Page 3 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 2
“Oh no,” I replied. Shaking my head, I let out a near hysterical laugh.
“Please, Antonia, you’d be helping us out no end.”
Me, stuck in the middle of nowhere? My friend had to be joking. “But I hate the countryside. The countryside’s full of cows and sheep. As for all that snow you just talked about, Jules…” I pictured myself slipping and sliding around in the stuff, desperate to stay upright. “Do you want me to end up like you? With a broken leg?”
Jules giggled, no doubt visualising the same thing.
“Then there are all those nosey neighbours,” I carried on. “You know what villages are like. Everyone prying into everyone else’s business.” I shuddered, knowing I stood a better chance with the weather. “You’re asking the wrong one here.”
Jules’s shoulders slumped. “Look, I understand you’ve never been a people person, but you’d be doing us a big favour.”
I scoffed, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Jules, I live in London. I’m surrounded by people.”
“Ah, but here no one wants to stop and chat, do they? Which is just the way you like it. Londoners are too busy getting on with their own day to care about what’s happening in yours.”
I saw myself travelling on the Underground, aware that commuters would rather focus on their phones or read books than acknowledge their fellow passengers. Staring at their feet was preferable to saying hello. Moreover, in my experience, city dwellers wouldn’t borrow a cup of sugar if their life depended on it. It’d be hypoglycaemia here we come! I frowned, and, forced to admit I included myself in that, realised Jules could be right.
“You never know, you might just find you love it up there,” Jules continued, taking her positive thinking to a whole new level.
“Really?” I stared at my friend, deadpan.
“Please, Antonia.” She gave me her best puppy-eyed plea. “You’ll only be gone for a week.”
I continued to look at her.
“Maybe two.”
We both knew she was talking rubbish.
“Like Christmas is an issue for you anyway,” Jules said, with no choice but to concede. “You’re not exactly a fan of this time of year. I mean, how many offers have you had to come and spend the day here?” she asked. “And how many times have you turned us down?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to spend Christmas Day with you, I just don’t go in for all that…”
Jules laughed. “Pomp and ceremony?”
I didn’t like to say, but, yes, Jules and Harry did tend to go over the top. It was all posh frocks, expensive food, and extravagant gifts.
“Well if you can’t put on a good show at Christmas, Mrs Ebenezer Scrooge, then when can you? Besides, that’s what Christmas is all about. Surrounding yourself with people you love. Enjoying their company.” She gave me a pointed look. “Spoiling them.”
I couldn’t deny Jules was right. The whole festive shebang had never been my thing. People might talk about “family” and “community spirit”, but in my experience, what was in their stocking and having a good time seemed to take priority. So while everyone else was out partying or stressing over what was really an upmarket Sunday dinner, I shut my door, locked myself away, and watched Hallmark movies until New Year, only to reappear when the madness had begun to dissipate.
“And it’s not as if you have anything else on at the moment, is it?”
Raising my cup to take a mouthful of coffee, I paused before it reached my lips. “Whose fault is that?” I asked. Putting on my sternest of voices, my eyes went from Jules to Frank.
There was no refuting I had a lot of time on my hands. Since my dog walking client list had dried up, finding another source of income had proved difficult. It seemed my chosen profession was tighter knit than I’d realised, and my unblemished record counted for nothing once word got out that prize-winning Delilah the Dachshund had fallen pregnant under my watch. The reputation I’d spent years building was shot. Owners the length and breadth of London no longer let me anywhere near their precious pooches. Apart from Jules, whose Heinz 57, Frank the mongrel, turned out to be none other than Delilah’s baby-daddy.
Frank lifted his head, a whimper escaping his mouth as he looked my way. And while I gave him the steely eye, letting him know I hadn’t quite forgotten his misdemeanour, it was clear he still hadn’t forgiven me in return. It was after his dalliance with Delilah, that Jules and Harry had finally got round to getting him neutered.
“See it the same way as me. As a holiday,” Jules said.
I rolled my eyes. My protests didn’t seem to matter; the woman wasn’t for giving up. But whereas working through a dead woman’s possessions might be my friend’s idea of a break, it certainly wasn’t mine.
“In fact, forget sorting the house out. Let’s face it, just to have someone get the place warmed up at this time of year’s a bonus. Use Number 3 to relax. Stay for Christmas. It’ll do you good to have some time out. To reassess and think about your future.”
“My future?” Again, I wondered what the woman was talking about.
“Well, your savings aren’t going to last forever, are they?”
I frowned at the thought of my depleting bank balance.
“You’ll have to think about a new direction at some point. So why not now? You could even let Frank tag along.” As the dog lifted his head again, his eyes suddenly full of optimism, Jules let out an exaggerated sigh. She looked down at her leg. “I can’t even get to his bowl to feed him, let alone take him out to the park.”
Taking in Frank’s hopeful expression, my gaze went from him to Jules and back again. With the two of them suddenly working in tandem, I didn’t just feel guilty, I felt myself sway. I pictured Frank enjoying the kind of freedom he didn’t get in London, smiling to myself as wintry sun shone down on his wiry-haired back. His oversized ears lolloped around in all directions, smacking him in the face as he bounded through open field after open field. I could even hear Shakin’ Stevens’s “Merry Christmas Everyone” playing in the background.
My smile froze as hard as the snowy ground in my imagination. Acknowledging that Frank had a less than perfect recall, I realised I’d be the one chasing after him.
