Page 23 of A Christmas Celebration
‘Shit!’ I swore, after I had taken myriad turns and the device fell off the window, narrowly missing my boot which I then stamped down on the brake pedal.
I swore again when I picked the satnav up and it refused to turn back on, even after I’d given it a shake. Abandoning it, I reached for my phone, thinking I could either fire up Google maps or call the hall and ask someone for help, but there wasn’t a single bar of signal showing and, to make matters worse, it was almost out of charge.
‘Bugger,’ I muttered, feeling frustrated but I refused to be defeated or let my nerves get the better of me. ‘Well, there’sfuel in the tank,’ I commented, checking the gauge, ‘so I’ll just have to drive about and see where I end up. Not that I can see much…’
Eventually the headlights picked out the silhouette of a cottage, set back from the road. The exterior looked to be half covered in ivy which melded it to the landscape and surrounding trees so I almost missed it, but when I stopped with more enthusiasm than grace, I spotted a dim light in a downstairs window. There was no smoke curling out of the chimney, but if there was a light on, then surely someone was at home.
‘Civilization at last,’ I sighed in relief, steeling myself to step out into the inky darkness. ‘Well, almost,’ I added, as I pushed open the rickety wooden gate and tripped up the overgrown path to the door.
There was no bell, as far as I could see and I didn’t want to use the torch on my phone to check for fear of zapping the last bit of charge, so I knocked.
‘Come on,’ I said, stamping my feet and rubbing my arms when no one answered and the bitter cold began to bite.
I knocked again, more loudly, and took a step back. The curtains in the window where the light was on shifted slightly, but there was no sound and the door remained closed. I was certain someone was there, but they clearly weren’t in the mood to welcome me in.
Then an image of Gladys popped into my head. What if there was someone like her living in the cottage? My hammering had probably scared them witless. I dithered fora second and then, with one last look at the window, went back to the car. If the worst came to the worst, I would just have to stay lost until sunrise the next day.
Fortunately, it didn’t come to that, as a while later, I spotted the concrete pad in the field I’d stopped at a few days before (cue the return of those thoughts about Brodie) and managed to navigate my way back to the hall from there. Once I arrived and explained what had happened, Catherine then helpfully took me out to make the last call of the day and Mick turned his hand to fixing the faulty satnav.
By suppertime everything was sorted, but as I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the rundown cottage and the person inside who had moved the curtain. I hoped I hadn’t scared them and as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if I should try to find my way back in the daylight at the weekend to apologize. At least I wasn’t thinking about the crack of rifle fire or the arousing artist.
Almost the whole of Friday, throughout which Angus took great delight in reminding everyone that it was now exactly one month until Christmas day, was taken up with cleaning the hall following Archie’s instructions and to Hayley’s exacting standards, but the weekend was mine to do with as I pleased.
I went down to breakfast a little earlier than usual on Saturday morning with the sole intention of finding the rundown cottage again and apologizing for my previous interruption fixed firmly at the front of my mind. However, Ididn’t actually make it into the kitchen as Angus was talking to someone and, as I hovered on the threshold and took note of his clandestine tone, I got the impression he didn’t want to be overhead.
‘I have every faith in you,’ I heard him say as I lingered guiltily outside. ‘I know you can do it, because I’ve previously enjoyed the benefit of what you’re capable of, remember?’
I was about to do the honourable thing and walk away, but the voice which responded made my ears prick up and my heart pound. No longer on the periphery of my thoughts, Brodie was now in the Wynthorpe Hall kitchen.
‘I know you mean well, Mr Connelly…’ he said, sounding frustrated.
‘Angus, please,’ my godfather insisted.
‘I know you mean well, Angus,’ Brodie repeated, though with the more familiar ending, ‘but you having faith in me, if anything, makes me feel…’
‘Encouraged,’ Angus hopefully interrupted.
I didn’t think that was what Brodie had been going to say.
‘And reassured to know that I know you can hit the jackpot again,’ Angus keenly said. ‘You just need to get on with it. Stop dithering and power through. I’m still expecting to see a return in my faith in you by Christmas, so there really is no time to lose.’
My ears tuned further in.
‘But that’s less than a month away now,’ said Brodie, sounding exasperated. ‘And these things take time.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ said Angus, as I heard a step on the stairsbehind me, ‘but it will be such a disappointment if you don’t pull through and I really need it to make this Christmas the best one the hall has ever seen.’
Brodie’s sigh was loud enough for me to hear from a few feet away and I couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Angus was so desperately in need of. Christmas had always been a highlight at the hall and now, with the addition of the Winter Wonderland, it was, I’d been told, even better. What on earth could Brodie supply my godfather with to make the season even more of a success?
‘And this is strictly between us,’ Angus urgently added, making me feel more suspicious than intrigued.
I twisted around to find Mick standing right behind me and put my hand over my mouth to deaden the sound of the gasp which had rushed into my mouth. I pointed back along the corridor and we made a stealthy retreat into Hayley’s studio.
‘What’s going on?’ Mick whispered, as I quietly closed the door and let out a breath.
‘Angus is up to something,’ I whispered back.
Mick gave me a look.
