What Happens At Christmas... (16 page)

‘I don't think there was ever anyone special, you know. He just enjoyed female company and they clustered around him like flies.' He looked up and he was smiling again now. ‘Bit like me, really, only I'm much more handsome.' Without giving her time to comment, he raised his glass, drank some more champagne and muttered to himself. ‘
Big and flamboyant
. They've got it dead right. This really is a rather good wine.'

He reached for the bottle and topped up both glasses, then, serious once more, he took hold of her hands and looked straight into her eyes. ‘Holly, I know it's hard for you to bear, hard for you to understand. There was never another woman in his life after Lynda died. The fact is that she was his everything. He loved her the way Romeo loved Juliet, Abelard loved Heloise. He would have died for her. Her death was a crippling blow to him and he never recovered. When he came back here, he met people, made friends; men and women, but there was nobody who could replace Lynda. With one exception, Holly, and that would have been you, but you had been torn out of his life. Or rather, he had torn himself out of your life.' He released her hands and took a mouthful of wine.

Holly blew her nose into a tissue and they sat in silence for quite a while before he stirred himself, reached out and produced a large white envelope that he set down on the coffee table.

‘I found a few photos of your father. I wondered if you'd like to see them.'

‘Oh, Howard, that's so very kind. I'm still going through his stuff, but so far I've hardly found any photos of him at all. Just the one of him on the GWB website with his second wife.' She hesitated, then spoke the name. ‘With Lynda.'

‘Well, let's see if you like these.' He tipped the contents of the envelope onto the table. There were a number of shots of cricket teams, celebrations and some more formal events. Holly's father was in all of them. Howard leant a bit closer and talked her through each of the photos, from the victorious 2009 cricket team to her father opening the new cricket pavilion. Her father looked healthy, handsome and happy in all the photos and Holly felt a thrill of pride to see him so obviously well-respected in the community.

The one marked Christmas Eve 2012 was interesting. A large group had been assembled on the elegant stairs of the Castle, the men dressed in dinner jackets, the women in ball gowns. She recognised a number of the faces she had spied in the pub the other night, among them Bertie and his blue-haired wife Melissa, aka Marge Simpson. Right beside her father, Holly couldn't miss a busty redhead in a green silk gown. She looked a lot younger than him, but from the way she was looking at him, she clearly liked him a lot. Might this be the woman putting flowers on his grave, she wondered.

Anxious that she might be showing too much interest, Holly half-turned towards Howard, pointing to a different woman, her arm linked with Howard's. She was tall, elegant and spectacularly beautiful. She could have been an ageing film star.

‘The stylish lady in the black gown, is that your wife?'

For a moment, Howard showed his age as a shadow crossed his face. He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, that was my Bella.' He looked up. ‘Not her real name. She was French and she was called Odile. I always thought it was a terrible name, so I called her Bella, from the Italian. Means beautiful, you know. Most beautiful woman in the world, I always thought.' He summoned up a little smile. ‘Present company excepted, of course.' He took a mouthful of champagne and carried on. ‘She died of that damned cancer, just like your father. It was in the spring of last year, but she'd been dying slowly for six months. We were together for almost forty years, you know.'

‘I'm so sorry, Howard. She certainly was a very beautiful lady.'

‘She was, she was.' Howard turned away and cleared his throat.

Holly transferred her attention back to the photos, allowing him time to compose himself. The group photo for 2014 showed Howard standing alone in the middle of the bunch. Her father was just to his right and, this time, there was an attractive brunette at his side, a look of adoration on her face. She saw other familiar faces, among them Justin and Jack, both in tuxedos and both looking very desirable. There were women near both of them, but none exhibiting the sort of visible affection of the brunette beside her father. The farmer had been right. The ladies had evidently all loved her dad. When Holly had studied all the photos, she slipped them back into the envelope and glanced up at the old man. He was looking more serene now.

Holly risked a question about his wife. ‘So, where did you meet your wife? Over here or over there?'

‘We met in Paris. I worked over there most of my life until I decided to retire, sell the company and buy this place.'

‘What was it you used to do in Paris?'

He looked up and caught her eye. ‘Now, you're not going to laugh at me, are you?'

‘I wouldn't dream of it.' Holly held her breath, waiting for the revelation.

‘Lingerie. Women's underwear.'

Holly gawped. ‘Women's underwear? You sold women's underwear?'

‘Only wholesale. Used to design the stuff.'

‘You used to design women's underwear?' Somehow, Holly had assumed this would have been done by women. ‘Isn't that a bit like me trying to design a jockstrap?'

‘Takes a bit of getting used to, but you soon get the hang of it. Got to love the subject, of course.' He looked up and gave her a grin. Following this revelation, Holly realised that she was also feeling more cheerful now. ‘Always have. Always will. And I studied engineering too, a long time ago. Comes in very useful. You see, that's something you and I've got in common. We're both engineers, just that my kind of engineering doesn't make your fingernails black.' He grinned more broadly at her. ‘Although it's good if you have warm hands.'

Holly giggled into her wine. ‘Are you famous? Should I have heard of you?'

‘You've probably heard of the company.' He went on to name one of the best-known names in lingerie. Holly gulped.

‘Wow! And that was your company? It's got to be one of the most famous in the world. And I had no idea it was an Englishman behind the name.'

Howard grinned. ‘Yes, that's why we went with a very French name for the company from the start. I'm very glad we did. English underwear these days tends to conjure up the image of Bridget Jones.' He swallowed the last of his wine and stood up. ‘And now, if you're feeling hungry, I think we could eat. Keep the photos. They're for you. I've got copies.'

Lunch was delightful and taken at a leisurely pace. It was almost three o'clock when Howard finished his little cognac and sat back. Holly could see the fatigue in his eyes. ‘And now, my dear, I really have to have a rest. When I lived in Paris, a few hours in bed after a good lunch would have been an energetic way of working off a few calories. Now, at my ripe old age, all I want to do is snooze.'

Holly stood up and went over to hug him. ‘Howard, that was a wonderful meal, wonderful wine, wonderful hospitality in your wonderful home, and you are a wonderful host.'

‘And you, my dear, are a wonderful guest. I think I told you this before, but I love the company of beautiful women.' He held up his hand. ‘All right, all right, you're too English to accept a compliment. Let me just say how fortunate I feel to have had you to myself for a few hours. Beauty, brains and a charming personality; your father would have been delighted at the way you've turned out, you know. Delighted and proud. Thank you Holly.'

‘Thank
you
, Howard. And thank you so much for helping me to get to know my father.' She kissed him on both cheeks and turned away, feeling quite emotional.

Howard accompanied her to the door and saw her out to the car. Geoffrey drove her home at a sedate pace and Holly took advantage of the gentle ride to ask a few technical questions about the car. At first surprised that a girl should show such interest in cars, and then even more surprised that she was able and willing to chat to him about the advantages and disadvantages of the straight-six engine, he told her all about the car and about the three other classic cars in Howard Redgrave's possession. As he dropped her off outside her house, she had to admit that Howard must have sold a lot of bras to be able to afford this sort of lifestyle. For somebody who had started life in his own words as common as muck, he had done very well for himself.

She went into the house and received a boisterous welcome from Stirling. After giving him a hug, she walked through into the lounge and sat down on the sofa. She had drunk quite a lot of wine this lunchtime and she was feeling drowsy. She closed her eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes again, it was pitch dark and she was boiling hot. Or, to be more precise, her stomach was boiling and quite uncomfortable. For a moment she wondered if she might have contracted food poisoning, before the penny dropped. She reached down with her hands and encountered a warm body, sprawled across her.

‘Oh, Stirling.' She couldn't bring herself to really scold him and she scratched his head as he stretched and yawned. ‘You shouldn't be on the sofa, you know. Now I'm going to have to wash this jumper or I'm going to smell of Labrador. And it's one of my good ones, too.' He gave no sign of concern or contrition.

With her free hand, she reached for her phone and checked the time. To her surprise, she saw that it was half past five. She had been asleep for two hours. In the glow cast by the telephone screen, she spotted the table lamp and switched it on. Blinking in the sudden light, she lay back, still stroking the dog, and gave serious thought to just what was going to happen to Stirling once her two weeks in Devon were over. She had become very attached to him in a very short space of time and she knew, without doubt, that she really didn't want to be separated from him.

With the huge pot of money that her dad had left her, she knew she could afford to buy a place in London with a bit of garden for Stirling, although the problem she had to face up to there was her lifestyle. The dog would find himself spending a lot of time on his own and, as his current close proximity to her proved, he liked company. She rarely worked less than a nine hour day and she went out most evenings, either socialising, playing tennis, or to the Classic Car Restoration course she was following at the local college. She smiled as she reflected that very few of her female friends were likely to share her dream of restoring a vintage car to full working order. One of the most wonderful things about her father leaving her all that money, was that she knew that this dream could now become reality.

There remained two other alternatives. One was to take Justin's advice and move out of London, choosing to work from home. She knew this idea wouldn't be popular with her present employers, but she was confident they wouldn't want to lose her expertise and would ultimately agree. Where this home might be was the second part of the conundrum. She had only been in Brookford for a very few days but she already felt a strong bond, brought about most of all by the affection the community felt for her father. She was sensible enough, however, to realise that life in such a tiny, remote and potentially suffocating environment might prove to be too different from the busy life of London.

The other possibility was the one she had had the other night and it was worthy of consideration. Although it would separate her from Stirling, she felt sure it would be an excellent solution for the dog if Jack would agree to take him. They got on well together, Jack's life was based locally, he didn't work full time and he loved the outdoors. If he would agree to take Stirling, it would be a most satisfactory solution, even though Holly knew deep in her heart that she would find separation from the big dog very hard to bear, even after just these few days. The added advantage of this plan would, of course, be to provide an excuse to see Jack again from time to time. She really didn't want to lose either of them if the truth be told. She looked down at the dog's comatose form sprawled across her and smiled. Yes, she would really miss him.

‘Stirling, you've been lying around here all day. How about a walk?'

The dog was off her lap in a flash, heading for the door. She pulled off her good jumper that now most definitely smelt of dog, and replaced it with an everyday one. Stepping into her Wellingtons boots, and taking her jacket and hat, she opened the door and they went out. They did the now familiar half hour loop around the village, her eyes soon acclimatising to the darkness. While she walked, she did a lot more thinking about the future direction of her life. Partway through, she got a call from Julia.

‘Hi, Hol. You all right?'

‘Hi, Jules, I'm fine. How did the dinner party go?'

‘Really great. I mean really, really great.' Holly knew her well enough by now.

‘And was the food a success as well?'

‘Do you know, Hol? I think it was, probably.' Clearly the food had not been the high point of the evening. ‘He certainly ate everything and said some very nice things about it. Anyway, I just wanted to run something across you. I know it's all very short notice, but I was wondering. Would you mind awfully if I brought Scott on Friday?'

‘Of course not.' Holly was doing a bit of quick thinking. They could have her room with the double bed and she could move into one of the other two bedrooms. ‘Will you both be travelling down on the same train? All it'll mean will be you having to squash yourself into what Porsche optimistically refer to as the rear seats.'

‘No need. His folks live in Cornwall and he's coming by car. He can't get away till later on, but he'll drive down and come straight to your place early to mid evening. Are you sure it's all right?' There was pause. ‘I mean, it won't bother you having us bonking like rabbits in the next room while you're staring at the ceiling dreaming of Mr Range Rover.'