by Daisy James
‘Hey, this is Angus’s farm?’
‘Top marks for astute observation. Angus was actually expecting us at ten o’clock but better late than never.’
They parked next to a rust-blistered white van in the cobbled yard outside Angus’s home. Kirstie couldn’t resist glancing over to her left, where, on the brow of the hill, a cluster of renovated barns stood: one of which was Josh’s house – a place he had built from scratch. She wondered what sort of home Josh had made for himself and tried to conjure up a picture but couldn’t.
A surprise streak of jealousy shot through her. Why hadn’t she considered the possibility that Josh might not live there alone – that the interior would reflect the advantage of a woman’s touch? Was there someone waiting for him to return at that very moment?
Kirstie found she disliked the emotion that thought had introduced. Okay, she and Josh had unfinished business to talk about, but did she still have feelings for him? Before she could dissect that question further, Angus strode out to greet them.
‘There you are. What kept you?’
‘A certain Kirstie Harrison had to be knocked out of bed this morning! You should have seen her face when she opened the door – would have turned her breakfast grapefruit sour!’
‘Nothing new there then.’ Angus smiled, the epitome of a country farmer with a tweed flat cap squashing his red hair, his khaki gilet straining at his well-padded stomach and mud-splattered Wellingtons. His faithful cocker spaniel, Alfie, barked his agreement and Josh reached down to fondle his ears. ‘Let’s go. The rest of the crew started an hour ago.’
‘Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?’ asked Kirstie as they stomped through the field at the back of the farmhouse in the direction of the woodland that she still knew like the back of her hand.
‘Hasn’t Josh told you? I suppose that was a sensible precaution. Not sure you would have rushed to join in if you had known the details.’
Kirstie’s heart sank. She wished she were still wrapped up in her duvet instead of being forced to ‘enjoy the fresh air’. Yet, with her heartbeat raised, she felt energetic and happy. Plus, added to that, she realized she hadn’t thought of the Kirstie’s Christmas Kitchen debacle once since she got up that morning.
‘So? Where are we going?’
When they entered the woods the temperature dropped at least five degrees as the sun struggled to break through the skeletal canopy overhead. Within a few minutes, they had arrived at a wide clearing. Another equally ancient vehicle, this one a flatbed truck, loitered in the sawdust-strewn area. Three huge chainsaws lay silent, like mechanical crocodiles waiting to pounce, while their operators took a well-earned tea break.
‘Hi, guys, you know Josh Turner already. This is his friend, Kirstie. She’s really excited about being here today and anxious to get involved,’ said Angus, his tongue firmly in his cheek. ‘Kirstie, this is Jack, Sophie, and Karl.’
There followed a chorus of hellos.
‘Hi, everyone.’ Kirstie smiled, grateful that they didn’t recognize her, but then, why should they? She was wrapped up like the Abominable Snowman.
‘Okay, let’s get back to work,’ said Jack.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Angus. ‘See you back at the farmhouse for lunch.’
‘How many trees do we need today?’ asked Josh.
‘We’ve got another twelve to cut,’ shouted the beanpole-thin man with a straggly goatee beard tied with a trio of beads who answered to Karl.
‘Okay.’ Josh tossed a pair of what looked to Kirstie like her grandfather’s old gardening gloves in her direction. ‘Best put those on. Norwegian spruce needles can be very sharp.’
And without any further explanation, Josh strode to one of the chainsaws and pulled the starter cord.
‘Come on. You can help me with the netting.’ Sophie smiled, her cheeks flushed with the morning’s exertion beneath her Inca-style hat, its multi-coloured pompoms dangling at her chest.
For the next two hours, Kirstie worked in tandem with Sophie as the men cut down the Christmas trees and carried them to the machine that encased them in a protective sheath for easy transportation, then loaded them on the back of the truck. She was surprised how much she enjoyed herself. The serene monotony of the task wiped all other thoughts from her mind, calming the anxieties of the previous night.
It was hard physical work and her hands smarted from grappling with the prickly branches but Sophie was great company, sharing stories of her life as a primary school teacher and the hilarious escapades of her young charges. Kirstie decided not to disclose her own childhood misdemeanours, which were probably much worse than Sophie had come across, especially when she and Emma had been on top form. A brief flicker of remorse splashed through her veins. What must her teacher have told her friends about them?
‘Okay, that’s a wrap,’ called Jack and the chainsaws fell silent, although Kirstie could still hear their buzzing in her ears.
Sophie and Karl, who turned out to be a couple, hopped into the truck with Jack, which left Kirstie and Josh to retrace their steps to take Angus up on his offer of food.
A fabulous spread awaited them in the cosy farmhouse kitchen. Huge silver bowls filled with salads, from feta, cucumber, and tomato, to quinoa and chickpea, and Moroccan couscous with sultanas and a sprinkle of mint. There were two enormous quiches, vegetarian again, and a frittata.
‘This looks amazing!’ declared Sophie, sliding her legs under the table and piling her plate high.
Kirstie yanked off her hat, aware that her hair had increased twofold in volume, but she couldn’t care less. She rubbed her palms together to get the feeling back in her frozen fingers before helping herself to a generous plateful of couscous.
‘Enjoyed yourself?’ asked Josh, pouring out the coffee.
‘Yes, surprisingly I did.’
‘Pleased to hear it. There’s more to come.’
Kirstie glanced around the table but no one contradicted Josh.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, do you think we just spent the whole morning cutting down trees for fun?’
‘Nooo …’ she lied.
‘Good. That would have been ridiculous and not very environmentally friendly,’ said Jack through a mouthful of quiche.
‘So what do we have planned?’
‘This afternoon, Kirstie Harrison, we get to play Santa Claus.’
Chapter 14
‘What do you mean play Santa Claus?’ Kirstie had visions of riding on one of Angus’s tractors across the fields, delivering bales of straw wrapped in red ribbons to the cows. It turned out she wasn’t a million miles from the truth.
‘Every year Angus donates two dozen Christmas trees to residents of the surrounding villages who might not be able to stretch their budgets to such a luxury. The Rev and Sandra have given us a list of addresses and when you’ve finished scoffing your third slice of Judith’s delicious chocolate log, we are going to jump into that chariot of rust out there and deliver the trees we cut this morning.’
‘Aw, Angus, that’s a really generous thing to do.’
‘Not really. Sandra works the hardest. It’s her job to put together a hamper of Christmas goodies to go with the trees,’ said Angus, his weather-beaten face colouring slightly. ‘Sadly, for some, I think that what she gives them is what gets them through the jolly season.’
‘Oh.’ Kirstie’s brain whirled with an idea. ‘Why don’t I pop back to the pub and sort out a few boxes of decorations for the trees? There’s boxes and boxes of them in the Old Barn and in the summerhouse, and I daren’t even think about looking in the loft. There’s even more left over this year because we decided to go for a more minimalist approach at the pub for a change.’ She cast a quick glance at Josh whose eyes reflected approval of her suggestion. ‘I think Mum and Dad would love to know their prized Christmas collections have gone to a good cause.’
‘Cool, Kirstie,’ said Sophie, yanking on her Inca hat and pushing her
fingers into her matching mittens. ‘I’ll come with you. Boys, why don’t you finish up here, collect the hampers from the vicarage, and we’ll meet you in Cranbury in an hour.’
‘Oh, I …’
‘It’s okay, you can take the Spider.’ Josh tossed her the keys. ‘I’m allocated the van.’
‘Oh, okay, thanks.’
Kirstie hadn’t been behind a wheel in two years. She didn’t own a car – there was no need in London when the studio provided a taxi service. She slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and a whoosh of euphoria rushed through her veins. How could she have forgotten that feeling? She thoroughly enjoyed being in control of the powerful engine on the short drive back to the village.
‘So, how long have you and Josh been a couple?’
‘Oh, no. We’re not a couple. We’re just … well, just friends.’ She hoped they were, anyway.
‘Are you sure? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That guy is smitten. Do you like him? Romantically, I mean?’
Kirstie squirmed in discomfort. It was a very personal question from someone she had only just met. But that wasn’t the reason for her reticence. She didn’t actually know how to answer the question without going into a long-winded explanation of their history and she certainly was not going to go there.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable. Forgive me. I’m nosy by nature. My mum calls it a healthy interest in other people’s business but I call it nosy. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeve and some people don’t. That’s cool. Karl and I have been together since university – so five years now. Instead of getting married we’re saving up for a house, even a one-bedroom flat would do, but there’s nothing in our price range around here. We’ll probably have to look further afield, which means a move away from our families if we want to get on the property ladder.’
Kirstie immediately thought of the Old Barn that was about to give up its longstanding service to the community to became a home for someone, but she would be prepared to hazard a guess that it wouldn’t be within the reach of people like Sophie and Karl and that made her sad.
‘Here we are.’
‘You live here?’
‘No, my sister and brother-in-law do, with my gorgeous five-month-old nephew, Ethan,’ she said, surprised to hear the hint of pride in her voice.
‘They are so lucky. Karl treated me to one of the best meals I’ve ever had in the brasserie. Your chef is amazing. Is it true that he turned down the chance of a second Michelin star?’
‘No.’ Kirstie laughed. ‘The village gossip machine is alive and well in Cranbury. Although I do agree that he is an exceptionally talented chef.’ An idea burst into her mind and she wondered if Leon would agree to appear on Kirstie’s Kitchen in the new year for a segment on Mediterranean diet tips.
They spent the next hour sorting through the kaleidoscope of Christmas tree decorations her parents had amassed over thirty years of marriage. Every box they opened held a special memory, an opportunity to recall the particular Christmas when her parents had joyfully produced a new or previously loved set of baubles or snow globes. Had she been undertaking the task with Olivia she would have struggled to get through it, as the emotions surged through her body, threatening to overwhelm her every time she sliced her fingernail through a seal. However, Sophie kept up a constant barrage of chatter about her life and the gap year she and Karl had spent teaching at a school in Uganda.
‘I didn’t know one family could own so much stuff,’ declared Sophie, her green eyes wide with disbelief as she held up a crystal snowflake where it caught a blade of sunshine streaming into the summerhouse and sent rainbows of light around the walls. ‘This is a beautiful building. It’s such a shame it can’t be used.’
Kirstie recalled when the summerhouse had been built. The walled garden at the rear of the pub was the perfect place to enjoy a sunny summer’s afternoon drink. It was also the ideal location for the pub’s spring and summer fayres when her mum and dad would hire a huge meringue of a marquee to hold the competitions.
It had been her dad’s idea to add a summerhouse and within the space of six weeks a sturdy glass orangery, with a red tiled roof to match the crumbling walls of the garden, had appeared. It was a fabulous place to sit and contemplate life when the evenings grew colder and the leaves on the apple trees turned a mellow shade of rust and red.
But like every other inch of space in the Harrisons’ home, over the years it had slowly been converted into another storage facility for their ever-expanding collections and now it was crammed to the rafters with cardboard boxes and other assorted paraphernalia. It hadn’t been used in years.
‘My parents were what you would politely call collectors, but a more accurate description would be hoarders,’ Kirstie explained as they started to pack the divided decorations into seventeen smaller boxes and sealed them with Sellotape.
‘Were?’
‘Yes. Sadly they are no longer with us.’ Kirstie quickly averted her eyes from the sympathy in Sophie’s. ‘Anyway, do you think seventeen boxes is enough? We do have twenty-four trees to give out.’
‘It’s more than enough. Four of the largest trees are destined for care homes in Maltby and I think they will have plenty of tree decorations. Oh, everyone will be so excited. You are very kind, Kirstie.’
‘Not at all. I actually enjoyed sorting through all the stuff. It had to be done because we won’t have room for it at the end of next month. It feels good to have made a start at last. Thank you, Sophie. You’ve made a difficult task a lot easier.’
‘Oh, gosh, it’s my pleasure. Pleased I could help. It must be one of the most difficult things a person has to do – going through their parents’ possessions to decide what to keep and what to recycle. I’m sure that every single person who receives a box from the Dancing Duck will treasure its contents and even pass them on to their children. You are a good person, Kirstie.’
Kirstie opened her mouth to respond but found the words she had formed in her brain just wouldn’t come. Her throat tightened and her lungs felt like a slab of concrete was squeezing the air from her chest.
‘Ready, girls?’ Karl called from the car park. ‘We’ve split the round – divide and conquer, eh? So let’s get the show on the road while it’s still light. Sophie, you’re with us in the truck. Kirstie, you’re with Josh in the van.’
‘Bye, Kirstie. Great getting to know you. Erm, this might be a little presumptuous but I also volunteer for a homeless charity. When you feel up to tackling the other boxes, I’m more than happy to come over to give you a hand. We’re always grateful for donations of winter clothes, especially coats, but everything is gladly received. And I don’t mean to be rude, but there is rather a lot of pre-loved treasure for one person to sort through.’
Kirstie laughed and hugged her new friend. ‘You don’t know how right you are. Thanks for the offer. I may very well take you up on it. This is only what’s in the Old Barn and the summerhouse. You should see the loft!’
Sophie pulled a face and jumped into the front seat of the truck next to Karl, pecking him affectionately on the cheek as they drove off on their mission of Christmas cheer.
‘Only seventeen boxes?’ smirked Josh when Kirstie relayed what she and Sophie had been doing.
Kirstie grinned and the last vestiges of her heartache at the unexpected reacquaintance with her painful memories melted. It felt amazing to be doing something worthwhile with the things her parents had loved. Passing on the love, as Sophie would have said.
‘Yes, only seventeen! And we didn’t even venture into the loft where I know for a fact there are Christmas candlestick holders, carved Austrian musical boxes, not to mention festive cushion covers and throws. You know, even if I made a start today, I wouldn’t get through it all by the time we have to sign the contracts.’
She clamped her lips together. Why had she brought that up now, especially when the day was going so well? She glanced across at Josh, his forearms draped ca
sually over the steering wheel of the white van, the intense perfume of crushed pine needles from the recently cut trees over her shoulders assaulting her senses. She couldn’t cope with another lecture from him so soon after revisiting the Christmases of her childhood. She saw his lips tightened, but with a huge effort he relaxed his expression and changed the subject.
‘Here’s the list of addresses. You’re in charge of the sat nav. We need to get going if we’re going to finish before midnight.’
Kirstie had never spent such a cheerful afternoon. Every home they visited received them with warmth and seasonal goodwill, and force-fed them biscuits and so much coffee they had to stop off at a teashop to use the facilities. One elderly lady burst into tears when she opened Sandra’s Christmas hamper and declared it was going to be the best Christmas ever. Kirstie fervently hoped that was an exaggeration brought on by gratitude.
When they pulled up at the last house on their list, it was after nine o’clock. The harassed young mother thanked them politely before rushing off to chastise her four-year-old for arguing with his younger brother. With a baby the same age as Ethan dangling from her hip, Kirstie could see she had her hands full.
‘Sorry, I’d offer you a drink, but …’
‘It’s not a problem.’ Josh laughed. ‘You might not believe it, but we’ve already had eleven cups of coffee each.’
‘Eleven! Good grief, you poor things. You must be crawling the ceiling with all that caffeine.’
‘It’s certainly kept us alert,’ said Kirstie. ‘Is your partner still at work?’
‘I suppose you could say that. He’s in the army. Not due home until after the new year. Will you thank Reverend and Mrs Clarke for me? The kids will love the tree … if I ever get the time to put it up!’ She tossed the sides of her straggly hair behind her ears and hoisted the baby higher on her waist. She looked exhausted.
‘Tell you what,’ said Josh. ‘This is our last stop. Why don’t Kirstie and I put the tree up for you? The boys can help if they like whilst you get the baby ready for bed.’