Thinking of the farm made him think of Beatrice (to be fair,everythingmade him think of Beatrice) and he wondered what she was doing now. No doubt she would be busy serving customers, but was she thinking of him at all? In spite of the glaringly obvious physical attraction they had for each other, Mark wasn’t sure how she felt about him. She might be in lust, but was she inlove? Her best friend had told him that Beatrice used to be in love with him back then, and hinted that she still was, but did Lisa actuallyknow?
Mark wishedhedid, but he wasn’t prepared to risk damaging this fragile connection by asking Beatrice outright.
Picklewick had a decent selection of shops for its size and all the usual suspects: baker, butcher, chemist, greengrocer, florist, pet shop (could he get Sadie a hamster for Christmas? No, bad idea), but nothing caught his eye when it came to gift buying. It didn’t help that he had no idea what to buy girls. His brother had boys, and even then Mark found his nephews difficult enough to find presents for. And as for Beatrice… Perfume seemed too impersonal, jewellerytoopersonal. In fact, should he buy her anything at all? If he bought her a gift and she didn’t get him one, would she be embarrassed? Feel awkward?
Bloody hell! Who knew Christmas could be so complicated? Maybe something small, just to show that he was thinking of her?
Eventually, after a trip to Thornbury, he settled on a safe option for everyone – books. You couldn’t go wrong with books.
Why do radiators tick when they start to warm up, was Beatrice’s first waking thought on Sunday morning, and this was because it was the heating coming on that woke her. The second was of Mark, which wasn’t unusual considering she’d thought about him constantly since she’d discovered he was back.
But when she peeped out through the curtains to see what kind of a Sunday it was, she let out a gasp, and thoughts of Mark were driven from her mind.
Snow!
Oh, my goodness! And it was quite deep, too. Ten centimetres, she estimated, possibly deeper in places. It was only six-thirty a.m., but everywhere was white, the snow intensifying the light from the street lamps, and when she opened the window to feel the spiralling flakes on her warm skin, the world was still and hushed, holding its breath.
A feeling of peace stole over her as she gazed at the magical scene, then excitement started to build. The girls were going to love this!Shewas going to love this.
Beatrice threw on a dressing gown and hurried downstairs. A substantial breakfast was needed prior to going out to play,as well as warm, waterproof clothes. But first, a cup of coffee, which she would hopefully be able to drink in peace, before the whirlwind that was her youngest daughter got up.
It wasn’t to be. No sooner had Beatrice raised a mug to her lips, than Sadie charged down the stairs, squealing so loudly that Beatrice feared most of Picklewick would hear.
‘Snow, Mummy, snow!’ Sadie thundered into the kitchen, her wellies in her hand. She skidded to a halt, dropped to the floor and began stuffing her left foot into the right Wellington boot.
Beatrice swooped in to intervene, grabbing the wellies. ‘Oh no, you don’t, young lady. Breakfast first. And did you honestly think I’d let you play in the snow in your pyjamas?’
Sadie pouted. ‘I was going to put my coat on.’
Beatrice gave her The Look, and Sadie tried a different tack. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘That’s fine, but you’re not going out to play on an empty stomach, so don’t think you’ll make it outside any sooner by not having breakfast.’
‘Aww.’ The pout turned into a scowl. ‘I’m not hungry because I’ve got tummy ache.’
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. ‘If you’re not feeling well, maybe you should stay indoors until you feel better?’
‘You’re mean.’
Beatrice felt her daughter’s forehead. It was cool to the touch, so she didn’t think she had a temperature. ‘Be honest,’ she warned. ‘Do you feel sick?’
Sadie leapt to her feet. ‘I did, but I don’t now. Can I have a biscuit for breakfast?’
Beatrice laughed. ‘No, you most certainly cannot. I’m making porridge.’
‘Yuck.’
‘Youlikeporridge.’ Beatrice always made it with creamy milk and added a teaspoon of honey.
‘Not today I don’t.’
‘Toast, then?’
Sadie shook her head, but before she could continue to plead for a biscuity breakfast, Taya bounced into the room, as excited as her sister at the sight of snow.
Sadie grumbled, ‘Shesaid we have to have breakfast before we can go outside.’
Beatrice raised her eyebrows. ‘She?’Whilst she could appreciate that Sadie was excited, she didn’t appreciate her daughter’s disrespectful tone, or claiming to feel unwell in order to get her own way, especially when it came to trying to wriggle out of school.
