Sophie looked down at her best jeans, smart jumper and boots, which were admittedly a little muddy after the short walk. ‘Thanks.’ She could have said the same to Brody, who was in chunky boots, black jeans and a thick checked shirt, open to reveal a grey T-shirt.
‘Shall we go into the sitting room? That’s where the main action is. I’d be happy to hide out in the kitchen all evening, but I ought to do my duty and introduce you.’
Sophie was amused that Brody had at least three reception rooms to host parties in. He led the way down a corridor that had so many doors off it, Sophie lost count. At the end was a room where the volume of noise and music had swollen to a degree where she couldn’t hear what he was saying to her. Her pulse beat faster. There was a Christmas mix-tape on, the same sort of thing she’d endured in supermarkets and shops for a month, and for a second it took her back to that moment when she’d opened the door to her stockroom.
She’d survived the lantern parade, but this party was a different proposition: a Christmas social occasion that she couldn’t bail out of very easily. Part of her didn’t care what people thought of her, but there were bound to be more questions about her unusual approach to Christmas. There was no way she was going to air her private life to a bunch of strangers, so she’d simply have to smile, make a joke of it and change the subject.
The sitting room was spacious enough for three enormous velvet sofas and an inglenook fireplace with a blackened beam. There also seemed to be numerous nooks and corners lit by lamps or decorated with copper jugs of holly and spruce. With the fire glowing and at least two dozen people chatting, guffawing and drinking, it was very warm. The ladies’ sequinned outfits shimmered like Santa’s grotto, and while several of the men sported garish Santa jumpers, most were in smart jackets and two were in black tie. Even the vicar wore a velvet jacket over his shirt and dog collar.
Sophie felt decidedly underdressed and hoped she wouldn’t tread mud into the rugs that covered most of the oak floorboards, even though they were well worn and slightly tatty already.
‘Sorry. I appreciate it’s a bit full-on …’ Brody said, perhaps sensing her nerves.
As soon as she walked in, Louise McKenna spotted them, like a lioness scenting game. Or was that being unkind? Sophie thought as Louise wiggled between the guests, clearly on a mission. She was tiny, five feet at most, with toned arms and a blow-dried honey-blonde bob. Sophie couldn’t really see much resemblance to Brody. Perhaps he’d taken after his father, who she knew had died when Brody was a teenager.
‘Sophie. What a lovely surprise. I wasn’t sure you could make it.’ She moved to kiss her on the cheek.
‘I did mention I’d bumped into Sophie, who said she was coming, Mum,’ Brody reminded her.
‘Ah, of course you did.’ She smiled at Sophie. ‘Please make yourself at home. There’s acres of food and gallons of fizz.’
‘Louise!’ A woman in a purple sari called out. Sophie recognised her from the doctor’s, where she worked on reception. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but have you any idea where the cocktail serviettes have gone?’
‘Aren’t they on the Welsh dresser in the kitchen? I’ll come and look. It’ll be quicker than you rooting through all the drawers. Help yourself to food and drinks, or get Brody to wait on you,’ Louise said, with an apologetic grimace to Sophie before dashing out of the sitting room.
Sophie thought it must have been tough for Louise to jointly manage the family business – and support her son – on her own. No wonder she was used to multitasking and was such a whirlwind in the community.
‘Ididtell Mum you were coming,’ Brody said with a sigh.
‘She seems very busy. I expect she forgot, and this must have been a lot of work to plan.’
Before Brody could utter another word, a man and a woman bounded up, reminding Sophie of Harold when he’d snaffled her guests’ breakfast.
‘Are you Sophie from Sunnyside?’
The man, whose comb-over had worked loose and was flapping over his head, snorted with laughter. ‘The one running the hotel for folk who hate Christmas?’
‘Oh, Gerald, don’t be so rude!’ his wife cried in embarrassment.
‘It’s not for people who hate Christmas, as such,’ Sophie protested.
Gerald chortled and patted Sophie on the arm, much to her horror. ‘Brave of you to venture into the festive lair, my dear.’
Sophie’s stomach tightened and she contemplated all kinds of action involving the launch of trifle and sausage rolls at his shiny pate.
Brody stepped in with a knowing smile. ‘Gerald, how are you and, more importantly, how’s Winston? I hope you’ve been keeping him off the steak and chips. You know we agreed it was contributing to his weight issues, and Labradors find it hard to resist a treat.’
His wife gasped. ‘Gerald! You promised not to give Winston any more leftovers! No wonder he’s not getting any slimmer and is costing us a fortune in vet’s bills. Not that your prices are unfair – unlike some vets – Brody,’ she added hastily.
Brody ushered Sophie away from the couple while Gerald’s wife was still berating him, glad that his plan had done the trick. ‘Come on,’ he whispered to Sophie. ‘I have an urgent need for you to help me with something completely unimportant.’
CHAPTER NINE
Unfortunately Brody was hijacked before they’d even reached the buffet table, and Sophie’s next hour or so passed in a whirlwind of eating, drinking and making polite small talk with people whose names and roles she was now struggling to remember.
She recognised some faces from the village, though it was difficult to place them when they were dressed up and out of context. Nonetheless, she did her best, because it was a good opportunity to network and get to know the locals better. However, that wasn’t the main reason she’d agreed to come. She’d hoped to be able to spend time with Brody, but by now she might have realised he’d be swept away on host duties. Tonight wasn’t an occasion to spend quality time with him, and Sophie fully understood.
He was just a few people away now, currently trying to escape from a man in a greasy tweed jacket who had Brody virtually pinned against the inglenook. He caught Sophie’s eye and shared a knowing look with her. Hopefully he’d be able to find an excuse to escape from Tweedy Man and come over.
