Page 60 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 35
As I put away my shopping, I felt relieved to have got Jason and Barrowboy’s invitation out of the way. I’d known Jason would jump at the chance to celebrate Christmas no matter the circumstances; his brother had been the one to cause me trepidation. I’d seen hints at a softer side to Barrowboy, but on the whole he seemed such a serious, almost gruff, individual. As guests went, I just hoped he wasn’t going to be too difficult, particularly when I was nervous about cooking for a bunch of people I hardly knew to begin with.
While Jules had assured me the menu was simple, taking in the many ingredients and elements involved I could see how easy it would be for Christmas lunch to go wrong. But I told myself to focus on the positives and that, despite my lack of confidence, no matter how things turned out I was doing a good thing. Thanks to Jules’s Yuletide enthusiasm and my stupidity for going along with it, not only did Lizzie and Seb have the chance to build relationships in the village, Jason would be celebrating Christmas for the first time in I didn’t know how long.
A picture of Ted popped into my head. Like Barrowboy, he wasn’t always the most amenable of people either. I sighed. When it came to the old man and his role in my plan, I supposed I’d just have to wait and see.
Pushing all potential problems to the back of my mind, I decided to focus on logistics. My immediate question being, where everyone was going to sit. The kitchen table wasn’t big enough for us all to squeeze around and even if it were, the room itself was too cramped. I hadn’t thought about seating arrangements when I’d agreed to Seb and Lizzie coming for lunch, let alone when I’d made the decision to invite the others. I looked out into the garden and not yet ready to ask everyone to bring their own chair, I prayed for divine intervention.
“I wonder…” I said, as my eyes settled on the stone outbuilding at the far end.
Going off everyone’s descriptions, Jules’s Aunt Lillian had been an outgoing person, so had to have entertained at some point. Aware that she was also a bit of a hoarder, it stood to reason that she might have stored all her extra bits and pieces out there. Extras that might have included dining chairs.
I told myself there was no time like the present and exiting the house to go and check, I folded my arms over my chest as I walked. It was freezing out there and icy underfoot and as I tiptoed along trying not to slip, I hoped the trek was worth it. I approached the outbuilding door and trying the handle, was pleased to find it unlocked. Entering, I filled my cheeks with air and exhaled. Just like Aunt Lillian’s house, the space was a pure treasure trove. Scanning the room, I couldn’t believe how huge it was. Even crammed with stuff, the building looked bigger on the inside than it did out; it was a veritable Tardis. Had it been in London, it would have been perfect for my roadside reclamation business.
I glimpsed a couple of chairs towards the back and moving a few dusty old boxes out of the way, I managed to clear a path so I could get to them. Placing them side by side, I sat on one and then the other, shuffling my bum about on each to check their sturdiness. Satisfied they were solid, I stood up again and dusted myself down before giving them a closer inspection. While both appeared to be made of oak, one was a ladder-back design and the other lath, so they definitely weren’t a pair. I smiled. After getting rid of the cobwebs and giving them a good wash down, they’d be perfect for Christmas Day.
As I moved a few more boxes, to try and find other suitable seating and, fingers crossed, a table, my eyes widened at the sight of an original Singer sewing machine complete with ornate metal foot trestle. I ran a finger through the thick coating of dust that had accumulated on its wooden top, before taking a peek inside the cavity beneath. I grinned, glad to see the appliance still intact. Looking around, I took in a fabulous old pot sink, upon which balanced a red fibreglass kayak and next to that an old gas camping stove. I giggled and thinking of Lillian’s adventurous spirit I readily imagined her pegging a tent, ready to enjoy a weekend’s canoeing on the open water. An old-fashioned tin bath lay tucked in one corner and again I thought of Jules’s aunt. As a child, it could well have been something she’d used.
I shivered, feeling the cold once more, and telling myself I’d come back to the workshop another day for a proper scout around, I picked up the two chairs and carried them outside. Making sure to close the door tight behind me, I headed along the path to the house.
Back in the kitchen, I rummaged under the sink for a cloth and filling the sink with hot soapy water, I gave the chairs a thorough wash. Drying them off with a tea towel, I began to see the beauty of the wood coming through. But while such warm shades of patina made my heart sing, I still didn’t have enough seating. “Then again…” I said, after a moment’s thought.
Remembering Ted Sharples’s offer, I wondered if it was time to act like the roadside reclamation specialist I claimed to be. While Oliver had said the old man’s skip probably wouldn’t contain anything worth salvaging, I knew I should check it out just in case. Plus, popping up there would enable me to get the next step in my plan organised, I realised. At least I hoped it would. Reminding myself that Ted wasn’t always the most amenable of characters, I chewed on my lip. It was a big ask.
In what felt like a now or never moment, I headed out into the hall and grabbed my coat off the bottom of the banister. “I won’t be long, Frank,” I said, nipping into the lounge.
Snoring away, the dog laid on his back, legs in the air, with his head to one side and his tongue hanging out.
I chuckled at the sight. It seemed Frank wasn’t coming with me even if I wanted him to. Leaving him to his dreams, I made my way out to the van and climbed in.
Still warm from the trip to the supermarket, Violet’s engine easily started up and driving out of the village, I began winding my way up into the hills. A layer of snow gradually began to appear on the road, forcing me to slow down and grip the steering wheel as I snaked up through the hamlet, pleased to see that there were no nosey neighbours to contend with. I left the collection of houses behind and ascended higher still, until I reached the stretch of never-ending road. Staring ahead, I knew the old farmhouse was situated along there somewhere. It was just a case of finding it.
“There you are,” I said, at last, spotting Ted’s bright yellow skip. It stood proud against the surrounding snow-covered grasslands and pulling up in front of it, I took a moment to gather myself. I looked up to the house to see Ted at the window and as he looked my way, I didn’t even get a smile, never mind a wave acknowledging my presence. Realising there was no going back, my shoulders slumped. If the man was in a bad mood before I’d spoken to him, I dreaded to think how he’d feel afterwards.
