Название | Once Upon A Christmas |
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Автор произведения | Jennifer Joyce |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474048514 |
Jack looked back over his shoulder from the cooker. ‘Dolores’s mum’s from Spain. She speaks Spanish like a native.’
Dolores smiled sweetly at Holly. ‘Are you fluent in any foreign language, Holly? I do think it’s such a wonderful talent to have.’
Holly shook her head, repressing a snort. ‘Afraid not, Dolores. I can barely speak English some days.’
Jack came back to the table with a cup of coffee, the expression on his face clearly showing how pleased he was to see the two women getting on so well. Holly did her best not to disillusion him. ‘And you’ve chosen a gorgeous little village to live in.’
‘Dolores lives in the next village and she’s only been here for a few months. But you love Dartmoor, don’t you?’ Jack spread butter and jam on a piece of toast and offered it to Dolores. She shook her head.
‘Butter? Not on my diet, darling.’ She fluttered her long eyelashes at him. ‘A cup of coffee’s just fine.’ She transferred her attention across the table. ‘And what do you do, Holly?’
‘It’s a bit hard to explain. I work for an insurance company and my speciality is engineering projects. I studied mechanical engineering at university.’ Holly had been doing the job for long enough now to recognise the same expression of disbelief on Dolores’s face that the old petrol pump attendant had displayed on her first visit to Brookford. A woman engineer?
‘Oh.’
As a conversation stopper, it worked well. Holly dedicated herself to finishing her toast. Sensing a lull, Jack turned towards Dolores. ‘So, are you working today?’
She nodded and smiled graciously across the table towards Holly as she explained. ‘Saturdays are my busiest days, to be honest. I’m not normally in the studio, but my agent sets me up with all sorts of events; you know, fete openings, prize givings, that sort of thing. Today I’m at a children’s home in Plymouth, judging a painting competition. It’s just had a multi-million pound renovation and a government minister’s supposed to be coming. National TV should be covering it, which won’t do my profile any harm. And then, tonight I’m presenting medals to firefighters.’ She grinned across the table. ‘Handsome, hunky firefighters; I love my job.’
Holly decided she had better make a move. She stood up and gave Jack a warm and sincere smile. Beside her, the dog stood up and stretched. ‘Jack, you saved my life. I was dying for a cup of tea. Thank you so much. I’d better get off home as the electrician’s due any minute now.’ She gave Dolores an equally warm, but considerably less sincere, smile. ‘Lovely to meet you, Dolores.’
‘And you, Holly.’ Her eyes narrowed as Holly moved away from the table and she spotted the Jimmy Choo boots. Full price for them had been almost seven hundred pounds. Dolores had no way of knowing she hadn’t paid full whack for them, so Holly did a little gratuitous knife-twisting.
‘I really must get some more shoes. These are very comfortable, but they do show the dirt.’ She had the pleasure of seeing the other girl wince.
Outside there was smart little blue Fiat 500, presumably belonging to Dolores. Holly was delighted to see Stirling stop, cock his leg, and pee on her front wheel – but she immediately found herself wondering why Dolores annoyed her so much. Surely it couldn’t be anything to do with Jack. He so wasn’t her type.
Mr Fleming, the electrician, was a very big man. When Holly opened the door, she found him occupying most of the door frame and she had a moment’s hesitation. Undaunted, Stirling ran up to him, tail wagging. The big man bent down to scratch his ears.
‘Hello, Stirling. And how are you this morning?’ He gave Holly a broad smile and held out his massive hand. She took it nervously, but he was remarkably gentle. ‘Miss Brice, how really good to meet you. I’ve often heard your father talk about you.’ His expression became more sombre. ‘Poor man, so sad.’
Holly ushered him in. ‘I would offer you a cup of tea, but I’m afraid the power’s off.’ Realising that this was a pretty stupid thing to say to an electrician who would not be there if the power were on, she went on to explain what had happened. While she talked, he went over to the broom cupboard. Clearly, he was familiar with the property. The lights flickered a few times and the power crashed off again. His head reappeared.
‘I’m afraid it’s the central heating boiler. It’s pretty ancient and it needs replacing. You really need a new one as soon as possible because it’s shorting out. I’ll have a go at getting it working for you, at least for now, but we’d really better get a plumber round.’
‘I don’t suppose you…?’
The electrician nodded and pulled out his phone. ‘I’ll get straight onto him.’ He dialled a number and waited for a few seconds. ‘Bob? Tom. Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I’m over at George Brice’s place and the boiler’s packed up. His daughter’s here and she’s freezing to death. Yes, I know. Anything you can do?’ There was a short pause before Mr Fleming spoke again. ‘That’s great, Tom. I’ll tell her. Yes, I know. It’s the least we can do.’
He ended the call and turned to her with a smile. ‘He’s on a job this morning, but he says he’ll be round at two.’
‘But, today’s a Saturday. Is that all right?’
Tom Fleming smiled at her. ‘It’s like I said to Jack last night. We owe it to George.’ Seeing the expression on Holly’s face, he explained. ‘He was a lovely man, your dad. The very least we can do for his daughter is to bail her out when she’s in trouble.’
Holly fought to keep her lip from trembling. ‘That’s really, really kind of you. My dad would be ever so pleased.’
The electrician was as good as his word and by half past ten, the lights were restored and the boiler fired up again. He explained that it was only a temporary repair, but that it should do the job for now. ‘When Bob Banks gets here this afternoon, he’ll be able to sort it out better. He’s a good plumber, is Bob.’
After he had left, studiously ignoring her request to tell her how much she owed him, Holly went round the house with a cloth, drying the condensation that had formed on the cold windows and checking that the radiators were all warm. The dog, clearly exhausted after the long walk, had taken to his bed and was snoring gently. Holly made herself a cup of tea before going up to the now blissfully warm bathroom and taking a leisurely bath. She emerged refreshed. The early morning walk really had done her good. Which was more than could be said for her Jimmy Choo boots. The footpaths on the moor had covered them in mud and scratched them badly. She knew she had to go out as soon as possible and buy something more suitable for moorland rambling. The question was, where?
The only woman she knew in the village to ask, apart from Dolores, was Mrs Edworthy. Leaving the dog sleeping in his basket, Holly let herself out and walked up the road to knock on the old lady’s door, hoping she hadn’t already left for her son’s house. In fact Holly only just caught her, as a car was already parked outside with the passenger door open. As soon as Mrs Edworthy spotted Holly she gave her a warm welcome and introduced her to her son. When she heard that Holly wanted a shoe shop, she had no hesitation. ‘I buy all my shoes from the Teign Valley Store. They’ve got lovely things there, and they sell dog food too.’
With hindsight, her last words should have served as a warning to Holly, but she gave them no thought at the time. She waved goodbye to Mrs Edworthy and walked up to the post office to buy something for lunch. As she did so, it occurred to her that, down here in the wilds of the country, she couldn’t really follow her normal London way of shopping – just picking up food as and when she needed it from any one of a host of available shops. With icy roads and limited choice at the post office, she resolved to find a supermarket and stock up on essentials when she went to buy shoes this afternoon, after the plumber had been.
Bob Banks, the plumber, arrived while Holly was still finishing her soup. There hadn’t been much choice of food at the post