“These kids,” he began, but he paused. For at the other end of the room, he saw Vicar Peter Cade come through the doorway, pulling Pippa behind him. “These kids,” Kafi began again, “aren't from Drakenfall, or even from the village of Tippingstock. They come from London. From a neighbourhood turned largely industrial. A neighbourhood called Grant Street.”
In the hush of the room he heard someone gasp. And when he looked, Pippa had her hand to her mouth.
Kafi continued, feeling more confident. “The Grant Street neighbourhood is a few square blocks, with the actual Grant Street running right through it. So much industry has been able to move into the area through lax laws, political manipulation, and deals made between developers and those who hold office. But families still live in Grant Street. Families with children. Children who need a chance at life.”
Kafi gestured to the kids that now surrounded him, the carollers who had been quietly making their way from the opposite end of the room to surround him. “Don't these kids, these kids with the voices of angels, these kids and all the kids who live in Grant Street, don't they deserve more than a life run over by industry?”
Murmuring and nodding bobbed through the room.
He stepped back and whipped a lightweight cloth off the two framed pictures of his vision for The Job Centre, then he swept the cloth off the model.
Gasps of awe from the crowd.
“I am heading up a project in Grant Street, The Grant Street Job Training Centre. It's a place where the kids and young adults of Grant Street can go after school and on weekends and through the summers. A place where they can get a hot meal and train for a job. Drakenfall is The Centre's first sponsor, but not its only one. Kids can, through the centre, train at Drakenfall for any manner of service or outdoor husbandry jobs. There will be opportunities in clerical, administrative, and retail, as well. The sky is the limit and it is largely up to the sponsors. Depending what sponsors we will find and what the sponsors will create interest in. Sponsors like Drakenfall want to give kids a fighting chance to make it on their own.”
“Here, here,” cheered Peter Cade from the back of the crowd. Kafi looked at Pippa, who was watching him intently.
“Rest easy,” Kafi continued. “This isn't a pitch for donations. I'm sharing with you a project that is very dear to my heart, a project made possible by Mr. Jamie Tovell from the Family Centre in Barking and Dagenham. Where are you, Mr. Tovell?”
Jamie raised his hand as everyone, most especially Lea, turned to look at him. “Well done, Kafi.”
“I couldn't have done any of it,” Kafi said on a laugh, “without you. And, of course, without the support and love of Lord and Lady Shiley.”
The young couple raised their glasses to Kafi, giving him all the credit and glory.
Kafi smiled out to the crowd. “I want you all to know about, to feel, all the good that can come from people working together. At Christmas, this is a wonderful gift to celebrate.”
Everyone clapped and laughed and cheered.
“And let me say a few words about my inspiration,” Kafi said as the crowd got quiet. “Many of you know her. I'd venture to say everyone in this room knows her. Pippa Taylor of Drakenfall.”
“Here, here!” The Vicar called out again, loudly enough that everyone looked to him, and saw Pippa standing there next to him.
“You might not know it,” Kafi continued. “But Pippa hails from Grant Street herself. She was sixteen and she'd been living on her own in Grant Street for two years, trying to keep it together, trying to survive. Then one day, she saw an ad in a scrap of newspaper. An ad to apply for a job at a new venture at Drakenfall. Drakenfall was just getting on its legs as a resort then, and it was very important to the new Lord Shiley that in restoring and re-tooling Drakenfall, he invigorate the community and help improve lives. Hard work in exchange for a chance at a better tomorrow. And Pippa seized that opportunity and got in on the very ground floor. She built a life for herself, a life filled with hard work, love, and community.”
He looked right at Pippa. “Pippa?” He stretched his hand out toward her, inviting her to come to the small impromptu stage.
Pippa met his eyes. She straightened her shoulders. Red nose notwithstanding, she decided to walk to the front of the room.
She held herself stiffly, remembered to smile.
But inside, she felt herself withering into spiky thorns. Kafi admired her. Kafi had used her as inspiration for a project, essentially a Uni project that had taken off into something more. He'd been telling her about the class a few months ago.
And hadn't she been telling him her story, little by precious little, over the time she'd known him, in unguarded moments? And he'd collected bits and bobs of her life, and he'd used his menagerie of misery as the foundation for his grand scheme. She was dying of love for him, while he saw her as an admirable blueprint for people he could go forth and help in his shining future.
Kafi held her hand as she stepped up onto the box with him. He looked right into her eyes, but she tried to show nothing. No defiance. No heartbreak. After all, he would be giving so much to others who needed it.
He turned to the crowd. “I can't think of anyone I admire more than Pippa Taylor. But I want everyone to have the kind of opportunity she made happen for herself. Which is why I'm launching The Job Centre.”
Pippa turned to look at Kafi with a quick smile then she faced the crowd. “Mark Potter-Prebys,” she began, “Lord Shiley, The Twelfth Baron of Drakenfall, took this crumbling estate and decided to turn it into a luxury resort. We were all working here for months before we were even ready for the first guest. But Mark was determined. And he inspired all of us to work our bloomin' arses off.”
The crowd laughed.
Pippa smiled. “He made us believe that it would all be worth it.” She sighed. “But you know what? Even if Drakenfall had failed spectacularly, it would have been worth it. Because none of us was working for the someday promise of Drakenfall. We were working for each and every day of honest work, good meals, and warm beds. Drakenfall was home, my only home ever.” She wiped away a tear and smiled. “But it didn't fail, not at all. Look around you.” She swept her arm across the room. “Drakenfall is a happy home to so many, a wonderful resort, a prosperous boon to the community. And now Drakenfall is inspiring others to reach out further. It's reaching back into my old neighbourhood.” She turned to Kafi. “Kafi, I am more grateful than you can ever know. Thank you.”
He reached down to hug her then, and she let him. She hugged him back, trying to brand herself with his warmth, his touch.
“Merry Christmas!” Mark shouted.
“Merry Christmas!” echoed the crowd.
Everyone broke into “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” and Pippa could feel hot tears squeezing into her eyes. She stepped back from Kafi, nodding. “Thank you, Kafi. Thank you. Merry Christmas.” She gave one more curt nod, stepped off the box, and slipped out of the room. Kafi watched her go, dumbstruck and numb. She was walking away from him. It hadn't worked. The Christmas card of all Christmas cards hadn't worked.
Chapter 39: Not a Hook Up
The trills of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” echoed into the back hallway behind the gallery where Mr. Shaun Fletcher and Glynis stood watching all. But then Shaun stepped back, snagging Glynis by her sleeve and pulling her into a shadowy corner with him.
“Mr. Fletcher,” Glynis said.
But he didn't say anything. Not a word. He just drew her against him and kissed her. His lips were warm and gentle, making Glynis want … more. He was holding back, she could feel it. So she decided to expedite matters. She stretched up onto her toes to get a better grip of the man as she pressed into him with unmistakable hunger.
“Oh,” she murmured, as he moved to kiss her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder.
“Glynis,” he rasped, kissing the top of her bosom even as his fingers found the ribbons holding her dress together. “Call me Shaun.”
Glynis bi
t down on his ear. “Shaun,” she whispered. “Shaun.”
He groaned and moved to take her in a fierce kiss, pressing her against the wall.
Glynis forgot who she was and what she was about as she ferociously kissed Mr. Shaun Fletcher in a dark corner of a quiet back passage of Drakenfall. Perhaps she was expecting someone to come along or a noise from the party or a sudden clamour to break them apart, force her back into rational sense.
But nobody happened upon them. No noise startled or interrupted. And on such a magical night at Drakenfall, no situation needed the sudden attention of either of them.
Which turned out to be fortuitous, as Glynis Ferry wanted Shaun Fletcher and she wanted him directly.
She slipped her hands under his jacket and clawed at his shirt until she'd untucked it enough that she could sink her fingers into his back. And as she ran her hands along his taut muscles, one of his hands found its way under her capacious skirt and gripped her thigh.
Glynis pulled away from him perhaps not even an inch as she stood crushed against the wall. “Shaun.” She tried to catch her breath as she took him by the arms. “This way,” she murmured, turning them around and moving down the passage to the door a few feet away. The door that led to the small book room in the corner of the east wing.
“It's locked,” Shaun rasped, leaning in to kiss her neck.
“I've got the key,” she whispered in his ear, taking a small set out of a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. She quickly unlocked the door, then pulled him inside just as deftly. She locked them into the dark room even as her hand moved to switch on a small lamp on the table inside the door. Then she turned back into Shaun's arms.
“Are we going to do this, Glynis? Hook up in a back room of a party as if we're fifth form teenagers?”
Glynis looked at him steadily, for in the faint glow of the lamp, she could see his eyes. “This is not a hook up.”
“No,” he said softly. “It's not.”
Glynis moved a fraction towards him and he swept her into a kiss. Together, they sank to the floor in an altogether inappropriate manner.
Chapter 40: Oh, What a Night
Kafi just stood there on that stupid box for a full three minutes after Pippa vanished from his sight. He felt as if his light were out and all were collapsing in on itself. Pippa did not reappear. Kafi had no chance of getting her into a corner and asking her what she thought, what she really thought, of what he'd done.
What he'd done for her.
His heart felt damp and hollow as he thought of the absent Pippa.
“The man of the hour,” hailed Mark, as he and Maisy stepped up to him.
Kafi stepped off the box and took the glass of wine Maisy offered. As he leaned down to kiss Lady Shiley on the cheek, Jamie and Lea approached. Kafi turned to them, his heart fluttering in a desultory display of the nerves he should have been feeling since the moment the presentation ended. “Mr. Tovell,” he said. “Ms. Sinclair.”
“Well,” Jamie said, beaming. He looked to Lea. “Well ...”
But Lea couldn't speak, it seemed. She just looked at Kafi, her eyes shining. And suddenly, she threw herself into his arms. “The building's yours,” she whispered to him, not trusting her voice to speak at any stronger volume without splintering. She pulled back, her hands still on his shoulders as she looked him full in the face. “You took these kids with hard lives … and you created all this.” She turned around to take in all the festivities. “You're giving them a Christmas they'll never forget.” She turned to the Centre's drawings and model. “And hope. You're giving then HOPE. I never … I never knew ...” Lea paused to collect herself and take a deep breath. “The building's yours,” she said again.
“Thank you.” Kafi leaned down and hugged her again. When he pulled back, he looked over her shoulder at Mr. Jamie Tovell. “And you. Thank you.”
Jamie smiled. “This is all you, my friend. Your night, your project, your vision. You thought of these kids, saw their futures, and pitched in.”
But Kafi was shaking his head. “No. It's all you. None of this is possible without you.”
“Enough!” Lea said, laughing. “You are both amazing men.” She reached out and put a hand on Kafi's arm. “We'll get down to business after Boxing Day.”
Kafi nodded as Lea took Jamie's hand and led him off into the crowd.
Kafi looked back to Maisy and Mark who stood in front of him, smiling.
Maisy positively glowed. “Oh, what a night!”
“For all of us,” Kafi tossed back. “I've been seeing your folks here and there all night, getting the royal treatment from everyone in town. They're having the time of their lives. Aren't they the celebrities, the radiant Lady Shiley's very parents?”
“I know,” Maisy cooed with glee. “Everyone is fawning all over them and being so kind. They really are lapping it up and settling right in. Not easy to do among a houseful of strangers.”
“Nah,” Kafi said. “Just friends they don't know yet.”
“Lord and Lady Shiley!” And Mark and Maisy turned as Peter Cade strode up to them.
“Excuse me,” Kafi said, deciding to find Pippa. Straight away.
But the moment he stepped back from Mark and Maisy, he found himself surrounded by everyone's effervescence. Villagers wanted to talk about opportunities they could provide when it came to bookkeeping and retail. Kids from Grant Street came up to him, eager to boast about what they could already do and what kind of jobs they would be good at. Other kids talked of empty buildings that could serve as the centre while its building was getting refurbished and set up. Other ladies and gents who worked below stairs at Drakenfall wondered about his ambitious project, and whether they needed to take Uni classes to bring similar projects back into their old neighbourhoods. His smile was brilliant, his features animated, his laughter deep and resounding. And so it was not until nearly an hour later when he found the precious seconds he needed to abscond to the kitchen in search of Pippa. He burst into the room bustling with hive-like activity.
“Kafi! What are you doing back here? You're the front of house main attraction tonight.”
“Mrs. Browning!” Kafi smiled and cocked his head as if to take a closer look, to make sure it was her. “Glad you're feeling better in time for the big shindig. Is Barbara out there?”
“She is. And I'm getting back out there soon myself. We were late, but showed up just in time to see your show. Well done.”
“Speaking of, have you seen Pippa? I want to tell her how everyone is loving it. See if I can get her to come out and talk to some people.”
Mrs. Browning furrowed her brow and looked at him with a decidedly curious angle to her head. Cook looked at him oddly, too.
“She came back in here, oh, over an hour ago,” Cook said. “She said everything went brilliantly and she'd done her bit and all was well. So ...”
“So?” Kafi asked. Some might say demanded, but Kafi would not demand of Cook.
“So, she went home.”
“Home?” he squawked. “To her estate cottage? She left in the middle of the Christmas Party? In the middle of the biggest event at Drakenfall since Lord and Lady Shiley got married?”
Cook and Mrs. Browning looked at him. Everyone in the kitchen had gotten still as Kafi's voice had risen.
“Kafi,” Cook said with some degree of tenderness. “Just go tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
Cook looked at him. “Just go tell her.”
Kafi huffed out a breath and stormed out of the kitchen.
Chapter 41: The Best Daughter
Mr. and Mrs. Clay were beginning to feel the exhaustion in their bones from weary travel, worry over their arrival, and the energetic sustained bonhomie of the celebration. They stood off to the side of the gallery, just taking it all in, all of Maisy's friends, her neighbours, her staff, her guests. Her wealth.
“Enjoying yourselves?”
Lou and Sandy turned to the man's voice. He sounded as if he'd ju
st sucked in his breath after unexpectedly sitting on an uncooked egg.
“We're the Stockletons,” the woman said, as if it should mean something to Lou and Sandy.
“Lou and Sandy Clay, isn't it?” said Mr. Stockleton. “And isn't Maisy's name Potter? Maisy Potter-Prebys?”
“That's right.” Lou knew enough to know that this was just an opening salvo.
“Clay. Potter.” Mrs. Stockleton seemed to toss the names around in her head. “Hm. Sounds like Maisy changed her name and had a bit of fun with it. But then, what Mr. Kemp likes to call Americana, others call redneck. Or white trash, isn't that right? No wonder she changed her name.”
“And really,” Mr. Stockleton added with wry dismissal. “It's not surprising in the least that an American who married her way into a title has a shameful past that she's trying to hide.”
“Now you wait one minute,” Lou snapped. “Maisy did not change her name because she's ashamed. She got away from us because we broke her heart. And when she grew up, she decided she didn't want to be as miserable as we were all the damn time so she used that sharp brain of hers and changed her name and changed her life. And you know what she did when she made it rich? Did she rub it in our faces? Did she tell us to go to hell? No. She bought us a damn house. She gave us the home we never gave her. So don't you dare say one word against her.”
“Of course not,” Mrs. Stockleton purred with sheer mockery. “She's magical. She's blessed. She used her sharp, eh, mind to marry into a title. Then she used her husband's money to stash away her redneck parents in some secret house somewhere.”
“Her husband's money?” Sandy shrieked. “I'll have you know that Maisy Potter struck it rich on her own years before she met Mark!”
“And she's not magical,” Lou said with some heat. “She's not blessed. She's just kind. Anyone can be kind. But almost no one is. She's sure not like us.”
“I don't think you give yourselves enough credit,” Mr. Stockleton countered with great generosity. “I think she is, perhaps, better at a con job than even you two.”
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