Christmas in the Cotswolds Read online

  ‘Very much, your Ladyship.’

  ‘I hope Isadora hasn’t inconvenienced your staff too much by dragging you away at this busy time of year?’

  An almost imperceptible shake of the head from Izzie told Megan not to waste her time explaining that she didn’t own the café.

  ‘I work with some fantastic people. They were very accommodating. It’s wonderful to be able to catch up with Isadora. We’ve both been so busy over the last year that all our previous plans to meet have come to nothing.’

  Her Ladyship sighed theatrically, her hand to her pearl choker. ‘Still, I think it is most unthinking of Isadora to invite a friend to work rather than to socialise.’

  Knowing Izzie would only manage to swallow one more of her mother’s digs before she exploded, Megan hurried to pour cold water on the approaching row. ‘Not at all, it was my suggestion. And it is such a beautiful place, you must be so proud that Isadora is passionate about saving the local church by putting it to such good use in the community. I mean, how awful if it had been turned into flats or something.’ Without allowing her Ladyship the chance to comment, Megan pressed her point home, ‘There’s an old church near where I live that’s been turned into council housing.’ Seeing the expression on Lady Spencer-Harris’s face, which resembled someone sucking a lemon, Megan kept the information that it was a very tasteful conversion to herself.

  Keeping hold of the conversation, Megan addressed Izzie’s father, ‘Are you well, my Lord?’

  Izzie’s father, a laid-back gentleman, considerably older than his high-maintenance wife, smiled kindly, ‘I’m very well, young Megan. I’m glad to see you looking so well yourself. I have no doubt you’ll steer my daughter through whatever crisis has befallen her. Will you be staying for the carol concert?’

  Megan had forgotten how nice Lord Spencer-Harris was, and responded to his warm grin, ‘I hope so. I am rather fond of belting out the odd Christmas carol.’

  ‘Oh, but my dear, you won’t be allowed to sing!’ Her Ladyship looked horrified at the mere notion as the housekeeper placed a tureen of beef consommé on the table. ‘The Cotswold Choir is famous. They only take trained voices like my own’

  ‘Then I shall enjoy listening to them.’ Megan exchanged another fleeting glimpse with Izzie that seemed to amuse her father, before adding, ‘And how honoured you must be that your daughter is hosting them this year!’

  The sound that came from her Ladyship’s throat could only be described as a harrumph, ‘It’s quite ridiculous of course. They could easily have used our orangery, it would have made a first-class location for the choir, so much more suitable than a café and children’s play area. The Duke and Duchess of Banbury are coming; you cannot expect them to drink Mrs Vickers’ mulled wine.’

  Izzie audibly groaned. ‘Mother, we have been through this. Firstly, the choir master visited my church last month as a customer, and having been let down by his usual venue, asked me to host them. He was particularly keen because the acoustics are perfect for the choir’s voices. I did not go to them with begging cap in hand! Secondly, the Banburys will not care where it is held, they are coming to hear their offspring singing.’ Only a decibel from shouting, Izzie reined in her temper. ‘Although, I won’t pretend that the money from the choir won’t come in very useful to help pay for repair costs. If I can give them a great location, and provide an atmosphere that their audience will enjoy, then maybe they’ll come back next year. It would really put my centre on the map!’

  Copying Izzie’s father example of just getting on with eating the delicious soup and examining some of the antiques that decorated the dining room, Megan wished she could disappear. She hated confrontation, and although she knew it was water off a duck’s back for both Izzie and her mother, she still couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable, especially as Lady Spencer-Harris had moved on from feeling disgruntled that her daughter had beaten her to the prestigious role of hosting the Cotswold Choir to her favourite subject, running down Izzie’s appearance.

  ‘If it wasn’t bad enough that you enjoy labouring like a navvy, you have to make yourself look like one as well! It’s as well that the Duke and Duchess of Banbury have a daughter. I dread to think what a son of theirs would think of you! I’m sure Megan agrees with me, don’t you, Megan?’

  Her hopes that Lady Spencer-Harris wouldn’t try and drag her to fight her snobbish battles dashed, Megan laid down her spoon, flicked a stray blonde hair behind her ear, and picked up the generously poured glass of wine that had been placed before her, ‘I think Isadora looks very pretty.’

  Unused to people other than Izzie not instantly agreeing with her, Lady Spencer-Harris was momentarily nonplussed, before her habit of simply not hearing what she didn’t wish to hear kicked in and she turned her attention back to her daughter, ‘and if it wasn’t bad enough that you live in those ghastly dungarees, you’ve cut your hair so short you look like a boy, and I think it’s best I don’t comment on those red streaks that you seem to consider attractive …’

  Slipping off her borrowed heels, and passing them back to a still fuming Izzie, Megan couldn’t help but smile, ‘I see your mother has mellowed a bit then.’

  Izzie looked at her gratefully. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. You can see why I need you now, can’t you?’

  ‘You need a buffer zone between you and your mother, and someone to sort out the little things so you can get on with mending your church.’

  ‘You’ve got it.’ Izzie sank down onto the living room sofa. ‘Is that OK? I have two children’s Christmas art classes tomorrow, and I really can’t afford to cancel them, and Mrs V will need help serving in the café over lunchtime, and …’

  Megan held her hand up, ‘It’s fine. I’ll be your Girl Friday.’

  ‘More like my fairy godmother! Do you mind, Megan? I know I’m taking terrible liberties when I’m sure you’d rather be home with Nick.’

  Megan waved away her friends concerns, ‘I don’t mind at all. Christmas seems to be my time of year for sorting things. Last year I helped organise a charity auction at Pickwicks.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘That’s where I met Nick. In fact, it’s our first anniversary on the day of your carol concert.’

  ‘No way! Now I feel even guiltier for dragging you away from home to help me!’

  ‘Not at all! Anyway, he’ll be here on the day to help. We can have a romantic anniversary listening to your choir. It’ll be perfect!’

  Izzie ran a hand through her hair. ‘I wish I could be sure.’

  ‘It will be!’ Sounding far more confident than she felt, Megan said, ‘Right then, first things first. I need two things.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘A large glass of wine and a copy of the

  Yellow Pages . It’s time I found you a replacement carpenter, a glazier, and a roofer.’

  Chapter Three

  December 16th

  Megan looked up from the child-sized seat where she’d been perched cutting out angel’s wings ready for the imminent arrival of a group of pre-school children, and straight into a pair of earnest green eyes that peeped through a floppy fringe of ginger hair. ‘Joseph Parker?’

  ‘Call me Jo. It’s an impressive space you have here.’

  Pulling herself out of her snug chair, Megan shook the carpenter’s proffered hand. ‘It’s not mine. It belongs to Izzie.’

  ‘Miss Spencer-Harris?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m Megan, I’m just helping out.’

  ‘By making paper angels?’

  Megan smiled, ‘Part of Izzie’s business includes running craft sessions; in this case for a group of nursery school children. I’m standing by with the safety scissors to play Mary Poppins while Izzie gets on with rescuing her church. As I said on the phone, everything is a bit urgent because of the Cotswold Choir coming in five days. Thanks ever so much for turning up so fast.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Jo pulled on a bandana, not too dissimilar from Izzie’s, wiping his
fringe from his face to reveal a multitude of freckles. ‘I was having a break until the New Year, but I’m very fond of the Cotswold Choir, so I’m happy to help.’

  Fishing a huge bunch of keys from his pocket Jo took a step nearer the broken chancel, ‘If I could take a look at the chancel, then I’ll fetch what I need from my van.’

  The sound of scraping grew louder as they approached the chancel. Izzie was busy halfway up the ladder, clearing out old grouting before re-pointing the stones that been loosened by the fall of the branch. Knowing Izzie would be concentrating hard on what she was doing, and not wanting to startle her, Megan was cautious as she called, ‘Your knight in shining armour is here!’

  Without turning, Izzie shouted down, ‘Oh God, you’re not telling me my mother has sent another no-hoper my way with wedding bells in his eyes, are you?’

  Blushing, Megan tried to explain her friend’s retort, ‘I’m so sorry, Jo! Izzie’s mother is rather set on finding her daughter the perfect match, and …’

  Jo laughed as he held up a hand to show it was OK. ‘Don’t worry about it. I get a fair bit of that from my own mother. It’s all, “Honestly, Joseph, you’re thirty years old, when are you going to stop playing with planks of wood, get a career, and find a nice girl?”’

  Megan laughed. ‘Yes, that’s pretty much Izzie’s mother to a T as well.’

  Realising that her visitor was not waiting in the south aisle as she’d assumed, but was within hearing range, Izzie hastily climbed a little further down the ladder, one hand outstretched in greeting, ‘I’m so sorry! You must be Megan’s miracle carpenter.’

  ‘Well it is nearly Christmas, the perfect time for miracles concerning carpenters called Joseph.’ Jo grinned, turning his already attractive face into a very handsome one. ‘Happy to help – now where would you like me to start?’

  Ignoring the voice in her head that was telling her this was the first hot-looking man she’d set eyes on in ages, Izzie said, ‘Could you examine the wood in the chancel roof? The building listings people tell me, as it is case of rescuing things rather than updating them, I can replace any timber in the roof that needs replacing to keep the place safe, but I’m not sure where to start. It’s only one joist that’s cracked, but I don’t want to just wrap it in parcel tape and hope for the best.’

  Jo nodded, ‘If you don’t mind climbing down I’ll take a look. Then if I fetch my ladder, we can crack on together. I should have most things I need with me, although I only guessed at the timber required. I might have to go to the timber merchants.’

  Megan had a sudden sensation of being in the way, and winked up at Izzie, ‘I’ll go and make sure I have enough wings then shall I?’

  Shooting Megan a look that clearly told her that she should start matchmaking at her peril, Izzie said, ‘That would be great. The children arrive at ten, and Mrs V will be here soon with today’s cakes and stuff.’

  Izzie was about to climb down to make way for Jo when something in the stonework caught her eye, ‘Hang on, there’s another bit of branch got lodged on the wall here.’ Izzie tugged at it, but nothing happened. ‘Honestly, this stuff is like Velcro.’ She took her pocket knife from the bib of her dungarees and went to slice it away from the brickwork.

  Jo got closer to the bottom of the ladder. ‘Hey, I’m not sure that’s a branch, It’s a bit low down; it might be a …’

  He was too late.

  Izzie’s scream cut through his warning, as she shot backwards off the ladder.

  Jo was already shouting for help when all the church lights went out. He darted forward blindly, attempting to catch Izzie as she fell. Only half-succeeding, Izzie’s head knocked Jo hard in the chest, winding Jo and forcing him to his knees, which bought Izzie’s legs and feet crashing down with a sickening thud.

  ‘What happened?’ Izzie’s hand went to her head. It was pounding so hard she could have sworn she could feel her pulse beating through her skull like some kind of never ending tom-tom drum.

  Megan exhaled noisily, ‘Oh, thank God! You gave yourself a shock. That branch you cut through wasn’t a branch, it was an electric cable.’

  Izzie groaned as she clamped her eyes shut again, before opening them quickly, as if she’d noticed she wasn’t in the chancel for the first time. Lifting herself up gingerly on her elbows she peered around the spotless white room. ‘Where the hell am I? I’ve got so much to do, I …’

  ‘Don’t panic. Everything’s fine.’

  ‘Fine? Megan, I have to get back to it. If the church isn’t ready I’ll lose the choir, and all the invites have gone out and …’ Izzie took a ragged intake of breath, ‘if this business is going to be a success, I need the choir to come. Not just for the money; they’re about the only reason my parents have been putting up with me “playing” at being a businesswoman. I want to prove to them I’m not just playing.’

  Megan had suspected that she’d have to be firm with her friend if she was to get the rest the nursing staff had insisted she needed over the next seventy-two hours, not just because she’d had a mild electric shock, but because, although Izzie obviously hadn’t registered the fact yet, her right ankle was badly strained and swollen from where it had hit the floor.

  ‘I assume that’s why you haven’t asked your parents for the money to sort out the chancel? You want to prove you can do this to them even more than to yourself?’

  Izzie rubbed her head harder, ‘Bet you think that’s a bit pathetic. It’s just they’re so controlling, I don’t want anyone lecturing me when I’m forty about how I’ve sponged off my parents all my life, and saying that I’ve had it easy due to an accident of birth. Does that make sense?’

  Megan smiled. ‘Total sense.’

  ‘So you can see why I’ve got to get out of here.’ Izzie went to pull herself upright and winced, her face instantly going pale, ‘What the hell?’

  ‘You landed awkwardly. Your ankle is sprained, but not broken. You were lucky.’

  ‘Lucky?’ Izzie slumped back with a crash onto her pillow and instantly wished she hadn’t as the inside of her head felt as though it was somersaulting without the aid of a safety net. ‘Where am I anyway? This isn’t the NHS place, which means my parents are involved.’

  Megan inched her chair closer, ‘Izzie, I am going to take hideous advantage of being your friend, and be bossy, so listen. You’re lucky because Jo caught you. If he hadn’t you could have had a broken neck, or worse. We had no choice but to call your parents as soon as the ambulance had been summoned. Once the A&E department said you were concussed and had to be admitted, your mother took over, and got you into the private room of the community hospital. Don’t knock it, it’s like a palace, and it’s on our drive home from the arts centre so I can visit every day to keep you updated. The only minor flaw is that there’s no mobile reception, but the staff have a phone we can use if we need to.’

  Feeling a little ashamed at being sharp, Izzie said, ‘Sorry, Megan. I’m just cross with myself for being so stupid. I never usually cut anything without double checking first. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘How about the arrival of an extremely handsome carpenter, who is OK by the way, despite being winded when he caught you, and probably having a bruise the size of the Cotswolds on his butt from where he fell after catching you.’

  Izzie groaned loader, ‘Oh, hell. I didn’t even ask did I.’ There was a brief pause before she added, ‘Jo is quite good-looking, isn’t he?’

  Megan laughed, ‘Now I’m worried. Your concussion must be more serious than I thought!’ She stood up, ‘I’d better get back to your empire; I left Mrs V in charge of the children, and she roped in her neighbour to serve coffee.’

  ‘Oh she is a star. But I have to come with you, there’s so much I ought to …’ Izzie’s voice was becoming fainter, and Megan, who was sure she’d be asleep again in seconds, decided not to worry Izzie about the fact there was no electricity in the church for the time being.

  Just as Izzie drifted off
, she murmured, ‘Check on Jo. I remember seeing his eyes. He has nice eyes …’

  Chapter Four

  December 17th

  Megan already loved Mrs Vickers. The first time she saw her jolly round face, with half-moon glasses perched on her nose, grey hair tied back in a neat bun on the back of her head, and an apron stretched around her ample waist, Megan couldn’t help but smile. Walt Disney’s finest couldn’t have designed a woman more perfect for the role of archetypal granny.

  Now, the morning after Izzie’s accident, completely unfazed by the fact that she would have to run the café without electricity, Mrs V rolled up her sleeves. Muttering something about the spirit of the Blitz, she dished out a plate of delicious-smelling, home-cooked scones by the power of candlelight and two large ornamental lanterns, while humming a carol which could have been ‘Silent Night’, or possibly ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ – it was hard to tell.

  Megan switched on the third mega-sized torch Jo had produced from his van the night before, ‘Are you sure you’re OK over there, Mrs V?’

  ‘Oh course I am, dear.’ Placing a cloth over the top of her scones, the pensioner heaved two industrial sized flasks onto the café’s side table, ‘It’ll just be tea or coffee until we have the power back, but I’ve got Mr V standing guard over a vat of mulled wine at home. Izzie wanted it for the choir evening, so I thought I’d whip up a practice batch. He’ll bring it over later. It’ll go well with the mince pies he is also keeping an eye on for me.’

  Resisting the urge to hug the little lady who was as dusted in flour as she was in plaster dust after having inspected the chancel, Megan asked, ‘I didn’t have the chance to find out from Izzie what she wanted organising food and drink wise for the concert, let alone how many other children’s craft sessions have been arranged.’

  ‘It’s all in the book, dear.’ Mrs V calmly washed her hands and took a battered diary from the nearest drawer. ‘Here we are. There’s a further Christmas craft class every morning from now until December the twentieth, from ten until eleven thirty for the nursery, pre-school, and local primary school children.’