Page 42 of Christmas at the Home Farm Vets
‘So has Imogen said anything about the house, what it’s like?’ She glanced at Oli again; that familiar profile, the hair swept back from his face and the scattering of freckles over his skin. She liked the growing beard and thought it suited him, and when she’d teased him about it the other day, they’d both fallen silent when he’d laughingly informed her it wasn’t coming off until he was living somewhere warmer.
‘Not much. Just that they love it and it’s small. Probably still cost a fortune down here.’
‘How did she and Alex meet? I know Imogen’s an architect, you mentioned that.’
‘He’s a builder, they met on a project about three years ago after she moved back from London.’
The roads became quieter as they headed into the countryside, and although it was beautiful, for Erin it couldn’t match the wildness of the Dales they’d left earlier. Here all was gentle meadows and neat red brick houses, not the stone barns and moorland farms she was used to. Following the directions, she turned into a wide driveway, a huge sweep of flawless green lawn and a small lake set before a curved row of more contemporary and perfectly elegant, red brick houses.
‘Nice,’ Oli remarked, and she laughed.
‘That’s quite the understatement; they’re stunning.’ She didn’t imagine she’d find any charity shop chintz sofas in the impressive show house near the entrance. She took a deep breath, forcing away more comparisons with her own home. ‘Which one is theirs?’
‘Nothing quite so grand, Imogen said it’s a terrace in the courtyard around the back. Alex has left his car at his parents’ place so we can use his parking space.’
‘Are you okay, about seeing your dad later?’ Erin’s hand found his, resting lightly on his thigh, and his fingers tightened around hers, holding them in place. The contact had been natural, born out of a desire to impart support, but still she felt the thrill of his touch dancing across her skin.
‘Think so,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m delighted for Imogen and Alex of course, and I am glad we came. I suppose a party is a good place to see Dad and Christina, given that everyone will be busy chatting to someone else.’
Erin drove past the first row of houses and turned right into a beautiful courtyard, made up of three blocks of immaculate terraces, low evergreen planting and matching red brick paving interspersed with gravel parking places. Alex and Imogen’s house was at one end of the furthest block and Erin parked in the allocated spot. She covered a yawn as they got out – she’d done a couple of hours’ consulting this morning before they’d left to save Gil a job – and she and Oli both stretched. Checking her phone, she beamed at a message from Jess, holding it out so Oli could see.
‘Don’t think Marnie’s missing us.’
‘No, she looks happy.’ They shared a smile at the image of Marnie asleep on her bed in the cottage before the fire. Noah was joining Jess later and they were planning a takeaway; a rare night off from renovating the house they’d just bought. Oli was at the boot removing their bags when the front door opened, and Imogen rushed outside.
‘Guys, I’m so happy you’re here! You made great time, come in and have a drink to celebrate. There’s a taxi picking us up later so no one has to drive.’
Imogen hurried down the path and flung her arms around Oli, who grinned as he hugged her back, a bag slung over each shoulder. She turned to Erin and hugged her too, murmuring a ‘thank you for coming.’
‘Alex sends his apologies, by the way. He had to go into work, and he’s been delayed on site.’ Imogen pointed so Oli and Erin, who had a garment bag with Oli’s suit and her dress draped over one arm, could go first. ‘His company are renovating a hotel and there’s a crisis with a crane. He shouldn’t be too long.’
‘It’s beautiful, Immi,’ Oli remarked as they stepped into a narrow hall, and he caught his sister’s eye. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She bumped into him on purpose, nudging his arm with hers. ‘You haven’t called me Immi for ages, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, well,’ he retorted, giving her a brotherly shove. ‘Mum always said…’
‘What?’ There was a questioning note in her voice, urging him to continue.
‘Nothing.’ He glanced down. ‘Do we have to take our shoes off?’
‘With these carpets? You betcha!’
Erin slipped her boots off and Oli did the same, leaving their bags in the hall for now and being careful not to rest them against the white walls. A compact, sleek white and grey kitchen was on their left, the window looking onto the courtyard. For a moment she almost envied its orderliness and clean lines, and then she was reminded of her cottage’s comforts and cosiness, the stories of people who’d lived in it long before she had. She was just a chapter in its history, a guardian readying it for the next person who would come along after her.
‘Sitting room and dining area.’ Imogen threw open a door at the end and they were in another white room with a pale grey carpet matching the one in the hall. The furniture, apart from a cream sofa and an armchair, was dark and contemporary, a huge flatscreen TV sat on a low cabinet, and French doors led to a narrow garden planted with evergreens, gravel in place of a lawn and bordered by metal railings. Everything was glossy and gorgeous, and Erin was checking her jeans for signs of mud just in case; sometimes it seemed to get everywhere, especially at this time of year. A tiny Christmas tree sparkled in a corner, the only nod to the season.
‘It’s gorgeous, Imogen. Congratulations,’ Erin said. She’d never lived anywhere so tidy and couldn’t imagine curling up on this perfect sofa without worrying she’d mark it in some way. She’d felt at home in the cottage from the first day, and mud falling from boots or dog hair from patients was easy to clean from stone-flagged floors, even if they were freezing beneath her feet. This house was a contemporary home for contemporary lives, and she didn’t picture Oli living in such pristine surroundings either.
‘Yeah, it’s stunning, Immi, congrats.’ He lowered himself onto the sofa and Erin chose the armchair. She could attempt to maintain a physical distance from him at least, even if the emotional one was retreating with every day they spent together.
‘Thanks, guys, so happy you like it.’ Imogen turned back to the door. ‘Glass of bubbly to get you started before the party? The taxi’s picking us up at six thirty, so we’ve got plenty of time.’
‘Why not?’ Oli looked at Erin. ‘We don’t often get to relax and spoil ourselves, do we?’
‘You need to up your game, bro, if you think that’s spoiling someone,’ Imogen retorted. ‘No wonder you’re still single. Sorry, forget I said that.’
‘It’s fine,’ Erin assured her. ‘Oli and I are just friends.’
