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Escape for Christmas Chapter Twelve 32%
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Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bloody Christmas. Bloody Brody.

If Sophie was brutally honest, the fact that Brody had turned out to be a lying git had nothing to do with Christmas. It wasn’t Christmas’s fault. She had to admit that much as she pulled up outside the farm shop the next morning.

It was only just starting to get light, but the car park was already almost full with Christmas Eve shoppers. Wispy snowflakes were falling and the coloured lights strung along the wooden porch shone through the gloom. The decking was piled high with bags of logs, fir wreaths and holly sprays. Carols were playing from the loudspeakers, and customers in Santa hats were greeting each other warmly.

Sophie felt like the love-child of Scrooge and the Grinch.

Last night had been humiliating and upsetting. She’d never forget the few seconds of silence that had hung between her and Brody after Louise had announced that his fiancée had arrived.

She’d hardly been able to speak. Louise only looked on, perhaps too shocked to say more. Sophie thought she saw the glint of tears in Louise’s eyes, as if she was about to cry. Had she suspected that something more than feeding the donkey had been going on? Sophie had wondered why Louise had been so spiky, and now she knew exactly why.

The worst thing was that Sophie was beginning to think there was something wrong with her. She was having doubts about the ‘Escape for Christmas’ break. Could she handle it? Was she stupid for even thinking of it? Were she and her few guests the only people on Earth not to love Christmas? Was she … just bitter and flaky – or a bit weird ?

‘Good morning! Happy Christmas!’ A man Sophie recognised from last night’s party greeted her cheerfully.

‘Morning,’ Sophie ground out, before tagging on a smile.

It’s not his fault, she reminded herself. It’s no one’s fault but your own, Sophie Cranford, for being far too naive and trusting. Only bad things happen to you at Christmas.

She collected her bags from the car and found a trolley. The handle, wet with melting sleet, chilled her fingers. Sophie entered the portal to Christmas mayhem and braced herself. From this moment on, she had to set aside her troubles and put on a brave face, whether that was in the farm shop with ‘normal’ people or when she got home to prepare for the arrival of her guests later that day.

The guests had come to get away from Christmas, not to have a miserable time with the host from hell. She imagined the reviews:

Stunning location: shame about the host.

Host made me us feel like we were a hindrance. Won’t be going back.

Avoid at all costs. Hostess spent the time with a face like a slapped arse.

‘Deck the halls with boughs of holly!’ The volume on the speakers was even louder inside the shop, giving Sophie an instant headache, and the scent of the festive season was almost overpowering: cinnamon mixed with pine and cloves in a noxious Christmas pong that made her feel nauseous.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed her trolley past pyramids of dates and satsumas to the collections counter. She’d pre-ordered as much of the food that she’d need as she could, and checked off the receipt to make sure everything she’d requested was available. It contained local bacon, eggs, Cumberland sausage, bread, tomatoes and mushrooms for the breakfasts. She’d also ordered chicken thighs, fresh prawns and squid rings for the paella, along with a large bag of rice and some saffron.

She added a bottle of wine and large box of chocolates as a gift for Vee – who definitely didn’t deserve a grouchy boss, after all she’d done – before heading to the deli section for her tapas ingredients. She’d already bought in some that should be simple to prepare from jars or packets – olives and anchovies – and now added chorizo and serrano ham. She sincerely hoped the cats didn’t get into the kitchen or dining room; all that meat and fish would drive them insane.

The cats!

Phew. She’d almost forgotten they would need extra food while the shops were closed and Sophie was busy. The aisles were getting more crowded and she lost count of the times she said ‘Sorry’ in her quest to wheel her trolley to the pet-food section, where she added some kibble and several tins of cat food to her trolley. Not turkey or reindeer; tuna and quail. The cats deserved a treat, but it wouldn’t be a festive one, that was for sure.

‘Sophie!’

Brody emerged from behind the dog-food section with a Christmas stocking full of canine treats and a huge bag of carrots. Sophie tried to walk off in the opposite direction, but she was cornered by a display of cat selection boxes.

‘Can I come past, please?’ she said, her voice holding firm.

He looked washed out and hadn’t shaved. But why should she care? Hopefully he felt as bad as he looked. Brody also didn’t move out of the way. ‘Please don’t be like this,’ he pleaded.

‘I’d just like to take my cat food to the till,’ she said haughtily, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

He clutched the dog stocking to him. ‘I’m not trying to stop you. I only wanted to explain …’

‘I don’t think you can explain being engaged and—’ She paused while a woman plucked a pouch of reindeer cat food from the shelf. ‘And what happened in the stable.’

As soon as the woman had gone, Brody grabbed the end of her trolley so that she couldn’t move. ‘Nothing happened.’

Sophie didn’t correct him, wanting to put last night to the back of her mind.

‘Sophie, I really do care about you,’ Brody said. ‘And believe me, I want to explain, but I just can’t …’

‘ Can’t ?’ Sophie hissed. ‘What does that mean?’

‘That I – can’t give you an explanation for my behaviour. Yet.’

‘“Yet?”’ she scoffed. ‘Brody, I don’t think you’ll ever be able to give me a good enough explanation as to why you didn’t tell me you were engaged. Now please, I would greatly appreciate it if you could let go of my trolley, so that I don’t have to reverse it back around the shelves. I need to get home to my guests and my cats.’

‘You’ll understand one day,’ he murmured. ‘I promise.’ He decided to step aside and create a gap between the cat toys and the kitty litter, allowing Sophie to wheel her trolley past him.

‘Thanks,’ she said and kept her eyes firmly to the front.

The whole charade was so childish, yet she felt awful that he’d lied to her, after everything she told him she’d been through, and she couldn’t help but wonder if something might have happened between them, if Tegan hadn’t surprised him. If not last night, then at some point over Christmas maybe?

Hating the thought of what might have been, she pushed her trolley towards the tills. There were two operators, one with three people queuing and one with two. Sophie chose the shortest one, hoping to get out of there fast.

She soon realised she’d picked the short straw, because the person in front of her had a problem with their payment card, and their pigs-in-blankets were out of date. It all added to the delay and the tension, as her queue didn’t move when she simply wanted to make a speedy exit.

Then, to her horror, she found herself standing right next to Brody as he joined the other queue beside her. She looked over her shoulder at him, but he was just staring at the floor, holding on to his dog stocking and a large bag of carrots for dear life.

‘Next, please!’ the assistant called. ‘Oh, hello, Brody! What are you doing for Christmas? Not working, I hope?’ The bells on her antler headdress tinkled merrily.

‘I’m on-call,’ Brody told her.

‘But you’ll be able to have Christmas lunch?’

‘Yes, but I’ll have to stay off the wine.’

‘Poor you. Oh, is this stocking for Harold? I do love Harold. And are the carrots for Christmas dinner?’

‘No, they’re for the donkey.’

‘Well, we can’t forget our pets. They’re part of the family, aren’t they? Will you be spending the day at Felltop or at your mother’s.’

‘I’ll be at …’ Brody hesitated. ‘We’re going round to a friend’s.’

Sophie let out a snort of disgust. He couldn’t even say Tegan’s name. Why was it such a secret? Why wasn’t he proud to tell everyone about her. Sophie had an inkling …

Brody tapped his card on the terminal.

‘Have a lovely time, and don’t work too hard,’ the assistant trilled, her antlers jingling.

Sophie watched him scurry away without a glance at her.

‘Next, please!’

‘Oh, sorry.’ Distracted by Brody, Sophie hadn’t noticed it was her turn when her own queue moved on.

Her till operator was the farm-shop owner, Hazel, who after nine months of serving Sophie knew her well enough to chat to. She wore an elf hat with a bell on top and had rosy cheeks painted on with lipstick.

‘Stocking up for the guests, are we?’ Hazel asked, scanning the bar code on the pre-order box. ‘I bet they need a proper Cumbrian fry-up in this weather.’

It wasn’t too painful to be cheery in response, as Hazel was a naturally sunny soul who had always been very helpful to Sophie. ‘They do,’ Sophie replied. ‘I get lots of compliments for the breakfasts, and that’s down to the ingredients. The guests love to know everything’s local.’

Hazel glowed with pride. ‘We do try to obtain everything in the Lakes and, as you know, the meat’s from our own farm.’

She scanned the bar code on the bag of kibble. ‘Not the cat food, though. That’s from God knows where – unless you want to give your two fresh chicken?’

Sophie snorted. ‘They wish!’

Hazel’s bell tinkled as she laughed. ‘Not even on Christmas Day? I bet they get some turkey leftovers as a treat.’

‘We’re not having turkey,’ Sophie said as lightly as she could, having rehearsed her response a dozen times already.

Hazel’s eyebrows twitched as she scanned the tins of cat food. ‘Oh? It’s duck then? Or goose. We stock both in the shop.’

‘Er. No …’

Hazel paused. ‘Oh, I see . You’ve got veggies for Christmas!’ She grinned. ‘So many people are now. We keep some lovely cranberry-and-mushroom bakes in the deli section. We even have a vegan nut-roulade. You have to cater for all tastes now. Still, it’s a lot of work, having to cook two meals. My son-in-law’s a vegan and his wife’s a pescatarian. Lucky I run a farm shop, eh? Although they get what’s left in the shop on Christmas Eve!’

‘We’re having a paella,’ Sophie told her, sensing ears pricking up behind her.

‘Paella. That’s novel. Are your guests Spanish?’

‘No, just having something different.’ With her cheeriest grin, Sophie held out her card to pay the bill. ‘But I ordered everything I needed in advance. It’s in the box,’ she said.

‘Ah.’ Hazel pushed the terminal closer. ‘Actually I think I remember the team making up your order. Prawns and chorizo and rice … Did we have everything you need? Because we won’t be open until New Year’s Eve now. We’re all having a nice rest!’

‘I don’t blame you,’ said Sophie.

‘Happy Christmas, and good luck with your paella!’ Hazel trilled, her elf hat jingling madly.

Sophie pushed her trolley out of the shop, certain that she would be the topic of conversation within the queue for at least the next few minutes. She loaded up the car as quickly as she could, keen to get back to the guest house and start making the pavlova and tapas. She also wanted to catch Vee before she left for Christmas.

Her heart sank when she saw Brody jump out of his Defender and aim straight for her.

Turning her back, she opened the passenger door of her truck.

‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked.

‘No, thanks.’ She lifted the box into the passenger footwell.

‘Sophie …’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

He put the jute bag containing her other purchases on the car seat. ‘You’re angry and upset. I can understand that.’

Sophie was stung into responding, against her better judgement. ‘You couldn’t even tell the assistant you were spending Christmas with Tegan. It’s strange that you have a fiancée you never mention.’

‘Because not many people know we’re engaged.’

‘Apart from everyone at the party.’

‘They know she’s my girlfriend, not about—’

‘The wedding?’ Sophie shot back.

‘We haven’t arranged a wedding yet,’ Brody said wearily.

Sophie scoffed. ‘I don’t expect there will be one at all, if she finds out you’re interested in other women.’

‘I’m not. I mean, I am. Interested in you as a friend. Oh, shit,’ he added.’

Sophie shook her head in disbelief.

‘I can see this is only making things worse between us,’ Brody said gloomily. ‘I’m sorry about everything. I know you don’t believe me, but I honestly mean it.’ He touched her arm and Sophie froze, without flinching or moving away. ‘I do care about you, Sophie. You may not believe it, but it’s true and, one day, I hope you’ll understand.’

There was such longing in his voice, and pain in his eyes, that she thawed a fraction of a degree.

‘Let’s not talk about this again,’ Sophie said quietly. ‘The most important thing is that it never happens again and you don’t upset Tegan. I would never want anyone to be hurt, the way I was before.’

‘Sophie, I can promise you I am nothing like your ex,’ he said, almost angrily. ‘I would never want you to think I was that much of a bastard,’ he added in a softer tone.

She wasn’t in the mood to let him off the hook any further than she already had. ‘I have to go to Sunnyside. My guests will be here at three and I’ve still so much to do. Have a good Christmas.’

Without awaiting his answer, she jumped in the car and closed the door, waiting for Brody to pull away before she set off. Her heart rate slowed and she took a few deep breaths to calm down before driving off towards the steep lane that led up to Troutbeck hamlet and Sunnyside.

Last night – or the past couple of weeks – had only been a temporary blip in her fresh start at Sunnyside. The important thing was to put the whole affair behind her and concentrate on making her ‘Escape for Christmas’ weekend a massive success. Without Brody on her mind all the time, Sophie told herself, she really could focus on her guests.

With another sigh, she pulled into her driveway.

It was only 9 a.m., but there was a strange car parked next to Vee’s car. It was a vintage Alfa Romeo, in a tomato-red that stood out against the frosty ground and grey slate walls of the guest house.

Could it be Nico Lombardi. At this hour?

Perhaps he wanted to park at the guest house while he went walking. That was OK, but he definitely could not have his room until 3 p.m. Sophie had way too much to do before she was ready to welcome guests.

Instead of a tall, dark Italian, a small woman with tight iron-grey curls climbed out of the Alfa.

Sophie hurried over. ‘Hello, can I help you?’

The woman peered at her above pink-framed specs, as if Sophie was late for school. ‘I sincerely hope so. I’m staying here for the next few days.’

‘Oh, you must be Mrs Agatha Freeman.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I am, but how on earth do you know that?’

‘Um. You – er – mentioned that you drive an Alfa when you booked,’ Sophie said, desperate not to let on that Agatha was exactly how she’d imagined her, apart from the flashy Italian sports car.

‘Did I?’ Agatha frowned. ‘Oh, well. I suppose I’m far too early to check in, aren’t I?’

‘I’m afraid so. We’re still busy preparing rooms. Check-in is at three p.m.’

‘Thought so,’ said Agatha, then shrugged. ‘No matter. To be honest, I just thought I’d work out the lie of the land and do a drive-by, in case the place was a grotty hole and I still had time to bail out and go home.’

‘I do hope you don’t feel like that,’ Sophie replied.

‘It looks pretty promising from the outside, but you never know what you’re going to find when you start turning over duvet covers and inspecting bathrooms, do you?’ She glared at Sophie. ‘I’ve found that appearances can be deceptive.’

Unable to disagree, Sophie simply smiled. ‘Would you like to leave your luggage until you can check in?’

‘No need. I don’t have much. It’s only a couple of days, and we won’t be expected to doll ourselves up for dinner or get involved with any of that fancy-dress nonsense, will we?’

‘No, you can wear exactly what you like,’ Sophie reassured her.

‘Hmm. Bloody good, because I worried that with the Spanish theme I might be expected to don a sombrero and shake my maracas.’

Sophie stifled a snort that she badly needed to let out. ‘That’s only the flamenco troupe. Guests don’t have to join in with the actual performance.’

Agatha harrumphed. ‘Thank God for that. Anyway, like I say, I only wanted to check the place wasn’t a dilapidated wreck or, worse, non-existent. Now that I have, I’m quite happy to wait until the official time. I’m not one of those people who think rules don’t apply to them. The whole country would fall apart if we all did exactly what we pleased, wouldn’t it?’ Not requiring an answer, Agatha ploughed on, ‘No, I plan to head into town, do the waterfall walk and grab a bite to eat. Will anywhere decent be open for lunch?’

‘Several of the cafés in Bannerdale should stay open until mid-afternoon and there are a number of pubs. They’ll be open all day. Would you like a recommendation?’

Agatha wrinkled her nose. ‘Hmm, I’ll find a café, if I can. The pubs are sure to be full of revellers, and I want to save any revelling for later. I hope my fellow guests are civilised,’ she said, knitting her bushy eyebrows together and glaring at Sophie.

‘I hope so too,’ Sophie agreed with perfect sincerity, while trying not to laugh. ‘Have a nice lunch, and I look forward to seeing you later.’

Agatha jumped back into her car and sped off, the wheels spinning on the gravel. At the gate she tooted her horn loudly at a passing tractor before roaring off down the lane.

Wow! Sophie paused by the open car door, feeling as if she’d been steamrollered.

She was used to guests’ quirky ways, but Agatha Freeman was something else. She both lived up to Sophie’s expectation – a Miss Marple meets mid-century headmistress – and defied it, with her sports car and her talk of saving ‘any revelling for later’.

Sophie had better get over her disappointment about Brody fast, because she was going to need every ounce of her energy to get through the next few days.

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