.

  Midnight grinned. ‘OK!’ she cried, her argument gone from her brain like a dandelion clock on the wind.

  ‘The grotto will have to be repainted too,’ Phoebe continued.

  ‘The closer your maternity leave gets, the bossier you become,’ Dixon said, folding his arms. ‘God help your child.’

  ‘I’m not being bossy. I just want to leave things in order. It means I have to do as much as I can before I go. We’ve come so far this year and we’ve done so much to change the way people in Millrise see us that we can’t ruin it all by sticking this old stuff out at the busiest time of year. It’ll be like one step forwards and two back… you understand that, don’t you?’

  Dixon sighed. ‘Ok, you win.’

  ‘We’ll have to put in the order soon, though. It’s the beginning of October now and we’ll run out of time for the stuff to arrive if we don’t.’

  ‘Remind me again what date you’re leaving?’ Dixon asked with a wry smile. ‘Because I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.’

  Phoebe laughed. ‘Christmas Eve. So you’ll have to put up with me for a while yet.’

  ‘Can’t you make it sooner?’

  ‘No, I can’t. I’m looking forward to seeing the elves in action and not being the one wearing the costume this year – I wouldn’t miss that for the world!’

  Jeff raised a hand. ‘Um… can I go now?’

  ‘Yes… sorry, Jeff…’ Phoebe waved him away.
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br />   ‘What about me?’ Midnight asked as Jeff scuttled away to get changed back into his janitor overalls.

  ‘Not yet. I need your awesome brain a while longer.’

  ‘Can you manage without me for an hour?’ Dixon asked. ‘I have that monthly report to get ready for Adam and it’s late as it is.’

  ‘We wouldn’t want to keep God waiting, would we?’ Midnight said.

  ‘Of course,’ Phoebe replied, choosing not to comment on Midnight’s jibe. ‘Midnight and I are going to look over the Christmas stuff in the storeroom anyway so you’ll have the office to yourself for an hour.’

  Dixon nodded and made his way to the doors of the stockroom where they had met at Jeff’s request. Phoebe had been a little surprised when Jeff had brought up the matter of his suit to Phoebe, but now that she had seen it, she was glad he had. It seemed that he took more pride in being Santa than he let on. It was reassuring to know. And although he had always seemed like a rather unsavoury character during her day to day dealings with him, she remembered from her stint working in the grotto the previous year that he was never anything less than professional when the children filed in to see him. She had no qualms at all about letting him continue in his role this Christmas, and she quite agreed that he needed a new suit.

  ‘We’d better have a look at this other stuff,’ Phoebe said. She and Midnight made their way to a small storage area off the main stockroom. As she flung open the door, the smell of damp assailed her, having such an immediate effect that she wished her asthma inhaler wasn’t lying on her desk up on the top floor.

  ‘So,’ Midnight began in a tone that was only pretend annoyed, ‘you got a dress at the weekend?’

  ‘Yes… I’m sorry about that, Midnight, I really am. But my mum wanted it to be just us and I couldn’t very well say no, could I? You understand, don’t you?’

  ‘Course I do, you daft cow. My mum would be the same. After she’d regained consciousness from the shock of me wanting to get married, of course.’

  Phoebe smiled. ‘Your prince is out there, there’s no doubt about that.’

  ‘I don’t want a prince. I want a hot rock god with a penis the size of a Boeing 747.’