Meet Me Under the Mistletoe (18 page)

‘Dreadful news about the Christmas dinner,’ Pam said, across the table. ‘First time in years they’ve had to cancel it.’

The other women chorused their agreement. ‘Such a shame,’ Diana said.

Joyce turned to Laurie to explain. ‘It’s at one of the homeless shelters in Leeds,’ she said, ‘each year they put on a Christmas dinner, but this year, what with the cuts, they can’t afford it.’

‘Andy, the manager, is absolutely crushed,’ Diana said. ‘I spoke to him this week, he called to say thanks for the latest delivery – he works so hard for that place. Year on year he’s put his own time into making Christmas Day at the shelter special. I don’t think he’s spent it with his own family since he joined. But he says seeing what a difference it makes for the homeless people there has always made it worthwhile. He’s still trying to think of a way to raise money, find a way to put it on, but they’ve got more of their day-today costs to cover now, too. He can’t see how they’ll be able to do it.’

‘All we can really contribute is the rag money,’ Joyce said, ‘but that’s never much, is it?’

The women slowly returned to their work. The germ of an idea started to form in Laurie’s mind.

‘Hey,’ Laurie said to Diana, ‘how about this for a plan?’

Diana looked up from the linen-bound book she was logging figures in.

‘Some of the clothes we send to the rag man are actually pretty good quality. They might not be warm enough for the winter, and obviously some of them are damaged, or faded, but there are some decent fabrics in there.’

Diana stayed quiet as she waited for Laurie to continue.

‘What about if I had a go at customising them?’

‘How would that help?’ Diana asked, confused.

‘With a few original outfits we could have a fashion show here – at the community centre – and auction the pieces off.’ Laurie said. ‘Christmas Glamour’ – she waved her hand as if she were spelling it out in lights – ‘Under the Hammer!’

She waited for Diana to absorb the brilliance of her idea.

‘One-off designer pieces – with all the proceeds going towards Christmas lunch at the shelter.’

‘Sounds like a lot of work,’ Diana said, sceptically, dropping her head and going back to her note-making.

‘I could handle it,’ Laurie insisted, running with the idea now, excited at the prospect of having a new project to manage. ‘We’d want it on a weekend, say the Saturday after next … the sixteenth, so that Andy would have time to get the dinner organised afterwards. It looks like I’ll still be here then, and we’d have a week and a half to plan it. Tight, but I’ve managed worse. What do you reckon?’

‘All right,’ Diana said. ‘If it’ll keep you quiet, let’s put it to the room. Ladies,’ she said, her bold, brassy voice ringing out. ‘Laurie’s suggested a clothes auction – to raise money for the Christmas dinner. What do you think? Shall we give it a go?’

One by one, the women nodded, then chorused their approval.

‘Looks like it’s a yes,’ Diana said.

‘I was thinking of Christmas Glamour Under the Hammer as an evening event,’ Laurie said as the women listened, mugs in hand, during their tea break. ‘We could set up a catwalk …’

‘There are some big wooden blocks out the back,’ Diana suggested. ‘I think the Am Dram people used them to make stages.’

‘Great,’ Laurie said, ‘we can use those. Then we’d charge a small entrance fee to watch. And after the show, bidding on the pieces would start. So, we’ll need some models,’ Laurie smiled encouragingly. ‘Go on, who’s up for it?’

The women looked at each other hesitantly. For a moment no one said a word.

‘I’m game,’ said Joyce, raising her hand.

‘I could give it a go,’ Pam added. ‘Although I’m not sure I’ll be any good.’ With her delicate bone structure and natural grace, Pam had a timeless glamour; Laurie was pleased she’d volunteered.

‘I’ll step in for one,’ Diana said, and slowly another two women raised their hands too. ‘Great,’ said Laurie and made a note of all the names.

‘So,’ Laurie said, looking at her notes. ‘I’m working on the designs, a couple of you have kindly offered to help out with the sewing, set-building’s under control, the supermodels are sorted. What about publicity?’

Pam said her sister owned the local printers and could run them off some posters to put up around town. Julie, a quiet woman Laurie hadn’t spoken to before, said that her son could set up the event online and put out invites that way. ‘Ben’s a whizz at that stuff,’ she said.

‘Right,’ Laurie said. ‘It sounds like we’re well on our way, then. I guess we ought to get back to work.’ She looked over at Diana for confirmation.

‘Actually, while I have you all here,’ Diana said, ‘I wanted to invite you all to my Christmas drinks.’ She pulled some invitations out of her handbag. ‘None of that digital business for me,’ she laughed, ‘I prefer doing things the old-fashioned way.’ She passed the cards around – they were hand-illustrated, with a picture of her cottage on the front and the name of each of the women written at the bottom.

‘It’s next Friday, the 15th, so it’ll be the day before the show. We’ll probably all be ready for a drink or two by then.’

Laurie smiled to herself as she took the invitation. She never thought she’d be so pleased to be invited to something at Diana’s house.

She ripped the sacks open and sifted through the contents. Like a clothes moth she ignored the common cheap fabrics and went only for the best, laying them out on her table. Once she’d decided which materials to work with she found a large pair of scissors and cut out all the bits that were still usable, discarding any sections that were torn or frayed. There were some simple dresses and jackets that would make really good bases for the designs.

The other ladies gossiped at a gentle pace as they all worked. Being here reminded her of what it was she loved best, designing and making clothes, not sitting at a computer or battling with suppliers as she seemed to spend most of her time doing nowadays. Laurie chopped and sorted and filtered fabrics, starting to form pictures of how she wanted some of the finished pieces to look.

When she looked up at the wall clock it was nearly quarter to four. Laurie had been so caught up, she hadn’t realised the time. Fifteen minutes. She tried to ignore her escalating nerves, but as the clock edged closer to the hour, she was acutely aware that Patrick was about to arrive. She thought of the way she’d felt talking to him earlier that week. What Diana had said last night – about him being single – meant that maybe she hadn’t been imagining the chemistry between them. That morning she’d told herself that there was no harm in dressing so that she looked her best. She’d picked out one of her favourite outfits – indigo chinos and a pale yellow jumper, with chunky jewellery in jewel shades.

As the big hand on the clock hit twelve, Laurie felt a rush of anticipation. Her gaze went to the window, and she listened out for the sounds of a vehicle approaching. She pictured Patrick’s warm smile and those dazzling blue eyes. What could she ask him? Or should she just play it cool and wait for him to say something first?

The minutes ticked by until at ten past four she finally heard the van pull up. Donna Summer was blasting out of the tinny radio and – miraculously, given the rush the day before – none of the other women seemed to have realised that the van had arrived. Laurie picked up a couple of the full bags on the floor and walked over towards the door, propping it with her foot so that she could bundle the bags through without ripping them. As the other women woke up to what was happening, she embraced her head start and walked towards the van, a smile creeping over her face as the driver’s door opened. She instinctively started to pick up pace, her pulse racing.

A tall, grey-haired man with a thick beard stepped out of the van. Laurie’s heart sank. She looked behind the man into the van’s cab, but Patrick was nowhere to be seen.

‘Here, let me take those off your hands, love,’ the man stepped forward to offer.

Laurie stepped into the local hardware shop on Saturday morning, and cast her eye around the uncharted territory. There were two other customers in the lighting aisle. Laurie strode past them and made her way over to the household paints.

She’d been up until midnight the night before, bent over the sewing machine in Milly’s room, making alterations to jackets and skirts, getting them ready for the auction. She’d sketched out some designs in the early evening. It took her mind off the disappointment she’d felt at not seeing Patrick. Making breakfast in the morning she’d been confronted by the smoke-blackened walls of the cottage kitchen again and, armed with Diana’s tips, felt ready to tackle them.

She cast her eye over the emulsions and wood paints, and got up a photo of the paint colour on her iPhone. She held the phone up against the sampler sheet of shades and squinted, trying to work out which one was the closest match.

‘It’s Magnificent Magnolia,’ came a voice over her shoulder. Male, husky, with a northern accent. She turned towards the sound and came face to face with Patrick. He was dressed in faded jeans and a black wool sweater and a smile had crept on to his lips. A wave of adrenalin coursed through her as their eyes met.

‘Do you think?’ she said, coyly, hoping her nerves didn’t show. ‘I was wondering about “Inimitable Ivory”’ – she held up the shade so that he could look more closely.

‘Definitely the magnolia,’ he said, pointing at the tin. ‘What are you painting, anyway?’

‘Kitchen walls,’ Laurie said, a little sheepishly. ‘Had a bit of an incident. You?’

‘DIY,’ he said, holding up some shelf brackets.

There was a moment of silence and the air felt heavy between them.

‘Can I give you a hand?’ he offered. ‘I’m not too bad at house painting, as it happens.’

Laurie hesitated for a moment. Having at least one person who knew what they were doing would definitely help.

‘That would be good.’ She picked up a roller and a couple of brushes and took them with the tin over to the counter. ‘If you’re sure you’re not busy?’

‘Oh, this shelf can wait,’ he said, nodding to the brackets in his hand with a wry smile, ‘it’s waited six months already. My DVD collection hasn’t complained about the floor yet.’

‘Nice road, this,’ Patrick said, letting out a whistle as they passed the pretty cottages on Snowdrop Lane.

‘Oh, it’s not my cottage,’ Laurie explained hurriedly. ‘I’m house-sitting for a friend. I’m not from here.’

Patrick tilted his head, seemingly taking in her sharp haircut, high heels and jewel-toned accessories. ‘You’re not from the village?’ he laughed. ‘You’re kidding me.’

Inside the cottage, Laurie and Patrick covered the countertop and floor in newspaper, and Laurie blasted up some tunes while they worked. Patrick had stripped down to a T-shirt to paint and Laurie couldn’t help but notice his toned body. After twenty minutes they’d got the kitchen looking more or less the same as when she’d arrived, although the newly painted patches had come up brighter.

‘It’s looking pretty good now, isn’t it?’ Laurie said, standing back.

‘Yes, all ready for you to burn something else,’ Patrick joked.

Laurie rolled her eyes playfully in response. ‘Tea?’ she offered.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he teased. ‘Wait,’ he said and put one hand on her shoulder and with the other touched her hair, reaching to take out some paint that had dried there.

As he pulled the fleck of paint out gently, Laurie noticed the enticing fullness of his mouth. He was so close and for a moment she thought he might just –

A picture of Jay’s face flashed up in Laurie’s mind. She remembered the comforting, sexy smell of him. His dark eyes, the way he made her laugh, just seemed to get her. As Patrick leaned in closer, and she smelled his aftershave, something inside her resisted. She turned away abruptly to flick the kettle on. ‘Yorkshire Gold?’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ Patrick said quietly, pulling back. ‘Two sugars.’

Damn it, Laurie thought as she got out the mugs. How was it that Jay could ruin things for her even when he was miles away?

‘Thanks for the help,’ Laurie said, her voice restrained. ‘I really appreciate it.’

The moment had passed, the intimacy between them had gone – she wanted to kick herself.

‘You’re welcome,’ Patrick said, as she got out teabags and put them in their mugs. ‘Listen,’ he said, touching her forearm so that she’d look back at him. She glanced up into his blue eyes, his gaze unwavering, intense. She felt a shiver of excitement run over her skin.

‘I know you’re not here for long,’ Patrick said. ‘But tell me you’ve got time for me to take you for a drink?’ As Laurie closed the door after Patrick later that evening, a smile spread across her face, and she did a little jig on the spot. She had a date. And he was really, really nice.

She put on a CD and went over to light the fire. After a little while the small flames on the logs flickered into life, and Laurie settled down at the kitchen table with a doorstep sandwich laden with Stilton. Things in Skipley were definitely looking up.

CHAPTER
18

Saturday 9th December

Rachel poured out glasses of orange juice for her and for Zak. She decided that now was as good a time as any to raise it. Yes, with Bea in a coma they had bigger things to think about, but she couldn’t ignore what looked very much like stealing.