by Agatha Frost
“Almost,” Jessie said through gritted teeth and a smile. “It’s been a while.”
Kim scooped up the cup of tea, slurping it and spilling it down her front, her eyes trained on Jessie.
“Who would have thought the most difficult child I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with would end up so well placed,” Kim said, reaching out for the file, and picking up another gingerbread man at the same time. “They should give me an award.”
Julia squinted down at the social worker and wondered if the six months Jessie had spent homeless on the streets after running away from the last house placement Kim had put her in deserved an award. She almost wanted to mention that it had been Julia who had offered Jessie a home, but she bit her tongue for Jessie’s sake.
“Twenty-three placements,” Kim said with a chuckle as she flicked through the heavy file. “Twenty-three! That’s the most I’ve seen in my twenty years. I honestly never thought the day would come when someone would want to adopt you.”
Julia left Jessie’s side and took the seat next to Kim. She glanced over Kim’s shoulder at the top paper, bright red writing catching her eye. ‘Disruptive and fighting with other children again’.
“Jessie has settled in very well,” Julia said, suddenly feeling defensive of Jessie’s journey. “She’s got a job, and she’s at college one day a week.”
“I heard,” Kim said before biting off the gingerbread man’s head. “These really are delicious, Jessika. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I should?” Jessie asked, her brow arching, the teenager re-emerging.
“You seem to have grown up,” Kim mumbled through the mouthful. “Finally. It took you long enough! I heard things were going great here, but I wanted to see it with my own two eyes. I almost fell out of my chair when the request for adoption came through. I had to check there wasn’t more than one Jessika Rice in the system, but lo and behold, it was you!”
Hearing the word ‘adoption’ made Julia’s stomach flip, and it seemed to do the same to Jessie. Julia reached out and grabbed the plate of gingerbread men, and held it in front of Kim’s face.
“So, what do you think our odds of success are?” Julia asked softly, staring into Kim’s hungry eyes. “We want to make it official before Jessie’s eighteenth birthday in May.”
“Oh, it’s an almost certainty,” she said through another mouthful of a gingerbread man. “I don’t want to speak out of turn, but Jessika is an exceptional case. We’re in the business of finding happy homes for troubled children, and it seems we’ve done just that here.”
Jessie opened her mouth as though to object, but Julia quickly shook her head and pushed the plate closer to Kim.
“Almost a certainty?” Julia echoed. “Just to be clear, you think this will happen?”
“I’m almost sure of it,” she said as she plucked the last gingerbread man from the plate. “I’d better not tell the slimming club how naughty I’ve been today. But yes, considering no complications arise, it should be a simple process. Jessika has already been here for almost a year now, which helps your case tremendously. It’s all a lot quicker than it used to be, especially with the older children. It should be cleared up and official in a matter of months. May I use your bathroom? My doctor told me not to drink tea because of my weak bladder, but I can’t resist. My dad says I should have been called Kim Drinktea.”
Julia nodded towards the bathroom door with a smile. Kim tripped over the hallway rug before locking herself in the bathroom. When they were alone, they both let out sighs of relief.
“She’s a character,” Julia whispered, a smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t think it would be so easy.”
“She’s something,” Jessie said with a roll of her eyes. “If I know the system, which I do, nothing is as easy as it seems. They have a habit of pulling rugs from under people’s feet at the drop of a hat.”
“We should be okay though,” Julia said, a frown creasing her brow. “Shouldn’t we?”
Before Jessie could reply, the front door opened and Barker walked down the hallway in his cream trench coat, his dark hair peppered with snow.
“Jesus, Jessie,” Barker said with a laugh as he dropped his briefcase behind the sofa. “Did you run out of clothes?”
“B-Barker,” Julia stuttered, looking past him to the bathroom door. “You’re home early.”
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the bathroom door, the sound of Kim blowing her nose drifting through. “Is someone here? I went to the café, and I was surprised to see Sue running things. She said something about a meeting?”
Before Julia could explain herself, Kim unlocked the bathroom door and stumbled out, wiping her damp hands on the back of her skirt. She looked up at Barker, her eyes lighting up when they landed on his handsome face.
“And who do we have here?” she asked, wrapping a hand around Barker’s arm. “Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve felt a man’s muscles under my fingertips.”
“Barker Brown,” he said as he pulled his arm away from Kim’s grasp. He politely extended a hand instead. “Nice to meet you.”
“Charmed,” Kim said, dropping into a curtsy as she accepted Barker’s hand. “Kim Drinkwater. Recently single and available to date.”
“This is Barker,” Julia said, jumping up as he stared imploringly at her. “My boyfriend. He’s a detective inspector.”
“An inspector?” Kim gasped, her bright eyes widening, her lipstick-covered teeth coming out as a grin took over the lower half of her face. “How masculine! You never told me you had a boyfriend, Julia.”
“It should be in the files,” Julia said quickly. “It’s not a problem, is it?”
“Not at all,” Kim said, crossing her arms as she took Barker in. “Marriage and kids on the cards?”
“Oh,” Barker said, his cheeks blushing. “Erm.”
“Men!” Kim exclaimed with a giggle as she slapped Barker on the chest. “That’s how I lost my last one, and I was already pregnant with his baby! Do you go to the gym, Detective Inspector Brown?”
“Not really,” he said, darting back as Kim’s hand drifted down his chest.
Kim winked at Barker before shaking her head and dusting down her yellow shirt. She looked back at the plate of gingerbread men and seemed disappointed that she had finished them all already.
“I’ll get going,” she said as she scurried back for her files, tripping over the rug again. “Everything seems fine here.”
“That’s all?” Jessie cried, jumping up. “You aren’t going to inspect, or interview us separately?”
“It was just a routine visit, Jessika,” Kim said, pinching her cheek as she passed her. “I’ll be back soon to go into more detail. I just wanted to pop in and make sure you hadn’t killed the poor woman yet. I’ll be in touch.”
With her file tucked against her chest, she walked past Barker, winking at him again as she brushed her shoulder against his chest. Julia was sure she saw Kim inhale the scent of his aftershave. With a wave of her hand, she opened the front door, tripped over the doorframe, and dropped her files once more, before scurrying off to her bright yellow Fiat Cinquecento parked behind Julia’s aqua blue Ford Anglia.
“Who was that?” Barker asked, his eyes full of shock as he looked down at his arm. “And can we please never invite her around again?”
“She’s my social worker,” Jessie said as she walked to her bedroom door, fiddling with the back of the baggy dress. “I need to get out of this thing. I feel like it’s fusing with my skin.”
“That – that was today?” Barker asked, his voice small and confused. “I didn’t know.”
“It was just an initial visit,” Julia said, not realising she had subconsciously kept news of the visit from Barker. “I didn’t want to complicate things right away.”
Barker nodded, but he did not look like he understood. When Julia had discussed adopting Jessie, Barker had told her he also wanted to be part of t
he process, but he had yet to ask Jessie if she wanted that too. Julia knew he was nervous, but time was running out before Jessie’s birthday, and Julia did not want to let their window of opportunity pass them by.
“Talk to her,” Julia said, resting her hand on Barker’s arm, instantly pulling away when she realised it was the same place Kim had touched him. “Jessie won’t say no. She looks up to you.”
Barker looked past Julia, his eyes wide and unsure. Jessie walked out of her bedroom in her usual black hoody and baggy jeans, her hair pulled into a low ponytail. She collapsed into the armchair, swung her legs over the edge, and pulled her phone from her pocket.
“I just came back to grab some lunch,” Barker said quietly before hurrying through to the kitchen. “I’m not stopping.”
He returned with a jam sandwich, which he finished before walking out of the door again. Julia felt like a fool for not being more open with him.
“Get your shoes on,” Julia said to Jessie after grabbing a box of gingerbread men from the kitchen that she had baked that morning. “We should get back to the café. Sue will be losing her marbles behind that counter.”
2
“How did it go?” Sue asked as she untied the large apron from around her giant baby bump. “I thought it would take all day.”
“Fine,” Jessie said with a shrug as she walked past Sue and into the kitchen.
Julia looked around the quiet café, and then back at Sue, forcing a smile. Sue cast a glance over her shoulder at Jessie as she draped the apron across the counter. She popped her hip, rested her hand on the small of her back, and arched a brow.
“I know that smile,” Sue whispered, glancing back at Jessie again as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Julia said quickly. “The social worker is a little odd, but she made the right noises.”
“So, why are you fake smiling at me?”
Julia forced the smile even more for a moment before letting it drop. She melted into the counter as she let out a heavy sigh.
“I think I’ve upset Barker,” she whispered as the bell above the café door jingled out, signalling an incoming customer. “I didn’t tell him about the meeting, and he walked in.”
“Oh, bugger!” Sue said, resting her hand on her forehead. “Baby brain! I told him you were having a meeting. Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Because he wants to adopt Jessie too, but he hasn’t asked her yet,” Julia said, suddenly straightening up and smiling again when Jessie walked out of the kitchen and nudged Sue out of the way of the counter. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
Sue squinted at Julia for a moment before shrugging and grabbing her jacket from the hook. On her way to the door, Sue patted Julia discreetly on the shoulder, which she knew was a signal to call her if she needed to talk about it. Julia smiled her thanks, unsure if there was anything to even talk about.
“Julia!” Shilpa Patil, the owner of the post office next door, cried as she appeared behind her. “What delicious treats do you have today? My Jayesh is spending all day and night at the village hall since he joined the Peridale Amateur Dramatics Society, and I’m worried the boy isn’t eating. I was going to take him something over and not leave until he has finished every last crumb.”
“There’s a tray of mince pies fresh from this morning,” Julia said, tapping on the glass of the display case. “I’ll bag some up and come along with you. I need to get them to finalise the gingerbread samples before I bake two hundred for the opening show tomorrow night.”
Julia quickly bagged up three mince pies, grabbed the tin of gingerbread she had brought from her cottage, and headed out the door with Shilpa, leaving Jessie in charge of the café.
As they walked across the snow-covered village green, Julia shook herself from her thoughts to take in the beauty of Peridale in winter. Despite the frosty air nipping at her face and hands, she loved the season more than any other, especially when they were treated to fresh dustings of snow every morning.
“It’s like something out of a painting,” Shilpa said, waving her hand towards the snow-capped St. Peter’s Church next to the village hall. “I wish I could paint so I could attempt to capture the beauty, not that I think the best artist in the world could do such a thing.”
Julia cast her gaze to the front of the church as they walked through the grounds, suddenly reminded of the picture of her parents’ wedding she had looked at earlier that afternoon. She tried to imagine how they would have felt over forty-five years ago, planning their simple village wedding as love-sick teenagers; Julia would have given almost anything to travel back and be a fly-on-the-wall during that time in their lives.
“It really is beautiful,” Julia agreed, her fingers tightening around the gingerbread tin as they approached the old village hall, both of them pausing in front of the poster for ‘A Festive Murder’, the play the amateur dramatics club was performing in the run-up to Christmas. The poster proudly announced that the opening night and the following four performances had already sold out. “What do you think about all of this?”
“A murder mystery play at Christmas?” Shilpa said, her finger on her chin. “It can’t be any worse than that dreadful performance of ‘The Nutcracker’ last year. I heard the young new director has really injected some life into the club. Did you know he wrote the play himself?”
“I think I’ve heard that same line every day for the last month,” Julia chuckled as she looked at the cast list, ‘Introducing Dorothy South as Darcy Monroe’ in bold at the top. “Who knew my gran was such a keen actress?”
Leaving the poster behind, the two women swapped the cold church grounds for the warmth of the large village hall, which had been transformed into a temporary theatre, just as it always was at this time of year. Julia softly closed the door when she spotted the dress rehearsal taking place on a make-shift stage on the far side of the hall. Shilpa waved at her son, Jayesh, who was in a darkened booth at the side controlling the sound and lighting. He glanced up from under his baseball cap and nodded at her with a strained smile, all the embarrassment of a teenage boy being interrupted by his mother obvious on his face.
“Footprints,” said Carlton Michaels, the elderly cleaner, who had worked at the village hall since Julia had been a little girl, as he shuffled behind them with a dry mop. “Always footprints in my hall.”
They both smiled their apologies before creeping to the back row of empty seats. Carlton’s mop followed them until they were seated on the end two chairs.
“You don’t love me, Jimmy!” Dot exclaimed under her spotlight, barely recognisable under a long brown wig. “You’re not the man I married!”
“Darcy, please,” said Jimmy, who was played by Marcus Miller, a familiar face in the annual Christmas plays. “I haven’t changed a day since our wedding day. Won’t you say you love me?”
Dot turned away from Marcus and looked out at the invisible audience, a shaky hand over her thin lips. She caught Julia’s eyes, but she didn’t react. For a moment, Julia thought Dot was really going to burst into tears, until she turned back and fell into Marcus’ arms, sobbing wildly on his shoulder.
“She’s really good,” Shilpa whispered in Julia’s ear. “I never knew your gran was an actress.”
“Me neither,” Julia whispered back, silently impressed by Dot’s performance. “She claims the director scouted her at the Riverswick Christmas market when she was complaining about her mulled wine being cold. According to Gran, he liked her ‘fire’ and ‘passion’.”
Shilpa giggled before they both turned their attention back to the stage. Julia had sat in on a few rehearsals and had caught snippets of the play, but seeing the characters in full costume brought out a new dimension, leaving her quietly optimistic for the review in The Peridale Post, which had given last year’s ‘The Nutcracker’ one star, claiming it was ‘an embarrassment to the great village of Peridale’.
“This part is good,” Shilpa said, nudging Jul
ia in the ribs and nodding at the stage. “Jayesh is so talented. Watch this.”
As though on cue for his mother’s praise, Jayesh fiddled with some buttons and looked at the stage. The lights behind the fake windows in the study set flickered as deafening thunder echoed through the empty hall. Shilpa beamed proudly before sending her son an enthusiastic thumbs-up, which was obviously ignored.
“I haven’t seen this part,” Julia whispered, her eyes glued on her gran, who was stumbling around the stage like a mad woman. “Is this supposed to happen?”
“Watch!” Shilpa said with a bite of her lip. “She’s nailed this part every time.”
A door in the set opened, and another of the company hurried in, landing in her spotlight perfectly. She was a new addition to the cast Julia had not seen before, but she was blonde and pretty, and did not look much older than Julia.
“Jimmy!” the woman cried, turning dramatically to Marcus, lacking the subtlety of Dot’s performance. “You promised you’d meet me at the clock! What happened? – Oh, Darcy. You’re here.”
“Yes, I am,” Dot whispered, leaning over a small table, her face cast in shadow. “And I know what you two have been doing behind my back, and at Christmas too. Have you no shame?”
Dot pulled something from the table, but her hand was intentionally obscured in shadow. She stumbled forward, the object in front of her, holding it down as though it was a lead weight. All of a sudden, the spotlight shifted, and Dot’s arms lifted; she was holding a gun.
“Darcy!” Marcus cried, his hands in the air. “Let me explain! It’s Christmas.”
“I’ve had thirty years of explanations,” Dot said calmly, venom in her voice. “And I’ve had enough!”
She fired the gun, a spark flew from the end, and a boom thundered around the hall. The tin of gingerbread men jumped out of Julia’s hands, landing on the floor with a loud metallic clatter. One of the biscuits tumbled out and split in half right down the middle. The director, Ross Miller, Marcus’ nephew, looked back at them as silence fell on the hall in a moment Julia could tell was intentionally supposed to be quiet so the audience could soak up the drama.