The Christmas Promise Read online

  He raised a lazy brow. ‘Happy to.’ And he swooped her up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, his hands somehow ending up on her buttocks.

  ‘No!’ she yelped, half-blinded by her hair tumbling over her face and totally discomposed by the view of his buttocks inches from her face. Laughing, he swept her back down and onto her feet.

  Breathless but giggling back at him, Ava was aware of Wendy and Vanessa glancing around and exchanging smiles. Reminding herself that the larking around was as faux as the dating, she gave him a friendly shove in the middle of his solid chest before she let him take her hand again.

  Middledip village was an interesting mix of rust-coloured cottages huddled in groups and tall brick houses with pointed gables. Sometimes stone and brick met in one house, as Ava had already seen at Wendy and Vanessa’s. At the centre of the village the lanes joined to form a three-legged cross where a corner shop did brisk business in Sunday papers and a garage stood with its doors firmly folded shut.

  Wendy called back, ‘We’ll have lunch in the Three Fishes because they’ll let us take the dogs in if we eat in the bar.’

  Ava put a hand to her stomach. ‘That bacon sandwich was so filling I don’t think I could manage a thing.’

  ‘You will. We’re going on a good long walk so that Carola can’t find us and make us put up stalls.’ Then Wendy and Vanessa recounted, with great glee, how they’d phoned village-organiser Carola as soon as they’d got up that morning to demand a rearrangement to the Christmas Fayre to accommodate the real live celebrity they’d managed to snare.

  ‘It was the nearest I’ve ever known Carola to being speechless.’ Vanessa sighed in satisfaction as they crossed the village on a circuitous route that would keep them out of sight of the village hall and down a bridleway so that the dogs could bound off, breathing clouds into the crisp air.

  The sun rose high enough to melt the frost from the hedgerows and Wendy spread her arms and twirled, gazing up at the clear blue sky. ‘What a glorious day. It makes you feel good to be alive, doesn’t it?’

  Ava had to swallow the most enormous lump in her throat before answering. ‘I felt the same when I opened the curtains this morning.’

  Vanessa’s smile wavered as Wendy suddenly had to bump down onto a log to catch her breath, saying, ‘Every day’s a good day.’

  Sam said nothing at all, but his hand became tense in Ava’s.

  Stepping inside Middledip Village Hall in the wake of his mum and aunt, Sam felt a tug of nostalgia at the sight of villagers dressing stalls in red and green crepe paper and suspending decorations from the beams on loops of tinsel. He must have been to a hundred fetes, fayres, parties and receptions. Wendy and Vanessa had dragged him into fund-raising when it was necessary to buy new curtains for the long run of windows and doors and then teenage parties had found him exchanging kisses with flirty girls behind those very same curtains. At various ages he’d skateboarded in the car park, swung on the swings outside and played football on the grass.

  What was new was the presence of Ava, her hair brushed and put up since the morning’s walk, smiling and chatting with his mum, attracting a lot of beady gazes as people he’d known all his life mentally calculated what it meant that Sam Jermyn had ‘brought a girl home’. He gave an inner sigh. The more Ava Blissham tried not to be woven into the tapestry of his life, the more it seemed to come about.

  ‘Jermyn! Still feeding bullshit to journalists?’ A man with dark curls and glittering black eyes tied off a string of silver tinsel and jumped lithely down from a stepladder to greet him.

  Sam grinned, extending his hand and bracing himself for a manly shoulder slap. ‘Pretty much, Ratty. You still selling heaps of rust and calling them classic cars?’

  ‘As long as people will pay for them.’ Ratty greeted Vanessa and Wendy before they plunged into the ant-like gathering of people then turned to regard Ava with one raised brow.

  Sam was obliged to make introductions. ‘Ava, this is an old buddy, Ratty – Miles Arnott-Rattenbury. He owns the garage at The Cross. Ratty, Ava’s a milliner and Mum’s talked her into doing a hat show at the Christmas Fayre.’

  Ratty was polite and smooth. ‘I’ve been hearing about this. Hasn’t your mum secured a real-life WAG to model the hats? That’s impressive.’ But his eyes said to Sam, She’s gorgeous. Well done, mate, making Sam feel as uncomfortable as Ava looked.

  Then other old friends bustled up, Pete and Angel with hugs, Jos introducing his wife, Miranda. Ava managed to smile under the onslaught of names and faces, then they were both distracted as they caught sight of Wendy removing her hat to reveal her naked head, her friends gathering to offer hugs or stroke her scalp, their eyes shining with tears. Such compassion stole over Ava’s face that a lump jumped into Sam’s throat.

  Ratty bumped his shoulder. ‘Seriously shitty about your mum, man. How’s she doing?’

  Pete and Jos looked gravely sympathetic and while Sam was clearing his throat to mutter, ‘She’s amazing,’ blonde Carola popped up and grabbed Ava by the arm.

  The look Ava sent back to Sam as she was dragged away was beseeching. ‘Hats!’ she mouthed.

  ‘I’ll get them from the car.’

  Ratty laughed. ‘Oops. You’ve let the wolf get her. Bad boyfriend.’

  Sam thought about protesting that Ava wasn’t his girlfriend but glancing back to his beaming mum, who’d plunged into a spirited discussion with Carola while Ava looked on, he gave up. The main thing was that, for now, Wendy was happy. ‘I’ll make it up to her by carrying her hatboxes.’

  No sooner had he ferried in the last box than Ruby arrived and he stepped automatically into the role of making sure she had what she wanted and that Ava and Ruby held sway over anything Carola might take it into her head to demand. As a stream of villagers paid their fifty pences at the door and crowded into the hall exclaiming that the WAG rumours had been true, he took photos on his phone of Ruby in front of the hat display, holding hats, modelling hats, chatting to milling villagers and even giving a brief, bright speech about how touched she’d been by Wendy’s buzzing the night before.

  When her spot was finally over, Ruby sat down with Ava at one of the little tables that formed ‘The Crimbo Café’, i.e. the usual serving hatch surrounded with red streamers and silver tinsel, to eat mince pies and drink coffee from proper cups. Ruby continued to generously allow anyone to take her photo, ‘As long as you put two quid in this dish for Wendy’s charity collection and if you put the pic on social media you include the hashtag #RubyGlennister.’

  It was an hour later, when Sam had rescued Ava’s samples before they were destroyed by overeager tryings-on that Ruby sought him out. ‘Gotta go, Sam.’ She hauled him into her usual exuberant hug. ‘Let me know where the pics appear tomorrow, yeah? I’ll do all the sharing on Twitter and that.’ She embraced Wendy and Vanessa, then turned to Ava. ‘Honest, babes, I don’t know why you’re being so coy. Get a bit of free promo, that’s what it’s all about.’

  Ava went scarlet. ‘You’re a client, Ruby. It’s different.’

  Ruby tutted. ‘Sam, you’ll make sure the journos get that the hats were made by Ava Bliss, won’t you? Don’t take no notice of Ms Conscience, here.’

  Sam was glad to comply. ‘Your conscience can be quiet,’ he told Ava, who looked as if she wished the floor would open up. ‘You’re the creator of the hats, the hats will be featured in the shots so you automatically get a credit in any coverage. Besides, my client has requested it.’

  ‘But—’ Ava protested.

  Then they were drawn apart by requests to buy raffle tickets and guess the weight of a Christmas cake while ‘Jingle Bells’ followed by ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’ burbled over the PA. The next time Sam looked at his watch it was nearly five, already dark, and time to think about heading home.

  He found Ava once again at The Crimbo Café, this time devouring stollen with Wendy and Vanessa. ‘We ought to think about making tracks.’ He tried not to let h
is heart lurch when his mum’s face fell. He dropped into the chair beside her and gave her a quick hug. ‘We’ll be seeing each other really soon, though, won’t we? Soon be Christmas.’

  Wendy managed a grin. ‘Of course. It’s going to be lovely. A really special Christmas, eh, Ava?’

  Ava only looked as if the stollen had stuck in her throat, so it was left to Sam to reply. ‘You bet.’ But his voice sounded hollow in his own ears.

  Although Sam had begun making noises about leaving hours ago, Ava didn’t complain when he let Wendy prevail upon them to go home for cheese on toast and mugs of coffee before setting off for London. Her heart had felt so full today, watching Wendy with her friends and neighbours and the affection and worry that had clouded their eyes. Carola had even declared that she was going to propose to the Village Hall Committee that a donation be made to No Blame or Shame from today’s event, as it was the news crackling around the villages that Booby Ruby was going to be at the fayre that had made the coffers so healthy.

  Vanessa had already said her farewells and driven off to meet Neale and now Wendy stood grating a heap of cheese as the grill heated. ‘Carola has a heart of gold, even if she goes through life convinced that nobody but her can organise themselves to walk and talk at the same time. You were great, Ava, so just sit down with Sam and rest before your journey.’

  ‘But you must be tired,’ Ava protested.

  ‘Not really.’ But Wendy’s eyes looked bruised with fatigue so Sam and Ava took over the making of supper, then, while Wendy grabbed forty winks in the kitchen rocker, washed up.

  ‘It’s a shame to wake her,’ Ava whispered, when the kitchen was restored to order and Wendy snoozed on.

  ‘She’d hate not saying goodbye, though. Let’s give her ten more minutes – we’ll load the car.’ Sam’s voice was hoarse and Ava’s heart ached when she saw the naked grief in his eyes, so they awarded Wendy an entire half hour while they not only loaded the car but Sam took Ava on a belated tour of the house, Wendy’s room filled with homemade rugs and curtains, Vanessa’s bedroom and study plain but comfortable.

  ‘It’s lovely that they can live together so harmoniously,’ Ava said.

  Sam’s expression darkened. ‘Especially as when my grandparents died they left everything to Vanessa.’

  Ava felt her breath catch in her throat. ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Nope. Vanessa used the inheritance to buy the house and simply put it in joint names. She was furious at the way Mum was treated.’ He glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘If either of us are to be any use at work tomorrow, we really ought to go.’

  ‘Of course.’ Ava ignored a curl of dismay. She should be glad to be heading back to Camden, shouldn’t she?

  Wendy blinked sleepily when Sam woke her but got up to hug them both goodbye. ‘See you soon. Can’t wait for Christmas!’

  ‘See you soon,’ Ava echoed.

  She climbed into Sam’s BMW still waving. They drove out of the village and traversed country roads and Peterborough’s parkway system in silence until they joined the motorway, the tarmac glittering with frost between the tyre tracks.

  ‘Thanks for staying over,’ he said, eventually. ‘It meant a lot to Mum. I know I keep saying that about various things, but it keeps on being true.’

  ‘I know.’ Her sigh was so deep it actually hurt her chest. ‘And she’s so lovely that I honestly don’t begrudge the time. I’m only worried about the overnight stay because of Izz.’

  His sigh was almost as loud as hers had been. ‘I’m sorry. You’re getting drawn deeper and deeper into the faux dating because of Mum.’ They lapsed back into silence.

  By the time they reached School Road, Ava’s eyes were gritty with the need for sleep but she was reluctant to leave the warmth of the car.

  Sam killed the engine and turned in his seat. ‘OK, I have a plan but it’s probably manipulative and you may not like it.’

  ‘You’re not selling it so far.’

  His smile was pensive. ‘I’ll agree to an accidentally-on-purpose date.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘With Izz. Surely you used to do accidentally-on-purpose dating when you were a teenager? You’d find out someone you liked was going somewhere and arrange to be there, too?’

  ‘Oh. Right. Yes. I suppose everyone does. It’s not a statement of intent like when you ask someone out, so there’s less to lose.’

  ‘Exactly, particularly the statement of intent part, in this case. Arrange to meet Izz somewhere near the agency and I’ll come in and just happen to be in the same place.’

  A strange feeling sank through Ava’s insides, surprising in its intensity. ‘It sounds juvenile.’

  He laughed shortly. ‘Some people would say a crush is juvenile, too. But you asked me to go on a date with Izz and though a proper date’s obviously not appropriate, I’ll do this if your conscience will be assuaged by me spending time with her to balance our faux dating.’

  Ava turned the idea around in her mind. Now she was being given what she’d asked for, a date for Izz, she didn’t feel she could complain that it was the wrong kind. ‘You won’t ignore her? Or make I-don’t-want-to-be-in-this-conversation conversation?’

  ‘I’ll make certain to interact properly with her.’

  ‘OK,’ Ava agreed slowly, trying not to examine too closely why his abrupt compromise on something he’d seemed uncompromising about should make her feel so empty. She deflected a stab of disappointment, not sure if it were disappointment in herself, or in him, and focused on the fact that at least he seemed motivated by trying to make people feel better, even if his approach was unorthodox. His plan didn’t seem very honest but it might go some way towards consoling Izz.

  Ava refused to examine how she felt about the idea of Sam and Izz together.

  They agreed on Thursday as accidentally-on-purpose-date night and he carried her paraphernalia into the house as quietly as possible.

  It wasn’t until he’d kissed her gently but chastely on the lips and driven off that she realised that what she’d agreed to would mean she’d be seeing Sam yet again – but surely that was OK when she was doing it for Izz?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Putting the ‘trick’ in Patrick

  Wednesday 19 December

  On Wednesday, Ava fulfilled three orders for gift certificates, typing names and amounts into the template Tod had made for her then giving each a reference number.

  Her heart gave a little hop and skip to see the income in her bank account, and, later, another email enquiry resulting from the Rotary Ball lit a warm glow of satisfaction within her. Someone else had already made an appointment in early January for a hat for her daughter’s wedding.

  Then Sam texted her to arrange Wendy’s second fitting on Friday week.

  Ava replied, confirming also Izz’s accidentally-on-purpose date with Sam the next evening. She wondered if it would be possible to leave them to it if Izz and Sam showed any signs of conversing easily. Izz might get on much better without Ava there. And Ava wouldn’t have to watch it happening.

  She got out her sewing machine to make the lining to Wendy’s hat, using the same block as before for the sizing, then trimmed it neatly and stitched it in place with painstaking little stab stitches that wouldn’t show, before making the head fitting. The hat itself then complete, she planned the embellishment ready for after the second fitting and began cutting the peacock feather eyes to fabulous points with a sharp craft knife. Laying them out on her work surface she looped the gold ribbon over and around them experimentally to admire the effect.

  For the first time in ages she had a fully productive day. At the end of it, she changed and set out to the gym. The year’s subscription she’d paid in more lucrative times would run out at the end of December so she might as well enjoy her six o’clock booiaka class while she still could.

  The class was fast and noisy. Some of the girls wore tinsel to tie up their hair and one had a fla
shing reindeer nose pinned to her singlet. Ava enjoyed the fun and was even prepared not to hate Christmas too much in her current buoyant mood.

  After a fast shower, she clunked through the turnstile at reception ready to scramble into her coat for the chilly walk home.

  ‘Ava!’

  Ava halted in surprise in the middle of the foyer. ‘Patrick? What are you doing here?’

  Patrick looked to be dressed for work rather than a workout. ‘I’m thinking of joining. Are you a member?’

  ‘For now. Why would you join a gym in Camden? It’s not exactly convenient for Balham, is it?’

  He grinned boyishly. ‘I like to go to the gym straight after work and it’s cheaper here than around Brick Lane. I’m spending time in this area with a client so I thought it was worth checking out. Anyway,’ he rushed on, before she got a chance to query whether he seriously visited one client enough to warrant gym membership nearby, ‘it’s handy that you know the place already because you can give me the insider view. Over a cup of coffee?’

  Switching her bag from one shoulder to another, Ava remembered Izz saying that Patrick kept asking about her and debated the wisdom of providing even slight encouragement to him, but an Americano sounded irresistible. ‘OK. There’s a bar upstairs.’

  With a wide grin, Patrick followed Ava up to where the landing broadened out into a carpeted area with a bar at one side and a balcony looking out over the gym rats on their treadmills on the other. The air was warm and the noise level set to gentle hum. Ava grabbed a table while Patrick ordered the coffee.

  He returned with two large Americanos and the snacks menu. ‘I’m famished. These clients are really buzzy but proper slave drivers. I haven’t had a chance to eat.’