‘A what?’ she asked.
‘In Anglo-Saxon times, “hart” meant a male deer, a stag, and “lea” meant a clearing of wood. It would have meant your family lived where the deer stood in the clearings.’
Christa put her hands over her face. ‘Ever since I have been here I keep seeing this stag near Pudding Hall. I’ve seen him three times and once in the dell,’ she said to Peggy. ‘He was so close I could see the velvet on his antlers. And then Marc gave me a Christmas decoration of a deer family. Don’t you think that’s weird?’ she asked.
Petey shook his head. ‘No, I think you have an affinity with them and now you know why. I know Pudding Hall was once home to large deer clearing and hunters used to come before Mr Ferrier bought it. I don’t think he hunts though?’ he asked Peggy.
She shook her head. ‘No, never, there isn’t even a gun in the house.’
‘I love knowing the meaning of my name, Petey. Thank you for telling me.’ Christa stood up. ‘And now I have to go and find something formal to wear to my dinner,’ she said, feeling excited at the thought of wearing something other than jeans and jumpers.
Peggy grabbed her bag and patted Petey on the shoulder. ‘I’m off to run some errands.’
‘Do you want a lift anywhere?’ asked Christa but Peggy declined and soon Christa was on her way to find a dress worthy of the new Christa Hartley.
35
Christa drove her car towards Pudding Hall, turning off at the driveway. It was already dark and she put her driving lights on high as she navigated the driveway. She really didn’t want to hit a fox, or a deer for that matter.
In the distance she saw the lights of beautiful Pudding Hall, welcoming her, and emotion welled up inside her. She thought her time at Pudding Hall was gone but now she was having her birthday dinner there and Christmas as well.Don’t cry, she told herself. Not only had she bought a dress but she’d also had her short hair washed and dried so it was a shiny, beautiful cap and her makeup had been done by a girl whose had more piercings in her face than Christa had ever seen but she made Christa look like a beautiful version of herself, with smoky eye makeup and flawless skin.
And when Christa had shown her the dress, which was carefully hung in a dress bag, the girl had exclaimed she had a perfect shade of plum lipstick to go with it.
Christa stopped her car on the driveway and took some deep breaths and tipped her head back to stop the tears from falling.
When she finally trusted herself not to ruin her face, she looked out of the window and she saw the red stag in the centre of the driveway staring at her straight on.
Please don’t run at my car. The stag lowered his head for a long moment and then lifted it again and slowly walked across the drive and into the darkness.
But what did the deer mean? she wondered. She wasn’t a superstitious person but she knew it meant something. She wondered if her dad knew what their name meant. It probably didn’t mean much when you were a lorry driver in London but she knew there was significance even though she couldn’t work it out.
She drove slowly in the dark, not just for safety but also to savour the drive to the house. She wanted to make a mental snapshot of the lead-up to this moment.
She didn’t know what would happen – maybe she and Marc were just a flirtation and it was only desire but it felt so good to be wanted again and she had never felt more beautiful.
Her phone rang and she pressed the hands-free device.
‘Baby girl, happy birthday,’ cried Selene’s voice. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you for the past week, but my God my life has been crazy since you recommended me to Avian. I signed the contract today and then they had me filming promos right away. I’m in the middle of every shot with the other judges because I’m the woman. A black Frenchwoman no less. I am going to change the world one plate at a time. I’m sick of writing reviews for already well-known places. I’m excited to find raw talent!’
‘You were always going to be a star,’ Christa said, meaning it. She had recommended Selene to Marc who had told Avian. There was no one better who was camera-ready and who was both smart and funny.
Selene sounded genuinely excited as she told her about the day, and how one of the guest chefs from France had asked her opinion on his next career move. Giving advice was Selene’s favourite thing to do, so when combined with restaurant and food industry conversation, Selene shone like no one else.
‘What are you doing for your birthday?’ Selene asked.
‘Dinner at Pudding Hall,’ she said. ‘Nothing special.’
‘Oh? How are things with the fancy billionaire?’ she asked.
‘Complicated and involved but I can’t tell you now, as I’m arriving at the house. I do need to debrief though. Can I call you on Boxing Day?’
‘I don’t know why you still have this Boxing Day. We don’t have it in France – silly holiday,’ Selene complained.
‘That’s because French people don’t eat their own weight in goose and pudding and drink too much on Christmas and then get indigestion and need to spend the following day moaning about how awful they feel.’
Selene laughed. ‘I will be at my parents’ but will fly back to London that night. Call me. Happy birthday again, my friend.’
‘I will. Bye,’ said Christa and she finally parked the car at the house and smoothed out her dress.
