‘Still not tracked his owners down then?’ asked Lottie.
‘No, I wondered if they might be in there.’ Joe indicated the church.
‘Come on, Joe. You joining us?’ called Zach, from the church doorway.
‘Yeah. I think I will, if that’s okay?’ He directed his question at Lottie.
‘Then we’d better go in before it’s standing room only.’ She turned and walked away, and Joe followed.
Inside the church, the bells were still audible. The dog started to bark, making all heads turn in their direction.Nothing like making an entrance, thought Joe.
‘At least we know everyone’s seen him,’ said Lottie.
Joe noted the mixture of surprise and intrigue on people’s faces, followed by muttered comments and a few pointed fingers.
Joe picked up the dog, who stopped barking, and the heads turned back to face the front. It seemed quite a fewpeople had recognised Joe, but no one came to claim the dog.
Bernard had manoeuvred his manual wheelchair to such an angle as to block off the front row pew. He was shooing other people off it whilst simultaneously signalling to get Lottie and Joe’s attention.
‘Do we have to sit right at the front?’ asked Lottie. ‘There’s space over there.’ Lottie indicated Shirley waving to them, her white hair dancing in time.
Bernard huffed. ‘I’m not sitting with her.’
Joe looked to Lottie for an explanation whilst he returned Shirley’s frantic waves of greeting. She’d always seemed lovely; a little forthright, but kind-hearted – fairly typical of local residents, he remembered.
‘Shirley was chosen to play Father Christmas at the Christmas fayre instead of him,’ whispered Lottie.
Joe shrugged and tried to hide a smirk. ‘She does have a moustache any wing commander would be rather proud of.’
‘Bloody WI and its equal opportunities,’ mumbled Bernard forcefully, ushering Lottie and Joe into the pew. They ensconced themselves at the front and, after a bit of a sniff around, the dog settled down between Joe’s feet for a snooze. Joe took in his surroundings. The church was pretty much as he remembered it, although being Christmas there was lots of holly on the higher ledges and a number of decadent floral displays in deep reds and golds dotted down the aisle, cascading over the tops of their stands. Along every ledge there were large candles and, although they were lit, it wasn’t that noticeable with the church lights up.
Joe studied the Nativity scene. He leaned towards Lottie to whisper to her and she flinched.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, but the Nativity scene is missing a wise man.’
Angie leaned in from the other side. ‘Isn’t that always the way?’ she said, with a short cackle. She put her hand to her mouth as if the sound had surprised even her.
‘Sorry,’ said Lottie. ‘She’s been drinking.’ She pointed at the Nativity. ‘A wise man was stolen. It was front page news in the local paper.’
After a while the vicar came to the front and introduced himself, welcomed everyone and made an appeal for information about the little dog. Dutifully, Joe held him up at the right moment, triggering a chorus ofahhhs, but nobody rushed over to claim him. The vicar said a prayer and the lights dimmed. Joe lowered his head in respect and failed to stop thoughts of his parents creeping in. He was grateful when the vicar announced the first hymn: ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’.
When he looked up to sing, he took in the beauty of the church swathed in candlelight: the flickering flames casting shadows; the congregation bathed in a warm glow. It felt Christmassy and, at last, so did he. It had him belting out the words of the song, and the little lost dog joined in, barking through the chorus.
The more carols they sang, the more Joe relaxed. Seeing Bernard take a crafty swig from a hip flask and watching the way Lottie nervously adjusted her hair clip, he was flooded with memories of the warmth and love of the Collins family, which had been such a big part of his childhood. It was an unexpectedly nice way to spend Christmas Eve, and Joe felt that he had ticked another box on his journey to acceptance as he left the little church with good wishes ringing in his ears.
Joe had decided he should give the mulled wine at themanor a miss. Lottie hadn’t seemed keen to meet up again – she’d said the right thing, she always did, but her eyes told him something different. Aside from their exchange at the start, she’d barely said a word to him during the service, despite sitting next to him. Then again, what was there to say? They’d already spent far too much time apart. He knew the way he’d left all those years ago had been far from ideal, and his need to cut all ties with his former life must have been hard for Lottie to understand. With hindsight, he could see that he could have handled his departure far better. Hopefully someday Lottie would give him a chance to explain, but tonight definitely wasn’t the moment.
‘Joe, you’re coming back, right?’ asked Zach, falling in step with him as they reached the lychgate. Lottie was up ahead, and as the rain started again she guided her swaying mother in to the back of her uncle’s car while he was busy wrestling Bernard’s wheelchair into the boot. Joe wavered. He had nothing waiting for him back at the cottage apart from his own thoughts, which were always a dangerous thing to be alone with, and he supposed if things got awkward with Lottie he could simply leave. The dog gave a tug towards Henbourne as if trying to influence his decision.
‘Sure. Why not?’ And he started chatting to Zach whilst the little dog trotted along happily on his skipping rope.
Chapter Ten
Lottie was pleased to get back into the warm and dry. She pulled off her boots as Rhys met her in the hallway.
‘Hiya Rhys. How did the babysitting go?’
