Page 34 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 22
After speaking to Jules, I’d spent hours scouring every cupboard, cubbyhole and drawer I could find in Number 3, Bluebell Row, hoping to locate a stash of board games, playing cards, or jigsaws. It was a pointless exercise. Aunt Lillian and I were clearly of the same ilk. It seemed little people weren’t her thing either; there wasn’t a child-friendly source of entertainment to be found. “Come on, Frank,” I said. Making my way downstairs, I put on my coat and picked up his lead. It was time to give up. He needed a walk, and I needed a drink.
A knock at the door caught my attention. It felt a bit late in the day for visitors and putting Frank’s lead back down, I wondered who it could be. I ushered the dog from the hall into the lounge. “You stay here, boy,” I said and shutting him in, I went to answer.
Surprised to find a delivery man standing there, I took in the big white van behind him and the huge box at his feet. I knew I hadn’t ordered anything; he’d evidently got the wrong address.
“Antonia Styles,” he said.
I cocked my head, surprised to hear my name.
“Sign here.” He held out a screen on which I needed to add my signature using my finger. The result was unreadable, but the driver didn’t seem to care. He simply headed back to his van, climbed in, and drove away.
Carrying the box inside, I felt a tinge of excitement. “What do you think this is, Frank?” I said, as I entered the lounge and placed it on the coffee table. It felt like Christmas morning as I tore at the wrapping tape and opened it. Staring at the contents, I immediately knew who the delivery was from. “Thank you, Jules,” I said, unable to believe how quickly she’d swung into action.
I pulled out a Yuletide colouring book and a box of crayons. Then a crafting kit for Seb to make his own pompom Christmas tree, followed by a pack of festive stencils. There were DIY snow globe kits and a bumper pack of Christmas word searches, a sticker book, and a drawing pad. I couldn’t help but smile as I reached for the final item – everything a little boy needed to create a nativity scene out of stick puppets. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing if that lot didn’t keep Seb entertained, then nothing would. I grabbed my phone and fired off a text to Jules telling her how grateful I was and to ask how much I owed her. The same day delivery costs alone would have put a dent in her finances.
“This definitely calls for a drink, Frank,” I said, heading out of the room to get his lead. “What do you think?”
Leaving Number 3 behind, it felt way too cold to be out in the open air and I moved fast, chivvying Frank along when he stopped to sniff the ground and nothing else. I’d been stuck in all day and looked forward to both a change of scenery and cosying up in front of The Cobbled Tavern’s huge wood burner while enjoying a glass of wine. Even if that did include sitting amongst hundreds of artificial Santas.
The shop light shone out onto the street and as we approached, I spotted Flat Cap Man loitering opposite. “What is this all about?” I asked, watching him put one foot in the road, before changing his mind again. “Hello,” I called out to him. “It’s a bit chilly tonight, isn’t it?”
My presence seemed to surprise him. “Certainly is,” he replied, gathering himself. As the lights in the shop suddenly dimmed, indicating it was closing time, frustration swept across Flat Cap Man’s face. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked the ground at his feet. “Have a good evening,” he said, before he sauntered off, leaving me to continue on my way.
Entering the pub, I felt my shoulders slump, as I paused in the doorway thanks to the sight that met me. The peaceful surroundings I’d hoped for weren’t to be. The place was packed. Again.
“Sauvignon Blanc?” the barwoman called out.
Her memory was more impressive than her outfit, I noted. She wore another festive sweater, except instead of a snowman, that night’s had Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer on the front. Gone were the flashing Christmas tree earrings, substituted with twinkling red baubles. “Yes, please,” I replied, making my way to the bar.
“Large?”
I nodded. “That would be lovely.” I watched her pour my drink. “Darts night?” I asked, acknowledging the crowd.
“Dominoes.” The barwoman handed me my glass. “I’m surprised to see you in here,” she said. “After the week you’ve had. First Fotherghyll, then Clarabelle. To be honest, we all thought you’d be on your way back to London.”
To be fair to her, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been tempted.
I glanced around for a seat and my heart sank even further. Just like on my last visit to The Cobblestone Tavern, the only free seat meant joining Ted Sharples.
The barwoman gave me a sympathetic look as I paid for my drink and picked up my glass.
“You ready for this?” I said to Frank, making sure to put a smile on my face as we made our way over.
“Not you again,” Ted said.
My smile dropped. “Great minds,” I replied. “That’s just what I was thinking.” While on the previous occasion I’d been polite over seating arrangements, this time I didn’t bother with any niceties. I simply sat down without asking, whether he liked it or not. I took a gulp of my wine, while Ted folded his arms across his chest. He seemed to be making a point of not looking at me. Probably because, unlike the last time, he couldn’t get away with staring on account of me not hiding behind a menu.
With his gaze elsewhere, I took the opportunity to turn the tables and assess him for a moment. He wore a jacket, shirt and tie, and what looked like Brylcreem in his thick white hair. Even the man’s beard was groomed. Were it not for his scowl, he’d have been quite a handsome chap, I noted. In fact, the man was so well put together, I couldn’t help but question why he chose not to put the same effort into his manner as he did his appearance.
As Frank settled at my feet, I turned my attention to the rest of the room. Going off the lively throng, it was clear the residents of Little Leatherington enjoyed their dominoes. Wondering if Seb shared this preference, I made a mental note to ask the barwoman if I could borrow a set just in case. I felt my heart skip a beat. Spotting Oliver Chase at one of the tables, I raised my hand in the hope of catching his attention. My wave faltered. He was too busy chatting to Barrowboy and the rest of his friends to notice me. I sighed, resigned to spending the evening with Ted Sharples.
Continuing to observe Oliver, I reached up and smoothed down my hair, scolding myself for not making more of an effort. Then I scolded myself again. Since when did I feel the need to impress?
“Good looking lad, that one,” Ted said.
Obviously relishing my discomfort, he nodded towards Oliver, who without warning, glanced our way, but while my smile grew, Oliver’s suddenly vanished. He seemed to freeze for a second, before saying something to his friends, who, in response, all looked back at us.
