to the farm. Let me show you inside, it’s freezing out here.’
‘That won’t be necessary. I’m more interested in the land. But I suppose the main building can stay. It might make a decent welcome lodge,’ said her companion, finally looking up from his phone. Really, so very rude, Jenny thought. She wondered why he’d come. He hardly looked the farming type, but no one had shown an interest in Blackstock Farm in months, and she could do with a sale before Christmas. She and her boyfriend, Tom, were planning a skiing trip over the festive season; a bonus would come in handy. ‘Can we walk down to the woods from here?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Jenny, grateful that she’d had the sense to dress up warmly, ‘but are you sure? It’s likely to be cold and muddy.’
Dark storm clouds were rolling over the hills and the temperature felt like it had dropped a couple of degrees. A few streaks of sharp cold rain fell, making Jenny shiver.
Flashing a devastatingly winning smile, her client said, ‘I’ll manage. I’m sure it will be fine.’
Jenny led him to a gate in the furthest corner of the yard. It was a good ten minutes’ hike down to the top part of the woods, and despite her boots, her feet were like blocks of ice when they got there, and her skirt was soaked through at the bottom where it had trailed in the wet grass. Keen as she was for this sale, as the rain started to fall in earnest, Jenny cursed her enthusiastic companion (who apparently didn’t notice the cold) for dragging her down here. On a sunny day in June it would have been lovely …
‘This is perfect,’ he was saying. ‘We could do so much with this.’
‘Oh?’ she asked. She’d assumed he was a townie looking for an escape to the country, but now she was intrigued. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t reveal that,’ he said, ‘but I can tell you that my company will be very very interested, indeed. This is just what we’ve been waiting for.’
He smiled that dazzling smile at her again, and she felt herself go weak at the knees. If she didn’t have a boyfriend …
‘Right, I think I’ve seen all I need to see,’ her client, and, she hoped, now prospective buyer, said, ‘thank you so much for your time and trouble.’
‘My pleasure,’ she said, and hoping she wasn’t being too pushy added, ‘I take it you feel you’ll be able to move forward with this, maybe before Christmas?’
‘We’ll have to see,’ another flash of that winning smile. ‘I have a few calls to make first.’
As they walked back towards the farmhouse, Jenny wondered what his company was planning. This was a lovely part of the world, and she could see the attraction of living on a farm like this. Perhaps they’d be putting starter homes up here. Hell, if she and Tom had the money …
Jenny showed her client round the farmhouse briefly but could tell he wasn’t really interested. Maybe she’d got it wrong; maybe he wasn’t going to bite. She didn’t usually get it wrong.
But then, he said those magic words: ‘I think my boss will be very interested to hear about this property and land. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’
Result. That Christmas bonus was looking much more likely. Jenny thanked him and agreed to call him early the following week. As she walked through the icy winter rain to the car, Jenny was delighted to hear him on the phone, presumably to his boss, saying, ‘Felix? Luke Nicholas here, I think we’ve found our location.’
‘Are we ever going to have lunch?’ Cat’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Paige, prised herself away from her brand new iPhone for five minutes and came wandering into the kitchen looking hungry, as if she hadn’t been fed in months.
‘Sorry, darling,’ said Cat, Santa hat slipping, boiling hot and uncharacteristically fraught in her gleaming stainless steel kitchen; normally her favourite place in the house. But today, as she fiddled with the knobs on the cooker, she felt like hitting something. Preferably the cooker. Brand new, when they’d moved in just over seven years ago, it hadn’t stood the test of time. ‘It’s this sodding oven. It’s playing up again.’
It was the one spanner in the works, in what had been so far a perfect Christmas morning. Having teenagers in the house meant that no one got up too early, apart from her beautiful one-year-old granddaughter Lou Lou. Luckily her eldest daughter, Mel, had done the decent thing and got up with the baby. Later, they’d sat around opening presents, enjoying watching Lou Lou surrounded by boxes, revelling in ripping wrapping paper to shreds and clapping her hands in delight. Having prepared the vegetables the day before, Cat had been quite relaxed about the turkey, until she’d realised the oven wasn’t working.
‘I knew we should have got a new one before Christmas,’ said Noel, laughing at her, as he came in the kitchen bringing her the glass of Prosecco he’d promised several hours earlier.
‘Shut up, know it all,’ said Cat, throwing a tea towel at him with an affectionate grin, ‘you said nothing of the sort. Anyway, Paige, despite the cooker having a tantrum, it is nearly ready. So can you tell your brother and sisters, and ask Mel to make sure Lou Lou is settled.’
Paige, whose hair seemed to have changed colour overnight for the second time in as many weeks, vanished like greased lightning now that food was in the offing, and she could be heard shouting, ‘Everyone, it’s nearly time to eat, at last!’ It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been eating chocolate all morning.
‘Right, ready to carve?’ she asked Noel, putting her oven gloves on and opening the oven door. The turkey dish was very heavy, and also extremely hot. Oven gloves were also on her must buy list, she realised ruefully; these were wearing through.
‘Can I do anything to help?’ Angela, her mother-in-law wandered in at that moment, with impeccable timing, always making sure she did something to put Cat’s teeth slightly on edge. She meant well, but it was hard sometimes not to feel like she was criticising Cat’s every move.
‘No, we’re fine, thanks, Angela,’ said Cat, just as she lifted the turkey dish out, and then dropped it slightly, realising there was a hole in her glove and she’d burnt her finger. ‘Oh sod!’ she added as the dish slipped out of her hands and fell on the open oven door and turkey fat accidentally spilt on the floor. Gingerly she picked up the turkey dish, and put it on top of the oven, shut the oven door, and went to fetch a cloth, only to find Angela delightedly rushing forward, at last finding an opportunity to be helpful.
‘Careful!’ shouted Cat, too late as her mother-in-law slipped on the turkey fat and slid gracefully across the grey flagstone floor, landing with a rather undignified thump on her backside. Cat stood transfixed in horror, not sure quite what to do, till Noel broke her stupor as he raced to his mum’s side.
‘Mum, are you ok?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine, don’t fuss so,’ said Angela, but she was clearly shaken and was breathing very hard and in a rather laboured way.
‘Slowly does it,’ said Cat, helping her mother-in-law sit up, and fetching her a glass of water. ‘Get your breath back, before you try and stand up.’
