Page 11 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

‘Sit down, we’ve made a fry-up to start you off in style.’

‘Can I help with anything?’ Jen asked, praying that the answer would be no. She wasn’t the best cook.

They all shook their heads. ‘It’s all ready now anyway,’ Rich said, as he placed a plate heaving with sausages onto the table. It was soon followed by bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans and fried bread.

‘Wow,’ Jen said, happily filling her plate. ‘I won’t be able to move after this lot.’

Ted shook his head, already biting into a sausage. ‘This is fuel. We’ve got that hike, remember?’

Jen forced herself to smile, even though she was inwardly groaning. She understood why they’d chosen this activity; back in the day they’d loved heading out into the gorgeous Cotswolds countryside every now and then, getting some fresh air and admiring the views. It had been a nice change from the city-based drinking habits that were their usual entertainment. But she hadn’t been on a proper walk for years. There had been literal cobwebs in her boots when she’d dug them out from the back of a cupboard, and they were looking more than a little worse for wear. She wasn’t sure they’d survive an actual hike; when Ted had instructed her to bring them, she’d assumed it was for a little ramble over a field, nothing more.

Still, she was enjoying the fuel, at least, she thought as she cut into an egg, the yolk spilling over the plate, and added it to the crispy bacon already speared on her fork.

‘Remember that time we got mugged by a sheep?’ Ted said, and they all laughed.

‘Oh my God, it was so greedy! I’ve never known anything like it,’ Jen said. ‘Bloody thing nicked my sandwich.’

‘And my apple,’ Lou said.

‘And my crisps!’ Rich added, through the mouthful he was chewing. They could only make out what he was saying because they’d been there, so they knew.

‘Ah, well. It did you a favour there, your college diet was awful!’ Jen said. ‘You lived on crisps and sweetcorn straight from the tin.’

He shrugged, grinning through a mouthful of beans. ‘Sweetcorn’s healthy.’

Lou laughed. ‘Can’t argue with that.’

‘Remember—’ Rich was laughing so hard that he could hardly speak. ‘Remember that time you thought you’d got a tick, and we all had to rush home?’ Jen flushed. She hated this story, she’d felt so foolish, making them abandon the walk over nothing. ‘And it turned out to be just a bit of grit stuck between your toes!’ He was laughing so hard he was doubled over.

Jen laughed along, raising her hands in defeat. ‘Yeah, what an idiot! It was a very tick-shaped bit of grit though.’

Lou was smiling. ‘I think we’d pretty much done with the walk that day anyway, hadn’t we?’

Ted looked at Jen, his dark eyes soft. ‘Ah, easily done. Could’ve happened to any of us. Maybe it was just your tac-tick to end the walk, eh?’ He looked around at them all, grinning, and was met with the usual mix of laughter and groans.

‘Right,’ Lou said when they’d finished. ‘Let’s get this cleared away and open some presents.’

They did allow Jen to help clear the table, though she was shooed away from the dishwasher.

‘Tomorrow you’ll be back on clean-up duty,’ Ted said, smiling. ‘But for today, let us spoil you.’

She didn’t object. She was used to being independent, rarely seeing her family and having never lived with a partner. Things were amicable with her flatmates, but it wasn’t like living with friends. It wasn’t like it had been at college, where if you were ill someone would run to the chemist to get you medicine or bring endless supplies of tea or Lucozade or juice, depending on your preference.

Now, when Jen was sick she had to drag herself out of bed or do without. When she was tired she often just made herself beans on toast for dinner. There was no one to share meals with, no one to help out. No one else to please, she reminded herself. No one to hold her back when she wanted to take an impromptu holiday, no one to break promises.

Watching the good-natured banter between Lou and Rich over the correct way to stack the dishwasher, she imagined they were exactly the same with their spouses; comfortable, relaxed. Squabbling over that kind of domestic drudgery – dishwashers, school runs. It was hardly sweeping romance.

‘Right, let’s get on with it,’ Rich said. ‘It’s going to snow later and we want to be safely in the pub by then, not still trekking around on a hike.’

‘Snow!’ Jen said. ‘It’s only just December, we’re not going to get snow.’

Still, she needed no more encouragement to open her presents. Ripping off the paper, she soon found her way into the gifts: a set of Molton Brown toiletries from Lou and a bottle of nice red wine from Rich. So far, so good. She hugged them and thanked them, promising not to break into the wine on the train journey home the next day.

Ted’s gift was smaller, and she unwrapped it to find a small velvet box.

Inside, she found a little pendant, sitting on a white satin cushion. Pulling it out, she saw it was a silhouette of a little black cat, dangling from a silver chain.

‘Oh, it’s Jet!’ she said, overwhelmed with happy memories of the pet she’d grown up with. She’d been a sweet little thing, stoically accepting a young Jen’s habit of dressing her in doll’s clothes and pushing her round in a little pram. ‘I can’t believe you remembered.’