Christmas at the Star and Sixpence

by Holly Hepburn

  He didn’t reply, leaving her staring at the gently sighing door as it closed. The fact that he’d taken the fragment of Yule log was an encouraging sign, Nessie told herself as she slumped back into her seat and took in a shaky breath. Wasn’t it?

  Chapter Nine

  Christmas Eve dawned crisp and bright, with the kind of blue sky that seemed infinite.

  Nessie awoke with a faint tingle of festive excitement, the same fizz she’d had as a child when school had broken up for the holidays and there was nothing ahead but fun and excitement and anticipation of a pile of brightly wrapped presents underneath the tree on Christmas morning. It was quite ridiculous, she told herself as she got out of bed; all she had to look forward to was a gift or two and the simple pleasure of roasting a turkey with all the trimmings. Her heart had felt heavy ever since she’d confessed the truth about Gweneth to Owen, probably because he had yet to speak a word to her after storming out. But the weight of keeping Gweneth’s poison a secret was gone and with it some of the darkness she’d felt hanging over her. The arrival of her Decree Absolute had helped too – she was officially a single woman again. It was hard not to feel hopeful, Nessie decided.

  She had no idea whether Owen had confronted his mother-in-law immediately or decided to wait until after Christmas. Sam had urged her to call into Snowdrop Cottage but her nerve had failed her – what if Gweneth opened the door? – so she’d concentrated on preparations for the Festive Fayre instead, determined to make it the most Christmassy night Little Monkham had ever seen. And maybe, if she was lucky, there would be a quiet moment when she might catch Owen alone . . .

  The day flew by in a blur. She left Sam in charge of the pub and spent most of her time on the green, ensuring the carousel was in exactly the right spot, that Santa’s Grotto had a comfortable seat and a sack full of presents. She also called into the butcher’s and the baker’s to pick up some last minute supplies for Christmas Day. Before she knew it, the skies were darkening and it was time for her to make her way to the candlelit carol service at St Mary’s. Heavy grey clouds had gathered since the morning, obscuring the blue sky and giving the air a muffled, oppressive feel. Nessie pulled her hat down over her ears and hurried towards the brightly lit church.

  Inside, it was packed. The entire village seemed to be there, apart from Sam, who had insisted someone needed to mind the bar even though they both knew no one would be stopping by for a drink – not when everyone was at the carol service. But as Sam pointed out, there was wine to be mulled and chestnuts to part-roast for the brazier on the green. Secretly, Nessie suspected her sister had yet to wrap a single present.

  Nessie squeezed into an already full pew at the back. She spotted Owen and Luke immediately. They were near the front, with the rest of the choir, and Nessie’s heart sped up at the sight of them. Luke said something to his father and as Owen leaned his black-haired head closer to answer, Nessie was reminded once again how different Luke looked; how like his mother he was. And she felt a momentary pang for Gweneth, stuck in her bitter mourning for Eliza. She hoped, in time, that the other woman’s pain would be healed.

  Father Goodluck beamed down at everyone from the pulpit. ‘Good evening and welcome to St Mary’s this blessed Christmas Eve,’ he called. ‘It is lovely to see so many of you here to fill our church with light and celebrate the miracle of Christ’s birth.’

  Nessie juggled her lit candle, with its collar of cardboard, and glanced down at the programme Henry had pushed into her hand as she’d entered the church. The first carol was Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, one of her favourites, followed by Silent Night and Away in a Manger. Nessie knew she wasn’t much of a singer – she could carry a tune and not much else – but there was something special about carols that made her want to sing to the rafters. As the organ pounded out the first majestic chords, she lifted up the words and got ready to enjoy herself.

  Sam had just written the last tag when she felt a blast of icy air. She looked up from her seat beside the fire to see Joss standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on her.

  ‘Hello, Sam,’ he said. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  She stared at him in astonishment. ‘Joss. I thought you’d be at the carol service.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not my thing.’

  ‘Not mine, either,’ Sam said, pulling a face. ‘Although I love everything else about Christmas. So, what can I do for you?’

  Joss started forward and stopped halfway between the door and the fire. Sam was amazed to see he looked nervous. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I thought—’ He cleared his throat and started again. ‘Listen, Sam, you can tell me I’m out of order if you want to but – well, there’s something I have to say.’

  She waited, steeling herself for another angry rant. ‘Go on.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I know you’re with Nick now, and I honestly hope you’re happy with him, but . . . but it’s Christmas and like that stupid bloody film says, at Christmas you tell the truth. So here it is, Sam.’ He fixed her with an intense blue-eyed stare. ‘I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’m sorry I was an idiot – I should have listened to you when you tried to explain about that Pargeter bloke. Instead, I let my pride get in the way and it stopped me from seeing what was really important.’

  Sam gaped at him; this was the last thing she’d expected him to say. ‘Joss—’

  ‘No, don’t interrupt. First, I was jealous of Nick and then, when the news broke about you and Will, I got jealous of him too, even though all of that happened long before we met.’ He let out a shaky laugh. ‘I think . . . I think you make me a bit crazy, Sam, and I’m sorry. I should have supported you instead of walking away and leaving the door open for Nick.’

  Sam shut her eyes for the briefest of seconds, trying to take it all in. It was all such a gigantic mess. ‘Oh, Joss.’

  He threw her a wretched look. ‘I know – I’m an idiot. And like I said, I know you’re with Nick now and it’s far too late for any of this but – well, I just needed to get it off my chest, that’s all.’

  Sam gazed down at the pile of presents by her feet, the shiny paper and ribbon blurring with tears. ‘What if it wasn’t too late?’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘What?’ Joss said, frowning.

  She blinked up at him. ‘What if it wasn’t too late? For us, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, his frown deepening. ‘What about Nick?’

  ‘We broke up a week ago,’ she said simply. ‘When it happened, it felt like there were too many obstacles to overcome but now I can see there was just one.’

  Joss watched her warily. ‘Oh? What was that?’

  Now it was Sam’s turn to take a deep breath. ‘You. I’m still in love with you, Joss.’

  He stood frozen for a heartbeat, then stormed across the space between them and pulled her to her feet. A second later, his lips were on hers, not hard and crushing but gentle and searching. For Sam, it was as though something she’d been missing for months had suddenly returned. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.

  When they finally broke apart, Joss tenderly stroked Sam’s cheek. ‘Forgive me for being a moron. I promise never to do it again.’

  Sam smiled and brushed his lips with hers. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’ She gazed up at him and felt something stir inside. ‘I’ve missed you. Can you stay?’

  He shook his head, glancing at the clock over the bar. ‘I’m working tonight.’

  ‘Then come here afterwards,’ she said. ‘Stay with me and have dinner with us tomorrow. Unless you have plans?’

  ‘Nothing that can’t be changed,’ he said firmly, bending his head to kiss her again.

  The choir sounded amazing, Nessie thought as they worked their way through all the traditional songs. Some carols were marked as choir only and she almost gasped in amazement when villagers she’d never suspected of being able to sing unveiled beautiful voices. Tilly had a delicate high soprano voice tha
t somehow soared above everyone else’s. Franny had a lower but no less pleasing tone to her voice and Ruby sounded good too, a few pews ahead of Nessie. But it was Owen and Luke who blew her away the most, as they duetted for Good King Wenceslas; Luke sang the page boy with heart-breaking clarity and Owen’s deep Welsh baritone made the hair on the back of Nessie’s neck stand on end. She found it hard to take her eyes off him after that. Why had he never told her he could sing?

  It was with great reluctance that Nessie blew out her candle and slipped away just before O Come All Ye Faithful, the final carol, to make sure everything was all set for the Fayre. Something brushed her cheek as she walked and she looked up to see snow swirling down from the darkened sky, big fat flakes that caught the light from the streetlamps as they fell. She let out a gasp of disbelief – surely it wasn’t going to be a white Christmas?

  Nessie watched with bated breath as the snowflakes tumbled to the ground. Some melted as soon as they landed but others settled and more soon joined them. By the time she reached the village green there was a thin layer of white on the ground that thickened with every passing second and the tops of the stalls looked as though they’d been dusted with sugar.

  ‘It’s snowing, Sam,’ she called as she pushed through the door into the pub. ‘Come and see!’

  She looked up to see Sam and Joss springing guiltily apart. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Sorry!’

  Joss seemed totally unfazed but Sam’s cheeks turned cherry pink. ‘We – uh . . . we kind of got back together.’

  ‘So I see,’ Nessie said, with dry amusement. ‘Good for you.’

  ‘I wondered whether Joss could come for Christmas dinner,’ Sam said.

  Nessie laughed, unable to do anything else – it was a good thing she’d stocked up on extras. ‘Of course – the more the merrier.’

  Her sister smiled. ‘Good, because I might have already invited him.’

  Nessie glanced at the clock. ‘I should warn you that the rest of the villagers are due to arrive any moment and they’ll be expecting mulled wine and roast chestnuts and Martha’s Rob as Father Christmas. Please tell me you didn’t get side-tracked and forget, Sam.’

  Sam threw her an indignant look. ‘Of course I didn’t forget – the Santa outfit is all laid out upstairs. Although now you mention it, I should probably go and check the oven. I got a bit distracted so the chestnuts might be a little more than part-baked.’ She reached up to kiss Joss. ‘See you later?’

  He smiled. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ Sam warned, once Joss had left and she’d rescued the chestnuts from the oven. ‘I know you think I’m making a mistake.’

  ‘I didn’t say a word,’ Nessie objected, halfway to the door with a tray of glasses for the mulled wine. ‘In fact, I was going to say that you look happy for the first time in months and if it took Joss to do that, then I’m all in favour.’

  ‘Really?’ Sam asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘Really,’ Nessie said with a fond smile. ‘Now, come on. I can hear the first revellers outside.’

  The flurry of snow didn’t dampen the Festive Fayre – if anything, it made the atmosphere even more Christmassy, especially once the choir started to sing more carols. The carousel whirled among the snowflakes, causing its riders to laugh in delight. Connor headed for the bar and started mixing up some Gingerbread Bellinis, his special Christmas cocktail, and outside, the mulled wine sent clouds of spice-scented steam into the freezing night air. Any children not riding the merry-go-round or queuing for Father Christmas raced around in circles, hurling handfuls of snow at each other. The adults clustered around the sizzling sausage stall or the brazier, where Sam was handing out hot roasted chestnuts and apologising for the burnt ones. Once the choir had finished, Sam cracked open her Christmas playlist and festive tunes spilled from a speaker beside one of the pub windows. Fairy lights twinkled through the trees on the green as they lit the way to Santa’s Grotto and the dancing snowflakes made Nessie feel as though she had stepped straight into a Christmas film. It was one of the most magical sights she had ever seen.

  Her gaze naturally gravitated towards Owen; he was policing the queue for Father Christmas and laughing at Luke, who was trying without much success to stuff a handful of snow down his father’s neck. As she watched, Owen let out a roar of mock rage and scooped up some snow of his own to thrust under Luke’s scarf. Nessie laughed. Owen was such a good dad – anyone could see he doted on his son and Luke clearly felt the same way about him. How Gweneth could have suggested otherwise was beyond Nessie.

  A voice broke into Nessie’s thoughts. ‘No need to ask what your Christmas wish is.’

  Blushing, she turned to see Franny, her eyes sparkling with mirth. ‘Is it that obvious?’

  Franny chuckled. ‘I’m afraid it’s like a big flashing sign over your head that says “I LOVE OWEN RHYS”. But if it’s any consolation, I think the only person who can’t see it is Owen himself.’

  ‘Or maybe he does see it and is pretending he doesn’t,’ Nessie said, sighing.

  ‘Come now, Vanessa, you don’t honestly believe that.’ Franny’s gaze grew suddenly severe over the top of her glasses. ‘I’ve never seen a man more in love and, believe me, as chairwoman of the Village Preservation Society, I’ve made it my business to observe many over the years.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing,’ Franny said briskly. ‘Would he have sent Gweneth packing with a flea in her ear if he didn’t care for you?’

  Nessie’s mouth fell open. ‘Did he?’

  Franny nodded. ‘First thing yesterday morning. My sources tell me they had an almighty argument and he told her to never darken his doorstep again.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I thought he would have mentioned it.’

  Nessie glanced over at Owen, who was laughing at something Martha had said. ‘I haven’t seen him, actually.’

  ‘I imagine he’s embarrassed,’ Franny said. ‘There’s nothing worse than a meddling old biddy sticking her nose into other people’s business, is there?’

  There wasn’t a trace of irony behind the words. Nessie hesitated, unsure how much Franny knew about Gweneth, and then decided that Franny probably knew everything. ‘He only did it to protect Luke—’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Franny snapped. ‘I’m sure Luke’s welfare played a part but the way I heard it, Owen went into battle for you, not his son.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that my sources also reported that Owen told Gweneth in no uncertain terms that he loves you.’ Franny folded her arms. ‘But for some reason, the fool thinks you’re not interested and so he won’t say the same thing to you. Honestly, I wish I could bang your heads together to make you see sense.’

  Nessie felt her cheeks flame as she gaped at the postmistress. ‘What?’

  Franny’s expression softened. ‘It’s really very simple, Vanessa,’ she said in a slow and patient tone. ‘You love Owen, but think he isn’t interested. Owen loves you, and thinks you’re not interested. Might I suggest you both stop acting like stubborn teenagers and actually tell each other how you feel? Or do I have to get Henry to hang about with some mistletoe until you get the idea?’

  Could it be true? Nessie wondered, laying a cool hand against her too-warm cheeks. Had Owen really told Gweneth he loved her? She didn’t have to ask whether she herself was in love with Owen; she’d realised with a jolt in the church that it was true, as she’d listened to him and Luke sing. If she was really honest with herself, she’d known for months.

  ‘And Gweneth has really gone?’ she asked.

  ‘Really gone,’ Franny confirmed. ‘I watched her leave with my own eyes.’

  Nessie blinked with heady relief and reached across to squeeze Franny’s gloved hand. ‘Thank you. I think I can take it from here.’

  Franny graced her with a single nod. ‘See that you do. I expect to hear good news when the pub re-opens on Boxing Day, do I make myself clear?’

  Laughter bubbled up inside Nessie. ‘Y
es, Franny,’ she said, doing her best not to break into hysterical giggles. ‘Crystal clear.’

  ‘Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to track down Henry. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure I trust him around mistletoe.’

  She bustled away, leaving Nessie alone. Once again, her gaze sought Owen across the green and this time, she discovered he was watching her already. Their eyes met. Seconds passed. And then Owen smiled and raised his glass of mulled wine in a toast. Nessie lifted her Gingerbread Bellini and it seemed to her that something unspoken passed between them. Then Luke landed a perfect snowball in his father’s face and the moment was lost.

  Nessie pulled out her phone. Come for Christmas dinner, she typed and sent it before she could change her mind. She watched Owen check his own phone and glance across at her, frowning.

  A few seconds later, her screen lit up. Are you sure?

  Her fingers flew in reply. Of course – we have WAY too much food. Besides, I’d like you both to come – Kathryn too, if she’s back.

  OK, we’d love to. What time?

  Nessie hugged Franny’s words to herself all evening: Owen loves you. And more than once, she remembered Owen’s Yule wish that they would both be happy in the year ahead. Could she dare to hope that his wish might be about to come true?

  Chapter Ten

  It was Christmas Day.

  Forcing her feet into her warm sheepskin slippers, Nessie padded across to the shutters that covered the windows and peered outside. She let out a squeal of delight when she saw the thick layers of crisp white snow that covered everything. Her very first white Christmas! She could hardly believe it.

  Resisting the urge to knock on Sam’s door, she headed to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Her sister was in charge of table setting and decorations and since Joss had arrived not long after closing time the night before, Nessie didn’t really expect to see Sam much before ten o’clock. But there were vegetables to prepare, pigs in blankets to bake, an enormous turkey to roast and a mountain of expectation to manage – Nessie didn’t have the luxury of a lie-in.