Page 13 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

Lucy pursed her lips and dialled again, determinedly. One ring, two rings, three … She was holding her breath, wondering whether to call off, when … on the fourth ring, there was a click.

‘Hel-lo.’ Becky’s voice at the other end of the line sounded cool, but at least she had answered.

‘Hey-y, Becks,’ the relief in Lucy’s voice gave itself away with a tremor. ‘How are you?’

‘Yeah, I’m okay. You?’ Her friend’s tone was guarded. Lucy felt like she was walking on thin ice, one false step and … ‘Look, please don’t tell me you’re still with him?’ There they were, at the crux of the matter straight away. Well, that was good, Lucy conceded. There were things that needed to be said. They both needed to be honest with each other.

‘Yes, I am. But, Becks, please hear me out …’

‘Okay, you have one minute to justify why on earth you are still with that cheating little git of a player … when you know he’s not trustworthy. You know how much he hurt me.’

The bitterness was still there, even though Jack and Becky’s fleeting ‘romance’, fling if you like, was over nine years ago. Oh yes, frustratingly, that girl, like the proverbial elephant, certainly didn’t forget, and definitely hadn’t forgiven. But there had to be more to it than that, surely?

‘Look, he’s changed, Becks. Jack is not the guy you met back then. His brother had just died when it all unravelled, he was going through a bad patch back then …’

‘Luce, you’ve told me all this before,’ Becky cut her off. ‘This isn’t news. Guys like Jack Anderson do not change. They use people, they’re players, and they can charm the birds from the bloody trees. I can’t stand back and just let this happen. Can’t see you get hurt all over again. And I can’t believe you, of all people, are being so bloody naïve.’

‘Just give him a chance. Give us a chance, Becks, please?’ Lucy paused, feeling her throat tightening with emotion. ‘He means a lot to me.’

‘Hah, another one he’s managed to pull the wool over their eyes. Lucy, I can’t stand by and say nothing. And if you’re not listening to me, I can’t pretend it’s all fine between us … when it’s not.’

‘Look, why don’t we meet up for a coffee? Chat this over, like we always have done when we’ve had a problem?’ Lucy pleaded.

‘Why don’t you call me when you’ve seen sense, when you’ve dropped him? I’ll be there for you then,’ Becky retorted, her tone determined with a steely note to it.

‘Becky …’ was all Lucy could say, as she felt her heart nosedive. She couldn’t leave Jack when everything she felt was telling her that he was the best thing that had happened to her in a very long time. That what they had already was special. She had to give him, them, this chance. ‘I can’t give him up, not now.’

A second or two of awkward silence followed. ‘I’ve got to go … Bye then, Luce. You take care.’

‘Bye …’ Lucy’s voice trailed, dismally. She didn’t know what else she could say.

Lucy stared into space, the bricks of the garden wall blurring slightly before her. She gave a sniff. Daisy trotted over, rubbing her smooth black-and-tan fur against Lucy’s ankles and looking up at her with deep-brown eyes, as if to comfort her. Lucy lifted the little dog carefully into her lap.

‘Oh, Daisy. What’s for the best? What am I going to do?’

Just when she’d thought she’d found a love worth waiting for, this was the flipside. Lucy felt torn, but there was no way she was going to give up on Jack. But, she sighed, could there be a grain of truth to what Becky was saying … was Jack the sort to give up on her?

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The Warkton-by-the-Sea Autumn Food Festival

Saturday 30th October

From 12 noon

Fabulous food, arts and crafts, live music

Fun for all the family!

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Chapter Seven

As much as her failing friendship hurt, Lucy knew she had to keep going, moving forwards with her new business and her life. The following week rolled on, and it was now only two days’ time until the Warkton-by-the-Sea Autumn Food Festival – a coastal celebration of all things Northumberland. Being her first year with the pizza horsebox, this was a new event and experience for her. Her emotions were a mix of anticipation sprinkled with fear – of messing up, not having enough stock, or some suchlike. A while back, Jack had given her the nod about it being well attended and was going to be there with his Cocktail Campervan. That gave her a little frisson of excitement, too.

First things first, she needed to make enough dough for one hundred pizza bases, no mean feat, with the special 00 flour just like her Papa used to use, and the dough would then need a couple of days to prove. Hopefully, that amount would provide enough pizzas to last the day. It was always hard to gauge with these kinds of events; she couldn’t afford to waste too much, but equally she didn’t want to run short. With it being held on a Saturday and a reasonable weather forecast, she was hoping it would be busy.

Organisation was key. She’d need to decide which flavours to concentrate on and then she’d source her fresh toppings. Her most popular being her tasty tomato margherita with mini mozzarella balls, a spicy nduja Italian sausage, local goat’s cheese and rocket, and Northumbrian ham and mushrooms. Hmm, perhaps something with prawns might work well too, she mused, with it being a seaside festival. Locally caught prawns with peppers and olives, perhaps – Northumberland with a Mediterranean twist. She’d make some garlic bread pizzas too; her melted mozzarella, garlic and fresh rosemary speciality was a belter.