The Great Christmas Knit Off (26 page)

There’s one last message.

‘Sybil, darling, it’s Mum. You’ll never guess what, sweetheart?’ She pauses to draw breath. ‘I was in the middle of packing your father’s suitcase for the cruise, and the house phone rang. It was Luke! And he wants to talk to you
right away
.’ And I swear her voice lifts a couple of octaves in sheer exuberance. ‘He sounded so sad. Maybe he’s missing you and wants to make another go of it. That’s nice, isn’t it? And just before Christmas too. Now don’t be worrying about Sasha – I’ll talk to her, I’m sure she’ll understand.’ I delete the message before she has time to draw another breath and continue on her merry crusade to pair me off with a man, any man it seems, just to save me from myself.

*

‘So that settles it, then. You’re staying in Tindledale for Christmas,’ Cher says, jumping up and giving me a hug after I’ve brought her up to speed on the Jennifer Ford cock-up and how, as of now, I’m officially on annual leave. I pull back. ‘Hey, what’s up?’ she adds, gently lifting my chin to look me in the eye.

‘Oh Cher, I wish it were as simple as that.’ I chew at a cuticle, my mind racing at this sudden twist of events.

‘What do you mean? Why isn’t it?’ she frowns.

‘Well, where I will stay, for starters? Lawrence is fully booked for Christmas with a group of tourists; apparently they come every year from Japan.’

‘Yes, I heard about that too, Cooper was chatting about it in the bar the other night – said they love the quintessential British countryside. They even have a theme park replica of a traditional English village somewhere near Tokyo – one of the tourists told Cooper all about it on their last trip here.’

‘Blimey.’

‘Yep. Fancy that. Anyway, they can’t get enough of it, so this group comes every year to experience the real thing – the traditional Tindledale village Christmas. Cooper said it’s marvellous, because they spend loads of money in the village shops and go mad for his special hog roast at the annual Christmas Fair, which takes place on Christmas Eve over on the village green. He asked if I was up for supplying a gazillion vats of mulled wine – they get through it like water, apparently.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ I say, and much more appealing than my sad, home alone Baileys and Quality Street combo. But I feel so crap. Crap that I’ve messed up so royally at work. How can I have been so careless to let something in my personal life affect things so much at work? I should have taken time off and stayed at home as was suggested after the wedding that wasn’t, instead of carrying on like a robot, too afraid to stop in case I just broke down and crumbled away into nothing very much at all. I should never have taken the sleeping pills – Ben was right, my head was fuggy, I can see that now I’ve been off them for a while. The clarity that faded away on my so-called wedding day has now returned, but what will Mr Banerjee discover during the investigation? That £42,000 of taxpayers’ money has been squandered on expensive hair extensions and gambled away in Vegas and it’s all my fault? Yes, he’s being nice about it now, but when it comes to light I’ll be sacked for sure. Maybe I should take Ben up on his offer to sign me off work for diminished responsibility or whatever; at least then I’d have an excuse for having cocked up so monumentally. I take a deep breath and will myself to get a grip, as, to be honest, I really don’t want to drag Ben into it all. This is baggage, and I’d rather not have it hanging over me – us – if there’s a chance of something happening with him. No, when he walked me over to the pub and held my hand so firmly, it was lovely, special, and being here in Tindledale is wonderful; I’ll always cherish the memory of this weekend because it’s been brilliant, magical even, and I don’t want that tarnished in any way. I want Tindledale to be totally separate from the rubbish and heartache associated with work and home.

‘Sure does!’ says Cher. ‘And stop being so hard on yourself – if you slope off home like a martyr just to sit on your spike, what will that achieve? You’ll just miss out. So what, you cocked up! I’m sure you’re not the only person ever to have made a mistake at work. It’s not like you stole the money on purpose, and you did have a lot going on, to be fair, mitigating circumstances and all that,’ she continues, pragmatically.

‘Maybe, but it is a pretty big mistake and it’ll be near-on impossible for me to find another job if I’m sacked. Of course, I’m delighted at the prospect of staying here for Christmas, but I can’t shake off this feeling of failure, of cocking up at work, big time.’

‘Ah, I’m sure that’s not true. Look, it’ll be fine: you never know, it might not be anything you’ve done in any case. Computer error. Happens all the time, and when they find out, your job will still be there. But until it’s all sorted out, you can stay here. I’ve got beds on order from Ikea, which should arrive tomorrow, so you can give me a hand to put them together, in situ, Clive is hopeless at stuff like that.’ She grins, having it all worked out.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really,’ Cher laughs.

‘And you’re sure you wouldn’t mind? Basil too?’ I grin, warming to the idea.

‘Now you’re being daft. Of course you and that cheeky mutt, you idiot!’ she says kindly.

‘I need to go home though, at least to collect clothes and make-up and stuff.’ I feel excited now, the shock of being asked to take some time off – read, suspended, I’m convinced of it – having sunk in a little.

‘Or you could just wear jeans for the duration like everyone else does in Tindledale; I’ve cut back considerably on make-up since I’ve been here. All you really need is some wellies and you can easily pick up a pair in Market Briar.’

‘Hmm, I could certainly do with a pair,’ I say, hardly bearing to peep down at my fetid Converse.

‘Well, I’m heading there tomorrow to bank this weekend’s takings, so you can come with me. There’s even a cute little Boots just off the market square if you really need a new lippy.’ Cher purses her lips and flutters her eyes in a silly way.

‘And you know how much I love Boots,’ I say, my mind in overdrive.

‘Well, there you go. Come on, it’ll be fun. Dr Ben will be pleased, that’s for sure. He popped in for a pint and a packet of crisps when you were on the phone to Luke and asked if I thought you might be coming back to Tindledale some time soon. So now you can tell him yourself. I bet he asks you out again.’ She nudges me gently and I smile. ‘And your new knitting buddies will be thrilled to have you around for a bit longer, I’m sure. I heard them all chatting, something about an order that had come through. Very excited they were, and poor old Hettie looked near to tears.’

‘Really?’ I say, jumping up, excitement bubbling some more. Poor old Hettie indeed – I’m worrying about losing my job, when it could be much, much worse. At least I’m not on the verge of having my home, my memories, and my whole world, repossessed. No wonder she’s been terse and outspoken, her heart is probably a bit broken too. ‘Thanks Cher.’ I give her a big hug.

‘What for?’ She scrunches up her face.

‘For sticking by me, and for not judging me, and well, for putting everything into perspective.’

‘Hmm, not sure how I’ve done that, but it sounds like a compliment so I’ll take it,’ she beams.

‘And so you should, my lovely, loyal friend.’

‘Awwwww, that’s what friends are for!’

W
hen I make it back out to the snug, Ben is standing by the bar, and he grins and waves me over.

‘Nice to see you’re still here,’ he starts, offering me his packet of crisps, which I wave away after saying a polite, ‘no thank you’. ‘I thought you were leaving today.’ He fidgets with his glasses.

‘I was, but change of plans – I’m staying for a while longer. For Christmas, in fact,’ I tell him.

‘That’s great. So does this mean you have time to try some hypnotherapy then?’ he asks eagerly.

‘Um, I’d rather not,’ I smile, and his face drops, ‘but I could try another brandy some time.’ I grin, and he nods and smiles.

‘I’d like that. I could call you.’ He pulls an iPhone from the pocket of his jeans as if to store my number.

‘Oh, I don’t have a mobile.’

‘Very wise, damn thing drives me mad.’ And he shoves his phone away.

‘I’m staying with Cher, here at the pub so …’

‘Perfect. Seeing as I spend most of my time in here, when I’m not at the surgery or out on house calls, that is.’

‘OK.’ I grin, then add, ‘I had better go as I’m having lunch with …’ and I gesture over to the table where the Tindledale Tappers are all looking over at us, whispering and nudging each other like a bunch of giggly schoolgirls. ‘You’re welcome to join us if you like?’

‘Oh, no, I need to get going, I’m on call later.’

‘On a Sunday?’

‘Yep, I’m part of the rural rota that covers Tindledale and all of the surrounding villages,’ he explains.

‘Ah, I see. Well, another time then perhaps,’ I say, before wandering over to join the others.

Taylor jumps up, and after squeezing around the backs of all the chairs, she eventually makes it to my side of the table with Lawrence’s laptop open in her arms.

‘You OK?’ she asks, bobbing down beside me. ‘Only you look a bit flushed.’

‘Oh yes, I’m fine,’ I say in my best breezy voice.

‘You sure?’ She nudges me gently and I smile, thinking that she might be a typical, petulant teenage girl at times, but she’s also very lovely too.

‘Yes, sure. Thank you.’ I pull a big smile onto my face and pat her arm fondly. I take a deep breath. ‘I hear there’s an order. Is it for a jumper?’ I mentally cross my fingers, knowing this could be the start of things that could make all the difference to Hettie.

‘Er, excuse me!’ she giggles, casting a glance around the table, and they all lean forward, with enthusiastic looks on their faces, eager for her to share the very exciting news. ‘Not just one order. Oh no! But a really big order.’

‘Go on.’ My heart beats a little faster.

‘The Japanese tourists want
fifteen
, that’s
one five
,’ she says cheekily, making us all laugh, ‘of your Ho Ho Ho jumpers.’ And everyone claps, even little Teddie, who has no idea why, but joins in anyway, pulling her chubby toddler hands together and giggling at Kitty, who smiles and nods her head.

‘Wow! Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ Taylor taps the screen and Amber leans across the table to pat her proudly on the back.

‘This is incredible,’ I say, my heart lifting, especially on clocking Hettie’s face; the deep furrow between her eyebrows has softened. I sit down on the nearest chair, my mind instantly in overdrive trying to work out if this, together with the money from the bone knitting needles, is enough to buy Hettie some more time with the bailiffs. I put a price tag of £75 on the jumper, figuring that was about right, after finding a few similar ones for comparison. Hmm, well over a thousand pounds, which is a jolly good start.

‘It sure is,’ Molly heckles from the far end of the table.

‘So when do they want them by?’ I turn to Taylor.

‘Ooh, hang on a minute – I didn’t even think to check that, I was so excited to see the first order.’ She taps the keyboard. ‘Um, OK, here we go, there’s a note next to the payment details and the sizes required – all small, by the way,’ she grins.

‘Jolly good, means we can knit them more quickly,’ Leo says, thinking practically.

‘Does this mean they’ve already paid?’ Hettie asks in low voice, leaning into me, before glancing in Marigold’s direction.

‘They pay half up front and the other half on completion,’ I say quietly, squeezing her hand reassuringly under the table.

‘Ah, and it says they’d like the jumpers ready to wear when they arrive,’ Taylor beams.

‘But they’re coming on the twentieth of December!’ Lawrence exclaims. ‘Can you knit fifteen jumpers by then?’

‘Of course we can,’ Hettie sniffs. ‘That’s two weeks away. If I can knit a jumper in a weekend, then I’m sure between us, we can knit fifteen in a fortnight. And Japanese people are very petite, not like the lumbering big-chested farmers we have around here.’ She looks around the group and they nod vehemently in agreement, all determined to knit fifteen small Ho Ho Ho jumpers in the allocated time.

I swivel the laptop screen around to check the details.

‘Hang on a minute!’

‘What is it?’ Marigold says.

‘They don’t want fifteen jumpers …’ I hesitate and tap through to the orders page again, just to be sure.

‘Oh no, don’t tell me it’s a hoax, or that I got it wrong,’ Taylor grumbles, leaning back in her seat, crossing her arms for a sulk.

‘Oh. My. God.’ I fling a hand to my mouth.

‘What is it?’ Hettie turns to me with a worried look on her face, clasping her hands in her lap. Marigold leans forward, looking concerned.

‘Hettie, just how fast can you knit?’ I start slowly, keeping my voice even.

‘
Very
fast. You know I can,’ she says proudly, puffing her tiny bird-like chest out a little further.

‘Good. That’s very good. Exceedingly good, in fact. Because … guess what?’ I take a deep breath.

‘Whaaaaat?’ they all shout out.

‘This order, your very first order for Hettie’s House of Haberdashery online shop, isn’t for fifteen jumpers at all, oh no. This order is for
seventy-five
festive Ho Ho Ho chunky-knit jumpers!’ I yell at the top of my voice, barely able to contain my sheer joy. And then comes the sudden rush of utter panic at this revelation. And for the first time ever, I imagine (apart from when I first came through the door on Thursday night), the exuberant Sunday lunchtime crowd of the Duck & Puddle pub in the tiny village of Tindledale falls completely silent. Even Teddie stops giggling and stares open-mouthed, swivelling her little head around the table, looking at each of us in turn.