Kitabı oku: «Coming Home For Christmas: Warm, humorous and completely irresistible!», sayfa 2
As it was, everyone was on their best behaviour and it was only Harriet, her ex mother-in-law who seemed to find it difficult, despite the fact that Pippa had made it clear that Richard was sleeping on the sofa. Their relationship, if it even was a relationship was still at a very tentative stage. Harriet came sobbing into the kitchen early in the day, after one too many glasses of sherry, hiccupping that she was so sorry about what had happened.
‘Harriet, I’m sorry too,’ said Pippa, fighting back tears of her own, ‘but Dan left me, remember. I am allowed to move on.’
Except, was she moving on? Could she, when she had spent the whole day watching Dan, so natural with his daughter, who loved being with her dad, comparing him to Richard, so ill at ease, yet making an effort. Seeing the pair of them in the same room had sent her into total turmoil. What did she really want?
Was it Richard, who was so kind to her, and had gently reintroduced her to the idea that she might still be attractive, or was it Dan, who even now felt like a part of her that she would never get over losing?
‘Maybe I’m rushing things,’ she said aloud as she stared out of the window. She sighed, and sipped her wine, as she pottered around, tidying in the kitchen. Her two closest friends, Cat and Marianne, didn’t think so, pointing out that she and Dan had been living apart for over a year now and that he’d made his feelings perfectly clear. But part of Pippa felt guilty for finding someone new so soon. Even though it was illogical. As she’d reminded her mother-in-law, Dan was the one who had left.
‘Need any help in here?’ Pippa turned round with a start to see Dan standing in the doorway. Her heart pounded that bit harder. Should she still be having this reaction to him, when she had Richard? Guilt tightened across her stomach once more. ‘I rather think that’s my job, isn’t it?’
Not anymore, she felt like saying, but didn’t.
‘Go on, sit down, Pippa,’ said Dan. ‘If I know you, you’ve been on the go since six this morning.’
And that of course was the point. Dan did know her. And understood her, and got her. Did Richard? It was too soon to say. And unfair to consider, she scolded herself. She was just getting to know Richard. They both needed time.
But it was nice to be bossed about by Dan, so Pippa let herself be persuaded to sit at the table with a glass of red wine, while he loaded the dishwasher, dealt with the remains of the turkey, and even cleaned out the roasting dish, which she’d left to soak, intending to do it in the morning. Pippa wondered if Richard would ever do that if they stayed together – then felt guilty again for making the comparison. Richard brought different things to the table. She shouldn’t dismiss him for not being like Dan.
It was then that Dan dropped his bombshell, quite casually as he wiped fat away from the roasting dish, just as Pippa was beginning to feel mellow for the first time that day. For a second it felt like old times, and if she shut her eyes, she could imagine that things were as they’d always been, Dan in the kitchen by her side.
Before Dan said the words she’d never wanted to hear.
‘You and Richard look good together,’ he said. ‘I’m pleased for you.’
‘Oh,’ said Pippa who had been worried about his reaction. It had taken all her courage to ring Dan to tell him that Richard was coming for Christmas lunch, after her first aborted attempt. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind? I mean, I wouldn’t have had him over this Christmas, under normal circumstances, it’s a bit soon …’ her voice trailed off. How soon, was too soon, when your husband had rejected you?
Dan put the tray on the rack, and then turned to her, in such a familiar gesture it made her throat catch.
‘You had to move on sometime,’ he said. ‘I’ve been expecting it.’
‘Oh,’ said Pippa again. Her palms were sweating. Where was he going with this?
After a long and pregnant pause, Dan eventually said, ‘I think you should give it a go.’
‘But—’ Pippa wasn’t quite sure how to react. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t such calm acceptance of the situation. It really was over. She’d have to face it now.
‘We’re still married?’ said Dan. ‘I know. And I’ve been thinking. We can’t go on as we are, working the farm together as if nothing’s changed. Pip, I’m holding you back.’
Don’t say it, she begged him silently, please don’t say it. The words she’d been hoping never to hear, since he first suggested separating a year before. If he didn’t say them, there was still hope.
‘Pippa, I think it’s time we sorted this out properly,’ Dan said. ‘I think we should file for divorce.’
Marianne picked herself up reluctantly from the very comfortable spot where she had been sitting in Pippa’s cosy lounge. The twins, who had behaved impeccably well all day, were getting into hyper mode. It was only a matter of time before they lost the plot totally. She was so grateful Pippa had invited them for Christmas lunch, as December had been frantic this year, and she was glad to pass up the opportunity to cook on Christmas Day, particularly as her thirteen-year-old stepson, Steven, was going to spend Christmas with his mum, Eve. Gabriel was always moody the years when Steven wasn’t with them, as Eve had been a flaky mum at best, so it was good he had a distraction. Plus Marianne knew it would help Pippa (she and Gabe were closer as cousins than a lot of siblings, Marianne knew) to have more people there to minimise the awkwardness of the first post-separation Christmas together with Dan and his family. When they’d arrived and realised that Richard was there too, Marianne had worried the day was going to be more difficult than she’d imagined. But thanks to superhuman efforts from both Pippa and Dan, there had been no histrionics, and everyone had had a lovely day.
Marianne started to gather coats, bags and presents together with a sigh. It was so warm and mellow inside, she wasn’t looking forward to braving the east wind whistling off the hills.
‘Oi, lazybones,’ she said, gently giving Gabriel a kick. He was sitting sleepily by the fire, having uncharacteristically for him, tucked into the port after lunch. Gabriel’s parents, David and Jean, had opted for a quiet Christmas this year, and David had volunteered to do the evening shift on the farm, so for once Gabriel could relax. Marianne was pleased that he’d been able to enjoy himself, but he looked firmly ensconced where he was, and she had a feeling it was going to be hard work prising him out.
‘Come on, Gabe, it’s time to go,’ she said, as she’d had no response to her first foray.
‘Oh do we have to?’ said Gabriel, looking at his half full glass longingly. ‘It’s still early yet.’
‘The twins?’ said Marianne pointedly, trying not to feel irritated. Gabriel didn’t often do this to her, but she didn’t really want to go home on her own. ‘It’s nearly their bed time.’
‘Ten more minutes,’ pleaded Gabriel.
A further ten minutes elapsed, and Marianne was going to suggest they left again, particularly as Harry and Daisy erupted into a squabble, which was threatening to turn into all-out war. She glanced over to Gabriel, and saw he was deep in what looked like an important conversation with Dan, who’d emerged from the kitchen where he and Pippa had been closeted quite a while, looking rather gloomy. Marianne didn’t feel like she could disrupt them, and neither did she want to. Gabriel and Dan were good mates, and since his accident two years ago, she knew Dan needed to offload from time to time. Marianne hoped Pippa was all right. She’d followed Dan in five minutes later, looking a little bright-eyed, but, being Pippa, was now laughing and joking as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Marianne settled back to give it another half an hour, by which time the children were climbing the walls.
‘I really think I’d better take the twins home,’ said Marianne, hoping Gabriel would take the hint. Which he didn’t. I’m your wife, she wanted to say, and it’s Christmas. Was it too much to ask to cuddle up with her husband, while the children were in bed, and watch cosy Christmas telly, drinking wine and counting their blessings? Clearly Gabriel wasn’t even thinking about it.
So, with simmering resentment, Marianne took two overexcited and overfed three-year-olds home alone. They were so hyped up they refused either bath or bed for a whole fractious hour, before Harry shouted ‘I feel sick,’ and promptly threw up on the lounge floor. Followed five minutes later by a wail from his sister who had followed suit. Marianne had just about cleaned up and was about to pour herself a glass of wine, and sit down grumpily in front of the TV waiting for Gabriel to come home, when the phone rang. The instant she answered it, she heard Steven’s panic on the other end, and everything else was forgotten.
‘Marianne,’ he said. ‘It’s Mum. She’s really not very well. She’s locked herself in the bathroom and I don’t know what to do.’
Part One
My Broken Brain
Day One. 9pm
I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I’m not the sort to bare my soul. I’ve never ever written anything down about the way I feel. Except a letter to Pippa once, a long long time ago. This is just not me. But then I don’t know who me is anymore …
The old me was calm and patient, and easy going. The new me – is impatient, depressed and angry … So very angry at what’s happened to destroy my family, my life.
Which is why Jo said it might help to write stuff down.
(Jo’s my counsellor.) Christ. I can’t believe I wrote that. But then, I can’t believe I have a counsellor either.
Five minutes later
I keep sitting looking at the screen. What am I going to write? It’s not as if I have anything interesting to say. My life is pretty fucked up at present. That’s all I know.
I knew this wouldn’t help.
Half an hour later
I’ve had a cup of tea. Come back, sat here staring some more. I’d give up now, but Jo will want to know that I’ve written something down.
Where do I even begin?
Jo says, at the beginning … that sounds like some kind of lame story we had to write at school. I was never much good at that. I was never much good at anything apart from tending to animals, and ploughing the land. And now I’m not much good at that.
So … the beginning.
I used to be happy once. I had a family, a lovely wife, a farm we ran together. I didn’t know it then, but life was pretty damned perfect.
Then, two years ago, I had an horrific accident which caused me brain damage. And nothing’s been the same since …
20 Years Ago
First Christmas
‘You’re here! Already?’ Pippa looked stricken as she walked across the snowy yard, delightfully scruffy in an old raincoat, thick woolly jumpy, jeans, wellies, her auburn curls tied up in a loose ponytail. ‘Just look at me, I haven’t even changed yet.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Dan, his heart singing. Pippa could have been wearing a brown paper bag and she’d still have been gorgeous. He resisted the urge to pick her up and swing her in his arms, just in case her parents were looking out of the farmhouse window. He’d only met them again once, since he and Pippa had got together at the Farmer’s Ball, though of course he remembered them from when he and Pippa had been at school together, a lifetime ago. Pippa’s parents had been nothing but friendly and welcoming, but he didn’t want to get in their bad books this early on in his relationship with their daughter.
‘You did say, Christmas Eve, your place, 7pm, didn’t you?’ said Dan, puzzled. ‘We are still going to the Hopesay Arms, aren’t we?’ They’d made the arrangement earlier in the week, but what with it being Christmas week, he’d been flat out helping his own parents on their farm, and presumably Pippa had been doing the same.
‘Oh!’ said Pippa, her face dropping. ‘I thought we said eight. Mum and Dad like going to the early Christmas service at church, so they can be up early for the cows on Christmas Day. I offered to take charge of milking tonight for them. One of the farm hands was supposed to be coming up to help me, but he’s just rung to say he’s down and out with flu. I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to be ready for hours.’
‘I can help,’ said Dan, who didn’t care where he spent time with Pippa, so long as they were together. Ever since their first date, he’d been pinching himself that she was interested in him. Pippa North, the girl every guy in his year at school had fancied. And now she was his. Permanently, he hoped.
‘Would you really?’ Pippa looked like she might burst into tears.
‘Of course,’ said Dan with a grin. ‘Where do you want me?’ Luckily, he hadn’t dressed up too much for their date, and he didn’t mind if he got his clothes dirty. He’d do anything for Pippa, he realised, anything at all. Every time he met her, she astonished him more. How many other girls her age in Hope Christmas would be milking the cows instead of heading for the pub on Christmas Eve?
‘You’re amazing,’ said Pippa, throwing her arms around him in an embrace which he wanted to last for ever. ‘Let me find you some overalls to wear.’
Which is how Dan found himself half an hour later, sitting in the milking shed, listening to Christmas carols on Pippa’s old cassette deck over the hum of the machines and the cows bellowing, laughing at the way the evening had turned out.
‘And there was me planning to show you a wild night in Hope Christmas,’ he said, grinning. ‘At this rate we’re going to be too knackered to do anything.’
‘That would be difficult,’ said Pippa, smiling as she expertly removed a cow from the stalls and cleaned it up before patting it on its rump and sending it out to the yard. ‘Hope Christmas is hardly a hub of night life. I am sorry I’ve kept you from the pub though.’
He loved that about her, the way she was always so positive and kind.
‘Don’t be,’ said Dan. ‘I don’t care where I am so long as I’m with you.’
She looked at him shyly, and blushed.
‘Me too,’ she said, and he was hit by a sudden revelation.
‘I love you, Pippa,’ he said. It was the first time he’d ever said that to any girl, ever.
‘Oh Dan,’ she said, her eyes shining, ‘I love you too.’
He wanted to kiss her there and then, but there was a cow between them, and work to be done. But as Dan watched her, focussed completely on the task in hand, totally at one with the animals she was dealing with, he was hit by a second revelation. Come what may, Pippa North was the girl he was going to marry.
This Year
Chapter One
Marianne walked down the lane, feeling gloomy. It was a crisp clear January morning, but the Christmas snows had melted, leaving patches of forlorn looking but lethal ice. The twins had just gone back to nursery after Christmas. After a hassle to get them out of the door, they had readily raced down the lane, reminding her of the way Steven, and Pippa’s boys had run the same way when she’d first met them.
Now Steven, Nathan and George were turning into strapping young teenagers, their childhoods almost a distant memory. She should hold onto these moments with the twins. They would be over in the blink of an eye. Time seemed to be moving faster than she’d like. It seemed like only yesterday that she’d first moved to Hope Christmas, newly in love with stunningly good-looking Luke Nicholas, who’d promptly broken her heart. She’d nearly fled back to London then, but the lure of the beautiful countryside had been too strong. And then of course, there’d been Gabriel …
Even now, Marianne still found it hard to believe she could have been lucky enough to find Gabriel. He too had been left heartbroken when his wife Eve, who suffered badly from depression, left him, and slowly they had built something new together. And now, seven years on, Marianne was married, with a stepson and two lovely children of her own. Life couldn’t be better. And yet, and yet …
Marianne tried to shake off her feelings of melancholy, but she felt unsettled and as if she’d lost her sense of purpose. Another year and a bit, and the twins were going to be at school. Although Gabriel wasn’t putting her under pressure, Marianne felt she should be thinking about what she was going to do next. There was plenty to do on the farm, and Gabriel could always use extra help. But while Marianne loved being a farmer’s wife, she wasn’t born to it like Pippa. And although she also loved looking after the twins, she missed work.
‘I don’t know,’ she said out loud to a passing crow, ‘should I stick at being a farmer’s wife, or is it time I went back to teaching?’ She looked across at the fields bordering her home. It was lovely being out here, and she enjoyed working outside with Gabe, particularly in lambing season, but she missed being in front of a class. Not that she’d want to go back to Hope Christmas Primary, where the current head teacher had made her feel worse than useless. But if not there, where? And how? Marianne felt unfocussed, muzzy. Maybe when the twins were older, and maybe to another school …
Besides, work wasn’t the total reason for her discontent. Not really. She sighed, as she walked up the garden path and let herself into the home where she had been so happy for the past seven years. Where she still was happy, she corrected herself. It was just that Gabriel seemed a bit distant at the moment.
When questioned about it, all she got was a curt, ‘I’m fine,’ but he had admitted to being shaken by Pippa and Dan’s divorce. ‘I still can’t believe they’ve split up,’ he told Marianne, ‘they seemed so right, so solid. It makes you think, doesn’t it?’
‘Not too much I hope,’ Marianne joked, but Gabriel hadn’t responded, just taken himself off to the fields, retreating into a taciturn silence at home.
It had been like that since Christmas. Marianne tried to be supportive. This was the start of Gabriel’s busiest time of year, and he often came in late from lambing, usually too late to see the children. Which was a pity, because the only thing that seemed to cheer him up was the twins. He always came to life when they jumped on him as he walked through the door, or at the weekends when Steven was home from school. But the rest of the time, Gabriel seemed to brood. Marianne knew that brooding look of old – it was the way he’d looked when she’d first met him. Unhappy, sad, lost. Marianne had hoped never to see that look again, and she had a feeling she knew what was causing it.
Eve. Gabriel’s ex. Since that frantic phone call on Christmas Day, things had gone from bad to worse with Eve. Marianne and Gabriel had dropped everything and gone to rescue Steven, kids in tow. They had been greeted with sobbing hysterics, and while Gabe had worked his magic (born of years of practice), calmed her down and persuaded her to take her medication, it had only been a temporary fix.
A day or so later, she’d been on the phone telling Marianne that she was being spied on, and nothing Marianne could say could calm her down. And after that they’d endured a week of late night phone calls, of worsening degrees, till eventually one morning they had a call from a neighbour to say Eve was outside her house, dressed only in a nightie.
Gabriel and Marianne had dropped the twins with Pippa and rushed over straight away, to find Eve, looking lost and bewildered, sitting sobbing in her neighbour’s kitchen, her feet bleeding, where she’d cut them on the garden path.
‘We have to call an ambulance,’ Marianne said as Gabe tried unsuccessfully to coax her back home.
‘I can’t go there,’ Eve said anxiously, gripping hold of Gabe’s arm, ‘they’ll find me.’
‘Who?’ asked Gabe with patience acquired from years of experience. ‘Eve, there’s no one here but us, and we won’t hurt you.’
‘Them,’ said Eve stubbornly. ‘Can’t you hear them? They’re whispering about me all the time.’
Marianne, Gabriel and the neighbour exchanged helpless glances, and when Gabe questioned her further it transpired Eve had stopped taking her medication altogether. By now Gabe had got onto Eve’s mum, Joan.
‘She’s the worst I’ve seen her in a long time,’ Gabe said. ‘I really think she needs to go to hospital.’
In the end, on the advice of the doctor who came out, to Gabriel’s evident distress, Eve had to be sectioned for her own safety, as she clearly couldn’t be left alone. It was an upsetting business, Eve screaming that they couldn’t make her go, the doctor saying she had to. In the end after Gabriel made numerous promises that he and Steven would come and see Eve as soon as they could, she was persuaded to get into an ambulance by the kind paramedics.
‘I wish there was another way,’ Gabriel said desperately to Marianne as they followed Eve to the hospital. ‘I’m never convinced hospital helps her.’ He was really shaken up by the whole thing, clearly reminded of the time when Eve was living with him and had done similar.
‘It makes me feel so helpless,’ he said to Marianne. ‘Even now, after all this time, I want to help her, and I can’t.’
It was really sad, Marianne could see that, and she felt particularly for Steven, who was very distressed by his mum’s relapse.
‘It was really scary, Marianne,’ he confided in her. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’
She was glad that he’d gone back to school, where he could be distracted from worrying about his mum. And at least now Eve was safe and being looked after.
‘She’s not your responsibility anymore,’ were the words she longed to say to Gabe, but she knew that he would always feel responsible for Eve, come what may. It was something she’d taken on when she married him, but back then Eve had been well. Marianne hadn’t factored in this, or the impact it would have on her marriage.
Normally Marianne wouldn’t have minded, but now it made her uneasy. She’d always accepted Eve for Steven’s sake, but since Eve had split up from her ex, Darren, a year ago, she’d become more and more needy. And from where Marianne was sitting, it seemed like the person she needed most was Gabriel.
‘Peekaboo!’ Cat was lying on the floor on her tummy, face to face with her granddaughter, whose nose was pressed up so close to her own, Cat was surprised she could still breathe. ‘Peekaboo’ was always guaranteed to make Lou Lou giggle, which it did now.
‘Boo! GaGa! Boo!’ Lou Lou gurgled, clapping her hands in delight. Cat loved the fact that her granddaughter was trying to say her name already. It gave her a warm glowing feeling all over. In fact, considering her inauspicious beginning, literally born in a barn to her 16-year-old single mother, Mel, Cat still couldn’t believe how happy Lou Lou made her. An unexpected blessing, despite the uproar it had caused in all their lives, especially coming so soon after Cat had lost her beloved mum, Louise, after whom Lou Lou was named. Now Lou Lou was part of the family, and it was as if she always had been. And Cat couldn’t help a sneaking feeling of gratitude that she had this second chance baby, to replace the one she’d lost around the time Mel had got herself pregnant.
‘Peekaboo,’ said Cat again, and Lou Lou giggled as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Cat giggled too. She’d forgotten how much babies laughed, and it made her realise she didn’t laugh enough. Sometimes it felt as though the years of responsibility, looking after the children, and her mother who had developed Alzheimer’s frighteningly young, had taken their toll. Lou Lou was teaching her how to laugh spontaneously again, which was an added and unexpected bonus of being a granny.
Mind you, it was hard to remember to laugh sometimes, when you were working till late to make up for the chores lost due to time spent playing with your grandchild. Luckily Cat who had developed a somewhat unexpected career as a TV chef since coming to Hope Christmas, was in between TV series at the moment, as she seemed to be doing more than her fair share of childcare, since Mel had gone back to sixth form college to start AS Levels in the autumn. When she got the green light for the new programmes she was planning: A Shropshire Christmas, a programme devoted to local recipes and traditions from Shropshire’s past, things were going to get a bit more tricky.
‘We’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it, Lou Lou, won’t we?’ Cat said, tickling her granddaughter.
It wasn’t Mel’s fault – for the first few months of Lou Lou’s life, she’d been great. Accepting her loss of freedom without complaint, dropping out of school for a year to care for her daughter, allowing Cat the time to continue with her working life relatively uninterrupted. And when sixth form college was first mooted, Mel had protested, saying ‘Lou Lou’s my responsibility, Mum, I can’t hand her over to you.’
Never had Cat been prouder of her daughter, or loved her more, despite the difficulties involved in trying to support her. But there was no way that she and Noel were going to let their beloved daughter miss out on her education. So when Lou Lou was eight months old, Mel went back to college, Lou Lou went to nursery part time, and Cat found herself suddenly being far more of a hands-on granny than she’d quite intended.
The results had been worth it. Cat loved the time she was spending with Lou Lou, and Mel who was working really hard for her exams was predicted good grades. She wanted to go into journalism, and had found a course she was interested in at Birmingham so she could study and live at home. Which was wonderful, but Cat felt with some degree of certainty, that Granny was going to be called on even more often than before.
And that was fine, of course it was.
‘Don’t be so negative,’ Cat chided herself, it was just that at a time in her life when she’d hoped to have a lessening of responsibilities, she felt that she was getting bogged down in even more. And it was hard not to feel a little resentful. Was life never going to get easy?
Since Christmas, Angela, who up until now had always been very independent, seemed to need more of their help, which was worrying. It only seemed like five minutes since Cat’s own mum had been ill, and Angela had quietly stepped into the breach and been immensely supportive. Cat wasn’t ready to lose her too.
‘Banish that thought from your head, right now, Cat,’ she muttered, concentrating instead on trying to make Lou Lou laugh some more, which was much more cheering. ‘And on the bright side, your clever mummy has been earning some money,’ she added.
‘Mama, mama,’ agreed Lou Lou, giggling as Cat tickled her tummy.
Mel had managed to get herself a book deal via her anonymous blog, Mum Too Young. She’d written a quirky, funny take on life as a teenage mum, complete with cartoons, which she’d self-published. It had been a great hit, and Mel had since been taken on by a publisher. She’d retained her anonymity, ‘I just don’t want to start sixth form college with baggage,’ she’d said, ‘I want to be the same as everyone else,’ – which made Cat want to weep for her daughter. She had given up so much by having Lou Lou so young, and coped so well with it. But Cat did wonder if it was a good idea for Mel to keep her two lives secret.
The phone rang, reminding her that she was supposed to be working today as well as looking after Lou Lou. She’d been waiting for a call from her agent, Anna, re her proposed new Christmas book and series. She’d been a bit distracted with babysitting of late, and hadn’t been as assiduous about chasing it up as she’d intended.
‘Catherine, honey, how are you?’ Anna was the only person who ever called Cat, Catherine.
‘Fine,’ she said, propping the phone in one hand, while tickling Lou Lou with the other. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit tied up today, I’ve got Lou Lou.’
‘I’m very sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ said Anna, who tended to be blunter than Cat’s original agent, Jenny, who’d retired some years back, ‘but they’re not interested in the new series. They feel A Shropshire Christmas is a bit too retro.’
‘What?’ Cat was staggered. ‘But it was their idea.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Anna, ‘but you know what these TV companies are like. They want to freshen things up a bit, bring in a different cook. They’re talking about Sienna Woodall, she’s the latest thing, apparently.’
And ten years younger. The words lay unspoken between them. Cat should have seen this coming. She’d had a lot of jokey comments from the crew during her last series about fading to grey, and needing to botox, now she’d passed 45, and there had been several nasty swipes in the press about middle-aged spread – ‘A greying corpulent whale’ as one reviewer had not so kindly put it. It was true, she couldn’t shift the weight as easily as she once had, but she was hardly obese. It was so unfair. No one complained about Jamie Oliver putting on weight.
‘I’m sure something else will turn up,’ continued Anna, in a not terribly convincing manner. ‘You’re still in great demand.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Cat, with an optimism she didn’t feel. ‘I always knew it would happen one day.’
And it was true she had always known it deep down. Faces went out of fashion all the time, why had she thought she would be any different? She’d been lucky to get the gig at all, and TV was a fickle world. She was no more special than anyone else.
Pippa was baking, partly to relax, partly to supply the community café and shop in the village run by Vera and Albert Campion. Several years ago when the post office Vera had singlehandedly run was under threat, the whole of Hope Christmas had come together to save it and the shop and café was the result. Pippa baked for them most weeks but more frequently when she was under stress. Today was definitely such a day.
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