Once Upon A Winter (16 page)

‘Aside from the turkey and trimmings?’

‘You know what I mean. All the stuff you’re dealing with right now.’

‘Maybe I just need time to work it all out. Maybe I shouldn’t rush into this, either - trying to make sense of everything Calista said. If I stop putting pressure on myself, then it might just fall into place.’

‘
Do
you believe there’s more than just the temporal? The life we think of as “real”? You’re not the most religious person I’ve met. Unlike your sister lately. I mean, she doesn’t ram it down people’s throats, but she’s not ashamed of what she believes, either; in spite of what Gareth thinks.’

‘I haven’t been to church lately for lots of reasons, but I can’t consider myself an atheist. Not the way Gareth is. I think there’s something greater than us out there. And I believe in reaping what you sow.’

‘So maybe,’ said Daniel, ‘the question I should be asking is, do you believe in fairy stories?’

‘Cinderella?’ said Nell archly. ‘Beauty and the Beast?’

‘The one where the hero walks out of the pages of a book and rescues the real-life damsel in distress?’

Nell frowned.
‘That wasn’t what Calista said.’

‘No. But what if the line between fact and fiction
was
blurred, just for a moment? What if something imaginary did slip over and become something real? It would continue to become more real, wouldn’t it, the longer it stayed in the factual world?’

Nell stared up at him, bemused. ‘You and Calista should write a book together. I’d buy it.’

‘You’d buy the book, but not the premise?’ said Daniel.

Nell shook her head. ‘Maybe there’s an ounce of truth in what Calista said, maybe there’s something I’m missing,’ she admitted, ‘but it would take a lot more than just words to convince me that once upon a time I stumbled into the middle of some kind of
fairytale.’ 

A curl of grey smoke whispered upwards from a chimney of the Gingerbread House. Nell paused, cleaning rag in one hand and window spray in the other. She squinted, as if seeing things.

‘Nana, do you see smoke over there?’ Nell glanced down at her grandmother. ‘Have you got the right glasses on?’

Nana Gwen shifted in her wing-backed chair to peer out through the turret window. ‘Oh, that,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘I saw that yesterday. It’s nothing. Just the workmen using the stove, I suppose. The outside of the cottage is more or less all done, you said, so now it’s just the inside.’

‘I thought work had stopped now, till after Christmas . . .’

‘Well, your father wanted it completed by the time he came home, so maybe the workers have realised they’re running behind schedule.’

Nell turned back to the window thoughtfully.

Although her father and sister had assured her she needn’t worry about any aspect of the restoration project, Nell was gradually finding herself sucked in. Her own curiosity and sense of duty were wrestling her shyness into submission. It wasn’t fair if she abdicated all responsibility when she was living in her father’s house, on her father’s land.

After lunch, once everyone had been fed and watered and the children despatched to play at Emma’s - the school holidays already dragging, especially prior to Christmas Day itself when all the kids could think about was Santa’s imminent visit - Nell bundled herself up in coat, scarf, gloves and boots and set off with her sister’s little dog for company.

Truffle was barking like a demented creature as they arrived at the clearing where the cottage stood, just as he’d been barking for most of their walk. There was a car parked at the end of the track, something familiar about it.

Nell frowned, trying to place it, before bracing herself and heading for the kitchen window to peer in. But the rear stable-style door was flung open at the top before she got there.

‘Hello!’ called a welcoming Welsh baritone. ‘I saw you through the window. How are you keeping, cariad?’ 

Nell stopped short. It was Emma’s neighbour,
Huw. Nell’s rescuer the night she ran out of petrol. ‘Hello . . . Er - what are you doing here?’ She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. It hadn’t been her intention to sound so curt.

Huw
opened the door fully. ‘Didn’t you know? My son-in-law’s Pete Thomas.’

‘Pete Thomas?’ Nell repeated dimly.

‘Have you not met him? It’s his firm doing all this work for you.’

‘Oh.’ Nell realised she sounded as clueless as she felt. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. This is my dad’s project. I haven’t really been involved -’

‘No, don’t fret. I know Pete doesn’t report to you. Your dad left instructions not to bother you with any of it. Said you had your hands full up at the house taking care of Gwendolyn.’

‘Well, I’m just surprised Emma never mentioned you were involved yourself.’

‘I’m not. Not normally. It used to be my firm, though, before I retired and left it to my son-in-law. My daughter Ceri does the accounting and all the other admin. Thing is, she and Pete have gone to stay with Pete’s family in Norfolk for Christmas. When they’re not around I tend to seize the reins again. Can’t help myself.’

Truffle, who had stopped barking wildly to sniff around
Huw’s ankles, suddenly jerked at his lead and bolted straight through the open door into the kitchen.

‘Sorry, excuse me!’ Nell brushed past
Huw, anxious about the destruction Truffle might wreak, even in a matter of seconds.

The terrier had raced into the room designated as the lounge, and was snuffling around a large backpack propped up against the wall behind the door. The flap at the top of the backpack was open, and Nell caught a glimpse of T-shirts and jeans before she bent to scoop up the errant dog.

As she admonished him, she turned and noticed the camp bed set up against the wall opposite the window. There was a sleeping bag unrolled on top, and a Thermos flask stood beside it at one end, next to a folded newspaper.

‘Naughty mutt, this one,’ said
Huw, coming up beside Nell and ruffling Truffle’s ears. ‘Likes digging up anything I plant in my front garden. Lucky I’m the forgiving sort, eh?’   

‘Um, what’s all this?’ asked Nell, gesturing to the apparent indoor campsite.

‘Oh, nothing to concern yourself with,’ said Huw casually. ‘A bit on the unorthodox side, but it’s all been cleared with your dad. Emma’s been rushed off her feet lately, last minute baking for the church and some local homeless charity or other, so she just emailed him explaining, and he was fine with it so long as I was.’

‘Fine with what exactly?’

Huw fished in his shirt pocket. He extracted a business card and handed it to Nell. ‘Here you go. You can keep that, if you like. I’ve got a spare back home.’

Nell examined the card.

‘
S. A. Marner. Quality, bespoke joinery
’ was printed in cream against a dark, wood effect background. There was also a website address and a mobile phone number.

Huw
stooped behind the door, and picked up what appeared to be part of a banister. ‘Work of a true artisan, this,’ he said, running his hand over it admiringly.

Nell was none the wiser.

‘He’s a nice man,’ Huw continued. ‘Bit of a loner, obviously, from his lifestyle. But I don’t hold that against him. Many artists are, aren’t they? And I’d put him in the same bracket as any Van Gogh.’

‘Who?’ said Nell, exasperated now.

‘Simon. Or Si, as he calls himself. I hired him last week. My son-in-law Pete trained as a joiner, so he normally takes care of all the woodwork himself, and as you can see, you’ve already got the skirting boards and doorframes in place, as well as a few doors. But your dad has a timescale he wants us to keep to.’

‘I think he wants to rent the cottage out as a holiday home,’ said Nell. ‘So maybe he wants it all ready by the spring, to take advantage of the Easter break.’

‘Perhaps. So anyway, it was Calista - you know, Calista Molyneux - who put me on to this Si. Well, Meryl in the café mentioned him first, she’d met him when she dropped some accounts off for Calista. But then I went to see Calista about him directly. He’s been doing some work for her. Stayed in the room over her garage while he was doing it. She gave him a glowing recommendation. Anyway, as I said, Emma was busy but she managed to get in contact with your father and cleared it with him first.’

‘So you’re saying that this joiner is “camping” here
now? While he works on the place?’ Nell twitched an eyebrow. ‘I’m surprised Dad agreed to that. A stranger staying in the cottage like this.’

‘Well, if it was ever rented out as a holiday home, wouldn’t you have strangers coming in and out, possibly all year round?’

‘I suppose,’ said Nell, perturbed as she stroked Truffle. She clearly hadn’t given her father’s plans enough consideration.

‘Trust me, cariad,’ said
Huw reassuringly, ‘I checked into Si’s background thoroughly, just as Calista encouraged. All his credentials hold firm. Everyone I spoke to about him - well, they can’t rate him highly enough. Calista even said she wants him back afterwards, even if she has to create more work for him.’

‘Still . . .’ muttered Nell, uneasy about it all. ‘So where is this Si now?’

‘You just missed him by a minute or two. Bad timing. Had to pop out for materials. If you like, I can ask him to drop by the house sometime and introduce himself?’

‘Er, no,’ said Nell, ruffled at the thought of a strange man turning up on her doorstep one morning. ‘There’s no need. I can always come back another day. Um - how long do you think he’ll be staying?’ She glanced around. ‘Is there still a lot of work to keep him busy?’

‘Well, once Si’s taken care of the banisters, there are a few built-in cupboards your dad wanted putting in upstairs, to take advantage of all those nooks and crannies.’

Nell nodded as she looked
around again. ‘It’s a very . . . higgledy-piggledy sort of house. I don’t mean in a messy, disorganised sense, just that the walls aren’t straight and the ceiling keeps going up and down. And that’s just the downstairs. I can’t remember what the upstairs was like. I think I saw it once, just after the lady who lived here died.’

‘It’s roomier than most people would imagine up there.’
Huw smiled. ‘It’s got character, I’ll give it that. So, anyway, after the built-in cupboards, there’s the matter of the kitchen.’

‘Isn’t Dad having a kitchen firm in to install it? I thought Emma mentioned something about it . . .’

Huw was shaking his virtually bald head. The few wisps of grey hair quivered. ‘It’s an awkward space, and your dad wanted to keep it as traditional as possible, while still having the usual mod cons. Pete was going to tackle it himself, but now that Si’s turned up . . . His fees are good, and his work seems to be exceptional, so . . .’ Huw shrugged. ‘We’ll still have a plumber and electrician in, and someone to tile as well, but hopefully the kitchen might be ready by the end of January. Mid February at the latest.’

Nell looked absently down at the camp bed. ‘Won’t this Si be going home for Christmas? At least for a few days?’

‘I don’t think he’s got family to go home to. By the sound of it he moves around the country, wherever the work takes him. I was thinking of asking him over for lunch, at least, on Christmas Day - not that I make a big deal of it when my daughter isn’t around - but Calista happened to mention that she’d already asked him to hers.’

‘She seems very pally with him.’

Huw chuckled. ‘Wait till you see him, cariad. You’ll understand why.’

Truffle squirmed in Nell’s arms, and she was forced to put him down, keeping a tighter hold of his lead this time.

‘I think he needs to go outside,’ said Nell tactfully.

‘Oh - I understand.’
Huw followed them out.

While Truffle relieved himself, Nell studied the Gingerbread House from the outside.

‘Your son-in-law’s done an amazing job,’ she told Huw. ‘My dad will be really pleased with it all.’

‘Well, thank you.’
Huw inclined his head gently. ‘And you and the children, you have a good Christmas now.’

‘We’ll do our best. Nana’s coming downstairs for lunch.’

‘Momentous indeed,’ said Huw. ‘Give my regards to Gwendolyn, won’t you? My mother, God rest her, was friends with her since they were at school together.’

As Nell headed off home through the trees, a rather quiet and dutiful Truffle trotted alongside her. They both seemed subdued rather than invigorated after their walk.

The notion had crept into Nell’s mind that the man’s reflection in Calista’s conservatory window might not have been so illusory after all. Yet why this unnerved her quite as much as it did, she didn’t know; except that if it had been real, then it had probably been this Marner bloke, and if that was the case, then why had he been eavesdropping?

That night, when the rest of the hous
ehold was asleep, Nell trailed round the house one last time checking that the doors and windows were secure. Then she switched on the alarm. Nell had changed the code since her father left to something more memorable to her. Even after all her checks, her stomach still felt churned up, as if the stir-fry she’d made for dinner hadn’t gone down well.

Her mobile buzzed in her dressing gown pocket. Daniel
. He had texted her every night since he’d left for Italy.

‘
Hope all OK. Another crazily warm day here. Went shopping for short sleeved gear with Mum. Doesn’t quite feel like Christmas. Miss the possibility of snow more than I thought I would. Miss you even more. Take care. D x
’

Trying to compose an appropriate reply in her head, Nell switched off the
hall light and went upstairs to bed.