‘Sorry, Hattie. These tax calculations aren’t going to solve themselves. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, yeah?’
‘When tomorrow?’ I asked as the line went dead.
CHAPTER2
Putting on my coat and donning my woolly hat, I steeled myself to head downstairs and out into the cold night air. Still in the throes of self-indulgence thanks to Gideon’s no-show the previous night, I resisted the temptation to take them off again in favour of staying home. If anyone could pull me out of my pity party, it was Erin and Joyce. Our crochet club might exist in name only as a ruse to give Joyce some much-needed me-time, but in reality, we all benefited.
Over the last six months the three of us had built up a solid friendship, even though on paper you couldn’t get a trio of more different women. Erin, the hard-nosed businesswoman who knew what she wanted and went for it; Joyce, a retiree who’d been married forever and looked like she belonged to the Jerusalem and jam brigade; and then there was me. I sighed. A thirty-one-year-old simp who had everything I could want except a devoted boyfriend.
Making my way downstairs, I let myself out of the shop, locking the door behind me. The pavement glistened with frost; icy sparkles that shimmered in tandem with Settledown’s twinkling Christmas lights. Heading down the road towards the town square with its humongous brightly lit Norway Spruce, I took in the festive window displays.
That year’s theme was Hoffman’sThe Nutcracker and The Mouse King, and traders including me had been keen to embrace it. As well as the title characters, exhibits included clockwork castles, Princess Pirlipats and doll kingdoms. There were Christmas trees adorned with walnuts for baubles, and little mice peeking from behind perfectly wrapped gift boxes. Warm accent lighting and rich backgrounds of red, green and gold made each scene come alive. While Settledown was picture postcard pretty no matter the time of year, at Christmas, it was magical.
The Royal Oak came into view and hastening towards its entrance, I pushed open its heavy wooden and glass-framed door. The warmth emanating from the open fire with its huge stone tinsel-covered mantel felt welcoming. But as much as I’d have preferred a more convivial seat next to the flames, thanks to Erin’s fluctuating body temperature, I knew we had to sit as far away from the heat as possible.
Taking off my hat and unbuttoning my coat, I scanned the room, wondering if the place had been worth opening. A young couple, deep in conversation, sipped on mugs of mulled wine at one table, while an older pair with their dog, took up another. Ted, the pub’s most loyal of clientele, sat pint in hand, in his usual spot propping up the bar. As for other customers, there weren’t any. Not that I should have been surprised to find the place quiet. Settledown might be busy come weekend when the tourists landed, but for most of the locals, winter had always been a time of hibernation.
I cocked my head in confusion. Not the most chatty of bartenders, Danny would seat himself at the far end of the bar, scrolling through his phone in the hope no one could spot him. That evening he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a new guy had taken up residence. I couldn’t see his face as he was head down, concentrating on a sketch he drew.
I coughed loudly to get his attention, and he immediately dropped his pencil and looked up. I smiled. ‘It’s you,’ I said of the once seen never forgotten chap.
He gave me a cheeky wink. ‘It was the last time I looked.’
A sense of humour and good looking.I was impressed. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’
His face broke into a grin. ‘How can I forget? Navy duffel, green tights, blue wellies?’
I blushed. No wonder he recognised me. Said out loud, my outfit sounded quite the combination, and I could think of better ways to make an impression.
‘What can I get you?’ he asked.
‘Hattie!’ a woman called out.
I spun round to see Joyce, sat at a table tucked in the corner by the Christmas tree. I chuckled, realising it was no wonder I hadn’t noticed her. Rammed with crimson baubles and gold trimmings, the tree branches were the perfect camouflage for Joyce in her red and green sweater. ‘It’s okay,’ I said to the new barman. ‘I’m good thanks.’
When it came to our Crochet Club, it was customary for the first to arrive to get the drinks in and as I made my way over, I was ready for the vin blanc that Joyce had waiting. ‘Boy do I need this,’ I said. Sitting in the seat opposite her, I picked up my glass. ‘I’m having one of those weeks.’
‘Good to know it’s not just me.’
‘I take it Erin’s running late?’
Joyce shrugged. ‘It looks that way.’
I observed my friend’s demeanour. Usually a woman with presence, she sat hunched and spiritless. ‘Is everything okay?’ I asked.
‘Not really. But I’ll live.’ She picked at the corners of a beermat. ‘I read a news article this morning saying the divorce rate amongst the over sixties is rising.’ She looked at me direct. ‘I, for one, can appreciate why.’
My heart went out to her. When it came to his pensioner status, her husband had still yet to adjust, turning Joyce’s twilight years dream into a never-ending nightmare. ‘I take it things are no better?’
‘Nope. If anything, they’re getting worse.’ She went from picking at to tearing the beermat. ‘It’s not that I don’t understand. Of course, I do. Going from working all hours to not working at all is bound to have an impact. But he doesn’t even try to enjoy his newfound freedom.’ She scoffed. ‘Although it’s hardlynew, is it? He retired months ago.’ She gathered the shredded cardboard into a neat pile. ‘It’s like living with some rescued street dog that can’t quite settle.’ She drank a mouthful of wine. ‘It’d be kinder to have him put down.’
I was used to Joyce talking about her marital woes, but that was blunt even for her and I let out a nervous chuckle. ‘I have the opposite problem. You’d be lucky to find me and Gideon in the same room.’
‘Now you’re just rubbing it in.’
I gave Joyce a sympathetic smile.
‘I got fired today,’ she said.
