Tristan hesitated before reaching into Lola’s bag and pulling out the book. He perched on the stool by the back door and began to read whilst Lola made the tea. Sneaking glances over at him, she took in his reactions to the words as the truth came to light on the pages.
‘Charlie?’ he asked with disbelief, his eyes moving from the book to Lola’s and back again. ‘It’s not . . .’
Lola moved towards him and peered over his shoulder at the words, the scent of his aftershave assailing her, making her head swim. He smelled good. Resisting the temptation to bury her nose in his neck, Lola stepped back at the same time he turned and caught her eyes. ‘I wondered the same. Charlie. Charles.’ She shrugged. ‘Or am I jumping to wild conclusions?’
Tristan flicked forward a few pages before remembering it wasn’t his place to look. Passing the book back to Lola, he said gently, ‘I don’t think they’re too wild, it could be the same person.’
Lola’s stomach plummeted. She knew what fate had befallen Charles. Alf’s words at the memorial service swam back up and stung her. Something about needing money for a woman.
‘You remember what Alf said .?.?. I don’t think he approved.’ She chose her words carefully, trying not to speculate. ‘We need to know what Charlie looked like. Need to see if he’s the same guy in the photo with Ruby.’
Tristan considered this. ‘I can have another look, see if there’s anything in the local history books or parish records. There’s some old photo albums in the office that I’ve never looked at. I could try them?’
‘Could you?’ She slipped the book back into the safety of her handbag. ‘It’s just, I’m worried Ruby might have been the woman Alf said Charles needed money to run away with and we all know how that ended . . .’
Heartbreak, loss, grief. For a split second Lola thought Tristan was about to reach out to her but he caught himself just in time. Her face felt the ghost of his almost touch.
‘Anything for you, Lola,’ he said softly, the words like a caress.
‘Thank you.’ She passed him his tea. ‘It’s that or ask Alf and I’m not ready, not yet. I’ve still got so much left to read.’
Tristan nodded his understanding. ‘I’ll have a look this morning. Are you coming to decorate your tree for the festival later?’
‘Oh! Yes! Of course,’ Lola bluffed. She’d half forgotten about it. ‘Three o’clock? I’ll ask Freya to cover.’
‘Perfect.’ He smiled. ‘I can’t wait to see what your tree will look like.’
‘Me too,’ she laughed, ‘and I look forward to seeing what’s in those dusty old albums.’
Their eyes caught and slowly their gazes explored each other’s face, searching without quite snagging on the moment. Lola settled into Tristan’s calming presence and was warmed by the idea that if they tore down the boundaries they were pretending to defend, every morning could be like this, intimate in its simple ordinariness. Tea and chatter. Lola felt as if she had been presented with what she had been searching for. Peace and companionship. Friendship that flirted around the edges of love.
Chapter Twelve
The prospect of having to decorate a total of three Christmas trees, and to keep them all sparkling with individuality would daunt most people, but Lola, loving anything that could be considered the icing on the cake, was ready to rise to the challenge. In her opinion, Christmas trees were one area of life where the old adage of ‘less is more’ went out the window. Having warmed up by decking out the cottage, childlike joy surged through Lola as she approached the tree that had been allocated to her in the church.
Lola hummed festive tunes as she stood in the rather chilly church, hanging glistening baubles on the tiny tree and festooning it with more tinsel than was strictly necessary. Memories of attending her annual Christingle service as a child stirred inside her – the sharp tang of the oranges and cloves, the perilous flickering candles. The church smell was almost the same: damp stone, an ancient mustiness with a slight chill. Yet here the sea air crept under the ill-fitting door and mingled with the smell of newly polished pews.
Having decided to quit with the tinsel while she was ahead, Lola stepped back and studied the tree she’d spent the past twenty minutes decorating. She was just making some tweaks when her attention was caught by the church office door opening and from the corner of her eye, she saw Tristan emerge.
Lola readjusted a piece of pink tinsel and turned to Tristan. ‘Ta-da!’
‘Looks good,’ he said as he joined her.
They both regarded the tree, decked out in sparkly gold baubles, pink and blue tinsel with a wonky angel stuck on the stop.
‘Think she’s been on the sherry.’ Tristan nodded at the fairy and Lola tried to straighten her out as he asked, ‘No handmade decorations?’
Lola sighed. ‘No. I wanted to crochet some but I didn’t quite have the time. Maybe next year. Anyway, if it’s a competition then I think it’s only fair the Scouts or the school win. I went a bit mad in the pound shop. But I like it, it reminds me of when I was little and my brother and I decorated the tree. No taste, no colour scheme, just throwing on whatever glittered.’
‘So it has sentimental value?’ he asked and when Lola nodded he continued thoughtfully, ‘Isn’t that really what Christmas is all about? Rediscovering our joy? People put far too much pressure on themselves to have a perfect Christmas when really, what is it about? Spending time with people you love.’
He slipped a glance at Lola as he said this and, slightly lost for words, she smiled back before saying, ‘You’re right. All the other trees look lovely. I can’t wait to see them with all their lights turned on, it’s going to be absolutely magical. Freya and I decorated the cottage last night. If you think there’s too much tinsel on this tree, then you should see my living room!’
‘Sounds wonderful. My tree is still in its box,’ Tristan confessed. ‘I don’t normally put it up until the first of December.’
‘But that’s only a few days away! You can’t have people come round and there be no tree!’
‘The nativity set is out, if that helps?’ he offered.
