Christmas at Lilac Cottage: (#1 White Cliff Bay) (2 page)

She watched Henry look around the room and then he moved away. She heard the sound of furniture being dragged across the floor. The huge shadow of the bookcase was pulled in front of the door, blocking out all the light from the window and then it stopped, resting against the door. He clearly had no intention of ever using the connecting door, now or in the future. He had made a blockade to keep her out permanently. Penny felt the tears that sprang to her eyes at this gesture and she dashed them away angrily. She had been rejected.

P
enny zipped
up her jacket and walked into the cool room that was attached to the kitchen. The heating was on very low in here and she felt the cold envelop her straight away, but in her warm clothes she didn’t feel it too much on her body. It was only her face and hands that felt it.

She looked around her newly converted room; it was so much nicer and roomier to work in here than it was before. The room was large with the ice-block-making machines up one end that made the metre-long blocks of ice and there was a large space in the middle for her to work. The floor and walls were tiled to maintain the coolness of the room and for easy cleaning.

She opened up one of the block machines; the water was oscillating slowly inside to keep the ice pure and clear. The water was partly frozen at the bottom, the perfect time to add some of the decorations her clients had asked for. This particular one wanted fairy lights, interwoven with snowflakes. She placed the glittery snowflakes in a rough pattern in the middle of the block and weaved the fairy lights in between them, weighing them down so they didn’t float to the top of the water and taping the cable for the lights to the side. It looked magical and she knew it would look even more so once the piece was finished.

The walk-in freezer was up the other end and she opened the door. Several blocks stood along the back wall, waiting patiently to be turned from large ice cubes into masterpieces. Along the side were about ten sculptures that were finished and ready to go out.

She had been carving ice for about ten years and she never tired of seeing the finished pieces, never failed to feel proud of turning a block of ice into something beautiful. She even enjoyed creating her most commonly requested piece, the swan, which almost every wedding party asked for.

She grabbed one of the ice blocks, which was resting on a wheeled platform, and pulled it out into the cool room, closing the freezer door behind her. She snapped the brakes on the wheels and looked at her blank canvas.

This one was going to be a Christmas tree. She had already stuck the template on a few hours before, now she was going to carve it. She pulled on her gloves, slid her safety goggles over her eyes and picked up the die grinder to trace the outlines of the template. The thin drill bit on the end was the perfect tool to sketch out the design. She pressed very lightly because the main detail would come later.

She could lose herself for hours in here, spending time perfecting each curve, swirl, feather or leaf. When she was in here, the only thing that filled her mind was carving, chiselling, scraping, sawing and creating something intricate and beautiful. That was why she loved it so much, because there was no time to think about how the whole town of White Cliff Bay seemed to be moving forwards with their lives while Penny’s life had stagnated, frozen in time, there was no time to focus on her loneliness, or the heartbreaking feeling that her loneliness was probably going to last a lifetime. She could get lost in a sculpture for hours and never have to think about these things. It was only when she stepped out of the cocoon of her cool room to warm up that the real world invaded her thoughts.

Having finished marking out the lines of the template, she picked up the chainsaw and started lopping off the big pieces she wouldn’t need. She wouldn’t think about Henry and his slate grey eyes and she wouldn’t think about how her loneliness had seemed to have inexplicably doubled since he had pushed the bookcase in front of the connecting door.

H
enry hovered
at Penny’s back door, unsure whether to knock or not. As he raised his hand to tap on the door, Penny stepped out from some room off the kitchen. She was wearing black waterproof trousers and a black jacket which clung to all her wonderful curves, making her look sexy as hell. She looked like she was about to get on a motorbike and drive off into the sunset. She pulled off a pair of workman’s boots and unzipped the jacket. He quickly looked away in case she was naked underneath. After a few seconds he chanced a very brief look back and was relieved to see she was wearing a tiny vest and, as the waterproof bottoms came off, he could see she was wearing black leggings underneath too. She hung the clothes up in a closet and pulled on a huge, oversized hoodie, obscuring that sexy body from view. Her conker brown hair that had cascaded in curls down her back earlier was pulled up in a messy ponytail. She looked dishevelled and messy and utterly adorable. Her green eyes looked sad and he wondered whether he’d put that look there or whether she always carried it with her.

He looked down at the white roses he was carrying and wondered whether it was too much. He didn’t want her to attach any romantic motives to the gesture.

Penny suddenly spotted him and he waved. She didn’t wave back; the cheery persona she had presented earlier had vanished, the sparkle in her green eyes had gone out. She visibly sighed and then came to open the door

Tiny flakes of snow swirled around them, settling on her eyelashes and in her hair. There was something about her that he felt drawn to. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but there was much more to it than that.

Henry offered out the roses. ‘I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. As moving days go, this had to be the worst. Even before I got here, everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I was grumpy and tired and I’m sorry. I was wondering whether that offer of lasagne and mince pies was still open.’

Penny stared at him in confusion. ‘I, erm…’ She looked around as if an excuse would suddenly present itself. She didn’t want him there and he felt like an utter ass. He had a lot of making up to do. As she clearly couldn’t think of somewhere important that she had to be, she nodded reluctantly and stepped back to let him in.

He handed her the roses and she took them.

‘I see you moved the bookshelf,’ Penny said, trying and failing to keep her voice casual as if she didn’t care. He had hurt her with that too.

‘I can move it back, I just… I’ll move it back.’

‘No it’s fine, it’s your home, do what you want.’ She shrugged.

He hadn’t even thought what Penny would think about him blocking the door – of course she would be upset by that.

‘Listen, the last place we lived, we not only locked all the doors and windows at night, but we locked the bedroom doors too and I slept with a baseball bat under my bed. We moved here because it’s a better area, it’s better for Daisy. It’s just going to take a bit of getting used to that everyone is so friendly and helpful. I’m sorry if I upset you. I’ll move it back tonight.’

Penny stared down at the flowers and clearly softened. ‘I’ll put these in some water and make us some dinner.’

Henry breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Would you like a glass of mulled wine, while you wait?’ She filled a vase with water and plonked the roses in some haphazard arrangement.

‘Yes please, it smells wonderful,’ Henry said, sitting down at the large dining table. He watched her as she moved around the kitchen. There was something so captivating about her, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

‘It’s my own recipe, I just sort of threw some ingredients together.’ Penny lit the hob under the saucepan and gave it a stir. ‘It’s sort of a Sangria and mulled wine mix. Red wine, rum, brandy, fruit juice, fruit, some spices.’

‘Sounds very potent.’

Penny laughed and he liked that he could see the warmth and spark back in her eyes.

‘Yeah, it might be. I haven’t tried it. At least neither of us are driving.’

A giant, deep red, shaggy beast ambled into the kitchen, sniffing at the lasagne that was warming in the oven. Henry laughed; he had never seen anything so ridiculous-looking in his entire life.

‘Wow, what breed is he?’

Penny laughed. ‘I don’t think even he knows. Half red setter, half English sheepdog, half Newfoundland maybe.’

‘That’s a lot of halves.’

‘I know. He thinks he’s a tiny lap-sized dog too, always climbs on my lap for a cuddle and then squashes me to death, he must weigh seven stone. Seriously, he could give pony rides to small children.’

‘He looks like a Muppet.’

‘Don’t say that, you’ll upset him, but yes I know. The vet says he has never seen any dog so red before and with his shaggy fur he does look as if he’s just walked off
Sesame Street
. Henry, meet Bernard. Bernard, this is Henry, our new neighbour.’

Bernard came and sniffed him with a vague interest. Clearly Henry met with Bernard’s approval as he sat on Henry’s feet, demanding to be stroked. Henry stroked his head and rubbed his chest. He looked up to see Penny smiling at him and then she quickly looked away.

He watched as she poured two large glasses of the mulled wine concoction and brought them to the table. She passed Henry his glass.

‘Should we make a toast?’ she asked.

‘How about… to new beginnings.’

She stared at him and then smiled, chinking her glass against his.

H
is grey eyes
were so intense, like he was studying her, searching for answers to some unanswered question. He took a sip without taking his eyes off hers and she noticed straight away that he didn’t have a wedding ring.

‘Thank you for decorating next door for Christmas by the way. Daisy will love it.’

‘My pleasure. I didn’t get you a tree. I guessed that you and Daisy would want to get one together.’

‘She’d like that, thank you.’ Henry smiled and Penny felt her heart leap. She had never been the sort of girl to fall in love with a smile before, but there was something about his smile that filled his whole face. He was married, she had to remember that.

She focussed her attention on Bernard for a moment so she wouldn’t have to look at the smile.

‘So what brings you to White Cliff Bay?’ Penny asked, taking a sip of the wine.

‘Work mainly. I have a job at the White Cliff Bay Furniture Company, starting after Christmas.’

Her eyes widened. ‘As a carpenter?’

He nodded. That at least explained the lack of a wedding ring; he worked with tools like she did, and wearing jewellery could cause injury.

‘Wow, they are so selective about who they take on,’ Penny said. ‘I hear they have something like five hundred applicants every time they advertise. Isn’t there some crazy interview process?’

‘Yes, it kind of felt like
The Generation Game
with all these tasks that we had to do. We were shown once how to do a process and then had to replicate it within a certain time with the utmost quality and care. It was a whole day thing with the woodwork skills demonstration in the morning and a panel of seven interviewers grilling me for over two hours in the afternoon. I came out feeling like I had run a marathon.’

‘They only take on the very best so you clearly did something to impress them. It will be a huge feather in your cap if you ever decide to move on. Everyone knows how prestigious the company is.’

Henry took a big swig of the wine. ‘We don’t intend to move on. I hope to stay in White Cliff Bay for some time.’

The way he said that, staring right at her, sent shivers down her spine. Was he flirting with her? She shook that silly thought out of her head, taking a big gulp of the wine. It was spicy and fruity and, as Henry said, very potent.

She tried to tear her eyes away from Henry’s gaze but struggled to do so. She quickly turned away from the table to dish up the lasagne.

‘Have you always been a carpenter?’

‘Yes, I love it. There is something wonderful about creating something beautiful with your own hands. I’ve made and sold my own furniture but I’ve also made wooden jewellery and statues too. That’s more of a hobby, though, but it’s something I like to do in my spare time. I know I asked the agency about this, but they said you would be happy for me to use the shed as a sort of workshop?’

Penny nodded. ‘Yes, it’s huge and I only really use a small part of it. Feel free. I would love to see some of your jewellery and statues. My job is quite similar.’

‘What is it you do, Penny?’

‘I’m an ice carver.’

‘Oh, that’s cool. And do you get enough work in that line of business?’

She placed the plate of lasagne down in front of him and sat down to eat hers. ‘Do I get enough to pay for this place, you mean?’

Henry’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Sorry, that came across as very nosy, didn’t it? Ignore me. I hate it when people ask me about my work and my money. It’s absolutely none of my business.’

‘The house belonged to my parents, I grew up here, but they emigrated to Italy several years ago and left the house to me and my brother. He lives in the next town and I bought him out of his half of the house. I’m the only ice carver for miles and there are weddings every weekend, business functions, parties. I have to turn down many jobs because I just don’t have enough time to do them. It pays very well.’

Henry looked surprised but she’d got used to those comments by now; no one took her job very seriously and certainly didn’t believe that she could support herself on it.

‘And, erm… is there a Mr Meadows?’

Penny stabbed a piece of pasta with her fork. Why did people assume that she needed a man to keep her happy? She was perfectly fine on her own.

‘I’m presuming by the way you are murdering that piece of lasagne that I’ve stepped on a sore nerve there. My apologies.’

Penny smiled as she looked at the massacred piece of lasagne.

‘I only asked because that hoodie looks way too big to belong to you,’ Henry said.

‘I just like big jumpers or hoodies. They’re comfortable. There isn’t a Mr Meadows, there never has been. Everyone in the town says I should be married with babies by now so it gets a bit wearing. I… I’ve had my heart broken in the past and I guess I’m wary of falling in love again.’

She stared at her dinner in horror. Why did she feel the need to divulge that to him? She barely knew the man. How much wine had she drunk to loosen her tongue that much? It wasn’t even true. She wasn’t not with someone because she was scared of falling in love again, she was just happier on her own. It was easier this way. She took the last sip of wine in her glass and went to the stove to pour herself some more.