Page 22 of A Merry Little Christmas

‘You’ve made your point, love. Let’s go home. We can sort this out.’

‘By which you mean that you’ll persuade me to do things your way.’ Woody shook his head. ‘Sorry, but I’ve made my mind up.’

The two men fell silent and rested their foreheads together. Nell realised she was staring and forced herself to turn away; she’d never seen such a good-looking male couple.

‘I love you,’ said Spencer with a sigh.

‘I love you, and I’m going to miss you a lot.’

There were a few seconds of quiet, during which Nell assumed the couple were kissing. Then they said their goodbyes and the shop door closed with a tinkle of the bell.

‘Oh gawwwd,’ Woody murmured under his breath, watching Spencer out of the window. ‘What have I done?’

He turned as Nell’s phone beeped with an alert. It was Merry trying to call her back. She stuffed her phone in her pocket to deal with later.

‘Sorry about that display,’ he said, pressing his palms to his face. ‘What must you think of me?’

The poor man looked on the verge of tears.

‘I think that you’re a man in desperate need of a glass of wine,’ she replied, striding past him to flip the sign on the door to closed and turning the key.

‘Oh gosh.’ Woody managed a wobbly smile. ‘Nell, darling, you and I are going to be the best of friends, I just know it.’

‘Follow me,’ she said, leading the way upstairs to the flat.

Woody didn’t know just how fortuitous his pronouncement was, because after that last conversation with Merry, she might just be in need of a new best friend.

Chapter 8

Merry

‘You’re going to be amazed by how much the house has changed since you last visited.’

Merry gripped the door handle of the car as Astrid rounded the bend without slowing down. It was a good job her midwife, Pip, hadn’t had prior knowledge of Astrid’s skills behind the wheel when giving her blessing for this afternoon’s jaunt.

The two women were on their way to visit the new Robinson family home. Strictly speaking, Merry was supposed to be resting, but she’d reasoned with the midwife that as the new house would soon be their home, she ought to be allowed to go, as long as she didn’t do anything dangerous.

Astrid, her former art teacher and the closest thing she’d had to a mother figure, was dramatic in every aspect of her life: from her velvet cloaks in every hue, and the many bracelets which jingled on each wrist, to driving with one hand on the wheel and the other painting pictures in the air as she talked. Normally, Astrid’s driving style didn’t worry Merry, but now that she had to hold the seat belt away from her stomach, she was forced to keep her feet braced against the sides of the footwell to stop herself bouncing about.

‘I’m not so sure, Schatz.’ Astrid’s eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘You have been a little ball of energy since you first came into my art class as a teenager and wanted to learn to draw. When you put your mind to something, you have a way of making it happen.’

‘I’m doing my best to chivvy the house renovation along so that we can bring the new baby home from hospital to this address,’ said Merry determinedly. ‘Being induced on the twenty-eighth does make it tricky, I admit.’

‘If anyone can do it, it’s you,’ Astrid said. ‘I know I say this often, but I am so proud of the woman you have become, mein Liebling. You have had to work hard for everything you have, I am looking forward to seeing the progress in your new home.’

‘Thank you, Astrid, you say lovely things.’ Merry felt herself glow with pride.

At a time when she felt as if she was doing everything wrong: upsetting Nell, arguing with Cole, and feeling guilty for her waters breaking, it felt good to be praised for once.

They turned into Oakwood Lane and Merry’s spirits started to lift as they always did. It was a quiet residential street, leafy in the summer, but strung with elegant Christmas lights now. It had an eclectic mix of homes, from smaller terraced houses at the top, a short run of incongruous seventies-built bungalows in the middle and finally a delightful row of Victorian detached properties which, on one side of the road, backed onto hedgerows and green fields.

It was one of these, Meadow View, which Merry had come across in the summer when the previous inhabitant moved into Springwood House where her dad lived.

She and Cole had had their offer accepted before the house had even been officially photographed by the estate agent.

Astrid pulled up onto the drive and Merry let out a happy sigh. Sometimes she felt like pinching herself that her name was on the deeds for this beautiful house. For a girl who’d grown up with virtually nothing to her name, it seemed almost impossible that she was now a homeowner.

Before she had a chance to get out of the car, she heard her phone ring. She looked at the screen: Springwood House. Her stomach plummeted: Please let it not be bad news …