‘No,’ said Leonora looking even more irritated. ‘Sam Ashton told me that he can’t abide Christmas.’ There was a well-timed gasp from someone at the other end of the table. ‘In fact he hates everything about it. And he’s sorry he ever purchased a property here.’
‘Umm, so why did he then?’ asked Norman.
‘Because Blythe failed to tell him about Holly Cross’s long-standing Christmas traditions. She tricked him into buying Murray’s cottage.’ Another unhelpful gasp.
‘Tricked is a little unfair,’ said Blythe, finally finding her voice. Leonora opened her mouth wide. Blythe held up her palms. ‘But I take full responsibility for the fact he wasn’t made aware of what happens here at Christmas. In my defence I wasn’t expecting him to be quite as anti the festive season as he evidently is.’
Greg cleared his throat. ‘The fact that he isn’t into Christmas isn’t Blythe’s fault. At the end of the day anyone can buy a place here. There’s no prerequisite that says they have to love Christmas.’
‘Thanks, Greg, I’ve got this,’ said Blythe before turning back to Leonora. ‘I know it means things will have to be a little bit different this year but it doesn’t mean we can’t produce an award-winning display. I think we just need to think through what wecando rather than what we can’t and calmly work towards that.’
‘Calm!’ shouted Leonora. ‘I’ve devoted months of my life to the celebrations and this year was to be my ultimate accolade. But thanks to you the centre of the display, the key cottage, our focal point, will not be joining in. There will be a huge, ugly, obvious gap in the festivities. And that is entirely down to you.’ Leonora slammed her hands down on the table, making everyone jump. ‘You’ve ruined everything!’
It definitely wasn’t the response Blythe had hoped for.
15
30thOctober
On her way into work the day before Halloween, Blythe stopped at Sam’s cottage. He was quick to answer the door. She was now very familiar with the way he greeted her – a broad smile was instantly flipped upside down at the sight of her.
‘I don’t want a fight.’ She held up her hands in mock surrender. ‘And I really don’t care if you join in with Halloween or not. You won’t be alone if you don’t, because the Bennetts have seven-month-old twins and they won’t be and nor will Mrs Devonshire because anything spooky gives her nightmares. They won’t be putting up any decorations or pumpkins so the kids won’t knock. But if you did want to join in and light up the pumpkin you carved you’ll need a safety candle. You forgot to take yours on pumpkin day.’ She handed him the battery tea light and he stared at it like she’d just handed him a lit firework. ‘It’s safer than a candle. Especially with all the thatched cottages.’ She pointed upwards – like he needed reminding that he lived in one.
‘Right,’ said Sam, as usual not giving anything away.
‘It’s actually a really fun evening. All the kids love it and there’s no egging of houses or any antisocial behaviour. It’s just about people checking out everyone’s pumpkins, giving out a few sweets and wishing each other a happy Halloween.’ Sam didn’t respond. ‘Oh, and the headless highwayman’s ghost usually appears about midnight.’
Sam’s eyes widened. ‘What? Oh, you’re joking.’ He didn’t look as if he found her very funny.
‘Anyway, I’ll be by to feed Turpin a bit earlier than usual tomorrow so I’ve got time to go home and get changed.’
Sam smirked. ‘Are you dressing up for Halloween?’
‘Yes, every year I’m a sexy devil in horns, a bright red basque and matching hot pants.’
He blinked as if trying to rid the image from his mind. ‘Really?’
‘No, but it’ll be chilly so I’ll put on a few more layers. You’re very welcome to join us.’ She looked hopefully at him.
‘No, you’re all right.’
‘Maybe in the pub afterwards for the buffet and themed cocktails? Anyway as always it’s up to you. Bye.’ She darted back to her car not giving him a chance to say no for a second time.
*
Blythe had quite a slow day at work. She wasn’t fond of those because they dragged. She had one trip out of the office to do a viewing for a vendor who preferred the estate agent to do the guided tours. Blythe liked it that way too. Some people were very good at showing round prospective buyers. Sometimes they were the perfect ones to sell their house because they had an attachment to it and could paint a picture of what it was like to live there. Little anecdotes like ‘we love to sit in this corner of the garden and watch the sunset with a glass of wine’ were worth their weight in gold in her business. But for many vendor clients professional viewings were part of the service they expected from a quality estate agent and that was where Blythe came into her own.
Today’s property was a lovely one. Well maintained, clean and comfortable, it was owned by a high-flying couple who were looking to move up the property ladder, most likely more for financial gain than for space, because with only two of them they definitely didn’t need four bedrooms. They kept their home spotless so there was nothing Blythe needed to do, but she still arrived at the property fifteen minutes early so she had a chance to give it the once-over. Today, however, her master plan was thwarted as the prospective buyers were already parked outside.
‘Sorry, we’re a bit early. We weren’t sure how long it would take us to get here,’ said the smiley woman getting out of her car. ‘It’s a lovely house,’ she added, looking like she’d already bought it. Hopefully this would be an easy sale.
‘That’s fine. Let’s go in, shall we?’ asked Blythe, leading the way with the key in her hand. ‘New double glazing and front door two years ago,’ she pointed out as she opened the door and was still talking over her shoulder as she stepped inside. ‘Conservatory added at the back at the same time which really does— Whoa!’ Blythe walked straight into something or – as she thought as she turned around – someone. She jumped in fright as a face loomed in front of hers. ‘What the?’ She panicked and forcefully pushed the face away. As the life-size cardboard cut-out of Justin Bieber fell she realised her mistake. ‘Oh my word, that gave me a start,’ she said, putting her hand to her thumping heart as she tried to quickly regain her composure and any shred of professionalism that remained. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said to her client as she tried to right Justin, who she now noticed had a broken neck thanks to her hard shove. His head kept flopping down, which wasn’t good.
‘It’s okay. It was quite funny,’ said the woman. ‘Looks like someone has had a bit of a party.’ She pointed through the hallway into the open-plan living space where balloons and garlands adorned abandoned bottles and glasses. Bugger, thought Blythe.
*
Vicky was sitting on her bed laughing so hard she thought she might rupture something. ‘You decapitated Justin Bieber,’ she spluttered.
