fifteen
HENRY
After securingMerv back into his stable, with a slight reprimand for showing me up, I headed back to the village and straight for Jean’s cottage. The older woman and I had formed a happy friendship over the few years I had been in Otterleigh Bay. She was kind and sweet, and she made truly excellent biscuits. I helped her and her husband, Jim, with the jobs she’d banned him from doing. It was a perfectly symbiotic relationship.
She also made for a fantastic sounding board when I needed one.
A rush of warmth hit me when she opened the door and ushered me in out of the cold, dark evening.
‘I didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,’ she said, taking my coat from me and hanging it on the end of the bannister. ‘Jim’s popped over to Islas’s to fuss over the wee one. He’s smitten now that there are smiles to be won.’
‘Couldn’t leave my favourite girl hanging.’
Jean grinned and slapped my arm before shooing me into the kitchen.
‘Are you sure I’m still your favourite?’ She put on the kettle while I took a seat, going straight for one of the homemade custard creams. The biscuit melted on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but groan.
‘With bakes like these? You might still have the lead.’
Jean couldn’t help but preen at the praise, and I loved making her feel appreciated. ‘Your face says otherwise.’
‘My face?’
‘Mmm. You’ve the face of a man with a woman on his mind.’
How she could see that on my face, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sort of things old ladies said to cover the tracks of gleeful gossip.
She took a seat opposite me, and poured the tea, handing me a steaming cup and looking at the folded-over plastic bag I’d set on the table. The way she looked at it told me she itched to ask what was inside.
‘Thank you,’ I said as she pushed my mug of tea over. ‘I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a bit of help?’
‘It’s rare I can help you with much other than a plate of biscuits, I’d be delighted if there’s something I can do.’
I slipped a Christmas jumper out of my bag and set it on the table. The very same one Jean had made for me two Christmases ago when I’d spent Christmas with the Harrises.
A deep green wool jumper with a huge H embroidered on it in thick, glittering thread.
Jean looked at the folded jumper, reaching out to dance her wrinkled fingers over the hem. ‘I recognise this. Have you grown sick of it?’
‘No. Not at all. I just think someone else might need it more than I do.’
‘Amanda? I’m not sure it’s quite her style, or fit.’
‘It’s less the jumper and more what it represents. It made me feel at home when you included me in your tradition, and I want her to feel a little bit of that Christmas magic, too. She said that her family never really did any traditions, so I thought I might gift her one.’
‘Is she changing her name to Hamanda?’ There was a wicked glint in Jean’s eyes that had me laughing.
‘I doubt it very much. I was hoping you still had some of this gold thread and could show me how to turn the H into an A.’
Jean leaned forward and nodded.
‘An A,’ she repeated. ‘Aye. We can do that for your girl.’
I opened my mouth to insist that she wasn’tmine, yet, but Jean’s hand shot out before I could.
‘Don’t go lying to me, Henry James, you want the letter changed because the lass means something to you.’
I felt heat creep up my neck.
