Wickham Hall: Part Four - White Christmas (15 page)

Noah raced around, zigzagging in front of us, pretending
to be a racing car and Gabe fell into step beside me,
resting his arm casually on my shoulder. The ground was
dry thanks to several days of unbroken sunshine and the air was filled with the pungent smell of wild garlic and an
earthiness which, in that random way that one thought can
lead to another, somehow made me think of fertility, which
in turn sent a shiver of something along my spine.

Hope.

It was
hope
, I acknowledged. My internal debate during
my drive over here had centred around the practicalities of
being pregnant and what Liam was going to think about it
and what to do about work. But deep down, I knew that if I
was expecting a baby, it would make me happier than I had
been for years; probably since I'd heard that Mimi's IVF
had worked and that one of the eggs we'd all got our hopes
pinned on had been fertilized.

‘Toad!' yelled Noah with glee.

‘Where?' I stopped in my tracks.

Gabe squatted down for a closer inspection but, courtesy
of a poke with a stick from Noah, the creature crawled off
into the undergrowth.

‘How do you know it's a toad and not a frog?' I asked,
impressed.

Three-year-old Noah gave me a look layered with sympathy
and triumph.

‘Auntie Vetty,' he sighed, dropping his stick and sliding
his pudgy little hand into mine. I felt my throat tighten; I
hoped he'd never grow out of doing that. ‘His back was all
lumpy. Frogs are smooth. Everyone knows that.'

‘Silly me,' I said with a giggle, and lifted his hand to my
lips for a kiss. ‘It's a good job I've got you to teach me these
things.'

‘Look, Verity,' Gabe pointed through the trees to where
a ray of golden sun picked out the nodding heads of bluebells
in the clearing. ‘Thousands of them, I'm sure there are
even more than last year.'

He was right and the beautiful sight took my breath away.

‘Mummy's favourite flowers were bluebells,' I said to
Noah, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He nodded, retrieved a torch from his pocket and
wriggled away from me to shine its beam under logs,
looking for more toads. ‘Cos they are blue like her eyes.'

‘That's right, dude,' Gabe ruffled his son's hair. ‘And
Mummy had the prettiest, bluest eyes in the world.'

Noah stuck the torch back in his pocket and crouched
down to examine the underside of a fallen log.

‘Turn the torch off, Noah, or the batteries will run out,'
I reminded him.

The little boy straightened up immediately and switched
it off. ‘Like Mummy's.'

‘What do you mean?' I asked.

‘My mummy's batteries ran out,' he explained, blinking up
at me with those green eyes which tugged at my very soul.

Oh my God. That boy.

My heart might explode. I heard Gabe clear his throat
and I couldn't bring myself to even look at him.

‘Come on,' I said gruffly, giving my godson's hand a
squeeze. ‘Why don't we pick some flowers to take back to
the boat?'

Noah and I busied ourselves collecting bluebells while
Gabe lowered himself on to a tree stump and disappeared
for a few minutes into the memories of his happy marriage.

I reached for a tissue and dabbed my eyes.

Gabe's doing a great job, Mimi, he is the best dad ever and I know
I'm biased, but seriously, Noah is a child genius! I didn't know the
difference between frogs and toads and I'm thirty-two.

The novelty of flower-picking wore off as soon as Noah
had a plump handful. I looked at Gabe; he had a bunch in
his hands too.

‘We'd better get those in water,' I said softly, touching his
shoulder.

Gabe stood and nodded and the three of us headed back
towards the bridge.

‘Are you coming to ours for tea?' Noah asked. ‘Beef stew
will be there. And sweetcorn,' he added, hopefully.

‘Yes, please come, Bloomers,' Gabe added.

I gave him a hard stare for using my teenage nickname.

‘Sorry, couldn't resist,' he said with a grin. ‘Seriously,
some conversation
not
about the comparative size of dinosaurs
would be hugely appreciated. And I'll share that
bottle of ale with you?'

‘I'd love to.' I shook my head apologetically. ‘But I've got
to get home, I'm afraid, boys.'

‘Oh,' Noah whined.

Gabe's face fell too and my heart twisted with guilt.

‘Wise move,' he said stoically, gesturing for me to go
across the bridge in front of him. ‘My cooking's not a patch
on Mimi's.'

The guilt deepened then; poor Gabe, he was getting
better in the kitchen, but before Mimi died he barely knew
how to turn the oven on.

‘Sorry, but I've got a big day tomorrow, I need an early
night.' And I'm not drinking alcohol before doing a pregnancy
test, I added to myself. ‘But I'll come back soon.
Promise.'

‘Good, because I need lessons with a needle,' he grinned.
‘Noah asked me to sew up a hole in his pyjamas the other
day. I sat down on his bed and ended up sewing them on to
his duvet by accident.'

As we walked back along the towpath towards the
Neptune
, I wrapped an arm around Gabe's waist.

‘I'm so proud of you, Gabe; Noah is a credit to you.'

‘Thanks,' Gabe's step faltered and he took a deep breath.
‘Verity?'

I turned to face him. ‘Yes?'

He swallowed before murmuring, ‘He needs his mum.'

My heart heaved in my chest and I was the first to look
away.

I could so easily climb into Mimi's life like a pair of jeans
that fit perfectly. I loved Gabe dearly and between us we'd
do a fantastic, if slightly unconventional, job of bringing
up that little boy who meant so much to us both. But deep
down, I knew it wasn't the right thing to do; Noah might
need a mum, but Gabe and I could never be more than just
friends.

I tightened my arm around him. ‘I'll be the best godmother
I can be, Gabe, I promise. But I can never replace
Mimi.'

I hugged and kissed them both warmly before they
climbed back on board their boat and I made my way back
to the car wishing there was more I could do to help out
that darling, lonely man.

‘What's in the bag? Chocolate?' Rosie grabbed the plastic
carrier bag from me as soon as I came in the door.

So much for the detox.

‘Er . . .' I looked at her shiftily as she pulled my ninetynine-
per-cent-accurate pregnancy test from the bag.

‘Holy Cannelloni!' Her dark eyes stared, saucer-like, in
the gloom of the hallway.

‘Probably a false alarm, but yeah, I might be having a
bambino,' I said, going pink. ‘And seeing Noah tonight has
made me realize that I hope I am.'

Rosie gave me a huge hug. ‘If that's what you want,
then I hope so too.'

I hugged her back. That's what I loved about Rosie;
she was completely non-judgemental. She knew my job was
precarious and I had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't
that keen on Liam but, despite that, I knew she'd always be
my cheerleader.

‘Thanks, Con. Liam said he might come over after the
party tonight, so we can do the test together.'

‘No, no, no. Listen to me.' Rosie stepped backwards
and prodded my shoulder in time with her words. ‘You. Say.
Nothing.'

I began to protest. ‘But Liam has a right—'

‘Agreed,' she said, folding her arms. ‘Tell him after that
presentation tomorrow. I know you. If you're pregnant, he'll
persuade you to let him get the job, on the basis that you'll
be leaving soon anyway. You're too generous for your own
good. And if you are expecting a baby, it will be a damn
sight more difficult to get another job before it arrives than
keep the one you're in.'

‘OK, OK,' I agreed.

Anything for a quiet life. But I didn't mean it. I absolutely
could not wait to pee on that stick . . .

Get cosy with a cup of tea and Verity's adventures –
available for pre-order now!

Food, Glorious Food – Part One
Cooking Up a Storm – Part Two
Taking Stock – Part Three
The Magic Ingredient – Part Four

The Plumberry School of Comfort Food
is published in March,
April, May and June 2016 and as a paperback in summer 2016

Cathy Bramley
is the author of the best-selling romantic comedies
Ivy Lane
and
Appleby Farm
, both four-part serialised novels, and
Conditional Love
.
Wickham Hall
is also a four-part serialised novel. She lives in a Nottinghamshire village with her husband, two daughters and a dog.

Her recent career as a full-time writer of light-hearted, romantic fiction has come as somewhat of a lovely surprise, after spending the last eighteen years running her own marketing agency. However, she has always been an avid reader, hiding her book under the duvet and reading by torchlight. Luckily her husband has now bought her a Kindle with a light, so that's the end of that palaver.

Cathy loves to hear from her readers. You can get in touch via her website
www.CathyBramley.co.uk
, Facebook page
Facebook.com/CathyBramleyAuthor
or on Twitter
twitter.com/CathyBramley

Have you read the other funny, feel-good novels by Cathy Bramley?

Settle down with one now – they are sure to put a smile on your face . . .

Ivy Lane

Tilly Parker needs a fresh start, fresh air and a fresh attitude if she is ever to leave the past behind and move on with her life. As she seeks out peace and quiet in a new town, taking on a plot at Ivy Lane allotments seems like the perfect solution. But the friendly Ivy Lane community has other ideas and gradually draw Tilly in to their cosy, comforting world of planting seedlings, organizing bake sales and planning seasonal parties. As the seasons pass, will Tilly learn to stop hiding amongst the sweetpeas and let people back into her life – and her heart?

Appleby Farm

Freya Moorcroft has been happy working at the café round the corner from Ivy Lane allotments, but a part of her still misses the beautiful rolling hills of her Cumbrian childhood home: Appleby Farm. Then a phone call out of the blue and a desperate plea for help change everything, and Freya heads home to lend a hand. As Freya summons up all her creativity and determination to turn things at the farm around, Freya is surprised as her own dreams for the future begin to take shape . . .

Conditional Love

A takeaway, TV and tea with two sugars is about as exciting as it gets for thirty-something Sophie Stone – until a mysterious benefactor leaves her an inheritance. There's just one catch: in order to inherit, Sophie must agree to meet the father she has never known. Saying ‘yes' means the chance to build her own dream home, but she'll also have to face the past and hear some uncomfortable truths . . .

• Nutty Tiffin
  
• Filo Pastry Mince Pies
  
• Kale and Lentil Soup with Pumpkin Seeds
  

There are all sorts of tiffin recipes out there, but as it's nearly Christmas in
Wickham Hall
, I thought I'd go for a seasonal mix of cranberries and walnuts in mine!

You will need . . .

• Grease and line a 20cm square tin.
  
• Place the margarine, sugar, golden syrup and cocoa powder in a bowl and place over a pan of simmering water until melted.
  
• Remove from the heat, add the crushed biscuits, fruit and nuts, and stir. Press the mixture into the tin.
  
• Melt the chocolate and pour onto the top of the mixture. Just as it is almost set, mark the top with the prongs of a fork to make wavy patterns.
  
• Mark into squares and place in the fridge to set for an hour before cutting and storing in an airtight tin. If the weather is warm, store in the fridge permanently.
  

I adore a mince pie, me. And these little morsels are perfect: small and crispy and not too heavy, due to being made with filo pastry instead of shortcrust.

 

You will need . . .

• Pre-heat the oven to 200°C (400°F /gas mark 6). Grease 2x12-hole bun tins.
  
• Separate out a sheet of filo and brush with melted butter and top with another sheet. Cut into 8 squares. Repeat this until you have 24 squares.
  
• Press a square of filo into each bun hole, scrunching the sides to make it fit.
  
• Mix the brandy, if using, with the mincemeat and spoon into each case.
  
• Bake for 12–13 minutes until the pastry is crisp and golden. Allow to cool.
  
• Roll out the icing and use a star-shaped cutter to cut out 24 little stars. Top each mince pie with a star and a sprinkle of glitter. Christmas in one tiny bite!
  

This is another recipe from Transworld's Digital Publishing Manager, Helen Gregory. It is so packed with superfoods that it is sure to ward off any sniffles this winter!