A December to Remember (71)
“Oh, they’re just—” But Maggie was interrupted by her daughter’s loud tutting.
“Patrick is well stupid around her, and his cheeks go all red when she laughs.” Verity rolled her eyes as she continued to wrap wool around her plastic pom-pom disks.
“Is that so?” Doreen had the look of a woman who had just banked some excellent gossip. “Might as well get a few bits for tomorrow’s roast while I’m here.”
Maggie left the decorations to serve her just as Kev from the Stag and Hound walked in with his signature broad smile.
“Baked orange slices for the garlands,” he said, putting the box carefully down beside Simone. “Having twelve ovens in the cookery school has come in very handy this morning; the whole pub smells like Christmas. Your sister’s in there with Duncan, enjoying a cozy candlelit lunch for two,” he said. Doreen squeaked out a yip of delight, which she tried to smother with her hands—more first-rate gossip. “Afternoon, Doreen.” Kev smiled knowingly.
“Kevin, lovely to see you. How’s that handsome husband of yours?” she asked.
“Would you believe he’s making salt dough angels to hang from ribbons in the marquee?”
“I would. I’ve always thought he was the crafty sort,” said Doreen.
Kev smiled fondly. “I’ll be sure to let Ryan know.”
“These are brilliant. Thanks, Kev,” said Maggie, picking up an orange slice and sniffing it.
“No worries. I’ll take some more portobello mushrooms while I’m here. Kat’s doing stuffed mushrooms for the veggie roast tomorrow.”
“Ooh, that sounds good. I might pop in,” said Simone.
“Maybe we all should,” Maggie suggested. “I can’t remember the last time I ate out.”
“We’d love to see you. Now while I’ve got you, Simone, I’ve got this shoulder, just needs a tweak . . .”
Oh, for goodness’ sake! “Honestly, I’d like to help you, but there are certain protocols . . .”
“Tell you what, let’s not even mention your professional credentials and just call this one friend lending another her expertise. Five minutes of your time. Miss Radley described you as having sorcerer’s fingers.”
“Good god. I’d forgotten what it was like living here,” Simone grumbled. The audacity levels in Rowan Thorp were far higher than in Greenwich.
Maggie laughed. Kev was already taking his jacket off.
“You can use the storeroom,” she called.
“Lovely jubbly!” said Kev.
Seven minutes later they emerged from the storeroom. Kev was windmilling his left arm delightedly.
“Old Miss Radley wasn’t wrong. You’ve got a gift. All your dinners are on me tomorrow. I’ll book you in for three p.m.,” he called over his shoulder as he left the shop, swiftly followed by Doreen, who waved energetic goodbyes.
“I am going to start pimping out your ‘sorcerer’s fingers,’?” Maggie chortled. “I wonder what else I could get for free?”
“If Evette leaves me, maybe I’ll move down here and start my own practice,” she said dryly.
Verity looked up, mid–pom-pom, her expression quizzical. “Mama, what’s pimping?”
34
Star had gone to bed on Saturday night floating on a cloud of romance and possibilities but had woken early Sunday morning knowing that before she let this go any further, she had to be straight with Duncan. She liked him. A lot. But her commitment to Simone came first, and she knew it wasn’t a straightforward thing for a potential boyfriend to have to accept that his would-be girlfriend might be about to become pregnant with her sister’s baby. She wouldn’t blame him if he couldn’t hack it, but equally, she couldn’t be with someone who couldn’t respect her decisions with regards to her own body.
She had called him early and asked him to meet her in the tree house because there was something she needed to tell him. And now she waited, sitting among the piles of cushions and warm throws she’d hauled up into her old hideaway in the trees.
The weather was bright and cold and her old china tea set, now Verity’s, was covered in a sheen of condensation. The woodland had frosted to a crisp that crunched underfoot and sparkled in the dappled shards of winter sun. In this frozen otherworld, sugar-dusted thorns lost their menace and the diamond-clustered rowan berries made fitting jewels for a snow queen.
“Dear Universe,” she prayed, her entreaties carried in a cloud of her breath, “I don’t often ask to have my cake and eat it, but please, if there is a way I could have Simone’s baby and keep Duncan, that would be great!”
She pulled a blanket around her like a cape and leaned her back against the solid tree house wall while she waited for Duncan. This place had always been her escape; she felt safe within the organic structure, ensconced in nature, which was why she had suggested meeting here.
She smiled when his head appeared at the bottom of the doorway and waited as he scaled the last few rungs and clambered into the tree house.
“Thanks for meeting me,” she said, tugging the sherpa blanket tighter. “Pull up a cushion and help yourself to a blanket.”
Duncan did as he was told.
They took up position on cushions opposite each other. Star produced a fresh dressing and bandage from the first aid kit she’d brought with her. “Here,” she said, motioning to his hand. “Let me change the dressing while we talk.”