Page 31 of Home This Christmas

TWENTY-SIX

‘I heard you were still here.’ Will Sutton approaches with me a broad grin as I make my way into the hotel.

‘Will, hi!’ I force a smile. It’s hard not to smile, really.

Will is undeniably attractive, if totally money motivated.

But then, maybe most businessmen are. Perhaps Nathan was ruthless in his negotiations for the site of his farm business, for all I know.

I suddenly damn this place and the uncertainty it has presented in my life.

‘How did you hear?’ I ask, thinking that he doesn’t actually live in Brindleford.

‘From a mutual friend of mine and Nathan’s,’ he tells me. ‘She works for him on his farm. It’s quite the place he has there.’

‘It is,’ I agree. ‘And a friend, you say?’

‘Well, I say that, but I think she is more Nathan’s on-off girlfriend,’ he divulges. ‘It seems Nathan hasn’t really settled with anyone since his divorce.’

‘Not that it’s anyone else’s business,’ I reply.

‘You’re right, it isn’t.’ He shrugs. ‘I think she just has a bit of a thing for him, but she says he prefers to play the field these days.’

‘Again, that is no one’s business,’ I say, despite the news having my heart sink.

‘I guess not.’ He looks me in the eyes. ‘But as you did tell me he was an ex, maybe you ought to know what he is like.’

‘Because?

‘I don’t know, maybe in case you become reacquainted. I am just giving you a heads-up, that’s all… I like you, Ruby, and I wouldn’t like to see you getting hurt.’

I wonder whether he is being genuine. Why would he not be?

‘Thanks for your concern, Will, but you don’t need to worry about me.’ I give a small smile.

‘Good to know. So do you fancy a coffee?’ He gestures to the nearby book café.

‘I’ll pass on this occasion, thanks; I have a bit of a headache.’ Ultimately, I can’t forgive him for the proposed demolition of the library and play park, no matter how sexy he is.

‘No problem. See you around!’

As he wanders off, at exactly the same time we both turn around to check each other out, and Will gives a sidelong grin. The quicker I get inside and pour myself a large gin, the better.

I move the small dressing table to face the window, where I set up my laptop, before I pour myself a large drink.

Dark clouds have appeared outside, suddenly obscuring the previous sunshine, and seeming to match my mood perfectly, as I prepare to write my article.

As I take in Roberto’s and observe one or two people entering for lunch, I think back to my evening there and can almost taste the mouth-watering food.

I sink my teeth into the delicious tart that tastes absolutely divine.

My writing comes easily, as I tell readers about my time here in Brindleford, and the charming high street.

I mention the cosy eighteenth-century Swann Inn where I’ve been staying and of course the wonderful food on offer at Roberto’s, along with the local walks he suggested I make readers aware of, including one or two of my own personal favourite strolls.

I also talk about the surprisingly good clothes store, and how it sells fashionable pieces at a great price.

A couple of hours later, I’ve fired off my article to the magazine editor and flicked on the television to find a Christmas movie is playing.

An impossibly handsome guy is flirting with a customer at a coffee shop, where she works as a barista, and I roll my eyes before flicking over to a different channel.

I settle on a house renovation programme, where two muscular men are knocking down a wall with sledgehammers. It would appear I cannot escape alpha males today, so I switch channels again and find a nature programme, featuring a snowy landscape and some robins eating from a bird feeder. Perfect.

Nursing my drink, I think about the events of the day, and consider Will’s comments.

Surely Nathan doesn’t have a reputation as a ladies’ man?

Then again, what do I really know about him?

After all, it has been half a lifetime since we were romantically involved.

Perhaps he is just having some fun following his divorce…

which neither I, nor anyone else has any right to judge him for.

Come to think of it, though, the woman at the farm did seem rather keen to enjoy some wine with him… and the young woman at the wedding was certainly captivated by him.

I sip my drink and think about the moment he was about to kiss me in the cottage. How easy it would have been to have gone along with it, had there been no interruption. And then what? An intimate liaison then goodbye from him without a backward glance?

If anything is going to distract me from those thoughts, it’s getting involved with something I promised I would try and help with. I take out my phone and find the number for Amanda Lewis and dial her number.

‘Amanda, hi, it’s Ruby Holmes. Do you have a minute to talk?’

‘Local TV news are coming here tomorrow?’ asks a shocked Marilyn when I impart the news to her later.

‘Yep. One o’clock sharp. I know it’s short notice, but long enough to get some protestors with banners together, I hope.’

‘Of course!’ she says. ‘Oh Ruby, how wonderful! Maybe Gerard could do a little promo of the church too, inviting people to come along to our services.’

‘Maybe, although I think we should concentrate on the matter in hand…’

‘Yes, yes of course, what am I like.’ She laughs. ‘Even though I believe you should never miss an opportunity in life.’ She winks. ‘At least the church will be in the camera shot, at least I hope so,’ she says.

‘I am pretty sure you could position your protestors within shot of the church,’ I suggest.

‘Yes, I will be sure to.’ She nods.

I log on and notice that Marilyn’s online petition already has almost two thousand signatures asking the council to reconsider their planning decision.

I decide to give the followers an update on events and invite them to the protest tomorrow if they are free.

The more publicity this campaign has, the better.

Not long after having done so, though, I worry that thousands of people will converge on the village tomorrow.

Surely not? But if they did, it would be wonderful for the protest, I tell myself, wondering if the locals will appreciate a demonstration, and I fleetingly hope that an angry mob won’t descend on the market square.

I get myself comfortable on my bed, and before long, I can feel my eyes become heavy with the effects of the gin. Afternoon drinking has never really been my thing, and before I know it I have drifted off into a deep sleep.