Wish Upon a Star (46 page)

‘Some things are better if you don’t think about them too much,’ he said.

In future, I might adopt that as my philosophy for life.

Stella showed her angel feathers to Jago when he came round, but by then she’d thought of something that troubled her.

However, he assured her that the angels weren’t feeling cold because they’d lost all their feathers, they just naturally moulted, like birds, from time to time as the new ones came through, so they could easily spare Stella a few.

We settled in as if we’d never been away, except, of course that Stella seemed to grow in energy every day. And Jago and I picked up our old relationship as if there had never been an interval too, so I began to doubt if Ma had been right … I mean, Stella was well and we were home, so what was he waiting for?

Over the following week we gently eased back into village life and went for walks, well wrapped up. Although I still took the buggy in case Stella tired, I could see that one day soon she wouldn’t want it at all – which would be just as well, because by then she wouldn’t fit in it any more!

She quite cheerfully visited her old friends at Ormskirk Hospital and showed off her battle wounds, but was more interested in telling them about the angel snow. And afterwards, when we went to the Blue Dog with Jago, she told the three Graces, too.

Soon, I don’t think there was anyone within a radius of about ten miles from Sticklepond who
didn’t
know that snow was angels’ feathers.

We had lots of visitors. Raffy and Chloe came together, and Jenny with Mrs Snowball. And Celia and Will came over, of course. Raffy was going to meet up with me, Celia and Will before Christmas to do a final reckoning and discuss where to donate the money left over in the Stella’s Stars fund.

There was a card from Miss Honey, who said she’d been invited to the party but to tell Stella that she was going into hibernation for the winter like a tortoise, though if the Lord spared her, she’d see us in spring.

The November
Sweet Home
magazine, which had just come out, had slipped in my stained-glass star biscuit recipe, instead of the one I thought they were going to use and ‘The Cake Diaries’ featured my own mincemeat recipe and one for open iced mincemeat tartlets. A box of author’s copies of my second
Cake Diaries
book arrived too, most of which I would wrap up and give as Christmas presents to local friends, though I sent both volumes to Opal in Boston straight away, with a letter thanking her for all her kindness and telling her about the angel snow. I knew she’d love that.

I hadn’t been down to Honey’s since we returned, because Jago went all mysterious and said he wanted to give something a final touch before he showed me whatever this surprise was, so goodness knew what he’d been up to.

But of course he’d been at Ma’s a lot, and I’d already sorted out his bookkeeping and helped him with some complicated forms. Now we had resumed our evenings of baking, film watching and snoozing on the sofa, as if we’d never been apart – and it was lovely, though suddenly not quite enough …

But I had my plans, and Christmas was now hurtling towards us, a joyful one, destined to be the best ever. We made a Christmas pudding the size of a cannonball and the cake, too – both later than usual, but none the worse for that. Then Jago and Stella built the most stupendous gingerbread castle, covered in icing snow and decorated with brightly coloured Reese’s Pieces, which I took lots of pictures of before it got nibbled. There was no chance it would last till Christmas.

We threaded red and green silk ribbon through the hundred big gingerbread stars and all the smaller ones for the party, then, the day before, it was a mad rush to make cakes, pack the star biscuits and, in Stella’s case, try to decide what to wear.

Luckily a fairy outfit large enough to fit over a warm dress and leggings arrived from the Scotts just in time and, teamed with the angel wings that Sarah and David had given her for her birthday, she decided she had the perfect outfit.

I’d be wearing the blue and grey dress I’d found in Boston with cowboy boots, ditto, and declined Stella’s offer of a pair of gauzy fairy wings. I told her I was so happy, I could probably fly to the party without them.

Stella and Cally, as guests of honour, were forbidden to arrive early at the party, but Jago was there, delivering one of his most magnificent croquembouche cakes, decorated with sugar strands and a myriad of silver sugared almonds and stars: his feelings always tended to express themselves edibly. He’d made a little sugar angel to go on top, too, using a chocolate mould.

The village hall looked very festive, with a ‘Happy Christmas and Welcome Home Stella!’ banner over the door. Inside, an army of helpers had erected the Christmas tree brought by Seth Greenwood, along with armfuls of holly and mistletoe from the Winter’s End estate, and were draping it with twinkling lights.

Jago deposited his croquembouche in the centre of the refreshment tables and then carried in the two macaroon pyramids that he’d brought from David and Sarah, and the boxes of gingerbread stars.

There was a separate table for the special Stella’s Stars biscuits, under the watchful eye of the WI ladies, who were busy putting out covered plates of triangular sandwiches, mini pork pies, jellies in paper cases, mince pies, and little cheese and tomato tartlets.

Jago, helped by Effie Yatton and a posse of Brownies, hung all the smaller gingerbread stars on the lower branches of the Christmas tree and by the time this was finished practically the entire village – not to mention Will and Celia – had arrived, the bright paper garlands festooned from the wooden beams of the ceiling swaying and rustling every time the door was opened.

Cally, Stella and Martha came in last, as arranged, looking self-conscious, especially when everyone applauded. But soon the babble of conversation resumed and Raffy turned on a CD of carols in the background.

Cally was wearing a dress patterned in the same pure harebell-blue shade as her eyes and she looked to Jago stunningly beautiful – and, when she spotted him and smiled, very happy. Stella ran straight to him and he picked her up, then put his free arm around Cally when she caught up.

Her eyes shone like stars when she looked up at him and he felt such a deep joy and happiness that he thought his heart might burst, realising that whatever happened after this, he’d always treasure this one precious moment.

When we walked into the village hall and everyone went quiet and stared at us, then suddenly burst into a storm of clapping and cheers, it was both moving and hideously embarrassing at the same time.

It was a relief when I spotted Jago, looking handsome with his dark curling hair shining under the lights, my very own Captain Jack Sparrow … Did he have any idea at all that he made my timbers shiver?

Then our eyes met and I thought maybe the dress had had the desired effect, because for a moment he looked quite stunned. I followed Stella across to him and he looked down at me and said with a heart-melting smile, ‘You look beautiful! And this is great, isn’t it? Stella, Father Christmas is just getting warmed up in the other room and he’ll be in in a minute.’

He was too, and possibly the smallest Santa I’d ever seen! There was a tissue-paper-draped throne ready for him and he had a sack full of presents for all the children, though Stella’s was very special – a fairy wand that lit up and then sparkled in a rainbow of colours.

Raffy called for a moment’s silence after that and reminded us that we were here to celebrate both Christmas and to welcome home Stella after her successful operation in America.

‘So please could everyone involved in the fundraising, all of Stella’s Hundred Stars, come forward and get their very own gingerbread star of merit. And there are lots more hanging on the tree for everyone else.’

Stella and I started handing the special ones out while Jago went to help get down the biscuits from the lower branches of the tree. By the time he returned the stars had all vanished and so, too, had Stella, though I could see her fairy wand twinkling like a firefly at the other end of the room. Celia and Will had gone in pursuit to make sure she didn’t overtire herself.

‘This is yours,’ I said, handing over the very last gingerbread star. ‘I thought it would look a bit suspicious if you didn’t eat your own baking.’

‘I think I’d like to keep it, actually,’ Jago said. ‘I might have a bit of croquembouche shortly, though, because that’s not something that’ll last long.’

‘Stella said it looked like a fairy wedding cake, which is a good thing, since she’s still convinced that they’re small angels … and I assume that lovely wand that Santa gave her was your idea?’

Before Jago could reply, Raffy, who had his star pinned to his chest like a slightly crumbly medal, stopped and said how delighted he was to see Stella looking so well. Then he added to Jago, with a twinkle, ‘Have you shown Cally what you’ve been doing at the Honey’s yet? Jago gave me a guided tour yesterday,’ he added to me.

‘That’s more than I’ve had since I got back!’ I said. ‘What have you been up to, Jago?’

‘Just finishing touches,’ he said vaguely, though he looked a little self-conscious … and strangely nervous.

‘We’re delighted you’re part of the community now and I hope Honey’s will be a huge success,’ Raffy told him.

When he’d gone I said firmly to Jago, ‘Now I’m dying to see what you’ve been doing! Have you been holding out on me? Added a turret or put a pool in the back garden, or something?’

‘No … well, not really,’ he qualified, still looking suspiciously shifty.

‘Which, the turret or the pool?’

‘Neither.’ He seemed to come to a decision and said, ‘Look, if Celia and Will are keeping an eye on Stella, then we could sneak off for ten minutes and you can see for yourself – it’s only across the road, after all.’

‘Oh, yes – let’s! I can’t wait any longer, and I’ll tell Ma where we’re going as well, on the way out,’ I agreed. ‘Come on, show me all your secrets!’

Nothing looked much different, except he’d installed a small log-burning stove on the hearth in the living room.

‘That’s new,’ I said. ‘Is that the surprise? It does make the whole room look really warm and cosy.’

‘No, of course that’s not it! Come on,’ he added with resolution, ‘come and see what I’ve done with the annexe.’

‘The annexe …?’ I echoed, following him through the glass doors into the new conservatory and then into the annexe, which I saw had now been totally transformed.

It was decorated in the soft pastel shades I loved, with a child’s bed in the small room and a pretty, wrought-iron white-painted one in the main bedroom. It was all very feminine and pretty …

‘Oh, it looks lovely!’ I cried. ‘Fairy-tale beautiful!’

‘Do you really like it? I asked Celia’s advice on the colour scheme and she helped me pick out the furniture.’

‘Did she? So you’ve both been holding out on me!’ I said. ‘But … I thought you were going to leave decorating and furnishing in here and the flat for much later?’

‘I was,’ he admitted, ‘but then I decided I really wanted to get it done before you came back, because—’

‘But if you’d waited, I could have helped you do it up. You know I’ll always give you a hand with anything that needs doing.’

He gave me a look I found hard to interpret. ‘Well, I did mean what I said about your prinsesstårte making a lovely alternative wedding cake and that I’d employ you – and I wasn’t entirely joking,’ he said slowly.

‘Neither was I, when I said it would be a good idea – and I don’t suppose there would be that many orders, so I could still write my articles.’

‘True – if you’re still here,’ he pointed out. ‘What I really wanted to say was, even if you and Stella eventually head off back to London, you might like to move in here until you’ve got everything arranged and you’re ready to go.’

‘You mean, you made this so beautiful for
us
?’ I said, stunned. ‘And are you
mad
? I wouldn’t pick up my old life if it was gilded by Cartier and had a ribbon round it!’

‘You wouldn’t?’ he asked hopefully.

‘No, of course not. I realised ages ago that Sticklepond’s where I want to live and bring up Stella … and if you’re serious, we’ll not only move in, but I’ll work for you, too.’

‘Actually, I had a cunning plan,’ he said, raising one dark eyebrow quizzically in his best pirate fashion. ‘I was hoping that once I’d got you under my roof, I might persuade you into some kind of
permanent
partnership …’

His soft brown eyes were so unmistakably full of warmth and love that my heart did a backflip.

‘What exactly did you have in mind?’ I asked, as I went willingly into his arms.

‘Wedding bells, our own croquembouche cake and Stella in a bridesmaid’s dress and angel wings?’ he suggested.

‘One thing at a time,’ I said severely, but laughing. And then we kissed with the usual result, so that when we finally surfaced some considerable time had passed and we had to dash back to the party.

We were just about to go into the village hall when Jago’s phone buzzed and he stopped and checked it to find a message – from Aimee!

It said she was stuck in Colombia and to urgently send money, because hers had all been stolen.

‘I’ve heard about this kind of thing: it’s just a scam,’ he told me.

‘Really? I mean, I suppose it could be real, though she doesn’t mention Adam.’

‘No, definitely a scam,’ he said, deleting it. Then he slipped it back into his pocket and reached for me for one final kiss before we went back in.

I suppose when we went back into the hall hand in hand, our expressions gave us away.

‘Well, that’s five quid you owe me,’ Florrie said audibly to Jenny as we passed, and Raffy congratulated us both.

‘It’s like I said: nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ he told Jago.

‘He could have saved himself a lot of money on furnishings by asking me earlier,’ I pointed out.

‘You weren’t ready to think of the future earlier, though,’ Jago said.