Let It Snow

by Sue Moorcroft

  ‘“Quiet” like the Marie Celeste?’ But he grinned. ‘You’re right.’ He was just going to make another joke, this time about the novelty of ringing ‘last orders’ in an empty pub, when the front door opened and a woman strolled in. Wearing her forty-something years easily on her tall and willowy frame, streaked brown hair tossed artfully around her face, she was all but hauled towards the bar by a large Dalmatian dog whose tail became a blur when he spotted Isaac.

  ‘Doggo!’ Isaac heard himself say stupidly.

  Doggo whined ecstatically, ears back, his doggy grin a mile wide as he bounced and danced, giving a loud bark, obviously frustrated by the restraining lead. Isaac strode around the bar and crouched to fuss the excited canine, choosing to focus on the dog he’d lost along with everything else, rather than on the woman watching with an indulgent smile.

  Hayley.

  In a long cream woollen coat and high-heeled black boots she looked as polished as fine china. What the hell was his ex doing here? And why did it have to be now, when there wasn’t a single customer in the place? Frigging typical, he thought bitterly. In her eyes, it would make him look more of a loser than ever.

  ‘He’s pining for you so I thought I’d bring him over as a surprise. See how you were settling in.’ Hayley sounded as composed as if they’d last met yesterday rather than two months ago, when he’d moved out of her flat in Peterborough, a forty-minute drive away, and into his sister’s spare room in nearby Bettsbrough until taking up residence in one of the seldom-occupied guest rooms upstairs a couple of weeks ago. Hayley glanced around the deserted bar. ‘Have you had a bomb alert or something?’ First she looked astonished and then, to his disgust, compassionate.

  ‘Aggro,’ he said briefly, still stroking Doggo, whose eyes were so much easier to meet. ‘Boys who can’t hold their beer. Locals cleared out when it kicked off.’

  ‘Ah.’ Then she said pleasantly, ‘Hello. I’m Hayley.’

  Isaac heard Lily’s voice reply, ‘Hi. I’m Lily.’ Her footsteps came around the bar and then her legs, clad in black super skinny jeans, passed Isaac. Doggo gave her a glance and a tail wag. She said, ‘Lovely dog,’ then moved into the dining area and busied herself replacing the recharged condiment caddies.

  Reluctantly, Isaac realised he was going to have to interact with Hayley because she was still standing on the red-patterned carpet of the bar, quite obviously waiting for him to finish his love-in with Doggo. Rising, he brushed off his trousers and gave Hayley a bland smile. ‘Drink?’ He strode back behind the bar.

  ‘Great.’ She slid onto a bar stool. ‘What do you have in red?’

  ‘Sangiovese?’ he suggested, knowing her predilection for Italian wines, and took down two glasses. Then, on impulse, ‘Fancy joining us, Lily?’ He was not in the mood for a tête-à-tête in the presence of staff, even if he carried Hayley off to a distant corner.

  Lily looked startled. ‘Um, oh. Thanks.’ Diffidently, she joined them.

  Though surprise flickered in Hayley’s expression she smiled courteously at Lily, who took the wine glass Isaac pushed across to her.

  Isaac cast around for a subject that would involve a conversation long enough for the wine to be drunk and take them up to closing time. He hit on what had been a subject of much chatter on both sides of the bar since he’d arrived. ‘Lily’s going over to Switzerland in December to do something for Mr Tubb. Aren’t you, Lily?’

  Lily took another sip from the dark red wine looking slightly ambushed. ‘Tubb’s brother Garrick and Janice’s son Max, really. They work for British Country Foods, which sells traditional British bakery products and conserves. I’ve designed their stands for the Zürich Food, Lifestyle & Health show and a Christmas fair in Schützenberg. The company’s sponsoring a group of us – the Middletones – to go over to sing at the events and lend an air of Britishness to things.’ Doggo squeezed round Hayley’s bar stool to approach Lily with his doggie smile and she smoothed his head and scratched him behind his ears.

  Hayley was too polished to give any sign whether she found the conversation odd or uninteresting. ‘Are you driving or flying to Switzerland? We used to drive all over Europe.’

  Lily glanced between Hayley and Isaac but didn’t ask who ‘we’ was made up of. ‘We’re driving through France. We could’ve flown to Zürich but there are nine of us and we’ll need transport while we’re there, especially for the keyboard, guitar and PA system. Our local performing arts college is hiring us its minibus as four of its students are involved. And a road trip will be an adventure. I’ve been practising driving and parking it in the grounds of the college with the site supervisor.’ She’d told Isaac she’d been pleasantly surprised that turning a corner hadn’t been like wrestling a bear as she’d suspected it might be.

  ‘It sounds great.’ Isaac made sure he was watching Hayley’s face when he added, ‘I hope to be driving in Europe again soon. When Mr Tubb comes back I’m taking instructor courses in survival training and outdoor education, one of them being in France. I also intend to work abroad when my training’s complete.’

  Hayley’s gaze flew to his. ‘A complete career change?’

  Isaac felt a sense of satisfaction that she looked a touch thrown. ‘One I’m more than ready for,’ he replied smoothly.

  After more similarly stilted conversation, the last minutes of opening hours ground past and Isaac was able to lock the doors, shooting the brass bolts on the heavy wooden door. He smiled at Lily. ‘If you could just set the washer going I’ll empty it and clean the filters after I’ve cashed up. You get off home.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’ Lily looked relieved. She grabbed their wine glasses, said goodnight and slipped behind the bar. A few moments later Isaac heard her hurrying footsteps and the sound of the back door.

  He planted his elbows on the bar and sent Hayley a level look. ‘Now, suppose you tell me what you’re doing here?’

  Her neat eyebrows lifted. ‘You don’t sound pleased to see me.’

  He shrugged, never removing his eyes from hers. ‘I didn’t think we’d left things in such a way that either of us anticipated seeing the other, so I don’t know how to feel.’

  She had the grace to look uncomfortable as she fiddled with Doggo’s lead. ‘I didn’t know you intended to leave the country.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ he said, straightening, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his collar. ‘Surely, after the last painful months, when you ended things by admitting the failure of the Juno lessened me in your eyes, you’re not disappointed I’m going? You know I like the outdoors. I grew up on a farm and living in the city never stopped me loving the country.’ He’d been with this woman for several years and sometimes he thought he barely knew her.

  Seconds ticked past. Hayley frowned and seemed to struggle with her thoughts. Then she sighed. ‘I came to ask if you’d take Doggo.’

  He did a double take. ‘When we talked about it when we broke up you wouldn’t hear of it.’

  She shrugged without meeting his eyes. ‘The dog walker’s moving away and I thought that as you were living in a village he’d be happy here.’ She paused. ‘If you can’t have him, I’ll have to rehome him—’

  ‘You can’t get rid of him like an out-of-season coat!’ Isaac interrupted, outraged. How could she stand to think of Doggo’s sadness and bewilderment at finding himself in a strange home with strange humans or, worse, in some kind of rescue centre? They’d bought him as a puppy four years ago and he’d never known other owners. He made an instant decision. ‘OK, I’ll have him. The pub’s dog-friendly.’ He thought about taking walks every day with Doggo and his heart lifted as if catching a wave. He didn’t know how Tubb would feel about a dog living in the pub accommodation but he’d pay for a steam clean or something when he left. The idea of having big, boisterous, joyful, loving Doggo back in his life was such a bonus.

  It hadn’t been appropriate to fight Hayley for him before because not only had his immediate future been uncertain but he’d b
een staying with his sister Flora, and Jasmine, Flora’s youngest, was allergic to pet fur. When he’d moved to The Three Fishes, Doggo had still been living happily at Hayley’s city centre penthouse with a terrace and views of the cathedral.

  ‘What about your new life in Europe?’ she asked doubtfully.

  ‘He has a pet passport.’ Isaac refused to dwell on the fact that he literally didn’t know where his life would take him after the instructor courses.

  After a few moments, she nodded. ‘OK then. I have his things in the car.’

  They went out together to her Audi and Isaac took possession of Doggo’s bed, sack of food, bowls, toys, travel crate and spare lead. Helpfully, Doggo tried to grab a tug o’war toy, tail whipping madly, and Isaac almost went headlong over him. ‘Idiot,’ Isaac said fondly. When the canine possessions had been transported to the area just inside the back door, Isaac took Doggo’s lead.

  Hayley gave it up without demur but took a moment to gaze up at Isaac. A tiny smile touched the corners of her mouth. ‘Lily seems nice.’ Her voice lifted at the end of the sentence as if it were a question rather than a statement.

  His hand tightened on the loop of the lead, making Doggo fidget and look up as if feeling the tension vibrate all the way to his harness. ‘Lily is young and uber-attractive,’ he said, equally irritated whether Hayley was fishing for information or giving him a hint as to how to interact with staff. ‘But you know I have a perfectly good code of conduct with co-workers. I waited until I’d left the casino to ask you out. I’m not in need of coaching.’ In fact, their time at the casino hadn’t overlapped by much. He’d been in the throes of buying the lease of the Juno when the chain had brought Hayley in as general manager, a hotshot they’d poached from another group. He’d admired her: so good at her job, so groomed, it had been a no-brainer to ask her out once he could.

  Hayley flushed. ‘Then I’ll butt out,’ she said stiffly. She took a step back and he wondered whether it was from his rebuff or from the word ‘young’, which he was a little ashamed of now he’d said it. At nine years older than him Hayley had always been defensive about her age. She crouched down and slid her arms around Doggo, stroking the top of his head with her cheek. ‘Be good for Isaac,’ she whispered. Doggo tried to lick her face so she straightened up, said goodnight and stepped smartly towards her car.

  Isaac watched her drive away, mentally apologising to Lily for using her to show Hayley that she’d lost the right to comment on his life. Then he looked down at Doggo and murmured, ‘But Lily is uber-attractive.’

  Doggo wagged his tail as if to agree. Isaac sometimes thought Doggo was an old soul. His eyes were wise even if he still acted like a puppy.

  Chapter Three

  On Saturday morning Lily stretched and yawned in the compact comfort of the apartment in Carola’s basement, peeking through the curtains at frost sparkling on the shrubs and turning every twig to etched glass. The apartment had once been Carola’s ex-husband’s den and movie room. By the time Lily had come to Middledip assuming she’d stay for a week or so it was an Airbnb. Now she’d lived in it for two years and it was her home.

  Carola’s house was built on a slope so though the apartment was underground at the front it faced the back garden via French doors that allowed light to flood in. It was smaller than both the Peterborough semi and the Barcelona apartment she’d shared with Sergio, and Carola and her daughters lived above her, but she loved it. It was her space: a bedroom, a lounge/kitchen combo and a shower room. A bijou hallway led to steps up to Carola’s kitchen, but though that door was generally unlocked neither of them burst through it unless expected.

  A burst of laughter wafted down from Carola’s part of the house and Lily grinned to hear Owen Dudley’s rich baritone chuckle. He’d only just progressed to staying over when Carola’s teenage girls, Charlotte and Emily, were at home. Carola and Owen had met on a dating site last winter and showed every sign of falling hard for each other. Lily was deeply glad. Carola had told her how flattened she’d been by her husband Duncan’s defection nearly three years ago.

  Lily hopped out of bed and made for the shower, remembering last week when Carola’s happiness with Owen had prompted Duncan to ring and check that their daughters weren’t being neglected for ‘your new man’. Carola had been opening the door to Warwick, Alfie, Eddie and his dad Neil at the time but she hadn’t let that prevent her from hissing, ‘As you left the family for Sherri I don’t think you’re in a position to question me!’ The others had looked awkward at bearing witness to Carola arguing with her ex.

  And on the theme of ‘awkward’ and exes … Lily frowned as she turned on the shower, her thoughts flitting to the tense conclusion to her Thursday evening shift at The Three Fishes when the woman called Hayley had turned up.

  Though polite enough to Lily she’d obviously been there to talk to Isaac and the tense way he’d greeted her had made Lily decide on ‘ex’ as their most likely relationship status.

  Throwing off her black PJs covered in pink hearts – a Christmas gift from Zinnia last year – Lily stepped under the hot shower and turned her face to the spray. She liked Isaac and couldn’t help being aware of his storybook ‘tall, dark and handsome’ looks and the tiny gold earring that put an edge on his groomed style. His eyes at once fascinated and unsettled her – dark and thoughtful, even brooding, she thought she read sadness in them. Had Hayley put it there? Immaculately turned out and obviously several years older than Isaac, she’d reminded Lily of a Cruella de Vil who’d finally got her glossy Dalmatian dog.

  In contrast, after her shower Lily pulled on jeans and a purple jumper depicting a snowman in a Christmas pudding hat and opened her laptop to work on her designs for the British Country Foods stand at the Food, Lifestyle & Health show. British Country Foods was a Swiss company, despite their name, creating typically British baked goods and conserves. The Swiss loved their food and were international in their tastes.

  She hummed ‘Let it Snow’ as she pulled up the files and let the other Christmas songs the Middletones would perform float through her mind. She’d hit on the idea of a singing group when tossing around ideas for the project. BCF had leapt at the idea and had quickly come up with a sponsorship package. Carola, who’d been in choirs when she was younger and whose daughter Charlotte was at the local music school, had not only involved herself but known exactly who to invite to join the group.

  BCF’s stand would be in the food section, obviously, and would include product shelving, plinths for display and tables and chairs for meetings. It gave her a buzz to know that the physical versions of these had already been ordered from a provider local to British Country Foods in the Swiss canton of Zug (pronounced Zoog, Janice’s son Max Gasly had told her). Presently she was going over the elements designed to provide a British flavour. A loop on a TV screen would show the crosses of St George and St Patrick superimposing themselves on the saltire of St Andrew to form the Union Jack. Others would feature moody fade-ins/fade-outs of Welsh valleys, English farmland, the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland and Scottish mountains. BCF’s products were ethically produced and mindfully packaged and trade show focus was on growing their presence in perfectly chosen retail outlets and online stores.

  On the other side of the coin, at the Schützenberg Christmas market the BCF stall would be aimed at selling products directly to the public – especially the Christmas line at this prime time for consumer spending. Apparently expat Brits would give their eye teeth for mince pies or jars of brandy butter, whilst Swiss people had an appetite for wholesome, ethically produced international foods. ‘Britishness’ was BCF’s USP.

  The stall was to be provided by the organisers in the shape of a jolly red chalet and Lily was busy on an interior backdrop. Corporate branding would be low-key to take advantage of the local, crafty feel of the market but it would be there. It wasn’t the sort of thing a designer would normally be employed for but Lily was contracted on a whole-project basis. ‘Whole-project’ h
ad never before included her leading a group of British village singers through Europe to provide cultural authenticity but so what? The company CEO Loris Aebi – known as Los or Los the Boss – was keen on encouraging grassroots arts. She couldn’t wait for her first trip to Switzerland. She hugged to herself a vision of sipping spicy glühwein in between crooning ‘White Christmas’ and ‘Mistletoe and Wine’, wrapped up in a parka and boots as smiling shoppers paused to listen.

  It would be great to see Tubb again too. His spell of ill health had been alarming but she was reassured by his and Janice’s regular contact with The Three Fishes.

  Would she ever feel the time was right to tell him she was his half-sister …?

  Shaking off the question that she seemed to spend half her life wrestling with, she turned to perfecting the designs for the trade stand banners and ‘clings’, the film containing corporate branding that adhered to the stand. She sank into her work, making tiny tweaks to sizes or positions and the rest of the morning flashed by until her phone lit up with a FaceTime call and Max Gasly calling. Quickly, she picked up.

  ‘Hey! Just working on your stuff.’ She turned the phone to give him a flash of her laptop screen then turned it back towards herself.

  Max’s image grinned at her, sandy hair sticking up on top of his head. ‘Great! Everyone’s loving your ideas. Sorry to call you on a Saturday but I just want to check we’re on schedule for final files.’

  ‘I’m sending you stuff for approval this morning. When you’ve okayed them they can go to print,’ said Lily.

  ‘Fantastic,’ he replied. ‘Oh, hang on.’ The image on her screen whooshed around for a couple of moments and when it steadied again a small beaming boy had appeared on Max’s lap.

  Lily, recognising Max’s youngest son, also Janice’s grandson, beamed back. ‘Hello, Keir!’

  ‘Yo!’ Three-year-old Keir waved both his hands energetically. ‘I wiv Daddy! I got a car on my jumper that Grandma made me.’ He pulled at the royal blue jumper depicting a bright red car to make sure she understood.