Page 77 of A Christmas Celebration
‘If he’s half the craftsman you say he is,’ I told him, ‘then telling him that you’re going to bodge it should get him moving, shouldn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Angus agreed, sounding put out that his determination to change the subject had prompted such a rude remark. ‘I suppose it should.’
Chapter 19
The storm had pretty much blown itself out by the time I went to bed, but my head was every bit as tempest tossed as the garden and grounds around Wynthorpe Hall had been. I was certain, given his reaction when the subject came up, that Angus hadn’t wanted me to tell everyone what I’d discovered about Brodie and that didn’t bode well. It more than implied that he was up to mischief and I would have bet my last few pounds in the bank that whatever the pair of them were scheming had nothing to do with the Winter Wonderland.
And then there were my thoughts about Albert to realign, not to mention my concerns that he’d been knocked off his feet on the walk back to the cottage. I was tempted to call and check up on him, but forced myself to stop catastrophizing (something I was becoming better at, in spite of the current hiatus) and considered it might be more beneficial to give him some space, even though my head was full of questions.
I was amazed to think that Albert had once been a masterstone carver and that he had an incredibly artistic sister with a fondness for crocheted doilies. Neither were professions or pastimes I would have imagined either of them having. And, if I had been so wrong about the Price siblings, had I made further mistakes about Brodie too?
There were multiple deliveries to make on Tuesday, including a stack of flat-packed boxes which Kathleen was lending to Alice, who was getting ready for her move to town.
‘I knew this lot would come in handy for someone else one day,’ Kathleen told me as she helped me load them. ‘That’s why I hung on to them.’
‘And you never know,’ I said, wedging the last of them into place behind the front seats, ‘you might want to use them again yourself, mightn’t you?’
Kathleen looked at me and laughed.
‘What?’ I frowned.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you were joking. Why on earth would I want to leave Wynbridge? Why would anyone ever want to leave Wynbridge? You can’t tell me you don’t feel the connection, Paige. You’ve been coming here all your life, haven’t you? And it’s pulled you back again now and my guess is, right when you need it.’
‘That’s true,’ I conceded, wondering if she was actually as perceptive as Molly, although in a less obvious way, ‘and even though the majority of my visits when I was growing up were centred around the hall, I always loved coming into the town and now, of course, it’s even better.’
‘It is?’ Kathleen asked, sounding surprised.
‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘It was lovely before, but with all the changes to the shops and businesses and the stronger sense of community bringing everyone together it’s an even lovelier place to visit now.’
‘So, you could say,’ Kathleen smiled, ‘that you’re even happier to be here now than you were before?’
Had it not been for Brodie then inconveniently striding out of The Cherry Tree Café and popping into my line of sight, I would have told Kathleen I was indeed far happier but then, I could hardly take out his shortcomings on the wonderfully improved town, could I?
‘I am,’ I therefore agreed, as I jumped back into the Land Rover. ‘It’s a really fantastic place.’
Appeased by my response, she waved me off and I headed out of town by the fastest route possible. I had an idea forming about when I would talk to Brodie and what I would say and it certainly didn’t involve a bungled conversation in the packed market square.
I had lots of calls to make that day, all of them equally important and involving endless cups of tea, but one was more memorable than the others.
‘I’m sure I could hear something rattling in the pipe when I used it this morning,’ an elderly lady called Daisy worriedly told me as she showed me her washing machine. ‘I’ve tried ringing all the plumbers listed in the local trade magazine but no one’s got back to me.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to do anything,’ I said cautiously,because washing machine repairs were way beyond my capabilities, ‘but I’ll take a look.’
‘It’s the drain thingy,’ she said, pointing at the pipe in question. ‘I’m worried there’s something stuck in there and if it gets wedged and blocks it, the machine will flood.’
I pulled the outlet pipe out and squinted into it.
‘I can’t see anything,’ I said, giving the pipe a squeeze, ‘but there is something in there. I can feel it. It’s a few inches down.’
Daisy squeezed it too.
‘Oh,’ she said, turning pink. ‘I think I might know what that is.’
She bustled off and came back with a wire coat hanger which she was hellbent on bending out of shape.
‘See if you can hook this around it?’ she said, handing me the wire and taking hold of the pipe.
It took some manoeuvring, but little by little the bump in the pipe shifted until it was high enough for me to flick it out with a flourish. Without thinking, I raised my hand and caught whatever it was that had been causing the trouble.
