Page 98 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
“Of course. Your man Oscar Cavendish went over everything before I signed.”
“Bloody Oscar—”
“Ah-ah, don’t blame Oscar. Lawyer-client privilege. Anyway, it would have spoiled the surprise.”
“It’s gorgeous.” My eyes skim across the honeyed stone walls rising three storeys high. Gabled dormers nestle beneath a steeply pitched roof. I count at least four chimneys with fancy decorative tops silhouetted against the fast-darkening sky.
“Wait till you see inside. Fully-furnished. Empty six months. Got a bargain.”
“And the cottage?” Warm light spills from the latticed windows as faint smoke curls across the slate roof.
“That’s the best bit. Husband and wife team—Tom and Cherie. Worked for the last owners forever and want to stay on. Perfect, right?”
Inside, a wave of heat greets us. He gives me the tour—six bedrooms, four bathrooms, two lounges and a library crammed with books. The kitchen oozes farmhouse charm: oiled timber work-tops and copper pans glowing above the Aga.
Through the French doors, darkness has crept up, yet I’m already picturing lazy breakfasts in the walled garden and summer barbecues on the stone patio. Teddy rests a hand on my shoulder, then slips something flat into my palm—a green envelope.
“One last present,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek.
“Teddy, you’ve spoiled me rotten today. What more could I want?”
“Not what you asked for—what I want to give you.”
A huge pink number 4 glitters in the centre of a haphazard ring of gold stars.
“Does Ellie know what’s inside this one?”
“Christ no. She’s too much of a blabbermouth to keep a secret this big.”
I frown, peel up the heart sticker, and slide out the card.
Remember the place we left a star?
Find it now—your gift’s not far.
“A star? Are there stables?”
He nods. “Out back.”
Our boots scrunch through fine gravel towards a low roof silhouetted against the sky. Beyond it, I pick out one solitary real star, peeking through a gap in the lowering clouds. When our footsteps trigger a motion light, the blaze extinguishes it.
There’s a soft whicker, another echoing it, a shuffling of feet. Teddy heaves the barn door aside with a groan of old iron and flips a switch. Warm light pours over fresh straw, sweet hay, and the grassy perfume of horses. The duet sounds again, unmistakable.
“Solly!” His brown eyes widen at the sound of my voice. He stretches as far as the door allows, and I scratch beneath the neatly groomed mane.
Bodie’s head pops over the next stall, giving us a look that says,Don’t forget me.
Teddy flips open a feed bin, grabs out a couple of carrots. Solly’s teeth graze my flattened palm as he plucks up his treat, chomping enthusiastically while crumbs tumble to the floor.
Bodie snatches hers up, and somehow Teddy keeps all his fingers.
“Thought we could slip away here at weekends,” he says. “Leave London and the paps behind.”
“And during the week?”
“Tom and Cherie will take good care of them. They’re thrilled to have horses around again.”
He drapes an arm across my shoulders. “Best present ever?”
