The Christmas Surprise
Page 56
Little clusters of seats and tables were being laid out, and a PA system was being set up on the raised area for speeches and the band. And there were, indeed, straw bales being dragged into a corner, Rosie was delighted to see, covered with tartan blankets. They were going to make an unbelievable mess, but they could worry about that after the festivities.
Tina wasn’t there – Rosie had sent her packing to Carningford to get her hair and nails done in anticipation – but her mother, Jan, was overseeing, very cheerfully. She rushed up to Rosie.
‘Thanks for all this,’ she said excitedly.
‘Oh, I didn’t do anything,’ said Rosie. ‘It was just lucky something came together.’
‘It’s marvellous,’ she said. ‘I like it better than the hotel.’
‘You know,’ said Rosie, ‘so do I.’
Jan, who had the same petite, pretty features as her daughter, leant over.
‘Now, about this ring-bearing business …’
‘It’s not going to happen,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m sorry. He’s just so young, he’ll swallow them or cry and just ruin everything. I am sorry.’
Jan nodded, then brought out a parcel.
‘Well, even if he’s not doing it, we bought him a present.’ She handed it over, beaming. ‘You’ve done such a lot. We’d love him to wear this tomorrow.’
‘Oh no, I haven’t …’ said Rosie, opening up the parcel with a slightly sinking feeling; she had rather been hoping that his nicest babygro – the unbelievably expensive Tartine et Chocolat one Pamela had bought him – would do. Inside was a babygro in black and white, made up to look like a dinner suit, complete with black trousers, black jacket, patterned waistcoat, carnation in the buttonhole and bow tie.
Jan grinned.
‘Isn’t it just totally and utterly perfect?’
Rosie couldn’t say she didn’t like it; that it was even worse than the christening gown he still wasn’t going to wear. Instead she smiled and hugged Tina’s mum.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said. ‘If I manage to get him out the door without throwing up all over it, he’ll definitely be wearing it.’
Rosie spent the day happily making paper chains, decorating trees, and bringing things in from the lorry. Small snifters of whisky were passed around after lunch to help with the cold, even though the heaters were gradually warming the place through. Rosie had had ample reason to be glad of her new coat, albeit grudgingly. Moray managed to turn up magically at the exact moment whisky was being handed out, and grinned to see her wearing it.
‘At last!’ he said, leading her out into the winter sunshine, as they clinked glasses. ‘Finally we’ve done it! We’ve turned the town mouse into the country mouse!’
Rosie smiled sadly.
‘For now,’ she said, and told him about the Derby house she was going to see again, despite Stephen’s objections. He could shout and swear all he wanted, but it was going to happen.
‘Seriously?’ said Moray.
‘Seriously,’ said Rosie. ‘If … if, you know, we have to go through this with Apostil … then it makes sense to be near the hospital, even if we could find a place round here we could afford, which we can’t.’
‘I know,’ said Moray. ‘It’s almost like people enjoy living in beautiful, unspoiled country villages.’
‘That don’t even have Starbucks or proper broadband,’ said Rosie, looking at the sun prickling the frosted surface of the snow. Just a little way into the forest behind the hut, a robin hopped on to a twig, grabbed it in his little talons and flew away again. There was barely a sound in the air except the cheerful noises from inside the hut – Christmas carols were playing on the stereo – and the rustling of the wind through the snow-heavy trees.
‘I’ll miss this place,’ said Rosie suddenly. ‘All of it.’
‘You’re definitely going?’
‘We have to,’ said Rosie. ‘Stephen doesn’t see it yet, but he will. He’s just struggling against having to come round to what he knows is right.’
‘We’ll miss you,’ said Moray. ‘I can’t believe you’ve only been here three years. Feels like you’re really a part of the place. Most incomers it takes about … um, a hundred and fifty.’
Rosie swallowed.
‘Well, we’ll be back to visit. We’ll have to, we don’t know anybody else.’
‘Oh, life moves on,’ said Moray. ‘And the snow will close the road, and you’ll be so busy with Apostil growing up, you’ll forget all about us.’
Rosie shook her head.
‘No, I don’t think we will. Anyway, we’ll always be back for Lilian.’
‘That’s true,’ said Moray.
‘So I don’t suppose you’re bringing anyone to the wedding?’ said Rosie, returning to a lighter, more teasing voice.
‘Actually …’ said Moray, grinning.
‘No way? You’re bringing Moshe?’
Moray’s boyfriend only lived in Carningford, but Moray very rarely went out with him in public.
‘Well I had a think about it,’ said Moray. ‘And I thought, what better way to really, really annoy Roy?’
Just as he said this, Roy’s horrible oversized Porsche appeared, its bodywork flashing against the snow. Moray and Rosie went quiet, watching as Roy parked up to look at the hut.
‘He’s not getting out!’ said Moray. Given their vantage point, sitting on a tree stump round the side of the building, Roy was unlikely to see them. ‘He’s checking everyone is working really hard, but he isn’t getting out.’
‘That’s because he’s a nobber,’ said Rosie. ‘Hardly a news flash.’
“No, no, LOOK!’ hissed Moray, collapsing into giggles. Sure enough, through the side window they could just glimpse somebody else; somebody with long, expensively highlighted blonde hair. Pamela.
‘No way,’ said Rosie, clasping her hand over her mouth. The next moment, the two heads had moved together; they were patently snogging. ‘Oh. My. GOD.’
Moray was puce in the face trying not to explode with laughter.
‘But their teeth might clash and start a fire,’ he choked.
‘Watch out in case they reflect the sun and kill you like a laser,’ Rosie said back.
Tina wasn’t there – Rosie had sent her packing to Carningford to get her hair and nails done in anticipation – but her mother, Jan, was overseeing, very cheerfully. She rushed up to Rosie.
‘Thanks for all this,’ she said excitedly.
‘Oh, I didn’t do anything,’ said Rosie. ‘It was just lucky something came together.’
‘It’s marvellous,’ she said. ‘I like it better than the hotel.’
‘You know,’ said Rosie, ‘so do I.’
Jan, who had the same petite, pretty features as her daughter, leant over.
‘Now, about this ring-bearing business …’
‘It’s not going to happen,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m sorry. He’s just so young, he’ll swallow them or cry and just ruin everything. I am sorry.’
Jan nodded, then brought out a parcel.
‘Well, even if he’s not doing it, we bought him a present.’ She handed it over, beaming. ‘You’ve done such a lot. We’d love him to wear this tomorrow.’
‘Oh no, I haven’t …’ said Rosie, opening up the parcel with a slightly sinking feeling; she had rather been hoping that his nicest babygro – the unbelievably expensive Tartine et Chocolat one Pamela had bought him – would do. Inside was a babygro in black and white, made up to look like a dinner suit, complete with black trousers, black jacket, patterned waistcoat, carnation in the buttonhole and bow tie.
Jan grinned.
‘Isn’t it just totally and utterly perfect?’
Rosie couldn’t say she didn’t like it; that it was even worse than the christening gown he still wasn’t going to wear. Instead she smiled and hugged Tina’s mum.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said. ‘If I manage to get him out the door without throwing up all over it, he’ll definitely be wearing it.’
Rosie spent the day happily making paper chains, decorating trees, and bringing things in from the lorry. Small snifters of whisky were passed around after lunch to help with the cold, even though the heaters were gradually warming the place through. Rosie had had ample reason to be glad of her new coat, albeit grudgingly. Moray managed to turn up magically at the exact moment whisky was being handed out, and grinned to see her wearing it.
‘At last!’ he said, leading her out into the winter sunshine, as they clinked glasses. ‘Finally we’ve done it! We’ve turned the town mouse into the country mouse!’
Rosie smiled sadly.
‘For now,’ she said, and told him about the Derby house she was going to see again, despite Stephen’s objections. He could shout and swear all he wanted, but it was going to happen.
‘Seriously?’ said Moray.
‘Seriously,’ said Rosie. ‘If … if, you know, we have to go through this with Apostil … then it makes sense to be near the hospital, even if we could find a place round here we could afford, which we can’t.’
‘I know,’ said Moray. ‘It’s almost like people enjoy living in beautiful, unspoiled country villages.’
‘That don’t even have Starbucks or proper broadband,’ said Rosie, looking at the sun prickling the frosted surface of the snow. Just a little way into the forest behind the hut, a robin hopped on to a twig, grabbed it in his little talons and flew away again. There was barely a sound in the air except the cheerful noises from inside the hut – Christmas carols were playing on the stereo – and the rustling of the wind through the snow-heavy trees.
‘I’ll miss this place,’ said Rosie suddenly. ‘All of it.’
‘You’re definitely going?’
‘We have to,’ said Rosie. ‘Stephen doesn’t see it yet, but he will. He’s just struggling against having to come round to what he knows is right.’
‘We’ll miss you,’ said Moray. ‘I can’t believe you’ve only been here three years. Feels like you’re really a part of the place. Most incomers it takes about … um, a hundred and fifty.’
Rosie swallowed.
‘Well, we’ll be back to visit. We’ll have to, we don’t know anybody else.’
‘Oh, life moves on,’ said Moray. ‘And the snow will close the road, and you’ll be so busy with Apostil growing up, you’ll forget all about us.’
Rosie shook her head.
‘No, I don’t think we will. Anyway, we’ll always be back for Lilian.’
‘That’s true,’ said Moray.
‘So I don’t suppose you’re bringing anyone to the wedding?’ said Rosie, returning to a lighter, more teasing voice.
‘Actually …’ said Moray, grinning.
‘No way? You’re bringing Moshe?’
Moray’s boyfriend only lived in Carningford, but Moray very rarely went out with him in public.
‘Well I had a think about it,’ said Moray. ‘And I thought, what better way to really, really annoy Roy?’
Just as he said this, Roy’s horrible oversized Porsche appeared, its bodywork flashing against the snow. Moray and Rosie went quiet, watching as Roy parked up to look at the hut.
‘He’s not getting out!’ said Moray. Given their vantage point, sitting on a tree stump round the side of the building, Roy was unlikely to see them. ‘He’s checking everyone is working really hard, but he isn’t getting out.’
‘That’s because he’s a nobber,’ said Rosie. ‘Hardly a news flash.’
“No, no, LOOK!’ hissed Moray, collapsing into giggles. Sure enough, through the side window they could just glimpse somebody else; somebody with long, expensively highlighted blonde hair. Pamela.
‘No way,’ said Rosie, clasping her hand over her mouth. The next moment, the two heads had moved together; they were patently snogging. ‘Oh. My. GOD.’
Moray was puce in the face trying not to explode with laughter.
‘But their teeth might clash and start a fire,’ he choked.
‘Watch out in case they reflect the sun and kill you like a laser,’ Rosie said back.
