A christmas celebration, p.1

A Christmas Celebration, page 1

 

A Christmas Celebration
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A Christmas Celebration


  Praise for Heidi Swain

  ‘Sweet and lovely. I guarantee you will fall in love with Heidi’s wonderful world’ Milly Johnson

  ‘More Christmassy than a week in Lapland – we loved it!’ Heat

  ‘Sparkling and romantic’ My Weekly

  ‘The queen of feel-good’ Woman & Home

  ‘The most delicious slice of festive fiction: a true comfort read and the perfect treat to alleviate all the stress!’ Veronica Henry

  ‘Sprinkled with Christmas sparkle’ Trisha Ashley

  ‘A story that captures your heart’ Chrissie Barlow

  ‘Grab a glass of mulled wine and enjoy this sparkling, snow-filled romance’ Culturefly

  ‘Fans of Carole Matthews will enjoy this heartfelt novel’ Katie Oliver

  Thank you for downloading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

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  This book is dedicated to every reader who picks it up. In the fictional worlds we create, we are never alone.

  Chapter 1

  It had taken me a while to come to terms with it, but deep down I had known my time working in Jordan was coming to an end. I knew even before the loss of corporate funding made the number of aid workers unsustainable.

  I had worked for the charity since graduation almost a decade ago, and there was only so long anyone could cope with working in refugee camps across the world. I had overstretched myself by at least eighteen months. My managers had already expressed concern that I was bowling towards burnout but I had doggedly ploughed on, determined to complete my contract before bowing out for a long overdue break.

  However, with just weeks to go and under immense pressure as more and more people arrived at the camp, I had made a mistake. A stupid one, a huge one, a potentially life ending one and it had been decided that I would be doing everyone a favour if I stood down early. I was lucky my boss was willing to cite the withdrawal of the sponsorship we relied on as the reason for my premature departure, but I still felt like I had failed.

  Six hours after boarding a plane in Jordan I stepped out of Heathrow Airport and was welcomed by a blast of freezing November air that my inadequate cotton outfit had no chance of rebuffing and to the sound of my mobile ringing somewhere in the depths of my backpack. I hastily stepped back inside, out of the way of the wave of travellers also exiting the building, and rummaged until I found it.

  ‘Paige?’

  ‘Mum.’ I smiled, surprisingly choked to hear her voice.

  ‘Paige,’ she said again, this time her tone full of relief. ‘You’ve landed?’

  ‘Yes,’ I told her, swallowing away the lump in my throat. ‘Just. I’m now about to leave the airport.’

  My parents had already set sail on their annual winter cruise when I had announced that I was coming back to the UK earlier than planned. It had been a ruse on my part. I had known I was heading home before they departed, but I hadn’t wanted to be subjected to either their well-intentioned fuss or the inevitable questions so hadn’t said anything until they were long out of the dock. Hearing Mum’s voice then though, I did wonder if that had been the right thing to do.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ she said, sounding further relieved.

  Her tone confirmed that she, as well as Dad, had worked out that there was more behind my premature return than I had let on.

  ‘Is Dad there?’ I asked before she had a chance to start firing questions. ‘Where exactly are you?’

  ‘He is,’ she said, her voice drifting away a little. ‘We’re in the Cayman Islands and it’s as hot as hell. We’re going to swim with stingrays later…’

  ‘Never mind about our schedule,’ I heard Dad bluster in the background. ‘Ask her if she’s all right.’

  ‘You said not to,’ Mum tutted.

  The line went quiet and I laughed as I imagined the pair of them tussling with the phone.

  ‘Paige,’ came Dad’s voice. He had obviously won the scrimmage. ‘How are you?’

  With a lengthy army career behind him, Dad knew that my work in war ravaged countries had never been easy and he had been of the same opinion as my manager, that I was pushing my luck and needed a break.

  ‘Good.’ I swallowed, the laughter dying on my lips and the words sticking in my throat as he came straight to the point. ‘Great. Looking forward to some time on my own.’

  I was still looking forward to that, wasn’t I?

  ‘Well, that’s a shame,’ Dad then surprised me by saying. ‘About the time on your own, I mean.’

  I had assumed he was all for me taking the opportunity to step away and regroup.

  ‘Is it?’ I frowned, sticking my finger in my ear to block out the noise of the busy concourse. ‘Why?’

  The line crackled for a moment and I heard him say something to Mum.

  ‘Because,’ he then said, his voice louder again, ‘I was going to suggest you headed to somewhere other than the house. Somewhere that you’d find a bit of company, but if you’d really rather be alone…’

  ‘Where?’ I butted in.

  ‘Wynthorpe.’

  ‘Wynthorpe Hall?’ I frowned. ‘Why would you suggest I should go there?’

  Wynthorpe Hall was nestled in the heart of the Fens and was the family home of my godparents, Catherine and Angus Connelly. It was a wonderful place, but I knew it was far from the silent sanctuary I had been craving in which to hide out and lick my metaphorical wounds in private. As well as two of the three Connelly sons, Jamie and Archie, their partners lived at the hall too, along with a whole host of staff who were so close to the family they were also considered kin.

  ‘Because your exasperating godfather has… well, how can I put it?’ Dad struggled to explain. ‘Rather overstretched himself, I suppose you could say.’

  I heard Mum muttering in the background and couldn’t help but smile again. My darling godfather, Angus, was always overstretching himself with one madcap scheme or another. His antics were entertaining to hear about, but that was when there were thousands of miles between us and I was in no danger of getting roped into helping with them.

  ‘What’s he done now?’ I couldn’t resist asking while simultaneously feeling a pang of sympathy for my godmother, Catherine. ‘Surely there’s enough people around and about at the hall to keep him on the straight and narrow?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing,’ said Dad. ‘Most of them aren’t there at the moment. The charity Jamie and Anna run has closed for a couple of months, so they’ve taken the opportunity to fly out to Africa to visit the project Jamie worked on before he took over management of the hall.’

  ‘But why does that matter if the charity is closed?’ I asked, unable to fathom why their absence would be a problem.

  ‘It matters because Anna does a lot of volunteering locally,’ Dad explained. ‘She’s in charge of delivering groceries, library books and prescriptions to people who live out of town and she does a fair bit of ferrying to appointments and things too.’

  ‘In that case, why did she and Jamie leave without having sorted some cover first?’ I asked, feeling further confused.

  ‘Because Angus insisted he would be able to sort it.’ Dad filled me in. ‘He was worried they wouldn’t go at all if they were stressing about finding cover so he said he’d arrange it all and sent them on their way.’

  ‘I see,’ I said. ‘And there really is no one else who can help?’

  ‘Apparently not,’ said Dad, ‘and Hayley the housekeeper and her partner, Gabe, who maintains the grounds, are also away now too. There wasn’t supposed to be much of an overlap with Jamie and Anna’s trip but Gabe’s sister had a change to her schedule and the run up to Christmas suddenly became the only time they’d be able to get together.’

  ‘Crikey,’ I said. ‘So who have they got cleaning the hall?’

  I knew that there was more to that particular role than flinging a vacuum cleaner about once a week.

  ‘No one at the moment,’ Dad explained. ‘And you know what a big deal Christmas at Wynthorpe is now, so there’s all of that to contend with too.’

  I’d momentarily forgotten about the more recent festive changes, but the Wynthorpe Hall Winter Wonderland really was a big deal and, according to the plethora of photos I’d seen posted online, a huge seasonal spectacle. It doubtless took endless organizing and, with fewer people to help set it up, would soon become more of a pain than a pleasure.

  ‘I do know, yes,’ I said. ‘So, this really is rotten timing for the four of them to be off, isn’t it? Whatever was Angus thinking?’

  ‘Since when does Angus think?’ Dad laughed. ‘You know what he’s like. He just wants everyone to be happy.’

  That did sound very much like my godfather. Generous to a fault, but often without a thought for the consequences and repercussions. As this current situation proved.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Dad asked.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About going to the hall. Why don’t you go and save the day? You could do the deliveries and flick a duster about the place, couldn’t you? You could have a proper Christmas there too. It’s been years since you’ve been in the country at the right time to celebrate that.’

  ‘I suppose…’ I said, biting my

lip.

  ‘I know they’d be thrilled to see you.’ I heard Mum chip in. ‘Poor Archie has been pulling his hair out. He’s at his wits’ end with it all.’

  I daresay, as the only Connelly brother in residence it was down to him to pick up the pieces and try to find a way to tidy up the mess his well-meaning father had made.

  ‘It might be just the distraction you find you need,’ Dad then craftily added.

  And that was how, just an hour after arriving in the UK on November the fourteenth, I found myself boarding a bus for Peterborough and then another for the Fenland town of Wynbridge.

  Chapter 2

  Exhausted by the emotion of leaving my old life and colleagues behind in Jordan and further tired out by the endless hours of travelling, I had slept through the larger part of both bus journeys from Heathrow to the Fenland market town of Wynbridge, but there was no rest to be found on the actual drive down to the hall.

  ‘You can drop me here if you like,’ I soon piped up, taking pity on the taxi’s suspension.

  The driver had markedly winced when I’d hopped off the bus in Wynbridge, into the back of his car and told him where I wanted to go. I had wondered why at the time, but bouncing along the Wynthorpe Hall drive, in and out of the potholes, his reluctance was explained without a word being said.

  ‘You’ll walk?’ he asked, twisting around to look at me.

  ‘I’ll walk,’ I confirmed. ‘I know where I’m going.’

  As soon as I had climbed out, he made a near perfect three-point turn and slowly headed back to the road and I set off along the winding drive, with my rucksack on my back, excited to catch my first glimpse of the hall and its chimneys which towered above the trees.

  The moment I rounded the last corner and spotted it my face broke into a smile. I fixed my gaze on the manor house which had been my idyllic childhood playground and knew Dad had been right; it was a good idea to come and I couldn’t wait to see everyone. I only hoped they liked the idea of me turning up unannounced to help out and hadn’t managed to make alternative arrangements since Dad had last been in touch.

  With the cold really starting to bite, I rushed the final few steps through the courtyard and then rapped on the back door, which was ajar. When no one answered, I pulled off my shabby woolly hat, shook out my hair, which was far longer than I usually grew it and stepped inside, expecting Floss, the family spaniel, to come bowling through from the kitchen to greet me, but she didn’t.

  ‘We’ll manage,’ I heard someone insistently say. ‘You know we always do, somehow.’

  That had to be Angus.

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ said someone else, most likely Archie. ‘But we haven’t so far, Dad, and I can’t imagine the situation’s going to change anytime soon, can you?’

  He sounded thoroughly fed up, but I was relieved. It sounded as though my arrival couldn’t have been better timed and alternative arrangements hadn’t been made, assuming they were talking about the gaps Anna and Hayley had left.

  ‘We’re going to have to get that bog-standard cleaning firm in at the very least,’ Archie’s voice came again, confirming that I was right.

  ‘But Hayley said…’ countered Angus.

  ‘Hayley said she’d have our guts for garters if we did,’ Archie shot back. ‘I know, but we really have no other choice, do we? She drilled me about what to do in minute detail before she left, so I can relay all of that to whoever comes to take over and we’ll just have to hope for the best. It’s our only option. I can’t do it all myself and there’s no one else.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ a third voice then piped up. This one didn’t sound at all perturbed by the stressful situation and I knew instantly who the soft, dreamy tone belonged to. ‘I think the universe has just sent us a solution.’ They then happily continued, ‘And it’s going to manifest any second now.’

  A spontaneous cacophony of barking suddenly broke out and rather than find myself welcomed by just one hound skipping around my ankles, I was surrounded by three. Floss was one of them, though she looked much older than I remembered, and there was also a tiny Chihuahua and a colossal wolfhound. What a distinctive doggy pack!

  ‘What’s all this?’ Angus boomed as he rushed in after the dogs. ‘My goodness, Paige!’ he cried, pushing through them and pulling me into a swift and all-encompassing hug. ‘Is it really you?’

  ‘It is,’ I croaked, swallowing over the second lump to form in my throat since arriving back in the country. ‘My contract finally came to an end, so I thought I’d come home for a bit.’

  It wasn’t the moment to worry about the mortifying specifics or go into the details of my earlier than planned departure. Angus squeezed me tighter and then took a step away to take me in properly.

  ‘Paige!’ Archie laughed, as he swiftly joined us. ‘I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?’

  ‘She’s come to stay for Christmas,’ said Angus, relieving me of my rucksack and struggling under its weight. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’

  Not one word had been uttered about Christmas, which was still weeks away, but my godfather was clearly convinced I would be in situ for it. There was little point in suggesting that might not be the case. I was fully aware of how ‘festive-focused’ he could be and like the complications behind my return, I knew it could all wait.

  ‘I’m actually the cavalry,’ I told the smiling pair. ‘I spoke to Dad almost as soon as my plane landed and he suggested that you might need an extra pair of hands here at the moment.’

  Angus positively beamed when I said that.

  ‘I have no idea if I’ll be any good at any of it,’ I hastily added, before I got his hopes up too high, ‘but I’m willing to try – if you’re willing to show me the ropes.’

  Archie was already untying the apron he was wearing. The capacious front pocket had not one, but three different types of dusters, or cleaning cloths, stuffed inside.

  ‘You’ll pick it all up in no time.’ He grinned. ‘It’s so good to see you. Come on through.’

  I followed father and son further inside, just as Catherine came into the kitchen from the other end of the room.

  ‘Paige!’ she cried, also rushing to pull me into a hug. ‘How wonderful to see you after all this time. What on earth are you doing here?’

  I took a moment to catch my breath as Angus filled her in, adding to and embellishing the little I had already told him so I really did sound like the all-conquering hero. I took a moment to look around and further gather my thoughts. Having not visited for so many years, I had forgotten how full-on the kind hearted Connellys could be.

  I hoped I was going to be able to cope with their exuberance and enthusiasm. The hall was the complete opposite of the silent, empty space I would have found at my parents’ house. But then, perhaps that was no bad thing. Time to dwell could be as much of a curse as a blessing and at least throwing myself into helping do whatever was needed at Wynthorpe Hall would ensure I didn’t have too much of it.

  ‘Well, this is wonderful news,’ said Catherine, when Angus eventually drew breath. ‘And so kind of your dear father to suggest that you should come here or even be thinking of us and our dilemma while he and your mother are away on their holiday. We’re honoured to welcome you back into the country.’

  ‘It is you!’ came another voice, before I could respond. ‘Well, I never.’

  It was Dorothy, the Wynthorpe cook. She bustled in, dabbing her eyes with a cotton handkerchief before gathering her wits.

  ‘Right,’ she said briskly, looking me up and down. ‘Let the dog see the rabbit. Let me see what needs doing. Um,’ she then pronounced, ‘you look like you need a decent meal to me.’

  We all laughed because that had always been Dorothy’s stock response whenever anyone arrived at the hall and she knew there was an opportunity to feed them.

  ‘She’s all right,’ Archie laughed. ‘Nothing like the pale and pudgy Paige I remember.’

  I shook my head as I realized, he had already resorted to his teasing pre-teen self and childishly stuck my tongue out to match him, which made Mick, the hall handyman who had wandered in from outside, laugh.

  ‘Here, my love,’ he said, pulling out a chair for me to sit on. ‘Sit yourself down before everyone feels entitled to express an opinion on how you look.’

 

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