What Happens At Christmas... (10 page)

Downstairs, she was delighted to see that her improvised barrier – a suitcase – had been enough to keep the dog from coming up to jump into bed with her. He had relinquished his basket and was lying on the floor, with his nose at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her. As she appeared, he jumped to his feet, the whole back half of him wagging along with his tail, as he made delighted whining sounds. Holly removed the suitcase, stepped off the stair and gave him a hug. It was, she reflected, rather nice having somebody so pleased to see her in the morning, especially as she had only just climbed out of bed.

‘Hello, handsome, ready for your walk?' As ever, he rushed to the door with great enthusiasm. Holly pulled on her new Wellingtons and buttoned herself into the yellow oilskin. She picked up a hat and unlocked the door. It was noticeably warmer outside than the previous days, but there was a gusty wind and the rain was relentless. Even Stirling hesitated before venturing out. Holly pulled up her hood, locked the door and set off along the stream with him. By now, dawn should have been breaking, but it was still pitch black. Nevertheless, after a few minutes, her eyes became accustomed to the gloom and she was able to pick her way alongside the now far fuller stream as it rushed past, swollen by the rain. They did an abbreviated circuit this morning and were back at the house by half past eight, by which time a grey glow was visible in the eastern sky and she could begin to make out shapes and objects. As she opened the door, she glanced over to Jack's house and was pleased to see the bag with the bottles had disappeared, hopefully before the onset of the rain.

No sooner had the dog got inside the house than he shook himself, sending water everywhere. Holly struggled out of her waterproof gear, hung the coat on the back of the door and grabbed an old towel. She called the dog over and set about drying him. Within a very short time, the towel was soaked, as was she. The dog obviously loved all the attention and was doing his best to reciprocate by rubbing himself up against her. Her jeans were now wet, her jumper soaked and even her hair. There was an all-pervading smell of wet dog in the house and some of it, she realised, was now coming from her. Finally, she gave up. He still wasn't completely dry, but at least he had stopped dripping. However, no sooner had she released him and stood up than he shook himself once more and she could still feel droplets landing on her.

‘Oh, God, dog! What a bloody mess.'

Just at that moment, Stirling ran across to the door, tail wagging, and three seconds later, the doorbell rang. Holly went over and opened it to find Jack on the doorstep, getting wet. She motioned him inside. ‘Hi, come in. I'm terribly sorry, but this place, this animal and I all stink to high heaven.'

He came in as instructed, shaking raindrops from his arms and shoulders as he did so. He gave her a broad smile. ‘Smell? I can't smell a thing apart from that haunting perfume you're wearing.'

‘
Eau du dog
, I think you'll find it's called. I'm just about to make tea, if you can stand the smell and the mess.'

‘I don't want to interrupt. I just came round to thank you for the amazing wine. There was no need for that.' He crouched down on his heels and stroked the dog as she went over to fill the kettle. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him. He had strong arms, broad shoulders and, squatting down, his jeans were really rather tight-fitting. Once again she found herself surprised to be feeling attraction, if that was what this was, to somebody so different from her normal choice of man. Jack was scruffy, Jack was an outdoor type and, putting it bluntly, he wasn't exactly as well off as most of her men had been. Hastily, she busied herself with the teapot. The kettle boiled and she filled the pot. By this time, the dog was hinting strongly that he would quite like a bit of breakfast as well. Remembering the biscuits she had bought the previous day, she dug out the packet and gave him one. He settled down on the floor to crunch it up. Holly put the tea, milk and mugs on the table and sat down.

‘Here, come and have a seat, Jack. How about breakfast? I've got some fresh cereal if you want it.'

He sat down and shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I've already had some toast, but don't let me stop you.' Holly took another look at his amazing greeny-blue eyes. They were friendly, but somehow mysterious. As she poured the tea she found herself reflecting that when it came to neighbours, this one would do very nicely indeed.

‘Here.' She passed the mug across.

‘Thanks.' There was a slight pause while she wondered what to say. She realised that part of her very much wanted to ask him about his relationship with Dolores, but she couldn't think of a way of doing that without sounding pathetic. Seeing as they were both English, she tried the weather.

‘Wet weather gear needed today.'

‘The forecast's for the rain to last all morning, maybe all day. I'm afraid Brookford gets more than its fair share of rain. By the way, they were saying this morning the bookmakers have reduced the odds of a white Christmas right down. Some big depression supposed to be coming across from America.'

‘That would be fun.' She glanced out of the back window. ‘Not so much fun in Greta, though.'

‘Greta?'

‘Greta the Porsche. The first three letters on the number plate are GRE, so it seemed a logical choice of name.'

‘The first three letters of my old heap are XYX. Not a lot you can do with those. But, name or no name, the Land Rover's just about the best vehicle around if we really do have a white Christmas.'

Just then, the phone started ringing; not Holly's mobile, but her father's old landline. Nobody had used it up till now and Holly had to dig around under a pile of clutter before she found it. She gave Jack an apologetic smile and picked it up.

‘Hello.'

‘Hello, is that Holly Brice?' The voice sounded familiar. ‘It's Justin Grosvenor. I wasn't sure if the phone was still connected.'

‘Hi, there. You're the first phone call I've had since I got here.'

‘Well, look, Holly, I was wondering if you were free this afternoon. How would high tea sound?'

High tea sounded impossibly old-fashioned if the truth be told, but the idea of spending some time with Justin Grosvenor had distinct appeal. ‘That sounds lovely. Where and when?'

‘How about I pick you up at three?'

‘That would be great. See you then.' As she put the phone down and turned back towards Jack, Holly found herself thinking rather naughtily that the last thing she had been expecting down here in the wilds of the country was that she would end up having tea with two handsome men on the same day. The fact that one of them was most probably married and the other one a bit too rough and ready for her normally rather discerning taste was something she decided to shelve for now. She wondered what Julia would think when she told her.

Jack had finished his tea by this time. Beside him, the dog had demolished his biscuit and exhausted his search for crumbs. Both of them stood up, the dog heading for his basket, Jack heading for the door. He paused when he reached the doormat.

‘The forecast for tomorrow's very good and I'm planning on going up to the north Devon coast. I don't know if you're familiar with it, but it's very lovely. Maybe if you have time you might like to come with me? We could have lunch in a little café I know.' Holly had no hesitation.

‘That would be great, Jack. I don't know the coast at all. What've you got to do up on the coast?'

He looked a bit sheepish. ‘To be honest, the forecast isn't only good as far as sunshine's concerned. There's also supposed to be a good wave coming in.' Seeing her incomprehension, he explained. ‘Surf. I'm afraid I'm an addict, and they're talking about good clean waves tomorrow, six to eight feet.'

‘Is that good?'

‘For Devon, it's awesome.'

‘But it'll be freezing cold, surely?'

He shrugged. ‘Wetsuit, hood, gloves; I'll be okay. Besides, the sea temperature at this time of year's a good bit higher than the air temperature. Anyway, unless you want to come into the water with me…' He saw Holly shudder at the thought. ‘If you bring Stirling, you can give him a run on the beach. I'll only be in the water for an hour or so.'

Holly glanced across at the window where the wind was driving the rain into the glass. It looked awful. ‘
Only
an hour…?' She left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

Jack gave her a smile. ‘Excellent. How about we leave around ten-ish? That way I can get a surf in, and then we can go and warm up indoors at lunchtime.' He grasped the door handle. ‘Thanks for the tea and thanks again for the bottles of wine.'

Holly spent the rest of the morning making a start on her father's stuff. She began in the living room, sifting through books ranging from classic fiction to engineering handbooks. By the look of the titles, he must have been very interested in machinery of all types and in stainless steel in particular. She set aside a dozen or so books for her own use and added the others to a growing pile, behind the sofa, of things to be sent to the charity shops. From there, she moved into the under stairs cupboard and it was there that she made her first significant discovery. Underneath a pile of junk, ranging from old tennis shoes to back copies of
Engineering World
magazine, she spotted a steel ring, set into the floor. She gave it a tug and discovered a trap door and a steep old wooden ladder, leading down into a cellar. There was a light switch at the top of the ladder so she tried it. It worked. With great care she climbed down and looked around.

Her first reaction was one of disappointment. The tiny stone-walled room, more of a priest hole than a storeroom, was almost empty. It was freezing down there and the walls were cold and damp. Over to one side there were a series of bays, made out of slabs of slate, presumably to take bottles and jars. There were half a dozen boxes, some wood, some cardboard, sitting there, but that was all. She looked inside a few of the boxes and saw that they contained bottles of wine. She pulled out a couple at random and carried them back upstairs again. One was a white Burgundy and one a Bordeaux red. She put the white in the fridge and set the red on the Welsh dresser. At least now she would have more than enough wine, along with the bottles she had bought the previous day, to last through until well after Christmas, even with Julia coming to stay.

By lunchtime, she had cleared all of the ground floor, apart from the kitchen. She had found a few items of interest, among them a good tennis racket, but otherwise nothing really worth keeping. Until she bought a bigger flat in London, she had very little spare space, so she decided to be ruthless. No doubt the charity shops in the towns around the edge of Dartmoor would be grateful for anything she didn't want.

By this time, the rain had finally stopped, so she took Stirling out for a longer walk before lunch. Then, after tidying up the worst of the mess in the kitchen, she went upstairs to have a shower and wash her hair. She had no idea where Justin intended taking her for tea but, as he was always so immaculately turned out, she decided she had better dress up, just to be on the safe side. She chose a short skirt that emphasised her long legs and a light pink jumper she had bought in Harrods some months previously. She completed the outfit with a very stylish, though rather uncomfortable, pair of Jimmy Choo heels.

Justin drew up outside at exactly three o'clock. Holly gave the dog a biscuit and told him to be good. As a precaution, she put the suitcase back across the stairs.

‘Holly, you're looking wonderful.' Justin opened the car door for her rather formally, but Holly had already worked out by this time that he was a fairly formal sort of man – from his behaviour to his clothing. As she approached the car, she immediately recognised she had a problem. Her skirt was not only short, but tight, and there was no way she could step up into the high vehicle without hitching the skirt up around her waist. Her intention had been for Justin to get a good look at her legs, but maybe not quite that much of them; at least not at the beginning of a first date, if that was what this was. Luckily, she wasn't the first girl in a tight skirt to try to get into the Range Rover. Justin was familiar with the problem, and the solution. ‘You'll find that if you go in bottom first and then swing your legs round, you'll manage it with your modesty intact.' She took his advice and slid easily and demurely onto the white leather seat. He closed the door and came round to the driver's side. Holly gave him a big smile.

‘This is very kind of you, Justin. Where are we going?'

‘The Castle, if it's all right with you.' He must have seen the expression on her face so he explained. ‘Don't tell me you haven't heard of the Castle. It's one of only a handful of hotels in Devon with two Michelin stars. Its high teas are legendary and it's even attracted royalty; junior royalty, but still royalty. It's barely a couple of miles away and, in fact, on a better day, we could've walked across to it. You must have seen the golf course as you came into Brookford. That belongs to the Castle and there's a public footpath across it. I tell you what – if you're still here in the summer we'll walk it.'

‘Somehow I doubt it. I'm here to get Dad's house ready for sale.'

His face fell. ‘Oh, I'm sorry. You'd make a wonderful addition to our little community.'

‘Somebody else told me that, but I've got a job in London.'

He started the engine. It purred quietly, unlike the throaty roar that Greta gave off as she warmed up. ‘Is it a job you enjoy?'

‘Yes, very much.'

‘Are you good at it?' He pulled the gear lever into drive and they moved off almost soundlessly. She felt as if she were sitting in a truck, compared to the low-slung Porsche. She had to admit that it certainly improved visibility.

She caught his eye and grinned. ‘I'm very good at my job.'