Page 7 of A Very Crumbleton Christmas
‘Caroline Cook’s bark is worse than her bite,’ said Brian with an amused grin. ‘That woman is a big pussy cat when you get to know her.’
‘Pussy cats scratch,’ said Jack. ‘Plus, they hiss and spit.’
‘I don’t know why you insist on me sending you a copy of the newspaper every week,’ chuckled Brian.
‘Because it’s best to know what the enemy’s saying about you!’ said Jack said with a raised eyebrow.
In reality, he rather enjoyed reading the local news… even when he was on the other side of the world. It made him feel connected to home. Plus – he loved Caroline Cook’s writing – not that he’d ever admit it, of course. She was sharp and incredibly funny. Her review of his last film had reduced him to tears of laughter, and he’d cut it out and popped it into a framefor his dressing room. She might not be very keen on him, but he was most definitely a fan of hers!
‘Anyway,’ said Jack, shaking his head, ‘since I don’t want to give Caroline Cook the satisfaction of reporting on my premature demise – I promise to wear a bright hat. I’ve got a swim float too.’
‘Good,’ said Brian. ‘Right, I’d best be off before those clouds decide to take themselves a bit more seriously.’
Even as Jack raised his hand to wave Brian off, a couple of white flakes drifted lazily onto the driveway. Jack smiled at the sight of them. He loved snow, and Brian should be nice and safe at home before this little flurry they were in for had the chance to settle – which was a relief.
The man was a saint. There weren’t many people Jack trusted to keep his whereabouts quiet, but frankly, he’d trust Brian with his life. Trish too, come to that. Jack liked the fact that the pair of them treated him as a regular person – just Jack who was brought up less than twenty miles along the coast. Just Jack – who might fancy a festive game of darts over a pint. Just Jack – not some trumped-up Hollywood star in hiding.
With a huge sigh, Jack pushed the front door closed and started to carry his groceries through to the kitchen. It was probably his favourite room in the whole house – mainly because it had the best view of the sea.
Jack had bought his dream house in Crumbleton Sands a couple of years ago, but so far, he’d not really been able to spend as much time there as he’d hoped.
‘At least you’re here for Christmas!’ he said, starting to stash goodies away in random cupboards before turning to the fridge. This little lot should mean he could survive right the way through until Boxing Day without having to leave the house if he didn’t want to.
As soon as the fridge was groaning with enough cold meat, olives, cheese and assorted nibbles to feed a small country, Jack made his way over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked straight out across the golden dunes that separated his house from the sea.
The low-hanging clouds had turned the waves into a deep, moody blue beyond the lacy curtain of the snowflakes as they drifted around aimlessly. It was just coming up to high tide, so there was only a narrow fringe of sandy beach visible above the lapping waves.
The sight made him long for a swim.
Why not?
‘Because it’s snowing – idiot!’ he answered himself. Then he shrugged. Why should he let that stop him?!
A swim might help nudge his jetlag back a bit… and maybe calm his racing thoughts too. As much as he was here to relax and unwind, he was having a hard time switching off. The cold water would help. It always did.
He had his wetsuit laid out upstairs… he’d treat himself to a quick dip, and then settle in and make a dent in some of the goodies Brian had just delivered.
Pausing for just a few more seconds, Jack watched the snowflakes dip and swirl as they drifted down to meet the sea. The sight made his heart squeeze with pure joy. This was exactly why he’d fallen in love with this house in the first place. He had unrestricted views across the sea at the back of the house, and he didn’t even need to leave his own garden to get down onto the beach… he could just hop the fence and then make a dash straight across the dunes and into the sea.
‘Sorry Brian, I’m going in!’ said Jack, spinning on his heel and dashing upstairs to get changed.
Darting into his vast bedroom, Jack made a beeline for his wetsuit which he’d laid out on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.He had to pick through the piles of scripts lying all over the floor to get to it. Poor Trish – she’d have a fit if she could see what a mess he’d made of the pristine house in the few days he’d been back.
Jack had ordered a bookshelf from Crumbleton Antiques so that he could get himself a bit more organised, and it had arrived about an hour ago. Hereallyneeded to sort this lot out – before he managed to break an ankle – or worse! But… the scripts could stay put for a little while longer, couldn’t they?!
‘First things first!’
Jack started to strip off his clothes. Stepping out of his jeans he couldn’t help but laugh at his deep Californian tan. It wasn’t going to do him much good here. As much as he looked like the picture of health in a pair of board shorts while splashing around in a pool or the Pacific Ocean, it would be thoroughly covered up when he dived into the waves here.
A nice, warm wetsuit, along with a pair of boots and neoprene gloves to stop his fingers turning blue the minute he got into the water were most definitely the order of the day when it came to December swims in Crumbleton Sands!
As he started the arduous task of squeezing himself into his tadpole suite, Jack eyeballed the hat he’d laid out next to it. Dark blue with a bobble. It was certainly warm, but he’d promised Brian he’d go bright.
‘Erm… let me see,’ he muttered, glancing around his tip of a bedroom while he tugged the wetsuit further up his legs. His eyes came to rest on the latest pile of scripts that had arrived in the post that morning. He hadn’t even looked through them yet – the sight of them had just made him want to curl up in a ball and sleep until New Year.
Jack had left them in a heap on the carpet, along with the packaging and the Christmas card and joke gift Aimee had included.
‘Perfect!’ said Jack, eyeballing the bright red and white furry Santa hat she’d sent him – along with strict instructions not to get caught wearing it in public.
