Escape for Christmas

Chapter Nine

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.

Ping!

Everyone turned to see Louise in the centre of the room, holding up a fork and a wine glass.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, can I please have your attention for a moment!’

The chatter in the room faded away as if someone had turned down the dial on a radio.

‘Thank you, everyone!’ Louise called. ‘I promise this isn’t a speech. I only want to thank you all for coming. It’s a very busy time of year. This year has been tough for many of you, I know that …’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘We’ve lost people we love, and this time of year always makes us think about those who are no longer with us, no matter how many years have passed since they left us.’

A soft murmur of agreement rippled through the guests.

‘So tonight we raise a glass to their memory, and we also look forward to the future. It’s a testament to the strength of this wonderful community that so many of you gather here once again to celebrate our achievements and strengthen our connections. I’m so grateful to you all for your support through foot-and-mouth, fire … and floods.’

Groans rang out at the hardships they’d faced during the year.

‘ Especially floods, considering the damage done to many businesses at the start of the year,’ she went on, reminding Sophie of the torrents that had caused such havoc in the January before she’d arrived at Sunnyside.

Sophie looked at Brody, arms folded, watching his mother tensely.

‘Our business wasn’t the only one inundated. For some, it was the last straw.’ She paused again and there was a stillness in the room. ‘But enough of the doom and gloom. We are all here and, thanks to us all pulling together, everyone is still going.’

‘Just about still going, Louise!’ the vicar quipped.

‘You’re the fittest of the lot of us,’ Louise replied.

Laughter rang out and Louise raised her glass. ‘To buggering on, despite everything, and a happy Christmas to us all!’

Glasses were raised and everyone toasted to that.

Brody held his drink high and as soon as his mum had finished her speech, he gave her a big hug.

Louise kissed his cheek and hastily wiped her eyes, before fixing her hostess smile back in place. Sophie felt a new-found sympathy and respect for her, even if she did think Louise was a little too protective of her son. Brody clearly cared for his mother and must have felt obliged to be the male support in the family from a very young age. No wonder they were close.

The music was turned back up and the chatter resumed.

Finally Brody carved a path over towards Sophie.

‘Phew. Sorry I couldn’t get away to talk to you earlier, and I’d no idea Mum was going to give a speech.’ He gave a lopsided grimace.

‘It was very heartfelt. I hadn’t realised it had been such a hard time for her and the business.’

‘It’s been a difficult year,’ he admitted. ‘The premises were totally flooded and it’s taken months to properly clear them out. It was before you got here, so how would you know? As for losing people, Mum probably means my auntie – Mum’s younger sister – who died back in May.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It was horrible for Mum. I have to be honest, I didn’t expect her to get emotional this evening. It’s normally her favourite night of the year.’

‘Painful memories have a habit of surfacing when you least expect them. Your mum’s been under a lot of pressure too.’

‘We all need a break. Apart from you, of course,’ he said, sounding brighter again. ‘As this is your busiest time of year.’

‘But after my guests leave, I plan to spend the twenty-seventh collapsed in a heap with the cats.’

‘You never know, there might be something better to do …’ he began, before adding hastily, ‘I mean, we’ll all need some fresh air by then, and some alone-time to recharge. Maybe we could take Harold for a walk. If we’re both around, that is.’

‘Maybe,’ Sophie said, sensing Brody’s reluctance even to commit to a walk, perhaps because he was wary of making plans that he couldn’t keep at such a busy family time. ‘Though you said you might have plans, or other people might have plans for you? Won’t the surgery be open by then too?’

‘My colleague’s on duty after the holiday, so I’ll have Boxing Day and the day after off. I volunteered to be on emergency call over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll need my own Christmas escape by then … and I bet you will?’

She told him briefly about her guests, but it was only a minute before Brody was called away. Almost immediately he was replaced by his mother brandishing a bottle of prosecco.

‘Sophie!’ Louise said brightly. ‘I’ve been trying to talk to you all evening. Can I give you a top-up?

‘Er, yes, please.’ She held out her glass, sensing that Louise’s multitasking meant she never spent time with anyone without an ulterior motive, however well intended.

‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Louise asked, expertly judging the level of fizz required to fill the glass, but not foam over the brim. ‘Even if this isn’t really your thing?’

Sophie’s enthusiasm waned a little, but she had honed her own set of skills by dealing with difficult customers and guests.

‘Thank you again for inviting me. It’s been great to meet so many people from the local community,’ she replied diplomatically. ‘I’ve been made very welcome.’

‘Oh?’ Louise’s eyebrows lifted.

‘Yes, and the food is delicious.’

‘The caterers are brilliant, and I have so many friends to help out with serving and clearing away … Brody tells me you’ll be managing on your own over Christmas, you poor thing.’

‘Vee’s been helping me and we’re well prepared. The guests don’t arrive until three tomorrow and they leave on the twenty-seventh.’

‘Still, that’s a long time to manage alone.’ Louise shuddered. ‘Rather you than me.’

‘It will be hard work, but I’m very ready for it,’ Sophie said firmly.

‘I’m sure you are. You’re not having a traditional turkey and Christmas pud, I assume?’

‘No. Actually I’m making a giant paella. With king prawns and chorizo and chicken.’

‘ Paella ,’ Louise echoed, as horrified as if Sophie had said she was serving mealworm curry.

‘Yes, it’s a Spanish theme,’ Sophie went on, sensing other guests listening in and an undercurrent of unspoken pity and amazement. ‘And afterwards we’re having pavlova,’ she continued, before Louise could comment further. ‘Which is Australian, as you probably know. I absolutely love pavlova. Maybe a few of the guests will even make it into the hot tub. I’ve booked a flamenco group too.’

‘A flamenco group?’ The bottle wobbled in Louise’s hand. ‘And sangria and paella in the hot tub. Oh, well. That’s very … different.’ She smiled tightly.

‘We won’t be eating the paella in the hot tub. That could block the filters,’ Sophie said in her best jokey tone. ‘However, as for enjoying a different kind of Christmas, that’s the whole idea. My guests are coming specifically to escape from the traditional festive celebrations.’

‘Are there many of them?’ Louise asked.

‘Yes. I’m fully booked.’

‘Wow! Good for you. Well, it takes all sorts, I suppose.’

‘It does,’ Sophie replied, as the wide-eyed guests listened in. Anyone would think she was holding a naked foam party at Sunnyside, by the way some mouths gaped in shock.

‘Makes our plans sound rather dull. Although there’s a lot to be said for tradition.’ Louise rolled her eyes. ‘Brody would probably faint if I served up a paella instead of turkey and all the trimmings. He’s a traditional sort of chap, as you’ve probably found out, even if he didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps.’ With a wistful pause, she politely excused herself. ‘Well, I must leave you to enjoy the party. I’m needed to help plate up the mini-puddings’. She scurried off, still with the bottle, leaving Sophie on her own again.

The other guests had turned their backs. Whether that was a coincidence or because they really did think Sophie and her guests would be enjoying more than paella in the hot tub, Sophie wasn’t sure. However, she suddenly felt adrift in an ocean of sequin-clad strangers, with Louise’s comments stuck in her mind.

She was amused by the idea of Brody being a ‘traditional sort of chap’. That made him sound like some tweedy 1950s bore, when he was the complete opposite. Plus, being a vet was an important job – a vocation – and his mother ought to be proud of him.

Sophie took a glug of her prosecco and regretted it. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and how hot the room had become in the past few minutes. She wanted to take off her jumper, but was too embarrassed to stand there in her old T-shirt.

The lights from the tree seemed to blind her and the fire felt very hot. Her throat was dry from talking, and her jaw ached from trying to keep forcing a smile to her face. Everything became loud and oppressive, and she felt a sense of claustrophobia in this room full of strangers.

The vicar’s wife approached her, a young woman called Jo, not much older than Sophie. She was wearing black from head to toe, apart from gold sparkly Doc Martens. Sophie had actually first been introduced to her at the farm shop and had immediately liked Jo’s humour and warmth.

‘Are you OK?’ Jo asked. ‘These parties can be a bit of an ordeal, if I’m honest, and it’s easy to get worn down by all the bonhomie. And,’ she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, ‘you won’t be the only person in Bannerdale who’ll be secretly relieved when it’s all over for another year. My husband is absolutely knackered already, from all the nativities and events he has to attend at this time of year. In fact we’ve booked a break to Tenerife straight after Epiphany to recover from it all.’

Sophie had to smile. ‘You must both be desperate for a holiday,’ she said, grateful to Jo for being the one person who seemed to understand how exhausting the season could be, for various reasons. ‘And it’s so hot in here – I think I’ll go out for some fresh air for a bit.’

‘Good idea,’ Jo said, with a gleam in her eye. ‘When you come back, find me. I can tell you all the wicked things I know about everyone here.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Sophie laughed. As tempting as Jo’s offer was, she thought this could be her moment to quietly leave and go home. It was silly of her, but she had to get out: into the cold, clear night to be on her own.

She slipped into the hall and through the kitchen, where Louise’s friend was taking out a tray of mince pies from the Aga. Fortunately she didn’t even notice Sophie dart through the door and into the boot-room.

Sophie’s chest tightened as she breathed in the frosty air after the heat of the party. She walked further from the house, into the shadows beyond the pools of light spilling from the windows.

Safety. Solitude. Silence.

This hadn’t been the best idea. She’d hardly spoken to Brody; he was in demand with his guests and was so busy topping up drinks and checking the fire. That was as it should be, and the last thing Sophie ever wanted was to be ‘needy.’

Perhaps she should go home.

She heard a snuffle from the stable block and then jumped as something warm and wet nuzzled her.

‘Harold!’

The security light clicked on, revealing the Labrador at her side, his tongue rough and warm against her fingers. She bent down to ruffle his ears, comforted by the warmth of his coat.

‘How are you, handsome?’ she asked, amused by his bow tie, which was now rather skew-whiff. That was Harold all over; Brody too. A bit dishevelled, but undoubtedly good-looking and a comforting presence. Sophie’s deep sigh brought another wave of cool air into her lungs, but this time it freed the tension.

Harold padded ahead.

She halted, halfway between the house and the stable, unsure of which way to go: back to the warmth of the festivities inside or forward into the cold, silent night. Frozen between the past and the future: staying in her safe, lonely bubble or breaking out and taking a chance.