A Christmas Cracker: The only festive romance to curl up with this Christmas!. Trisha Ashley

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СКАЧАТЬ to see that the boy has taken some interest in what will one day be his inheritance, his ideas for rectifying this are a little too arbitrary. He wants to invest in developing the mill site and has even had plans drawn up and sent out to me in Malawi.’

      ‘You mean, he wants to turn the cracker business around?’

      ‘No, he wants to close it down entirely and use the mill as some kind of shopping and café venue for day-trippers. He seems to think the workforce should all be ready to retire, though I’m sure they are no such thing. But I can see that they must overcome their resistance to change if the firm is to continue. And this is where you come in, Tabitha – as my right-hand woman.’

      ‘Do call me Tabby – and do you mean you need a PA?’

      ‘Of sorts. I need someone with artistic flair, youthful energy and vision, who can breathe new life into the cracker business.’

      ‘But I don’t know anything about running a business; I only packed things in boxes,’ I said blankly. ‘Or about crackers … except that sometimes, when we hadn’t much money, Mum and I made our own.’

      ‘Well, the principle is much the same. And I don’t need someone to run the business, because I’m quite capable of doing that now I’m home, I need … an artistic director and someone to back me up when my nephew comes to discuss the way forward.’

      She sat back and beamed at me. ‘What do you say? I’m sure with your input we can turn things round by Christmas and Randal will have to accept that any plans he has for the rest of the site must include cracker making at its heart. And after that, if you should want to stay on with us, we will earmark a studio for you when the outbuildings are redeveloped, so you can pursue your own artistic ambitions.’

      ‘I – it all sounds fascinating,’ I confessed. ‘Where would I live?’

      ‘Since the cottages are all currently occupied, I thought you might have the former cook-housekeeper’s apartments behind the kitchen in the west wing. There’s just a small bedroom and a tiny sitting room, but it would be all your own.’

      The thought of space in which I could be entirely alone and unobserved was bliss.

      ‘I’ll do it,’ I said, ‘if you really think I’ll be useful.’

      ‘I’m certain you will. There, that’s settled,’ she added, looking pleased. ‘We’ll expect you once you’re released. Cedric has explained to me that you will have to wear some kind of electronic tag for a few weeks and be confined to the house at night – not that there is anywhere to go to in the evenings in Godsend, anyway.’

      ‘Yes, and I’ll have to give them your address before they’ll release me. Then all my things are at my ex-fiancé’s house, so I’ll need to collect those at some point, too. He’s packed them up and put them in his garage.’

      ‘I hope it isn’t damp,’ she said, tutting disapprovingly. ‘Give me the address and phone number and I’ll have Job drive me over to collect them in a day or two – it will make you feel more at home if your own things are waiting for you at Mote Farm, won’t it?’

      ‘Well … yes, though he lives near Formby.’

      ‘That’s no distance,’ she assured me.

      ‘And he’s likely to present you with a bill for storing them!’

      ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.’

      ‘That’s so kind of you,’ I said, ‘but I don’t think I’ll have enough money to pay you back straight away.’

      ‘Oh, don’t worry, it can come out of your wages eventually. I’m afraid they won’t be substantial, but as you’ll be living in and eating with the family, that will save you expense.’

      ‘It sounds wonderful,’ I said.

      ‘Then that’s settled and you’ll come to us as soon as you’re released. I’ll look forward to it. I’m sure Ceddie was guided to tell me about you, because you’re just the person I need.’

      ‘I hope so,’ I said.

      ‘You are bright, artistically talented and practical – those are all the qualities I require,’ she said cheerily, then asked if I had enough money to travel to Lancashire on my release. I assured her I had and declined her offer to send the long-suffering-sounding Job down again to collect me.

      I didn’t tell Mercy I intended making an illicit detour to Formby in search of Pye, because I needed to know exactly where he was and if he was happy. I was pretty sure the authorities would expect me to go straight from the prison to the known address, but with a bit of luck they’d never know and I’d still arrive at Mote Farm in time to be ringed like a pigeon that afternoon.

      I tried to identify the strange feeling stirring in my heart, and eventually decided it was the pale wraith of optimism.

       Chapter 7: Life of Pye

      Q: What happened to the man who stole an Advent calendar?

       A: He got twenty-four days!

      By my release day I’d started to wonder if I might have become so institutionalised that I’d soon be looking back longingly at the safe familiarity of the open prison.

      The final formalities were completed and I learned that even though I had a long journey ahead of me, I still needed to be at Mote Farm by five, so that I could be tagged there the same day.

      When I got into the waiting taxi to be driven to the nearest station I had with me the small suitcase and handbag I’d gone to prison with (though with less money, since my phone calls had been deducted from what I’d had) but also a black bin bag, since Emma had sent me that big parcel of clothes and art materials and I’d had to put the overflow into something. It was not a good look.

      Still, at least I now had access to the small amount of cash in my bank account … enough to buy a train ticket and a bit over. When I changed trains in London I purchased a cheap nylon holdall from a shop on the concourse and shoved the whole bin bag into it. I felt less as if I had ‘newly released prisoner’ stamped on my forehead after that.

      My heart lifted with every mile that passed on my long journey home to Lancashire, though I was worried that when I got to Formby, either Jeremy wouldn’t be home, or he would refuse to tell me where Pye was. I didn’t have a lot of time to spare before I had to be at Mote Farm for the electronic tag to be fitted, so though I was desperate to discover how – not to mention where – Pye was, I knew if there were any problems I’d have to dash off and come back another day.

      Unless the timetable had been changed, Jeremy had no school music lessons after two on Mondays and was always home by three.

      And luckily, when yet another expensive taxi dropped me off there (depleting my fast-dwindling reserve of cash), I saw his car on the drive – but unfortunately, so too was Kate’s familiar white Polo.

      I wondered why she had come back with him – and also if I could restrain my natural urge to take her by her СКАЧАТЬ