Mistletoe & Mystery

by N/A

  Chapter Five

  “Tim, if we don’t leave now we’ll miss the show!” sighed Claudia as she watched her husband slot yet another screwdriver into the already jam-packed rucksack he had insisted on bringing with him to the tree-lighting ceremony ‘just in case’.

  “It always pays to be prepared, darling,” replied Tim, his forehead creased in thought. “Remember last year when George Stanton blew up the kettle and everyone was forced to drink mulled wine and Christmas punch instead of tea and coffee? The whole evening descended into an absolutely riot!”

  “And it was the best Christmas party the village has ever had!” laughed Claudia, leaning forward to deposit a kiss on Tim’s cheek before linking his arm and steering him towards the front door. “Come on.”

  “Do you think I should take a spare roll of gaffer tape?”

  “No!”

  “What do you think, Millie? Isn’t it better to be over-prepared than risk the regret of a forgotten gadget?”

  “Erm, I’m not sure,” she hedged, uncertain how to answer such a loaded question. It was the first time she’d met Tim and she liked him on the spot, her heart flooding with empathy for her fellow clutter-collector, especially when she saw the pleading expression scrawled across his handsome face. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes then!”

  And before anyone could stop him, he’d cantered off back to his workshop to collect even more essential tools, leaving the two women rolling their eyes and giggling on the doorstep until he reappeared, stooped under the weight of his over-laden rucksack like a DIY-obsessed Father Christmas.

  It was clear to Millie that Tim belonged to the eccentric part of the people spectrum. Dressed in a hand-knitted sweater, incongruously depicting only the rear end of a reindeer, he was as far from Millie’s image of a high-flying City architect as it was possible to get. However, his silver eyes held a sharp intelligence that reflected an avid interest in everything around him and he exuded energy, almost as if he was getting ready to embark on a sprint. His hair, more salt than pepper, was thick and luxuriant and cut into a trendy style by the local French hairdresser, and the fine lines around his mouth spoke of regular laughter. Time spent with Tim Croft would be the highlight of anyone’s day.

  He insisted on driving them to Berryford in his Range Rover which made short work of the snow-covered roads. Thankfully, the temperature had climbed during the day to hover just above freezing. The covering of snow remained, but rivulets of water were trickling in the gutters and the absence of a breeze made the night air much more appealing.

  As soon as Claudia emerged from the passenger seat, she was mobbed by friends and neighbours and dragged off to inspect the Christmas tree and pronounce her delight at the villagers’ foodie offerings. Tim shrugged his shoulders in familiar resignation, relieved her of her platters of gingerbread and accompanied Millie into the village hall where he too was summonsed for his opinion on the generator that was being used to power the lights.

  Left alone, Millie experienced a spasm of awkwardness, but it didn’t last long. No one was allowed to feel like an outsider in Berryford, especially during the festivities. She set down the platter of dark chocolate roulades on an old wallpaper table alongside the most elegantly dressed Christmas cake she had ever seen. A Calypso-style version of Jingle Bells blared out from a pair of huge loudspeakers on the stage at the far end of the room next to an eclectically decorated silver tinsel tree. The whole room smelled of cloves, cinnamon and happy times, with just the faintest hint of bleach, and was clearly a beacon of light in the heart of the village.

  “Hi, Millie. Looks like you and Claudia have been busy today. There’s enough food here to feed a whole battalion of Christmas elves!” declared Zach as he carefully lowered a keg of beer from his shoulder on to the makeshift bar that was crammed with a kaleidoscope of spirits ranging from the standard whisky and gin to the more exotic like the thick green liquor that Millie thought must be Crème de Menthe – something she had last seen in her French grandmother’s drinks cabinet when she was a child!

  “We have! And you’re right – there’s a mountain of goodies on offer, but we had to use up so many ingredients in the larder because four of the Festive Feast guests have had to cancel at the last minute. Only two couples are enrolled on the Christmas cookery course this time. Look, over there next to the piano; that’s Leo Groves and his wife, Gina, and his business partner, Mike Sanderson and his wife, Marianne.”

  Zach followed the direction of Millie’s eyes to where Gina and Marianne were sampling the mulled wine, their mouths stretching into a grimace when the high alcohol content hit the back of their throats. Mike rolled his eyes at his friends and took a sip too, then promptly descended into a coughing fit, his tortoise-shell glasses slipping from his face and blonde quiff quivering in the onslaught as Marianne gamely patted his back whilst trying to hold back a bout of giggles.

  Leo, clearly the more sensible of the group, shook his head when Gina offered him her glass and instead selected a bottle of beer which he clutched to his chest as if his life depended on it. He certainly fit his name perfectly, thought Millie, as she took in his broad, rugby-honed shoulders, the tight auburn curls and the bump on the bridge of his nose to indicate he had been in the wars – albeit on a sports pitch. He radiated self-assurance and Millie knew she would have no qualms choosing Leo Groves to act on her behalf should she ever find herself in the unfortunate position of having to instruct a solicitor.

  “Hey, you two! What are you doing loitering in here?” called Tim through the doorway. “The ceremony is about to start!

  “Come on.”

  Zach guided Millie to the village green where everyone and their dog had congregated, bundled into thick layers and the most diverse collection of woolly hats she had ever seen. Some sported the expected pom-poms, others a variety of animal ears with one elderly lady modelling a tall, pointed, multi-coloured unicorn horn that was the envy of several little girls who were staring up at the headgear in wide-eyed fascination.

  The village brass band finished their somewhat off-key version of Deck the Halls to a smattering of appreciative applause, then struck up the first bars of O Christmas Tree and a choir of schoolchildren began their well-rehearsed rendition of the traditional overture to the tree-lighting ceremony. Their young voices, so innocent, clear and full of hope and excitement for the approaching visit of Santa Claus, caused a lump to form in Millie’s throat.

  Dragging her emotions back into their box, she continued her sweep of the gathering surrounding the mammoth tree and couldn’t help but smile. Enclosed by a white picket fence, the tree was magnificent, draped in strings of fairy lights awaiting the spark of life, and a necklace of tinsel with a gold star adorning its crown. However, Millie noticed that its branches were strangely devoid of decorations. A family of flashing reindeers provided the only source of light, apart from the lanterns the well-organised had brought with them and the tiny lights pinned to the top of the musician’s stands.

  As the final bars of the carol melted into the night, Tim and Claudia stepped from the shadows and climbed onto a small makeshift platform to a raucous welcome of whoops and whistles. Millie laughed as the image on Tim’s Christmas sweater suddenly made complete sense. Claudia had removed her padded jacket to reveal the other half of the reindeer knitted onto the front of her own jumper - the head, the antlers and the huge red pom-pom nose of Rudolph - which completed the animal when she stood next to her husband causing a trickle of laughter from the crowd.

  “Claudia and I would like to welcome everyone to the thirty-third Berryford tree-lighting ceremony. You will have noticed that this year’s tree is much larger than our previous trees. For obvious reasons, we wanted this night to be the best ever. Before I ask the winner of the school raffle to step up and turn on the lights, I just wanted to take this opportunity to say a few thank yous.”

  Tim paused, his Adam’s apple working overtime, and Millie was surprised to hear a
wobble in his voice. He had removed his hat and his hair stuck out in random tufts, made worse by his constant habit of running his fingers from root to tip.

  “First, my thanks to Martha Jones for her superb organisational skills. Once again, she has ensured that everything has gone according to plan for our annual celebration of Christmas cheer, even to the extent of ordering the weather gods to press the pause button on the snow we’ve been experiencing these last couple of days. Secondly, I want to thank everyone who has contributed to the wonderful spread waiting for us in the village hall, and the fabulous Berryford Band and the primary school choir for entertaining us with their amazing voices.”

  There followed a crescendo of applause and stamping of feet in agreement.

  “Finally, Claudia and I just want to say a huge heartfelt thank you for all the support you have shown us both over the years – we couldn’t have done any of it without your help, your encouragement and your fabulous produce. It means everything to us.”

  Millie watched as Claudia moved over to take Tim’s hand and flick a tear from the side of her cheek. She was desperate to unravel the mystery of what was going on with Stonelea Manor because if this was Tim’s annual Christmas speech, it was more akin to a goodbye eulogy. She glanced up at Zach, and saw that his eyes were fixed on Tim, his jaw set, his expression serious. What was going on?

  “So, Happy Christmas everyone… and it gives me great pleasure to invite Sasha Dennison to help Claudia and I to switch on this year’s Christmas tree lights.”

  Sasha’s grandparents led the beaming five-year-old onto the stage where she was endowed with a badge the size of a saucer depicting a snowman wearing a Santa hat. Tim stooped down to collect a weird looking contraption sporting a large round red button – clearly one of his inventions – and held it towards Sasha whose eyes were dancing with excitement at being selected to do the honours. She lowered her mittened hand with great glee and the tree’s lights sprang into life to a rumble of oohs and aahs.

  The choir burst into song once more, their voices lifting into the air as they reached the high notes of We Wish You A Merry Christmas, whilst the crowd moved en masse to form an orderly queue around the perimeter of the picket fence.

  “What’s happening?” asked Millie, clapping her hands to get some feeling into her fingers.

  “Well, I’m not sure whether you noticed, but the tree is naked!” laughed Zach, his eyes crinkling attractively at the corners as he looked down at her, sending a pleasant zip of electricity through her veins.

  “Yes, I did think that was a bit strange.”

  “Well, that’s because as part of this weekend’s festivities, everyone either makes their own decoration, or choses one from their family’s collection that means something special to them, and hangs it on the tree as a dedication to someone they’ve lost this year and want to include in the celebration. Here, I thought you might like this.”

  Zach reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out a bundle of gold-flecked tissue paper, and handed it over to Millie, an unfathomable expression in his eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “Open it and see.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds, her heart sending signals of anticipation cavorting around her chest as she wondered what the parcel contained. When they were in St Lucia, she had confided in Zach about the loss of her father when she was a teenager, and he obviously hadn’t forgotten – had even thought to supply her with a token of remembrance to hang on the village tree.

  She swallowed down on her emotions as they peeked over the rim of their carefully crafted confinement, and gently peeled back the paper to reveal an intricately carved wooden star painted in silver and threaded with a bright red ribbon. A whoosh of gratitude rushed through her veins as an image of her father, laughing at one of Monique’s more outrageous Salsa costumes, floated across her mind’s eye and tears sparkled at her lower lashes.

  “Did you… did you make this yourself?”

  “I did.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she managed to whisper. “Thank you, Zach.”

  Zach produced a gel pen and held it out. “I thought you could write your dad’s name on the ribbon,” he added, gently.

  “Yes. Yes, I think I will.”

  Millie took the pen and in her best hand-writing she wrote Always in my thoughts, Forever in my heart before taking her place in the queue to hang the ornament on the most luxuriant branch she could find. A wave of sorrow surged through her body and she took a few minutes to grapple with her memories by inspecting some of the other Christmas tree decorations, to read the names of those past residents of Berryford who had been loved and were missing from that night’s celebrations but whose spirits were still alive amongst them.

  What a fabulous tradition, she thought, sending up a missive of affection to her father who, as a lover of any excuse for a party, she knew would be looking down on them that evening. She resolved to ask Claudia if she would reclaim the gift when the tree was dismantled in the new year and send it on to her in London.

  She was about to tell Zach how apt his present was – her father had been an avid astronomer and the Chair of the local astronomical society before he died – when they were interrupted by a shout from a tall, slender guy who had eschewed the tradition of Christmas-themed attire in favour of figure-hugging designer jeans and what was clearly a very expensive ivory cashmere sweater.

  “Hey, Zach, if you don’t get inside sharpish, all the delicious goodies will have been hoovered up by the ravenous revellers!”

  With neatly gelled ebony hair, the newcomer looked like he had just stepped off the front page of GQ magazine, and his arrival at their sides was accompanied by a swirl of fragrance that hung in the air like a nuclear fallout cloud. In fact, his cologne was so strong that Millie had to conceal a cough under the guise of a robust throat-clearing session. Zach bent down to whisper in Millie’s ear, his action so intimate that the warmth of his breath on her cheek sent shivers of delight through her body.

  “Blake does tend to go a bit overboard with the aftershave, always has.”

  “A bit!” she giggled.

  “Any news, Zach?”

  To her surprise, Millie felt Zach’s whole body stiffen as he considered his reply to Blake’s question and she scrutinised his face for an indication as to the reason for it. Not another secret, she sighed to herself.

  “Nothing yet. Blake, can I introduce you to Amelia Harper? She’s co-presenting the Festive Feast course at Stonelea Manor with Claudia this year.”

  “Delighted!” beamed Blake, his smooth, tanned features morphing into a smile.

  “Hi, Blake. It’s great to meet you. Please, call me Millie.”

  Before she knew what was happening, Millie was engulfed in a hearty bear hug of a welcome and received a fresh blast of cologne for her trouble. When she was released she saw the glint of mischief dancing in Blake’s chocolate-brown eyes as he flicked a quick glance at Zach before giving her a very obvious once-over. A chuckle rumbled at the back of her throat, but she managed to hold on.

  “Darling, it’s just so good to finally be able to put a face to the name. Zach talks about you all the time and now I understand why. She’s gorgeous, Zach. I totally get why you’ve been keeping her to yourself!”

  Zach rolled his eyes, but the tenseness of his earlier demeanour softened to accept the jovial ribbing.

  “Blake, Millie is…”

  “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to cuddle up under the mistletoe. There’s a Pina Colada shouting my name at the bar. Don’t you just adore those little parrot cocktail sticks Claudia brought back from St Lucia? Oh, and don’t forget to introduce Millie to one of Kate’s famous mince pies before they all disappear. Of course, I shan’t be indulging myself.” Blake patted his washboard flat stomach. “Got a slinky little number for the New Year’s Ball that I want to dazzle everyone with and it most certainly won’t look at its best with unsightly bulges! Perhaps I’ll see you in the
café, Millie, before you scoot off back to that crazy metropolis that is our capital city.”

  “Yes, I hope so.” Millie grinned, already feeling a Blake-sized friendship bubble ballooning in her chest.

  “I like this one, Zach. Play your cards right and maybe this year won’t be all bad news!”

  Blake winked lasciviously at Zach, anointed Millie with another wide, neon-bright smile, and trotted off towards the village hall leaving a fresh burst of Chanel Monsieur in his wake.

  “Come on. I could do with something to warm me up.”

  The village hall buzzed with activity accompanied by a cacophony of animated conversation interspersed with laughter and the occasional burst of song. Millie accepted a glass of warm, spice-infused punch, slotting her fingers through the handle of the glass mug and inhaling the delicious aroma of all-things Christmassy. She performed a swift stocktake of the room and picked out Claudia and Tim standing next to the stage, being treated like guests of honour, and noticed that for the first time since she had arrived in Berryford, the furrows on Claudia’s forehead had melted away and she looked happy and relaxed.

  Gina, Mike and Marianne had sensibly swapped the punch for beer and were busy devouring the chocolate roulades as though they were worried that their stay at Stonelea Manor involved a restrictive health spa regime instead of a sumptuous culinary feast! Gina and Marianne’s heads were thrown back in laughter at something Leo was saying and Millie suspected that the switch to beer may have come a little too late.

  Both women presented a sleek, elegant and polished image, their hair freshly coiffed by their favourite Kensington hairdresser especially for their week’s stay in rural Gloucestershire; Gina’s a short, cropped bob the colour of sunshine that emphasised her strong cheekbones, Marianne’s a long mane of curls that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Titian painting. Their cheeks were rosy from the heat of the room after the icy breeze at the tree lighting ceremony, but they looked like they had slotted into village life perfectly.