Chapter Ten
Saturday 9 December: The Older Brother
Wheaton has that ‘Christmas is coming’ feel about it today, and I’m on top of the world as I carry another gingerbread house (my own little cottage, as it happens) to the village hall.
The wet weather has cleared and today is one of those rare palest-blue-winter-sky days where the sun is dazzlingly bright and low over the frosty rooftops. It’s bitterly cold, of course, but I’m wrapped up in my long red wool coat and not minding the chill one bit.
As I pass by, I notice the art gallery is having a pre-Christmas open day. I must remember to tell Lucy to pop in and introduce herself as a sort-of-local artist. Not that she’s picked up so much as a biro since she arrived, but I’ll keep working on her.
Some of the Wheaton oldies are dashing around running errands. The high street is busy with supermarket delivery vans and overworked couriers leaving parcels on doorsteps.
Patrick’s out gritting the school playground, even though it’s a Saturday. That headmaster really doesn’t deserve him.
‘Need help with that?’ he calls and comes to meet me at the school gates.
‘I’ve got it, thanks,’ I tell him. ‘Why are you at school?’
‘Bobbie’s bootcamp’s on again tonight, and there’s frost forecast. Can’t have them breaking an ankle getting into the building.’
I shake my head. ‘Always helping out,’ I say, but my brain is harping on in the most annoying, persistent way, telling me,he shows he cares through acts of service too, just like you!
‘Nobody else is going to do it,’ he shrugs. ‘How’s the exhibit shaping up?’
‘We’re almost done with the baking, just the school to make, a bit of the churchyard and some bits here and there to finish. Lucy, Fern and Shell have been a big help this year.’ I worry he’ll think this is a dig, so I add, ‘And you and Izz, of course. We’re quite the team!’
He doesn’t seem to be taking any of this in. I notice his eyes drawn up over my shoulder, and when I turn to see what’s making him tense his jaw like that, I almost drop my gingerbread cottage.
There on the pavement is another Patrick, maybe a touch more silvery about his temples, but definitely just as handsome and green-eyed.
‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ Patrick’s saying, and I find I’m looking back and forth between the two of them.
‘I was passing through on business and thought I’d surprise my little brother. Rather than stay in a hotel, I wondered if I might have the spare room?’
Patrick doesn’t say anything.
‘Do you think you can knock off, grab a drink?’ the man adds, and that’s it, I’m a ball of intrigue now.
‘I’m heading off to Dunham in a minute,’ Patrick says coolly. ‘Taken an extra day shift.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t have a brother?’ I pry.
Patrick looks stern. Barely hiding the sigh, he tells me, ‘This is Charlie.’
‘May I help with that?’ Charlie’s asking me. ‘Looks a bit cumbersome.’ And the smile he’s giving me makes me hand over my house immediately.
‘Sure, thank you. I’m only taking it to the hall.’ I point down the street in the direction of the exhibit.
‘Then you must be Margi,’ he tells me, and I turn to glimpse at Patrick once more. He’s looking down at his feet.
‘Patrick’s told me all about you,’ Charlie continues. ‘You’re in charge of the gingerbread grotto.’
‘No, I just like roaming the streets showing off my baking skills,’ I say, and he actually laughs. It’s odd seeing a carbon copy of Patrick but jolly and loud. Patrick’s eyes are still upon me now, I can feel them.
‘This is going to the village hall?’ Charlie adds. ‘Allow me. See you later, Patrick. Leave the key under the mat?’
Charlie leads the way down the high street. I’m very aware that Patrick didn’t say goodbye, only watching us as we left. Something’s definitely up with these two.
‘He told you he didn’t have a brother, eh?’ Charlie’s saying in Patrick’s voice as we walk, only deeper and a bit smoother. ‘Can’t blame him.’
