‘Ah, point taken, that’s what Steff would say, too.’ He blew on his drink. ‘I wonder if the village shop in Lytell Stangdale stocks them? I could always pop down and have a look. Speaking of which, I wondered if you fancied having a trip down there this evening? Maybe grab a bite to eat at the pub there – which is excellent, by the way – and with it being a Saturday night, I reckon most of the locals will be there; it’ll give you the chance to put faces to the names I’ve been talking about.’
Livvie’s face lit up. ‘Ooh, that sounds great, but will the roads be okay to drive?’ She was happy to see their almost kiss wasn’t causing any awkwardness between them.
Zander nodded. ‘While you were in the shower I heard the plough go by so I nipped out and checked the roads. They’re not too bad, actually. I chucked a bit of grit about from the bin at the end of the lane which should’ve got to work nicely by now. And I’m happy to drive; the Jeep’s a four-wheel-drive so should manage it no problem – unless we get more snow, which isn’t forecast until late tomorrow morning. I’ll dig out what snow’s around it, so we should be able to get out easy enough. Though, if you’re absolutely sick of the sight of me and would prefer a night on your own, I’ll completely understand.’
‘Oh, don’t think that! I’ve had great fun today and I’m definitely not sick of the sight of you.’ That’s the very last thing I feel; I love spending time with you. Butterflies started swirling in her stomach and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of an evening out with him. She ignored the little niggle at the back of her mind that whispered, “Mel”.
‘That’s great.’ He beamed at her. ‘How about we have a bite of lunch in say, half an hour, then I don’t know how you feel about board games? There are loads here if you fancy playing one?’
‘Only if you promise me you have Cluedo; I used to love that game and it’s ages since I played it.’
‘I have Cluedo; it used to be a favourite of mine, too. Colonel Mustard, in the library with the candlestick.’ The smile he gave her made Livvie’s stomach turn somersaults.
18
Livvie
Livvie couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed an afternoon more. They’d played a couple of games of Cluedo, then moved on to Scrabble and finished off with a quick round of Snakes and Ladders.
They’d spent the remainder of the time until they were due to leave for the pub chatting about their respective childhoods. To Livvie, Zander’s sounded idyllic, with his close relationship with Steff and Toby and his supportive, caring parents. His words had conjured up happy days filled with laughter and sunshine – with a generous smattering of Labradors. She’d felt embarrassed about her own less than loving background and had skimmed over how her father had left them when she was just six years old. At the time, it had been a huge shock and Livvie had been devastated, but looking back now, she could see that it had been inevitable. Ten years of putting up with her mother’s sniping and bitterness was too much to expect of any man. Indeed, Livvie wondered that he’d stood it as long as he had. He’d remarried shortly after the divorce had come through, but sadly had only enjoyed a few years of happiness with his new wife before a massive heart attack took him at the age of forty-two. Livvie had secretly wondered if her mother’s incessant nagging had brought about his early demise; something she could barely forgive her for.
Livvie bore a strong physical resemblance to her father, with her rich, auburn hair and hazel eyes. She’d also inherited his easy-going temperament and sense of fun, which had only served to irritate her mother and had become something Livvie had felt obliged to apologise for over the years. She’d confided in Bryony just how this had hurt her and felt a sense of relief when her friend had advised her not to take it personally; that they were the ones with the problem, not Livvie.
‘It’s not you she’s angry with, chick, it’s the fact that you remind her that someone chose to walk away from her; that someone chose another woman over her. It’s like a slap in the face and I think it’s the ultimate rejection she finds so difficult to accept, which is why she’s projecting her bitterness on to you rather than accepting any responsibility for it, which isn’t fair.’
‘I’d never thought about it like that, Bry. She’s just always criticised my appearance and I’ve always thought I must be ugly; I never thought to link it to Dad and how I must’ve reminded her of him – or rather, the memory of him leaving her.’
‘You’re anything but ugly, Liv!’ Bry looked horrified at the thought. ‘Don’t ever think that; you always look gorgeous and you’re always oblivious to how many heads you turn when we’re out.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Livvie felt her cheeks burning.
‘Seriously, you do, and it’s about time you started to believe it.’
Livvie had thought about Bry’s words many times since that day – particularly so the explanation of her mother’s actions. They’d offered a small glimmer of hope that her mother didn’t dislike her as much as she’d always thought.
‘How smartly do I need to dress for the pub?’ asked Livvie. ‘Is it a posh place?’ She’d remembered the well-to-do feel of the village of Lytell Stangdale as she’d driven through it the previous evening, with its cluster of pretty thatched cottages and their dusting of snow.
‘You look great as you are.’ Zander ran an appraising eye over her. ‘It’s a quaint country pub, tastefully decorated, very welcoming and not at all stuffy. Does that help?’
‘It does, thanks, but I still think I’ll get changed; I haven’t had the chance to go out like this for ages, so I’d like to make a bit of an effort. And I could do with running a brush through this wild mane.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘What time do you think we should head out?’
‘Is seven-ish okay?’
‘Perfect; I’ll be two ticks.’ She pushed herself up from her comfy spot on the sofa and headed to her bedroom. For some reason, she felt she wanted to make an effort and she knew that reason had a name: Zander.
She rifled through the wardrobe and pulled out the knee-length shirt-dress she’d made just last week. It was in a rich emerald coloured needlecord with fine pin-tucks on the bodice; she teamed it with raspberry-red leggings. She selected a chunky necklace she’d found in a charity shop and a chunky bangle in contrasting colours. Her hair, she’d decided to leave loose for a change.
19
Zander
‘Oh, wow! I mean, er, you look nice.’ You look absolutely stunning! Zander was aware that his mouth had fallen open, but he’d temporarily lost the ability to close it. Livvie’s hair was cascading down her back and over her shoulders in thick, glossy waves and she’d added a slick of raspberry coloured gloss to her lips that only served to make them look even more desirable. With a struggle, he pushed down the urge to kiss her.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her cheeks flushing; she clearly wasn’t used to taking compliments.
‘Erm, so, are you ready?’
‘Yep, I just need to put my boots on and grab my coat.’
‘Okay.’
‘Is Alf joining us?’ she asked.
‘I think Alf might be better off with a quiet night in.’
‘Really? Isn’t the pub a dog friendly place?’
‘It is, but he can be a bit of a wanderer when it comes to food venues and on several occasions I’ve caught him doing his best commando crawl on his belly in the direction of the kitchen.’
‘Ah.’ She thought for a moment. ‘But couldn’t you keep him on the lead and fasten it to something?’
He looked at Alf who was flat out asleep in front of the stove. ‘I suppose so. What do you think, Alfie boy; fancy a trip to the pub?’
Alf’s ears twitched at the mention of his name and he jumped up, looking at Zander as if to say, “What was that, Dad?” Zander’s heart squeezed for his loyal pet.
‘Alright then, you can come; and you’ve got Livvie to thank for talking me into it. But, any behaviour of the greedy pig variety and you’ll be whisked
back up here before you can say “where’s the kitchen”. Got that, young man?’
Alf trotted over to him, his tail wagging so hard his whole body shook.
‘Ahh, he’s just so lovable, look at him.’ Livvie laughed.
‘He certainly knows how to charm the ladies.’ Zander ruffled Alf’s ears as they headed towards the kitchen.
Outside the temperature had plummeted. Frost sparkled on the crisp, frozen snow, illuminated by a pale yellow moon that shone down from a deep midnight sky surrounded by millions of glittering stars.
Livvie gazed heavenwards. ‘Oh, look at that, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a clear night sky.’
Zander followed her eyes. ‘Yeah, there’s no light pollution out here, so you get to see the milky way in all its glory.’ That she appreciated the same things he did sent a wave of warmth through him.
‘It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen so many stars, there must be billions up there.’
‘Well, at least the fact that it’s clear means there’ll be no snow while we’re out, which is a good thing. It’s still bloody freezing, though.’ The cold was nipping at his nose and ears, and he pulled down his beanie hat as he made his way down the path. He opened the gate and Alf shot through, charging over to the sledging field. Zander whistled for him. ‘Alf! We’re done with sledging for today, fella, it’s pub time now.’ Alf bounded back, enthusiasm written all over his face.
The roads were icy in parts, with snow piled high at the sides where the plough had pushed it back. The drifting on the most exposed parts of the moor was worse than Zander had expected, but then again, the wind had been wild last night, he thought. The car skidded a couple of times and he noticed Livvie gripping onto her seat. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,’ he said, but he heard her breathe a sigh of relief when the sign for Lytell Stangdale peered out from the snow.
‘Oh, it’s so pretty here,’ said Livvie taking in the quaint cottages with stunning wreaths fixed to their doors and Christmas trees twinkling in their windows, some houses had Christmas trees in their gardens, too. The overall effect was added to by the Victorian-style street lighting which illuminated the village in a soft glow, adding to the feeling of times-gone-by.
‘Yes, chocolate-box pretty,’ said Zander, driving slowly through the main street. He was surprised at the number of people milling around the village on such a chilly night; in odd clothing, too.
‘Blimey, this place looks like it’s stuck in an eighties time warp,’ said Livvie as a man sporting an impressive mullet and a fluffy jumper in neon stripes hurried across the road. ‘And she must be absolutely freezing.’ They watched as a woman dressed like Tina Turner circa “Mad Max” appeared to chase after him, unsteady in her heels thanks to the snow and ice.
Wearing a puzzled expression, Zander parked up opposite the pub, just near the village green where a huge Christmas tree bedecked with hundreds of warm white lights stood proud. He noted more residents walking by dressed in clothes reminiscent of the eighties; he was sure when he’d visited previously, most of the men were dressed in simple jeans and shirts or T-shirts.
‘Wow, time really has stood still here, hasn’t it?’ Livvie gazed after them, making Zander laugh.
‘It certainly seems to have tonight, though I can’t say I noticed it on my previous visits.’
They climbed out of the car to hear music pulsating from the village hall. Zander was tickled by Livvie’s expression as she watched a man, who could have stepped straight off the set of Miami Vice, scurry along with a woman sporting a power suit with enormous shoulder pads and outrageously back-combed hair. Livvie looked at him askance. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said laughing as he clipped the lead to Alf’s collar before letting him out of the Jeep.
‘I’ve never been anywhere like this,’ said Livvie. ‘It’s like watching a repeat of those documentaries you see on the telly from years ago, where there’s a spotlight on local communities in rural areas; they even seemed behind the times when they were originally aired.’
Zander laughed again. ‘I know what you mean; but I promise you, it isn’t usually like this.’
‘It sounds like there’s a party going on,’ said Livvie as they made their way over to the Sunne. ‘Do you think they’re wearing their best clothes because of that?’
‘I’ve no idea, but I agree, it does sound like there’s some kind of party happening.’
Though the road was clear, there was still plenty of snow around the village, clinging to the skeletons of trees, settled on the hedges and at the roadside and pavements. Luckily, the path to the pub had been cleared and gritted, making it safe to walk on.
Zander opened the heavy oak door of the Sunne and was immediately enveloped by a surge of warmth, the mouth-watering smell of food mingling with undertones of woodsmoke from the open fire and the burble of amiable chatter. As he stood aside to let Livvie through, he felt the wave of happiness the familiarity of the place brought to him. ‘Ladies first.’ He looked down and smiled at her, feeling his heart squeeze.
‘Oh, wow, what a yummy smell,’ she said, stepping inside. ‘No wonder it’s torture for Alf here. I don’t blame him for trying to sneak into the kitchen; I feel like doing the same myself.’
Zander chuckled. ‘Bea the landlady is an amazing cook; her curries are to die for.’ He closed the door on the frosty night.
‘Now you’re talking; I do love a good curry.’
‘Yep, me too.’
‘I hope there’s one on the menu; I’ve got a real taste for one now,’ she said, following Zander into the bar.
‘I think it’s a regular feature, so you should be in luck.’
Inside was brimming with more people dressed in what looked like eighties garb.
‘Wowzers,’ said Livvie.
‘Wowzers indeed,’ said Zander.
‘And look at that tree,’ she said.
Just to the right of the door, sat a perfectly asymmetrical Christmas tree, the glow of its warm white lights adding to the ambience of the room. Tastefully decorated in shades of silvery white and green, topped off with an angel in a shimmering gown and wings of pure white feathers, it could have been lifted straight from the pages of a White Company catalogue.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said.
Zander turned and smiled at her. ‘It is.’ He couldn’t help but draw a comparison to Mel, who would, without doubt, have criticised it as being too small.
‘Now then, Zander,’ said a familiar voice. He turned to see Lycra Len – looking virtually unrecognisable out of his usual Lycra gear, the few straggly strands of hair he possessed now covered by a wiry looking cock-eyed mullet. Zander realised he was the chap they’d seen rushing to the pub, dressed like Crockett from Miami Vice.
‘Oh, hi, Len. I nearly didn’t recogn—’ Before he had chance to finish his sentence, Len was dragged off by the woman in the power suit towards someone she was clearly excited to see.
‘Sorry, Zander; I’ll catch you later,’ Len called as he disappeared into a group of people.
‘Okay.’ Zander smiled and turned to Livvie. ‘That was Lycra Len, so called because he’s always out on his bike, whatever the weather, and he’s always in Lycra.’
‘Ah, except for tonight.’
‘Yes, I’m not quite sure what’s happened there and I have no idea who the woman is but there was a rumour he was getting back with his ex-wife.’
‘Oh, right.’
They were halfway to the bar when a man bearing a strong resemblance to Phil Oakey of the Human League, complete with long, floppy black fringe and slick of lip gloss stopped in front of them.
‘Ey up, Zander, mate, it’s bloody good to see you!’ Zander found himself being pulled into a bear hug by “Phil” who proceeded to pat him on the back vigorously. Behind “Phil”, Zander spotted a Howard Jones look-alike, with a shock of gravity-defying orange hair, and ear-to-ear smile.
‘And it’s good to see you, too, Alf.’ “Phil” bent down to fuss the Labrado
r whose tail wagging suggested the pair had been previously acquainted.
“Phil” must have clocked Zander’s bemused expression. He threw his head back and laughed. ‘It’s me, Jimby Fairfax, and Howard Jones here is Robbie, you know, the chap who did the plans for our cottage– though you might remember him better as Mr July from our charity calendar.’
‘Now then, Zander.’ Robbie nodded to him, his smile getting wider.
The penny dropped. ‘Jimby, Robbie, I would never have guessed it was you two!’ Zander chuckled. ‘It’s good to see you both.’ He patted Jimby on the shoulder. ‘And this is Livvie; Livvie, this is Jimby and Robbie; two of Lytell Stangdale locals I’ve been telling you about.’
‘Hiya, please tell me there’s some sort of fancy dress party going on and you don’t normally dress like this?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Jimby, feigning a hurt expression. ‘What’s wrong with how we’re dressed?’
Livvie’s face dropped. ‘Oh, er, I’m sorry, I didn’t—’
‘Take no notice; he’s teasing.’ Zander gave her a nudge. ‘You’ll soon get the measure of Jimby; he’s the local mischief maker.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said a heavily pregnant woman whose attire and messy dark-aubergine hair suggested Bananarama.
Jimby threw his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Ah, here’s the woman I left home for; the gorgeous Mrs Fairfax. Vi, come and meet Zander’s young lady Livvie; Livvie, this is my missus Violet and this,’ he pointed to her bump, ‘is Pippin, who’s due to join us in a couple of months.’
‘Hi,’ said Vi. ‘I should probably point out that Jimby’s nicknamed the baby Pippin because I’ve had the biggest craving for apples while I’ve been pregnant; we’re not really going to call it that.’ She rolled her eyes affectionately.
‘Oh, right,’ said Livvie. ‘It’s a really cute nickname. And, I should probably point out that Zander and me aren’t actually an item, there was a bit of a mix up and I’m just staying at the cottage with him.’
A Christmas Kiss Page 13