Mistletoe & Mystery

by N/A

  “Which half? Top or bottom?” asked Blake, his bright blue eyes glinting as he re-joined their conversation and made Millie feel even worse.

  She ignored Zach and Blake’s amusement and plastered on her brightest smile. “Hello, Kate. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m helping Claudia present the Festive Feast cookery course at Stonelea Manor this week.”

  “Yes, Claudia mentioned that Tim had persuaded her to ask for some help. I have to admit I’m worried about her. She’s always been so efficient and capable, running those workshops of hers with boundless energy. That riding accident in September seems to have knocked the stuffing out of her, though, never mind being laid up with her leg in plaster for six weeks. I hope she’s taking it easy?”

  Kate raised her eyebrows, giving Millie the impression that she thought it was her personal responsibility to protect Claudia’s wellbeing by doing all the hard work herself. Her dark hazel eyes then narrowed, and Millie felt as though her deepest thoughts had been scoured with a wire brush. Her non-too-subtle hint delivered, Kate’s face morphed into a smile, stretching her perfectly applied scarlet lipstick. Before Millie could respond, Kate had drifted away to chat to the couple at the next table, patting her freshly-set auburn waves that had been moulded into something akin to a Russian Cossack’s fur hat and leaving behind an aroma of lily-of-the-valley and caramel.

  “Oh my God, do you think she heard what I said about her cooking?”

  “About it being ‘stodgy and artery-clogging’ and the sole reason our generation is prone to frequent heart attacks and strokes?” asked Blake, eyeing Millie’s uneaten parkin and giving her a cheeky grin as he confirmed helpfully, “Probably.”

  “Oh no. I have to go and apologise.”

  Millie began to push herself out of her chair, but Zach pressed his fingers to her forearm. “No need. It was an honest critique, and Kate’s no shrinking violet. It’d take more than a passing stranger’s opinion on the heaviness of her pastry to upset her.”

  Millie was shocked to experience a sharp stab of discomfort at being described by Zach as a mere ‘passing stranger’. Of course, it was an accurate description as far as her acquaintance with Kate was concerned and he was probably just trying to make her feel better about her totally unnecessary rudeness, yet she found she suddenly wanted to be a part of this tight-knit community. She had only been in Berryford for three days and she already felt like she belonged there. Ridiculous, she knew.

  “Come on, I’ll drive you back to the manor before you cause any more trouble,” smirked Zach. “Claudia will be thinking I’ve kidnapped you!”

  Millie watched Zach settle their bill at the counter, sharing a joke with Blake before again pecking Kate on the cheek. Did every customer of Kate’s Kitchen do that when they left? A surge of envy rolled through her stomach, swiftly followed by relief. There was no way she would want to embrace the customers of Étienne’s, if for no other reason than she would be at it all day!

  However, there was something so heart-warming about the way everyone knew everyone else and looked out for each other’s wellbeing – just as Kate had done with Claudia – instilling a sense that whatever happened, Claudia and Tim were not alone, that the villagers would be there to support them in good times and in bad. No wonder Claudia was so distressed about the sale of the manor - not for selfish reasons but because of the impact its change of ownership would inevitably have on the community. She assumed that was why there had been such a lacklustre attempt at filling the house with cheery Christmas decorations; they simply hadn’t been able to face it.

  Whilst Zach navigated the bends in the road back to Stonelea, Millie took the opportunity to survey the landscape, still dressed in its winter clothing. Once again, she experienced that special feeling of belonging, of the warm welcome she had received from everyone despite being a ‘passing stranger’. She knew she wanted to be more than that, she wanted to become an integral part of the village life, but of course it was too late. Claudia and Tim were relocating to St Lucia and, unless he took them up on their offer to go with them, Zach would be out of a job and a home, and who knew where he would end up living - and she suspected that Kate wouldn’t be bothered if she never set eyes on her again.

  “Okay, here we are,” announced Zach as he pulled into the cobbled courtyard at the rear of the manor. “Erm, Millie, would you like to come for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll cook – that’s if you have room after scoffing all the goodies on the menu at the Christmas High Tea?”

  She turned in her seat to face Zach. His invitation, and the look of hopefulness reflected in his eyes, was a welcome confirmation that, despite his earlier attempts at keeping their relationship firmly on the friendship rung, his feelings for her had also moved up a level. Her heart performed a somersault of pleasure and she could think of nothing else she would rather do than spend more time in his company, this time in the more intimate surroundings of his home, with a bottle of Chianti breathing on the coffee table, Binks snoozing at their feet and a fire burning in the grate.

  “Yes please! What about one of those amazing Spag Bols you made in St Lucia?”

  “You’re on!” he smiled.

  “Great. See you tomorrow, then.”

  Millie slammed the passenger door shut and watched Zach perform an elaborate a three-point turn before trundling off back down the driveway to his lodge. When he was out of sight, she stuck her hands in her pockets, raised her shoulders towards her ears and performed a perfect pirouette of delight.

  The sharp ring of a hammer on iron interrupted her spontaneous celebration of Zach’s surprise dinner invitation and she decided to investigate what was going on in one of the old outhouses on the other side of the courtyard. Her spirits climbed another notch when a stream of choice profanities met her ears. She had stumbled on Tim’s workshop!

  She approached the scarred wooden door with caution, unsure of her welcome, not to mention her safety after hearing Claudia’s numerous anecdotes about her husband’s penchant for blowing thing up – the last being an old washing machine he was trying to turn into a battery-powered go-kart.

  “Tim? It’s Millie. Is it okay to come in?”

  “Oh, hi Millie. Yes, fine. Just be careful of the bench saw over there, it’s still switched on. Oh, and you might like to avoid the Bunsen burner with that scarf dangling round your neck.”

  Millie lingered for a few moments on the threshold, allowing her eyes to adjust to the gloom and when they did, her jaw dropped. The whole place looked like a batty old scientist’s Aladdin’s cave, in the middle of which stood the batty old scientist himself. Tim’s thick hair stood on end and he looked like he’d just electrocuted himself - a not inconceivable possibility, but more likely due to the fact he’d been running his fingers through his fringe in frustration. Smudges of engine oil were streaked across his cheeks like war paint - except the bulky navy-blue boiler suit, covered in splodges of plaster, made him look more like a benign, if scruffy, cousin of the Teletubbies.

  He stood with a wrench in his hand staring at an upside-down, ride-on lawn mower, glaring at it as though it were the enemy and all he wanted to do was bash it into submission but he was just too polite to do so.

  “I just don’t seem to be able to turn that final corner, Millie,” he mused as if she had any inkling of what he was talking about. “Any ideas?”

  A blast of mirth spluttered from Millie’s throat at the most unexpected question she had ever been asked. Tim must have realised what he had said and smiled at her. “Sorry.”

  “This is a fantastic workshop, Tim.”

  “It’s a palace, don’t care what Claudia calls it. She’s refused to set foot in here for over a year now, but I must admit I don’t blame her. Before she left me to my own devices though, she gave me a very boring lecture on the numerous Health and Safety rules the council Gestapos insist on for the cookery school. She made me promise to sort out a sturdy padlock and as long as I remember to lock up at the end of the day, I should be ok
ay.”

  “So what exactly are you working on?” asked Millie, taking a few steps towards the machine whose wheels were spinning in the air like an up-ended tortoise.

  Tim’s eyes lit up at her interest and her heart softened towards him. If she ever had the space, this was exactly the kind of sanctuary she wanted, albeit a little cleaner and filled to the rafters with culinary paraphernalia rather than rust-blistered old tools, myriad jars of nails and screws, and every electronic gadget a DIY enthusiast could ever dream of owning. She glanced upwards and took another speedy stride inside when she saw an old-fashioned scythe dangling above her head secured with only a tatty length of rope.

  “This, Millie, is a sit-on lawn mower, but it’s no ordinary sit-on lawn mower. One day, this machine will mow the lawns here at Stonelea by remote control – you know, like a cross between those robotic vacuum cleaners and a driverless car. I just need to iron out a few teething problems and then…. Oh, sorry, I recognise that glazed look. I can get a little over-zealous when it comes to engineering projects.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Millie spotted a tattered old cardboard box abandoned on a tool-strewn workbench and went over to investigate. She rooted around inside and removed a beautifully illustrated piece of parchment. It was a hand-written recipe for a Christmas cake complete with drawings of the ingredients in the margins and a photograph of the final triumph at the bottom. It was a work of art which should have been framed and hung on the wall in the kitchen, not lurking in a damp decrepit box where the slightest lapse could send the place up in flames.

  “Why are these recipe cards here?”

  “Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me, Millie. I’d completely forgotten. I have to make sure that I get them FedExed to Claudia’s agent, Giles Morton, in tonight’s post otherwise I’ll go straight to the top of Claudia’s naughty list.”

  “Some of these are beautiful. Look at this white chocolate cheesecake recipe! It’s got honey and whiskey in it – now that’s my kind of cheesecake. Oh, and this one for a Christmas pithivier. I add apricots and passion fruit to the mincemeat when I make mine, but Mum does hers with plums and cherries and a splash of vodka which is absolutely delicious. The illustrations are amazing.”

  “They’re the winning recipes the cookery school has showcased from each of the last ten years. Forty in total – all traditional bakes that the villagers rustled up for their families at Christmas. Claudie commissioned a local artist to sketch the ingredients and the finished products from the photographs of the students’ attempts. Her agent saw them when he was on a visit down here when Claudie was laid up after her riding accident and adored them. Giles took a selection back to London with him and he reckons he might have a publisher interested. The meeting is tomorrow, and I really should have sent them on Saturday, but never got round to it. It might be best if you didn’t mention that slip-up to Claudie. I’ll call Giles and tell him they’ll be with him in the morning.”

  Tim grimaced at the inconvenience, dropping his wrench onto a bench where it joined several identical friends - as well as an assortment of spanners and a cascade of nuts and bolts - with a resounding clatter. Millie rolled her eyes – and Zach thought she had a problem with the clutter gene! He grabbed the box, closed the lid, and deposited it in the doorway so that he would have to trip over it when he left.

  “Oooo, what’s this you’re working on?”

  “Ah, yes, it’s rather nice, isn’t it? It’s a piece of stained glass I’ve designed for Claudie’s Christmas present.”

  “Is that the view of the Pitons from the villa?”

  “Yes, it is. I’d forgotten you’ve been there. Thank you, Millie. You’ve done a great deal for us over the last couple of months. It’s a shame the manor is being sold, otherwise I think Claudie would have offered you a position here.”

  Millie’s eyes widened with delight and her heart filled with gratitude until she remembered that it was a purely hypothetical career opportunity.

  “Wow, that would be my dream job!”

  “Well, you can join the queue to punch Dexter’s lights out when he shows his face on Thursday. You won’t be surprised to hear that yours are not the only dreams he’s trampled on. I’m sure you’re aware how upset Claudie is about what’s happened. But she refuses to talk about it and I know it’s at the root of her current fatigue. She’s always been the life and soul of everything she sets her mind to and I hate seeing her so downhearted.”

  Tim stopped fiddling with one of the wheels on the lawn mower, shoved his fingers through his hair then ran his palm over his chin.

  “The problem is, she loves her cousin. They spent a carefree childhood together here at Stonelea, running around the grounds like a pair of kids from Swallows and Amazons or the Famous Five or something. She wants to be angry with him, but she can’t so she’s just bottling up her emotions and it’s not good. I know Dexter is only asking for what’s rightfully his and that he’s waited over ten years for it, but if he had just given us more notice maybe we could have come up with the cash.”

  Tim’s eyes reflected the ragged pain that was swirling around his heart. “Dexter has always been irresponsible and impulsive in everything he does, so it’s no surprise he’s carried that trait through to his business dealings and investment decisions. Sometimes that works to his advantage; sometimes it’s disastrous. I have no idea what possessed him to choose a start-up mining company in the Australian outback to sink his cash into, but I’ve told Claudie we have to be pragmatic. We have a fabulous project to get our teeth into in St Lucia. She has lots of plans, as you know, and as soon as we get over there in January I’m sure a dose of sunshine therapy will do wonders to raise her spirits. I hope so after the year we’ve had.”

  Millie saw Tim flick a glance in her direction from beneath his lashes and knew that there was something else apart from the problems with Stonelea Manor that he wasn’t telling her. Something much more personal that upset him even more than the loss of his home. She wondered what it could be, but she didn’t want to pry. It was just another mystery to add to the list. If he had wanted her to know he would have told her, but her heart squeezed with sadness for the challenges they both faced.

  Tim had turned his back on her and sunk into silence, clearly battling his demons as he fiddled with the plug of a circular saw. She decided to press a little more on the subject of Claudia’s cousin’s imminent arrival in the hope she could find a way of helping, even if it was in a small way.

  “So, Dexter is coming on Thursday? Does he know that our Festive Feast guests are still going to be here?”

  “Claudie tried to put him off, but he’s bringing the guy who wants to buy the manor with him because that’s the only day in his ‘very busy schedule’ that he can squeeze in a trip to look around.” A flicker of irritation stalked across Tim’s expression. “He’s apparently some kind of Swedish entrepreneur. You know the type: young, wealthy, a privacy-obsessed internet celebrity, which is complete oxymoron if you ask me! Never heard of him, of course, but he wants to turn Stonelea into a sort of retreat from the prying eyes of his adoring public. Wants to dig out the foundations to make a gym and leisure complex! What I really object to, though, are his plans to erect a three-metre-high fence around the perimeter of the estate. Sven Andersen doesn’t sound like the kind of guy who’s going to welcome the interference of the local community, or get involved in anything himself, and that’s what’s upsetting Claudie.”

  Tim wiped his forehead with the back of his hand leaving a trial of soot. The temperature in the workshop had been getting progressively higher as they had been talking and Millie could feel perspiration tingling at her temples and beneath her breasts. It was time to leave Tim to his experiments.

  “I’m really sorry about the house, Tim. If there’s anything at all I can do to help…”

  Despite being keen to make her excuses and escape, she thought she had better mention the acidic stench of scorched metal that was invading her n
ostrils and scorching the back of her throat.

  “Erm, Tim?”

  “Mmm?” muttered Tim distractedly as he leaned down to retrieve his wrench and consider his next move in the invention of the century.

  “What’s that smell?”

  “What smell…? Oh, Jesus!”

  In a flash, Tim whipped the fire extinguisher from its hook and blasted the rear wall of the workshop with a blanket of foam before reaching for what looked to Millie like a long wooden stick with a rubber end to cut the electricity supply. However, by removing the stick so carelessly, Tim managed to dislodge another of his weird contraptions which tumbled down from the rafters, jettisoning a protruding plank of wood into the roof, which in turn dislodged several terracotta tiles that fell to the floor and smashed to smithereens.

  “Oh my God!” squealed Millie, cowering as she watched the events unfold through splayed fingers. She felt as though she was in the audience of a particularly realistic stage farce where she knew the main protagonist was about to blow the place up.

  “Don’t panic, everything’s under control!” said Tim calmly as if that sort of thing happened every day.

  It probably did happen every day, thought Millie as she tried to make her getaway only to trip over the cardboard box Tim had discarded in the doorway. Claudia was right. Ten minutes in Tim’s company and you had to take your life in your hands!

  Chapter Ten

  On Tuesday morning, Millie spent a leisurely extra hour in bed, hugging a cup of coffee and leafing through one of Claudia’s cookery books, drooling over the recipes and the glossy photographs that accompanied them. She had carried up a selection from the library the previous evening and had fallen asleep with her favourite - The Baking Blend - hugged to her chest like a treasured teddy bear. How wonderful it must be to have your own cookery book published, thought Millie, never mind twenty!