Once Upon A Christmas. Jennifer Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ another soul, unless you counted a black cat who took off like a thunderbolt as soon as it glimpsed the dog. Stirling gave token chase for a few feet and then returned to Holly’s side when she called. She was impressed.

      Holly decided to go to the pub for a meal that night. Following Mrs Edworthy’s instructions, she fed the dog before she went out and made sure that his water bowl was full. She even left the television on for him. It was a documentary about Arctic wolves, which struck her as particularly appropriate.

      The pub was called the Five Bells. It was set back from the village green and approached across a patio area that would most probably have been delightful on a warm summer evening. On a freezing midwinter evening on the other hand, it was far from inviting. Holly headed for the front door and pushed it open with her shoulder. A smell of wood smoke and blessed warmth greeted her. The ceilings were terribly low and she found herself ducking as she passed under some of the dark timber beams. There was a restaurant area to the left, while a sign to the right pointed to the bar. She chose the bar.

      It proved to be a good choice. There was a fine fire blazing in a huge granite fireplace, even bigger than the one in her dad’s kitchen. The room was warm and cosy and there were a couple of spare tables. She dumped her jacket on the one nearest to the fire and went over to the bar. The carpet was predominantly red, with a complex pattern, no doubt designed to hide stains. The bar itself was made of the same dark wood as the beams and it looked as if it had been there for centuries. A row of taps and beer engines along the counter indicated how many beers they had on draught. Not really a beer drinker, Holly avoided the Dartmoor Jail Ale and the ice cold super strength lager and asked the barmaid for a glass of white wine and the menu.

      She returned to her table and sat down. After a mouthful of wine, she raised her eyes and surveyed the other customers in there with her. A group of men drinking pints over at one end of the bar looked and sounded like locals, while three tables were occupied by couples, presumably out for a romantic evening. It was, after all, a Friday night. The landlord had made a lazy effort at celebrating Christmas by wrapping some tinsel round the horns of a stag, whose glass eyes stared out blindly from his moth-eaten face hanging over the middle of the fireplace. A token bunch of mistletoe suspended at the far end of the room was low enough to graze the heads of most people who walked past.

      Holly checked the menu, looking for something light like Parma ham or some sushi, but most of the food on offer was traditional rural English; pies, pasties and sausage and mash. After a few minutes’ thought, she decided to go for River Teign mussels. After placing her order, she sat down to reflect on the day and wonder whether the dog was chewing up anything of value in her absence. She had had a long drive that morning and an emotionally wearing afternoon and, before long, she felt her eyelids droop. As her chin touched her chest, she jerked her head up guiltily and glanced round to see if she was being observed.

      She was.

      Standing at the bar was a tall figure she remembered. He detected recognition in her expression and crossed the room to greet her, ducking as he passed under the main beam.

      ‘Good evening. I didn’t know you were a local.’

      Holly had a good memory for names. ‘Good evening, Mr Grosvenor. I wondered if I might meet you here.’ This sounded a bit too flirty, so she hastily qualified it. ‘I saw from your card that you live here in Brookford.’

      ‘It’s Justin, please. And I’m afraid I don’t know your name.’

      ‘My name’s Holly, Holly Brice. My father used to live here.’

      Justin Grosvenor’s face broke into an even broader smile. ‘So you’re George’s daughter. Well I never. He talked an awful lot about you, you know?’

      Holly nodded. ‘I’m beginning to get the picture. He was well-known in the village.’

      ‘Well-known and well-loved. He and my father were very close and he often came round to our house.’ Justin Grosvenor caught her eye. ‘He was very generous and always ready to help out. Why, there’s even the George Brice pavilion down at the cricket field. He put up the money to build that.’

      ‘There’s a cricket field? I only just learnt today that there are tennis courts. I wouldn’t have thought there’d be a flat enough field for cricket.’ Underneath the bland conversation, Holly found herself yet again having to come to terms with the fact that the awful man who had blighted her mother’s life as well as her own maybe wasn’t the foul monster she had been led to believe.

      ‘I’ve got the only court worth playing on up at my house. You’d be very welcome any time if you fancy a game. Mind you, if you’re even half as good as your father, the rest of us wouldn’t stand a chance.’ Holly could sense his eyes on her, checking her out. She was glad she had chosen to put on a smart top, recently purchased in the pre-Christmas sales. He was more casually dressed than the last time she had seen him, wearing a check shirt and heavy green jumper, a tweed outdoor jacket hanging over his arm. He looked more like a member of the landed gentry than a financial adviser. A very good-looking member of the landed gentry. In many ways he reminded her of a number of the men she had dated over the past few years; good-looking, well-heeled and well-spoken. Somehow she always seemed to gravitate towards alpha males. It was just a pity that none of them had turned out to be as alpha as she had hoped so far; indeed, some falling far short of the definition. What about Justin Grosvenor, she wondered to herself, but then noticed a heavy gold ring on his finger. She was unsurprised. Now that she had reached her thirties, she was increasingly finding that the good ones were already taken.

      He glanced down at her half-empty glass. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘What is that you’re drinking? It looks a bit suspicious to me. Sure they haven’t watered it down?’

      She grinned. ‘It’s rather nice, actually. It’s a Pinot Grigio; they’re always very pale. Anyway, thanks for the offer, but I’ve had a long drive and a pretty stressful day today, so I think I’ll go onto water when I finish this or I’ll fall over. And, besides, I’ve got a guest back at the house waiting for me and I’d better stay sober in case he causes trouble.’ Seeing the expression on Justin’s face, she explained about Stirling the dog. He, too, was a well-known local character.

      ‘You should have brought him. It’s funny; your dad always used to sit at this table, too, and Stirling would sprawl out in front of the fire. Next time, do bring him. Well, if you’re sure, I’ll just get you a glass of mineral water.’

      ‘Tap water’s fine. I imagine it’s rather good out here, not like the stuff that comes out of the taps where I live.’

      While he went off to get her water, a girl arrived with her mussels in a big enamel pot. She lifted off the lid and placed it, upside down, on the table top alongside the pot to take the discarded shells. It was all steaming like a geyser. ‘Be careful. It’s all very hot.’ To Holly’s surprise, she also set down a bowl of chips. The mussels smelt wonderful and Holly realised she was feeling very hungry. The last food she had eaten had been an apple in the car on the way down the A303.

      ‘That smells terrific.’ Justin put a glass of water down beside her and commented. ‘I must buy you a drink more often. You’re very cheap to run.’

      Holly shook her head. ‘You’d be wrong there. I have a very expensive habit when it comes to wine normally. Sancerre, Menetou Salon, Chablis; I love them all, and if they’re a premier cru or, even better, a grand cru, then I’m in heaven.’

      Justin looked impressed. ‘That settles it then. You’ll have to come over to my place some time soon. I’ve got some excellent whites for you to taste. Mind you, СКАЧАТЬ