‘The ones who come to the theatre on Boxing Day?’
She nodded. ‘They’ve not long secured a villa in Spain on a new development and there are a couple of plots left, apparently. We think we might take a look after Christmas. I quite fancy being able to jet off over there whenever we want to.’
Henry stole a look at her as he lifted his wine glass. She was positively glowing. ‘Well, let’s drink to that then,’ he said, raising a toast to them both. ‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘It’s a little better than two weeks trudging around a rain-sodden campsite, anyway,’ added Sofia, smiling sweetly.
Now that hurt. Those were Adam’s childhood holidays, not hers. Holidays which Adam had always seemed to enjoy, which they had all enjoyed. Henry sipped his drink and forced in another mouthful of food. ‘And how about you, Sofia? How’s life in the world of interior design?’
The poussin was followed by a plum tarte tatin, and by the time the meal was finished, Henry was feeling nauseous. The food was too heavy and the heat in the room unbearable. And it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet – there were hours to go before he could retire to his room. He found himself wishing that Adam had a dog so that he might offer to take it for a walk. Linda had got custody of theirs, and he missed Meg dreadfully. Her gentle, undemanding presence and her silken ears and coat so soothing in times of stress. It wasn’t just that though; the thought of cold, dark and quiet streets was suddenly rather appealing.
‘We’re having a few neighbours over in an hour or so,’ said Adam, as they moved from the dining room into the living room. ‘Not for long, just for a couple of drinks and a few nibbles. We thought having a party on Christmas Eve might be a bit much for Blanche this year, so we’re having our usual get-together tonight instead.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, she’s struggling a little with her hearing. And then tomorrow, there’s our annual lunch at the golf club. I’m not sure Blanche will want to come to that either, but you’re invited, obviously. And if you don’t fancy it, I’m sure Blanche will be glad of the company.’
Henry sank onto the sofa which, out of the two in the room, was slightly further away from the roaring log burner. ‘Oh, right, that sounds lovely.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Could I possibly have a glass of water?’
5
23 DECEMBER
Peg didn’t think she’d ever seen such perfect weather for Christmas. Clear skies overnight had meant the silvery coating of ice from the day before had remained, but an early sun and slight rise in temperature had brought a warming glow to the morning. Water droplets had begun to form on the ends of branches and the day positively sparkled. And, out here in the woods behind her house, all was still.
She breathed in the cool, clear air, relishing the verdant smell of the undergrowth which would follow her home, clinging to her coat and hair. It was just one of the wonderful aromas which she loved at this time of year, like cinnamon and oranges, cloves, the spicy smoke from her log fire and fresh pine from her tree. Even the scent of her old copy ofA Christmas Carolwhich she read every year had its place in her memories of the season.
With the rest of the day stretching ahead of her, Peg took her time, enjoying the feeling of the air on her skin and the physicality of walking, so different from the day before when she’d been confined to the car for so long. Her encounter with Henry was still on her mind, too.
There were so many things she should have asked him. She felt as if she’d done all the talking and none of the listening, but Henry had been so easy to chat to, that was the thing. It was such a rarity for her these days. At social events she mostly found herself making polite but awkward conversation with people she had no desire to know any better. That was one of the benefits of getting older, she supposed – that you knew your own mind, and could spot instantly the people you’d make a connection with. But she didn’t even know what Henry did for a living. Whether he was retired or still working. What his life was like back home. She knew the type of Christmas he had with his son and daughter-in-law wasn’t much to his liking, but what was?
She took a pair of secateurs from her pocket and snipped at a bough of holly. It was pointless thinking about it now. She’d had her chance and…She stopped, staring at the greenery in her hand. A chance at what, exactly? The Christmas miracle they had joked about? She shook her head, annoyed with herself. On the motorway it had seemed a plausible thing to say, but here in the woods, miles away from where they’d been, it felt ridiculous.
Twenty minutes later, with her arms full of everything she needed to decorate the house, she made her way slowly back home. Julian had bought this patch of woodland over fifteen years ago now, and there wasn’t a day when she didn’t congratulate her husband for having such a sound idea. The wood had originally belonged to the estate which bordered it, but when it had come up for sale, Julian had jumped at the chance to buy it. Peg had spent so many hours walking there, or drawing the plants, that he reckoned she should have it as her own, and even though it was Julian who technically owned it, it had become known locally as Peg’s Wood. It was one of the reasons why she swore she would never leave her cottage. With the children gone, it was too big for her really, but even after Julian had died and its memory-filled corners had seemedalmost too much to bear, she told herself she would only regret it if she moved. And time had proved her right. Now those same echoes of the past were a source of comfort, not pain.
Opening the back door, she waggled her feet until her wellies dropped off and, kicking them unceremoniously against the wall, she padded across the floor to pile her greenery onto the table. Doubling back, she removed the thick gloves she had worn to protect her hands from the holly prickles and shrugged off her coat, hanging everything on a series of hooks which were mounted beside the door. Rolo was right where she’d left him, curled into his basket beside the stove. He opened a sleepy eye as she passed, but seeing no food was in the offing, let it close, stretching himself into an impossible position as only cats could. It might not be time for lunch yet, but with her mind very firmly on the cup of tea she was about to make, the ringing of her phone took Peg completely by surprise. She slipped it from her pocket as she returned to the table.
‘Mim…I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today, is everything okay?’ She frowned as something rumbled in the background.
‘No, I’m cross.’
‘Oh…?’ She wedged the phone against her shoulder and carried the kettle to the sink. ‘And why’s that then?’
‘It’s this blasted wrist of mine, and it’s Christmas, for goodness’ sake. It’s most inconvenient.’ Peg nodded, filling the kettle with water. Her aunt didn’t usually complain about her aches and pains though. Peg never usually found out she’d been having problems until long after the event.
‘Is it hurting? I know you don’t like taking painkillers, but a couple of paracetamol every now and again won’t harm you.’ She paused, readying her response for when her aunt argued like she usually did whenever medicine was mentioned. ‘Mim…are youstill there?’ Alarmingly, it sounded like there were voices in the background. ‘Mim?’
‘Yes, I’m here, dear. Hang on a minute while I talk to this nice young man.’
‘What nice young man? Mim…? What’s going on? Who have you got with you?’ All kinds of scenarios began to play in Peg’s mind. Her aunt was usually very careful when callers came to the door, and if it was someone she didn’t know, they got very short shrift. There was a muffled noise and what sounded like a radio in the background, full of static like the kind the police used…
‘Mim?’ Peg put down the kettle and slid the phone into her hand.
‘Hello, is this Peg?’
‘It is. Who’s this?’
‘My name’s Joel and I’m a paramedic with the Staffordshire ambulance service. I’m with Miriam. She’s your aunt, I believe?’
Peg’s stomach dropped away in shock. ‘She is, yes…Is everything okay?’
‘Your aunt’s taken a bit of a tumble and…’ Peg could hear Mim in the background telling him what to say. ‘She’s told me to tell you she’s fine. And she is…although in a degree of pain which we’ve given her something for. She’ll have to be taken to hospital, though, I’m afraid. We’re fairly certain she’s broken her wrist and, given her age, they’ll want to give her a quick check over as well. But the hospital will be able to confirm that, and—’ He broke off, Mim’s voice clear behind him. Despite the circumstances, Peg couldn’t help but smile a little as her aunt demanded the phone back.
