Christmas at the Dancing Duck

by Daisy James

  Kirstie squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and clenched her jaw. She was determined to do her best to support Olivia and get to the end of the day without crumbling into a nervous, tear-stained wreck. She wrenched open the door and looked around.

  ‘It’s mostly garden stuff left in here. We’ve already made a start with the Christmas decorations. Josh and I donated everything – apart from that one box over in the corner – to the villagers when we delivered the Christmas trees.’

  Kirstie dragged a box labelled garden ornaments towards her and began to rifle through it, peeling away the old sheets of newspaper from the treasure stored inside.

  ‘Oh, my God. Have you seen this?’ Giggling, she held up a twelve-inch garden gnome dressed in a Santa Claus costume, clutching a sack. She flicked the switch in the base and a Christmas jingle filled the room.

  ‘Fancy this for your garden at Bramble Cottage?’

  ‘Are you serious? No way!’ Olivia laughed, delving in the box herself like it was an oversized horticultural lucky dip. ‘But I might make an exception for this little guy.’

  She paraded the gnome’s cousin as though she was an enthusiastic demonstrator on The Shopping Channel. This little plaster figure sported a blue pointed hat and gripped a fishing rod with a tiny orange fish dangling from the end.

  ‘Charity pile!’ declared Kirstie.

  ‘No way. You two have no taste!’ Josh announced from the doorway. ‘That’s definitely one for the auction.’

  ‘You’re joking. Who’s going to bid for that?’

  ‘You’ll be surprised. These things, especially the vintage ones, are collectors’ items.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I reckon that Fishing Gnome will fetch fifty pounds.’

  ‘Bit optimistic, mate.’ Harry chuckled, leaning into another box to unwrap the next gnome. This one was completely swathed in an olive green cloak and the shape of his ears left them in no doubt it was supposed to be Yoda. ‘Outrageous, it is!’

  ‘Good grief. Who on earth would put that in their garden?’ Kirstie laughed.

  ‘Someone who has arrived from a galaxy far, far away?’ suggested Harry.

  ‘And Mum, obviously.’ Olivia smiled.

  ‘Oh, sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to …’ said Harry, his eyes filled with apology.

  ‘It’s okay. Let’s face it: you can’t say anything that I haven’t thought already about Mum and Dad’s obsession with amassing the weird and wonderful. It’s no secret they were hoarders. Gnomes dressed as Star Wars characters are the least of our worries. Wait until we get into the loft and you see the half-used pots of paint, and the piles of wallpaper sample books that Mum had a particular affection for.’

  ‘If I remember correctly, we used to love looking through them when we were kids. We would each pick the wallpaper we intended to have in every room of our own homes, remember?’ said Kirstie. ‘But Josh is right. We’re going to be here all week, fighting our way through a forest of cardboard boxes and old suitcases like George of The Jungle.’

  ‘We don’t have to unpack everything. We just need to take out those items that mean something to us – that we can’t bear to lose. The rest can be left for Angus to look through on Saturday.’

  The foursome finished in the summerhouse and then moved on to join Callum and Greg in the Old Barn. They broke briefly for hot beef sandwiches and coffee supplied by Leon, who took one look at the piles of bric-a-brac and hoofed it back to his kitchen to warn Michel not to venture outside for fear of getting roped into a task worse than peeling a sackful of potatoes by hand.

  They searched through tea chests filled with ancient tomes bound in brown leather, with carved and bejewelled musical boxes and old clocks, their gold clockwork interiors motionless after being in hibernation for God knows how long. Tall terracotta plant pots and crenelated chimneys pots stood to attention around the room, interspersed with crates filled with bottles stacked helter-skelter like corkscrewed tree trunks. At one point Kirstie envisioned herself as Dr Livingstone, forcing her way through a wilderness of cardboard and plastic, brandishing a machete as she forced her way towards the source of the Nile.

  By the time five o’clock came around the last streaks of daylight had disappeared but a small mound of items had been bundled in the back of Angus’s white van for onwards transmission to Greg’s garage. The rest had been transported to Angus’s showroom ready for cataloguing. There had been very few items that Kirstie could seriously see herself keeping.

  ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you want, Kirst?’

  ‘It’s mainly garden and outdoor stuff. I think when we get round to sorting out the loft and the bar, there’ll be a few things I might want to keep. A couple of the smaller watercolours would look okay on my living room wall and I love that blue Oriental vase Mum always arranged her birthday and anniversary flowers in. Okay. Let’s call it a day. I’m in desperate need of a shower and a gin and tonic!’

  Kirstie switched off the lights in the barn, which seemed to have taken on cathedral proportions now that it was devoid of its contents. She could easily see how the building could be converted into two perfect cottages.

  ‘Before everyone goes, on behalf of Livie and I, can I say a huge thank you to you all for helping us out today – and the first round is on me!’

  An enthusiastic round of applause rippled through the courtyard as the group of friends piled into the Dancing Duck to claim their reward for their labour. Kirstie hooked the padlock through the lock on the barn door and fiddled with the key.

  ‘See you inside, Kirstie,’ said Olivia quietly.

  Kirstie glanced across at her sister, wrinkling her nose in surprise at the sudden change in the tone of her voice. Following the direction of Olivia’s eyes, she looked over her shoulder to see the arrival of a silver BMW and Miles’s long legs emerging from the driver’s seat.

  Chapter 26

  ‘Hi, Kirstie!’

  ‘Hello, Miles.’ She mirrored his smile.

  ‘I see you’ve made a start on the packing. How was it?’

  ‘Not as difficult as I thought it was going to be, if I’m honest. A few of our friends turned up to help so we managed to get through quite a bit. We’ve finished in the summerhouse, which looks amazing. You might want to think about doing barbecues there in the summer. Dad loved doing that. It’s such a shame the place got subsumed under all their stuff in the last few years. It’s actually bigger than the brasserie’s kitchen and during the day it’s flooded with natural light.’

  ‘And you’ve tackled the barn?’

  ‘Yes. It looks enormous as well, now that it’s empty.’

  ‘Mind if I take a look?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Kirstie re-inserted the key into the padlock and opened the huge barn doors for Miles to look inside.

  ‘You’re right. It is bigger than I imagined. It’s an attractive building.’

  ‘True, and it will make two very pretty cottages.’ Kirstie hesitated, but decided to plunge in. ‘Got any buyers in mind?’

  ‘It’s early days, but I might have one purchaser interested who likes what he’s seen on the plans. If I can persuade him to put a sizeable deposit down, I’ll be able to factor in any changes he wants to the spec.’

  ‘Is the buyer someone you know then?’ Kirstie could feel the indignation mounting but she knew she had no right to object to Miles’s plans for the Old Barn, let alone whom he intended to sell the finished properties to.

  ‘A colleague actually.’

  ‘So the cottage will be a weekend retreat rather than a family home?’

  ‘Yes, but Alex’s wife is expecting a baby in the summer so it might become their permanent home at some point.’ Miles gave her a wide smile as he strode around the empty space, his footsteps echoing into the rafters. He whipped out his phone and took a few photographs before pausing to compose a swift email.

  ‘Okay, thanks, Kirstie. That’s been really helpful. Are you still on for signing the contra
cts on Friday?’

  ‘Yes.’ She averted her eyes, not wanting Miles to see how upset she was at the prospect.

  ‘Good. Once the contracts are exchanged I can get the final plans in place for the pub.’

  ‘How long do you think the refurbishment will take?’

  ‘Well, if we stick to the schedule and complete in the first week in January we can swing into action straight away. Time is money, as they say.’

  ‘Can I see the plans?’

  ‘Sure. I don’t have them with me, but I’ll send them over to your solicitors to go through with you on Friday if that’s okay?’

  ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled, not entirely sure she actually wanted to see them.

  ‘Just make sure that you’ve taken absolutely everything you want with you. I’ll warn you now: the whole place will be stripped back to the stone. Okay, no more business talk. How about coming out to dinner with me? A friend of mine is over from Hong Kong and I was hoping to catch up with him but he’s just called to take a raincheck to accompany his grandmother to the pantomime. It seems Cinderella is a much more attractive prospect!’

  ‘Oh, I’m not …’ Kirstie glanced down at her scruffy attire. Every inch of her body from head to toe was covered in a layer of dust and grime, not to mention the way her hair had exploded from its scrunchie restraint. ‘I’ll need to jump in the shower.’

  ‘I’m happy to have a drink in the bar. Shall we say thirty minutes?’

  Miles was clearly not accustomed to being turned down. Without waiting for her response on the unreasonableness of being expected to get ready for dinner in thirty minutes, he strode off to the pub that would belong to him in just over a week’s time.

  Kirstie ran up the stairs to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, and luxuriated in a scorching hot shower until her fingers and toes tingled and she felt human again.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Olivia as she saw Kirstie taking time over her make-up.

  ‘Miles asked me to dinner.’

  ‘And you said yes?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What about Josh?’

  ‘We’re not a couple, Livie.’ Kirstie smiled.

  ‘But …’ Olivia paused, clearly involved in an internal struggle as she watched Kirstie drag her comb through her curls and then try to plait them into an elegant chignon, but failing miserably. ‘Well, okay, have fun.’

  ‘Can I borrow your Hobbs dress? And those boots Harry bought you for your birthday?’

  ‘Of course you can. Just be careful, Kirst.’

  Kirstie laughed. ‘I am a grown-up, Livie.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean … I was thinking about what Josh said. That he didn’t trust Miles.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Stop worrying. Miles is good company, despite his choice of business investments.’

  Olivia nodded and went to check on Ethan who was asleep in his cot. Kirstie checked her watch and stepped into Olivia’s Kermit green shift dress. With a quick spritz of her favourite Chanel perfume, she zipped up her borrowed suede ankle boots and went to say goodbye to Harry in the kitchen.

  ‘Have a good night, Kirstie. Don’t take any notice of Livie. She’s putting on a brave face but I know she’s devastated about losing the pub and she needs to cast someone in the bad guy role. Thankfully, that’s Miles Morgan.’ Harry performed an exaggerated wipe of his brow with the back of his hand. But Kirstie knew her sister would never blame him for the fact that they had been unable to make the business profitable. ‘Once all the legal formalities are finalized and we’ve moved into Bramble Cottage, everything will fall into place and I just know we’ll be happy, and so will you, Kirstie.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  Kirstie gave him a reassuring smile that she certainly didn’t feel, and made her way to the bar, overwhelmingly grateful that Josh was nowhere to be seen. He had probably stopped off at the farm for a drink with Angus, but even so, she wanted to escape before he got back and saw her consorting with the enemy.

  ‘Wow, you look amazing,’ said Miles, dimples appearing in his clean-shaven cheeks. A cloud of his familiar cologne met her nostrils and she relaxed. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  Kirstie thought she had got away with an awkward encounter until Miles pulled out of the courtyard in front of a bright red Alfa Romeo Spider. Greg was at the wheel, but Josh’s astounded face peered through the windscreen from the passenger’s side. She felt a whoosh of heat to her cheeks and whipped her head in the opposite direction until Miles pulled away and increased their speed towards their destination. She was grateful there were no streetlights to illuminate her mortification of bumping into Josh. Clearly Miles hadn’t realized who was in the car and was oblivious to her discomfort.

  ‘Tell me about the plans you are working on for the Kirstie’s Kitchen show next year.’

  ‘I’ve got a few ideas to talk to Brad about. It’s always a team effort though. We bring our ideas to the table and put them out there for discussion, then narrow them down to around a dozen to follow up on.’

  ‘Sounds like you have an interesting career. Much more exciting that being a solicitor.’

  ‘I love it! I’m amazingly lucky to be part of such a great bunch of talented professionals.’ She just managed to stop herself from gushing further about her good fortune. She didn’t like to sound as though she was boasting about her incredible luck at having landed a presenter’s job on FMTV. She knew it was a dream come true and she never stopped thanking her guardian angel for ensuring she was in the right place at the right time. ‘So what made you decide to become a lawyer?’

  ‘Dad was a solicitor in the City for twenty years before he got a transfer to his firm’s Hong Kong office when I was eleven and Eloise was nine.’

  ‘Gosh, so you had to leave the UK? Did you miss your friends?’

  ‘I did. To tell you the truth I didn’t want to go. It was a huge culture shock to move from living in our large family home in Islington to a much smaller apartment in Happy Valley. I struggled to settle in at the International School too. Everyone seemed to have their own group of friends and I felt sidelined. So I decided the only thing to do was throw myself into my studies. In London, I would never have been described as one of the most conscientious of students, but in Hong Kong everyone works hard. I did really well in my exams, much better than either I or my parents had expected.’

  Miles smiled across at Kirstie as he swung the steering wheel into a sharp left turn. ‘I had always wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps but wasn’t sure if I had the brains or the dedication to achieve the results to get into law school. He’s so proud of what I’ve achieved, but if I’d decided to be a flamenco dancer, he and Mum would have supported me. Now Dad’s retiring, so in order to keep his mental cogs oiled he’s looking to invest in property – his words not mine. He’s terrified of being at home full time, getting under Mum’s feet, or worse, being forced to join the local tennis club.’

  ‘Your mum plays tennis?’

  ‘You could say that. She played for the County Ladies before we left the UK, then took the local club in Hong Kong by storm. She’s just won the Over Sixties Women’s Singles title at her club. She’s already busy planning her takeover of the All England Club.’

  Kirstie noticed how his eyes crinkled at the corners as he spoke affectionately about his parents. It made her even more aware of the gaping chasm that would remain at the centre of her heart until the day she died. She ignored the dull ache at the base of her stomach. It wasn’t Miles’s fault she’d lost her parents.

  ‘Here we are.’ Miles pointed to a narrow opening in a line of trees.

  ‘Erm, where is here exactly?’ Kirstie squinted into the gloom, but could see nothing except what looked like a car park.

  ‘Wait and see. Come on. Here, you’d better take this.’ Miles handed her a bright yellow padded jacket. ‘Don’t want you to get cold.’

  ‘Cold?’

  Miles smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he reach
ed for her hand. He guided Kirstie through the woodland along a well-worn path towards the sound of music playing and the tinkle of laughter. A few more steps and the aroma of wood smoke and char-grilled meat invaded her senses.

  As they rounded a bend, she saw a necklace of amber lanterns hung from wooden poles, and multiple strings of white fairy lights draped over a battalion of holly bushes that encircled a wide clearing. A sunken fire pit took centre stage over which hung a full-sized roast pig. At least forty people gathered on upturned logs, deckchairs and tartan travel rugs, each grasping a plastic cup and munching on sandwiches crammed with crispy pork and home-made apple sauce.

  ‘It’s amazing!’ breathed Kirstie.

  ‘The guy who organizes these parties is a friend of mine. He decides what the theme is going to be, then puts the details on Facebook and people just turn up. As you can see, it’s a pop-up hog roast tonight. Last month it was a Hawaiian lu’au. Here try this. Theo’s a demon cocktail-maker.’

  Kirstie accepted the proffered plastic cup and took a sip. It was delicious: peach and mango with a generous slug of white rum. Miles directed her towards a wooden bench where a tall, rangy man with dreadlocks was strumming a guitar surrounded by a circle of fans.

  ‘Theo!’

  ‘Miles, my man. Hi!’ They bumped fists.

  ‘This is Kirstie Harrison. Thought she needed to experience one of your famous culinary roadshows!’

  ‘Sure. Hi, Kirstie. Grab some food and make yourself at home.’

  ‘Thanks, Theo.’

  Miles handed her a huge bread bun, almost as large as her face, filled with pulled pork and oozing apple sauce. She took a tentative bite and the flavours crashed into her taste buds in complete harmony. They perched on an adjacent tree trunk and joined in with a rendition of an Eddy Grant classic. Someone produced a CD player and the whole entourage danced to a compilation of Christmas songs, some more accomplished – or perhaps sober – than others.

  ‘Having fun?’ asked Miles as Theo released Kirstie from a particularly energetic dance, her breath coming out in spurts. She grabbed a cold beer from a washing-up bowl filled with ice and drank half without taking a breath.