so we’re definitely saying “stuff the snow machines” for now. We’ll be starting with Christmas deccies in the holiday cottages, if that’s okay with you, Immie?’ Let Quinn have what he wants, but at the same time make sure we do something useful. If I don’t stand up to him from the start, I’ll be dead meat. ‘All good, Quinn?’ I make sure I’m smiling, then turn to check out his reaction.
There’s a string of sausages dangling from his hand, and he’s opening and closing his mouth like a guppy. Given he’s pretty much lost for words, I’m guessing surprise is a good tactic.
‘We’ll take that as a “yes” then.’ Immie winks at me. ‘Let yourselves into the cottages, the keys are all in the office.’
While I’ve got Immie here for back up, I go again. ‘Be careful in the kitchen, Quinn, if you’re playing the naked chef. We can’t have the best man burning himself.’
Immie’s straight in after me. ‘Make sure you cook the right sausages too.’ She gives a guffaw and holds out the key to me. ‘I’ll let you get on. I got you a Santa keyring that flashes,’ she says. ‘So you can keep track of it.’
Seeing as the light-up Santa in question is at least eight inches high, I’m guessing someone tipped her off about me losing stuff.
‘A flashing Santa from Immie? Why does that not surprise me?’ Quinn quips, as he emerges from behind the kitchen units.
Immie rounds on him. ‘You… Stop cheeking people and damn well go and get some clothes on.’
Surprisingly, he saunters across the room like a lamb.
I wait until he’s almost at the bedroom door. ‘Nice tats, by the way.’ I note the way he jerks to a halt, then laugh at Immie. ‘But now I’ve seen them once, I won’t need to see them again. Understood?’
‘Okay,’ he says grudgingly, and gives us a crestfallen-puppy shrug. ‘Your loss, though.’
Immie heads for the other door, but when she reaches it, she drops her voice. ‘I can tell he likes you. Joke around, but stay firm. You’ll have him eating out of your hand.’
I really hope she’s right.
Saturday, 17th December
At Rose Hill Manor: Records and pocket handkerchiefs
Anyone who cooks a breakfast as delicious as the one we just ate deserves to get a little bit of their own way, even if they did do it with too few clothes on. So when we finally get to work on the list of stuff to collect for the cottages, Quinn gets to decide the order of the pickups. By the time we turn into the drive to Rose Hill Manor to pick up a consignment of boxes, the hire van Alice had thoughtfully had delivered to the farm is already groaning under the weight of fifty Christmas trees in pots for inside and out at the cottages.
He gives a satisfied nod as we make our way between the avenue of huge trees flanking the approach road. As we round the final corner, and the house comes into view, the steep roofs and mellow stone facade are glowing gold in the pale-pink afternoon light.
He pulls the van to a halt. ‘There you go, Rose Hill at its rosy winter best.’
‘Wow… beautiful.’ Squinting at it through the wide windscreen of the van, I’m almost lost for words. The house is larger than I’d imagined, but its higgledy piggledy mix of windows make it wonderfully welcoming. ‘Alice is so lucky to be getting married here.’
Of everyone I know, Alice and Dan are one of the most perfect and solid couples, and they truly deserve this. And I don’t mean to imply they’re boring. It’s just I couldn’t actually imagine settling down together as early as they did myself. They met on their first day at uni and have been going out ever since. As soon as they got their degrees, Dan set up the business and Alice zoomed up her career ladder. Next came the most gorgeous Hampstead flat, and fast-forward to a textbook romantic proposal on a private launch on the Thames. Now three years later, this fabulous wedding is the icing on their perfect cake.
‘I thought you’d like it.’ Quinn’s smile is full of warmth. ‘There’s a formal garden and more parkland round the back.’ From the way Quinn’s talking, he could be describing a pocket handkerchief lawn with a barbecue on a patio. ‘Oh, and a bit of a lake too.’ Just as an afterthought, then.
I pause for a moment, trying to take it all in. ‘It’s so wintery, with the bare trees silhouetted against the land.’ I can imagine how it looks, dusted with the rime of a hoar frost. If Alice gets one of those for the day of her wedding, even though I know they don’t happen very often, it’ll be worth freezing our butts off for the pictures.
He nods at my satchel, clamped between my feet. ‘Not sure if you’ve got that far in the Wedding Story, but they’ve got a hot-shot photographer coming down. One of the best in London. Friend of a friend. I blagged them a four-figure discount.’
The more I hear, the bigger Quinn’s involvement seems to be. ‘Alice must be very grateful,’ I say.
He gives a sigh. ‘Alice and I have our moments. She doesn’t always approve of me, or my methods.’
‘She’s always been conventional,’ I admit. After a few hours with Quinn, I can see his individual brand of anarchy probably drives Alice up the wall. ‘You should be in her good books after this, anyway.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll ever make it that far.’ He gives a laugh. ‘Thank Christmas you’re more Team Dan than Team Alice.’
Whoa. ‘I wasn’t aware we were taking sides here. Isn’t this a joint effort all round?’
‘My point entirely,’ he says.
I’m not certain, but I think he just contradicted himself hugely there. Not that I’m going to point it out.
He goes on. ‘Which is exactly why you should come and join me and stay at the cottage.’
‘What?’ For some reason I haven’t kept up with the logic here. Worse, I seem to be squeaking like a strangled mouse.
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘It makes perfect sense, given we get on so well. At least until the others arrive. Bunking in together would save you running back and forwards into town.’
When I turn to examine his expression, there’s not an ounce of flirt in his eyes. Just a very direct, honest, blue green gaze. Which is actually way more unnerving. Because now I don’t know what the hell to think. Other than knowing this would be completely banned by Alice. And remembering there’s no way he’d be attracted to me with my non-existent figure and scruffy clothes.
As I open my mouth I’m unsure how to reply, but it doesn’t matter as he cuts me off short.
‘Obviously we don’t have to decide now.’ He gives me another elbow nudge, but this time there’s the thickness of an extra sweater between us, so it’s way less jolty than this morning’s naked one. ‘For the record…’ There’s a bit of a dramatic pause. ‘I do think hanging out with me twenty-four seven would do you a lot of good.’ He tops
