Page 16 of Home This Christmas

TWELVE

‘So, do you live in the village?’ I ask Esme.

After posing for selfies and signing autographs, which still feels a little surreal to me, Esme and I are sitting on stools around the huge kitchen island, sipping cups of tea.

I am still getting over the shock of Nathan being here, and how being close to him made me feel, so the soothing tea and pleasant company are a welcome distraction.

People mill around us, enjoying the stalls set up along the back wall of the kitchen, including the ever-popular tombola, so it’s like the fete has come here too.

‘I do. We bought a house here a few years ago after deciding to get out of the city, slow the pace a little,’ she tells me.

‘Which city?’ I ask, unable to quite detect her accent.

‘Leeds. We were there for five years, and before that Manchester. I was born in Ireland, though, and lived there as a child,’ she explains.

‘And how is it working out for you living in a village?’ I ask, thinking of how I did the exact opposite, and moved to the city all those years ago.

‘It’s wonderful. I love the sense of community, and Pippa has made some lovely friends.

The village school is adorable, and it’s nice that her teacher really knows her, unlike in her last school,’ she says, helping herself to a shortbread biscuit.

‘The classes were so huge, it must have been hard for the teachers to give the kids the attention they deserved,’ she reflects.

For a second I imagine myself with a child in the local primary school, sitting in the same classroom I once did, and feel a rush of warmth.

‘Look, Mummy.’ Pippa returns clutching a brown teddy with a tartan ribbon around its neck, that she won on the tombola.

‘How lovely,’ says Esme. ‘It seems we are both winners today, then!’

Pippa takes a sip of orange juice before dashing off again to explore the stalls, including a second-hand book and toy stall.

‘I can understand that. I guess there are advantages and disadvantages in both places,’ I say, thinking of the opportunity for theatre and culture in the capital, not to mention better job prospects.

‘No doubt, but I think a village is a nice place to raise a child,’ she says, and I suppose I must agree.

I had a wonderful childhood here in Brindleford, going on long walks and running free in the hills.

We always played together in a group, so our parents never worried too much.

When it came to events like Bonfire Night and Halloween, the excitement was contagious.

Everyone in the village would be involved in one way or another to ensure a memorable time was had by all.

‘So what brought you to Brindleford in the first place?’ I ask.

Esme tells me her husband John is a paramedic and burnt out working in a city. While she worked all hours at clothes shop she owned but barely broke even with the cost of renting the space.

‘It was a no-brainer to come here. John’s grandparents once lived here, and they always spoke so fondly of Brindleford. We now live closer to both sets of parents, who are in sheltered accommodation a couple of miles away.’

‘That does make sense.’ I nod. ‘What do you do for work now?’

‘I have an online fashion business, which not only cuts out the high street costs but means I can be around to collect Pippa from school.’

‘That sounds perfect,’ I say as I sip my tea.

‘It works for me. I sell pyjamas and leisurewear mainly, which thankfully are proving to be very popular. Especially at this time of year. I am selling lots of festive pyjamas for all the family,’ she says, and I picture happy families in matching pyjamas, standing in front of a log fire and posing for a family photograph.

We chat easily, and as I glance around, I notice a mix of age groups mingling.

Maybe it is a nice place to live, if you don’t mind everyone knowing your business.

And as much as I can see the charm in watching local amateur dramatics in the village hall, I wonder if I would miss having a pre-theatre meal in a restaurant, before enjoying the latest offering from the West End.

Despite my reservations, I can see the appeal for someone raising a family.

Esme could quite easily become a friend if I lived here.

Despite any feelings of nostalgia, though, I outgrew this village a long time ago.

An hour later, after lots more chatting and promises to return soon, I am just approaching the Swan Inn when June strides out onto the High Street, humming, ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’.

‘Oh, hello, love. I’m just heading to the butcher’s for some more of those award-winning pork sausages for tomorrow ’s breakfast,’ she says, ‘which, as I recall, you haven’t had a chance to sample yet.’

‘Well, I am out for dinner tonight, but as you recommend them so highly, I will try them tomorrow morning before I leave.’

I’d checked the train situation and there had been no further updates, but I’m still holding on to the hope that the situation might change.

‘Marvellous.’ She blows heat into her hands. ‘That’s if everything is back to normal, of course,’ she tells me.

‘How do you mean?’ I frown.

‘Staff illness, apparently. Half of them have gone down with the norovirus. And what with the snow already causing problems, it seems the service is still significantly reduced.’ She says, ‘And more snow is forecast for tomorrow.’

I let her words sink in.

‘Ooh I didn’t think I’d need my gloves, I’m only going to the butcher’s, but it’s blooming freezing.’ She laughs, seemingly oblivious to my frustration. ‘Anyway, love, I must go before they sell out. There are more tea bags and coffee in your room.’

I can still hear her tuneful humming even as she trots away to the butcher’s.

Norovirus? Snow on the tracks? Give me strength. This trip has brought nothing but delays and problems so far.

I whip my phone out, and sure enough my train has been cancelled until tomorrow morning at least. Dammit.

I consider getting in touch with Henry, although he is staying with his son until after Christmas, so won’t be heading home just yet.

Perhaps I could borrow his car, and he could take the train home…

Yes! That sound like a plan, and didn’t his son say he was worried about his father driving all that way anyway?

I can’t be here for Christmas, I think to myself as I walk. It’s been lovely catching up with Marilyn and getting to know Esme, but I want to spend Christmas back home in London, with Coleen.

I am almost at the Swan Inn, when I hear the toot of a car horn and a Range Rover pulls up in the road alongside me. I prepare myself to say ‘hi’ to Will, but as the window slides down, I have to catch my breath.

‘We meet again.’

‘Nathan, hi!’ I say, suddenly feeling a little left footed. I hoped I might be in and out of the village without encountering him again and dredging up more old memories. And how does he still look so handsome? He has hardly aged a bit.

‘Sorry we never got much of a chance to chat, me dashing off like that,’ he explains. ‘I had to take delivery of some farm equipment.’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry.’

He smiles that easy smile.

‘I am glad to know you achieved everything you set out to,’ he comments without much emotion. ‘In London I mean. It seems you are quite the celebrity these days.’

‘I don’t feel like one, but thanks. And it really has been good seeing you, Nathan,’ I say, despite my brain telling me to leave the past in the past.

Then, he looks at me with those gorgeous brown eyes and something jolts inside me. I’m shocked at the effect he’s had on me, and how I feel conflicted: part of me wants to stand here and talk to him all day, another part can’t get away quick enough.

‘Well, it was good seeing you today, Ruby; enjoy your stay here,’ he says, before glancing at his watch. ‘I had better be off then. Take care.’

‘Thanks.’ I surprise myself by wishing we could chat for longer. But what is there to say?

He stays put for a moment, his hands on the steering wheel.

‘So, will you be around for much longer?’ he calls after me as I walk away. ’We could go for a coffee?’

I am slightly taken aback after his snarky comments while we were judging, yet all the same I can feel my heart soar.

Suddenly, I am a teenager again, and he is asking me out on a date to the cinema in the next town.

I recall how my heart skipped a beat when he slipped his hand into mine, as we stood in a queue to watch King Kong.

We had tossed a coin over whether to watch King Kong or Pride and Prejudice and he had won.

‘Yes, I’m staying here,’ I say, gesturing to the pub behind me. I can feel the catch in my voice as I speak, my heart racing. I hope Nathan doesn’t notice it too. I am waiting for him to ask me for my number, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. And there is no way I am offering it to him.

‘Great. Well, I will be in touch. Bye, Ruby.’ He smiles.

Why does it feel so nice when he says my name?

‘Merry Christmas, Nathan.’

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk inside the pub, before he finally drives off.

Once inside, I order a brandy at the bar and down it in one.

‘Cold, are we?’ June comes into the pub with a bag of shopping and gives me a knowing look.

‘What? Oh yes, freezing.’ The warmth of the brandy washes over me, helping me to relax. What on Earth was that I felt? It certainly seemed like more than a friendly hello. I am also a little confused. He never asked for my number, yet tells me he will be in touch. And why do I even care?

I can’t help but replay our teenage years in my head, when we would sneak around the back of the farm buildings, kissing passionately, hands exploring each other’s bodies, yet somehow managing to refrain from going any further.

Eventually, having left school, we did once spend the night together at a hotel out of town – some corporate Premier Inn type place as I recall – where we declared our undying love for each other.

Even then, I think a part of me wanted more, and despite our heady teenage love, I knew I didn’t want to stay in Brindleford forever.

Occasionally, I wonder why I accepted his engagement ring and smiled when the locals held a surprise party at the village hall.

Despite my love for Nathan, things were already beginning to feel a little claustrophobic.

People would constantly ask when the wedding was, and some of the older villagers would smilingly ask us if we were looking forward to the patter of tiny feet.

I remember the conflict I felt, genuinely loving Nathan, yet yearning to spread my wings.

‘So, you know Nathan, then? I saw you two chatting,’ June asks, reminding me once more that nothing goes unnoticed around here.

‘Oh yes, many moons ago,’ I say casually.

An almighty crashing sound comes from the kitchen then, which thankfully saves me from any more of her questioning.

‘Oops, better go.’ June dashes off to the kitchen, so I quietly head upstairs to my room.

If I had already checked out, I would never have encountered Nathan, I think to myself as I flop down onto the window seat and consider my options, which I am beginning to realise are very limited.

With no way of getting out of here and only days until Christmas, it would appear I am well and truly stuck here.