Page 24 of Escape for Christmas
Outside, the sun was already dipping towards the horizon and dusk would fall well before 4 p.m. She cast a critical eye over the hot-tub area. The tub had been freshly installed, if a little stark and unwelcoming, when she’d taken over the guest house. She’d proceeded to put her own stamp on it, installing lights in the hot-tub area, around the trunks of the apple tree and along the veranda. In these northern climes, with frequent frosts and the possibility of snow from November to April, there was no place for the tender plants she’d nurtured in the sunny patio behind the Stratford shop. However, she’d found some hardy potted shrubs from the gardencentre and had threaded fairy lights through the leaves. Even if guests wouldn’t be sitting on the terrace, they could use the hot tub or enjoy the sight of the twinkling garden from inside.
She’d also picked up several LED signs in a bargain shop a few weeks back. No one wanted pink and lime-green signs declaringCocktailsandTropical Vibes. There were major advantages to shopping out of season.
A rogue thought entered Sophie’s head: of her and Brody in the hot tub. Alone. Sipping cocktails and wearing not a lot …
Vee soon sloshed a bucket of cold water over that thought. ‘Penny for them?’
‘What?’ Sophie said. ‘I was – er – just checking everything was in hand.’
‘Chill. It looks fantastic,’ she said. ‘You know, if you weren’t fully booked, I might check myself in and tell Kev and the kids I’m escaping for Christmas myself. I came out to tell you I’m done, and I’m off to pick the kids up. Have a good time tonight.’ She raised a cheeky eyebrow. ‘Try to behave in front of the Bannerdale royalty.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Sophie promised, laughing even though a flutter of nerves had already taken flight in her stomach. She wasn’t sure whether they’d been set off by the thought of having to survive a Christmas party or the idea of spending another evening with Brody.
At seven-ten Sophie walked across the field from Sunnyside to Felltop Farm, with her torch. As soon as she reached thegate into the stable yard she turned off the beam, because every downstairs window in the house was lit up, and the sound of music and conversation was spilling out into the yard. The normally quiet farmhouse had come alive.
The back door to the boot-room was open. Although she’d had conversations with Brody out in the yard – usually when they’d bumped into each other while they were both out walking – she’d never been inside the old house itself. She really ought to go up to the front door and knock, like every other guest, yet it felt strange when the rear door was open and she could slip in there with less fuss.
Harold solved her dilemma, barking loudly and bounding up to her. She laughed when she saw his red bow tie. A moment later Brody himself emerged and met her halfway to the door.
‘Oh, hello there!’ The surprise in his voice; perhaps he hadn’t expected her to actually come. Harold woofed again in greeting.
‘Hi. I – took a shortcut, but wasn’t sure if I should use the front door.’
‘Back door is fine for friends,’ he said, then pushed a lock of hair sheepishly off his face. ‘Bugger! You’ve never actually been inside, have you?’
Sophie could have replied that she’d never been invited, and realised once again that they’d only been acquaintances until a few days previously. She felt her cheeks heat up as she shook her head. It was a good job it wasn’t daylight, so Brody couldn’t see her blushing like a teenager.
‘Anyway, come in,’ he went on. ‘The party’s just gettinginto the swing of things. If you can call it swinging, with the vicar and Brian from the Traders’ Association here – not swinging in the sense of people hooking up. It’s not that kind of party … Argh! Please, ignore me. It’s already been a long day.’
‘I’ll try to banish that image!’ Sophie said, with a giggle at the thought of the strait-laced, fussy Brian and the vicar picking keys out of a bowl. ‘And I still think I ought to have brought wine,’ she said awkwardly, feeling rude for not bringing anything.
‘There’s plenty inside, and Mum and her friend have just brought the sausage rolls out of the oven, so your timing couldn’t be better. The caterers seem to have supplied enough food to feed the whole of Bannerdale.’
‘Sounds good. I didn’t have any dinner.’
‘Wise choice. We need all the mouths we can feed.’
Brody ushered her through a boot-room stacked with coats, hats, wellies, umbrellas and other paraphernalia. He opened a door onto a blast of heat and savoury aromas. The kitchen was huge, twice the size of the one at Sunnyside. There was a range cooker, a modern electric oven and a large, scrubbed oak table that was covered in platters of canapés, sausage rolls and mini-sandwiches.
Sophie spotted four other doors leading off the kitchen, one of which was open and looked like a pantry full of jars and pans.
Several women she didn’t recognise bustled in and out, picking up trays of food. They were all in sparkly tops and satin jumpsuits and clearly hadn’t walked through a field toreach the farm, like she had. They were so intent on collecting the food that they didn’t seem to have noticed her and Brody.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Brody offered, moving to a corner of the kitchen stocked with bottles and cans. ‘Wine? Fizz? Beer?’
‘Fizz, please, if there’s one open,’ she said.
Brody picked up a bottle of prosecco, found a flute and filled it.
‘Thanks,’ Sophie replied, taking a sip while observing the scene.
Yet another woman in heels and satin palazzo pants walked in. ‘Martina! Louise is asking if we can put another tray of sausage rolls in the oven. They need warming through!’
‘No one likes a lukewarm sausage roll …’ Brody whispered to Sophie while opening a bottle of lager.
‘Oh no,’ she said, suppressing another giggle. ‘I – er – hadn’t realised it was quite so formal. The dress code, I mean.’
‘It’s not,’ Brody assured her. ‘Mum tells everyone “smart casual”, but that can mean anything. You look great.’
