A Not So Quiet Christmas
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About this ebook
Antonia prefers a quiet Christmas. She’s happy to spend it on her own watching movies in her pyjamas.
Antonia’s friend Jules, on the other hand, loves a big Christmas celebration and plans on travelling to the Yorkshire Dales for a festive break. But when Jules breaks her leg, she persuades Antonia to take her place on the trip. After arriving, Antonia meets the handsome Oliver and as Christmas approaches, the attraction between Oliver and Antonia grows.
She could choose to return to the bustling city and spend it alone. Or she could unwrap the gift of romance and have a not so quiet Christmas . . .
“Brilliant read . . . Wow, what can I say? . . . A real page turner and totally addictive. I loved it!” —Goodreads reviewer, five stars
“Simply gorgeous.” —Amazon reviewer, five stars
“Perfect Christmas read.” —Amazon reviewer, five stars
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Book preview
A Not So Quiet Christmas - Suzie Tullett
Chapter 1
Three weeks to Christmas
Ishivered as I let myself into Jules’s flat, relieved to be getting out of the cold. In all my thirty-four years I’d never been a fan of winter and already looked forward to the advent of spring. It’s only me,
I called out, as Frank, the dog, raced down the hall to greet me. The sight of his wagging tail, big floppy ears, and stumpy legs, brought a smile to my face. Hello, boy,
I said. I watched him dig his feet in to stop, but, as usual when it came to Frank and smooth surfaces, it was too little, too late. I made my way into the lounge and the poor thing slid straight past me.
I popped the key Jules had given me into my handbag with one hand, while carrying a potted plant in the other. Knowing how fed up she had to be, I fixed a smile on my face as I entered the room, determined to lift her spirits. For you,
I said, holding out my gift.
Stuck in her seat, my friend chuckled, looking surprisingly content under the circumstances. A cactus?
she said, clearly amused by my choice of gift.
A Christmas cactus to be precise,
I replied, nodding for her to take it. "Or, as the woman in the florist called it, Schlumbergera bridgesii."
Frank plonked himself down on the rug while Jules admired her plant. Thank you,
she said. It’s…
My friend pondered a moment, as if trying to find the right word. Interesting.
She placed it to one side.
You seem chirpy, considering.
I took off my gloves and stuffed them into my coat pockets. I thought you’d be weeping into your cushion by now.
Jules had never been one to sit still, even more so at Christmas. Whereas I had what she called an aversion to all things festive, Jules loved the excitement of running around here, there and everywhere, organising the perfect Yuletide. Finding herself not just housebound but chair-bound, and for longer than anticipated, prevented her from doing that. I’d expected her to be devastated, not sitting there with a smile on her face.
Unlike me,
Jules said, you’ve never experienced the delights of daytime television. Thanks to shows like this…
she gestured to the TV, I now know how to bake the perfect plum pudding, choose the ideal party dress according to my shape and size, and can solve a nine-letter festive-themed conundrum in under sixty seconds.
She picked up the remote and turned off her latest viewing choice. Later this afternoon, I’ll be learning how to turn someone’s trash into treasure. You get the gist? Making a light fitting out of an old bicycle. That kind of thing.
I giggled at Jules’s enthusiasm. So I needn’t have wasted my money on these, then?
I said.
As I reached into my bag and pulled out a box of chocolates, my friend’s face broke into a grin. Now we’re talking,
she replied, keener on my second offering than my first.
While Jules tore into the chocolates, I took in her leg which lay propped up on the coffee table. I could almost feel the weight of the huge, thick plaster cast that stretched from her toes to her thigh. I took off my hat and scarf and tossed them over the back of the sofa before plonking myself down. Did they say how much longer it would be on for?
Your guess is as good as mine. In layman’s terms the tibia and fibula aren’t knitting properly. I have to go back in a couple of weeks. The orthopaedist will take it from there.
She stuffed an orange cream into her mouth.
Maybe next time you’ll switch the light on when you put the rubbish out,
I said.
How was I supposed to know how icy it would be? Anyway, from now on, Harry’s on bin duty.
Jules grimaced. It’s one thing to go flying like I did, but I can still hear the snapping sound when my leg twisted.
I automatically reached down and rubbed the top of my shin, cringing at the thought.
Jules, however, appeared oblivious to my discomfort and quickly moved the conversation on. Coffee?
she asked, matter of fact.
Watching her reach down the side of her chair and produce a flask and then two mugs, I couldn’t help but smile. Good to know Harry’s taking care of you,
I said. Making sure you have everything you need.
Honestly, he’s been an angel. Do you know how many times that man has helped me to the bathroom? Using these…
She pointed to a pair of crutches. I can’t even pull down my own knickers.
Doing my best to shake the image she’d just conjured, I glanced around. Where is he, by the way?
He usually popped his head into the room to say hello when I called in.
At the office. He’s gone to pick up some files.
She poured us both a drink and while I sipped on mine, Jules proceeded to glug. You might want to slow down with that,
I said. Happy to help in most respects, there were some jobs Harry could keep. I thought he’d taken time off?
He had. But seeing as we’re stuck at home for the foreseeable, there’s no point in him wasting his leave.
Jules indicated her leg. That’s the worst part of all this. Having to postpone our trip.
Another reason why Jules deserved my sympathy, she had a lot to sort out following her aunt’s death.
I was really looking forward to getting away. To spending Christmas not just in the snow, but in proper snow. Do you know how long it’s been since we had a holiday?
No matter what life threw at her, Jules had always had the ability to put a positive slant on things. But even she had to know that seeing their trip as a vacation was a stretch too far. Jules, sorting out your dead aunt’s house isn’t the same as going on a jolly.
Every cloud and all that…
I stared at her incredulously.
What?
Jules let out a laugh. It’s not as if Aunt Lillian didn’t have a good innings. The woman was well into her nineties and had had a fantastic life. To be honest, I’m surprised she left the house to me at all. I fully expected it to go to some weird dog sledding charity or bumblebee conservation trust. She was a bit like you that way.
Meaning?
How shall I put it?
She reached down and produced the cactus. Unconventional.
I supposed she had a point.
Jules’s eyes lit up. I used to love going to visit and not just because Aunt Lillian was so much fun. Did I ever tell you about Jason? One of Little Leatherington’s local boys?
I shrugged. Being honest, I couldn’t remember one way or the other.
Good-looking, had a bit of a reputation, you know the type. He certainly got my hormones going.
She came over all dreamy. I wonder what ever happened to him?
She shook herself back into the room. I thought maybe I’d find out at the funeral. But thanks to this,
Jules nodded to her plaster cast, it’s not like I got the chance.
I’m sure you’ll find out once you’re on your feet and running again.
That’s the problem. We could do with getting things sorted sooner rather than later. We haven’t a clue what to do with the place long term and thought we might get a tenant in while we decide. The local letting agent said Little Leatherington’s a popular village and there are so few rentals available. Once the house is empty and has had a bit of a tidy up, he could easily find someone to move in. Even as early as the new year.
She took a sip of her drink. I just wish we knew someone who’d step in to help.
She turned her gaze on me. You know? Make the trip north for us? So we don’t have to leave the property just sitting there.
She fluttered her eyelashes. Someone Harry and I can trust.
Chapter 2
O h no,
I replied. Shaking my head, I let out a near hysterical laugh.
Please, Antonia, you’d be helping us out no end.
Me, stuck in the middle of nowhere? My friend had to be joking. But I hate the countryside. The countryside’s full of cows and sheep. As for all that snow you just talked about, Jules…
I pictured myself slipping and sliding around in the stuff, desperate to stay upright. Do you want me to end up like you? With a broken leg?
Jules giggled, no doubt visualising the same thing.
Then there are all those nosey neighbours,
I carried on. You know what villages are like. Everyone prying into everyone else’s business.
I shuddered, knowing I stood a better chance with the weather. You’re asking the wrong one here.
Jules’s shoulders slumped. Look, I understand you’ve never been a people person, but you’d be doing us a big favour.
I scoffed, unable to believe what I was hearing. Jules, I live in London. I’m surrounded by people.
Ah, but here no one wants to stop and chat, do they? Which is just the way you like it. Londoners are too busy getting on with their own day to care about what’s happening in yours.
I saw myself travelling on the Underground, aware that commuters would rather focus on their phones or read books than acknowledge their fellow passengers. Staring at their feet was preferable to saying hello. Moreover, in my experience, city dwellers wouldn’t borrow a cup of sugar if their life depended on it. It’d be hypoglycaemia here we come! I frowned, and, forced to admit I included myself in that, realised Jules could be right.
You never know, you might just find you love it up there,
Jules continued, taking her positive thinking to a whole new level.
Really?
I stared at my friend, deadpan.
Please, Antonia.
She gave me her best puppy-eyed plea. You’ll only be gone for a week.
I continued to look at her.
Maybe two.
We both knew she was talking rubbish.
Like Christmas is an issue for you anyway,
Jules said, with no choice but to concede. You’re not exactly a fan of this time of year. I mean, how many offers have you had to come and spend the day here?
she asked. And how many times have you turned us down?
It’s not that I don’t want to spend Christmas Day with you, I just don’t go in for all that…
Jules laughed. Pomp and ceremony?
I didn’t like to say, but, yes, Jules and Harry did tend to go over the top. It was all posh frocks, expensive food, and extravagant gifts.
Well if you can’t put on a good show at Christmas, Mrs Ebenezer Scrooge, then when can you? Besides, that’s what Christmas is all about. Surrounding yourself with people you love. Enjoying their company.
She gave me a pointed look. Spoiling them.
I couldn’t deny Jules was right. The whole festive shebang had never been my thing. People might talk about family
and community spirit
, but in my experience, what was in their stocking and having a good time seemed to take priority. So while everyone else was out partying or stressing over what was really an upmarket Sunday dinner, I shut my door, locked myself away, and watched Hallmark movies until New Year, only to reappear when the madness had begun to dissipate.
And it’s not as if you have anything else on at the moment, is it?
Raising my cup to take a mouthful of coffee, I paused before it reached my lips. Whose fault is that?
I asked. Putting on my sternest of voices, my eyes went from Jules to Frank.
There was no refuting I had a lot of time on my hands. Since my dog walking client list had dried up, finding another source of income had proved difficult. It seemed my chosen profession was tighter knit than I’d realised, and my unblemished record counted for nothing once word got out that prize-winning Delilah the Dachshund had fallen pregnant under my watch. The reputation I’d spent years building was shot. Owners the length and breadth of London no longer let me anywhere near their precious pooches. Apart from Jules, whose Heinz 57, Frank the mongrel, turned out to be none other than Delilah’s baby-daddy.
Frank lifted his head, a whimper escaping his mouth as he looked my way. And while I gave him the steely eye, letting him know I hadn’t quite forgotten his misdemeanour, it was clear he still hadn’t forgiven me in return. It was after his dalliance with Delilah, that Jules and Harry had finally got round to getting him neutered.
See it the same way as me. As a holiday,
Jules said.
I rolled my eyes. My protests didn’t seem to matter; the woman wasn’t for giving up. But whereas working through a dead woman’s possessions might be my friend’s idea of a break, it certainly wasn’t mine.
In fact, forget sorting the house out. Let’s face it, just to have someone get the place warmed up at this time of year’s a bonus. Use Number 3 to relax. Stay for Christmas. It’ll do you good to have some time out. To reassess and think about your future.
My future?
Again, I wondered what the woman was talking about.
Well, your savings aren’t going to last forever, are they?
I frowned at the thought of my depleting bank balance.
You’ll have to think about a new direction at some point. So why not now? You could even let Frank tag along.
As the dog lifted his head again, his eyes suddenly full of optimism, Jules let out an exaggerated sigh. She looked down at her leg. I can’t even get to his bowl to feed him, let alone take him out to the park.
Taking in Frank’s hopeful expression, my gaze went from him to Jules and back again. With the two of them suddenly working in tandem, I didn’t just feel guilty, I felt myself sway. I pictured Frank enjoying the kind of freedom he didn’t get in London, smiling to myself as wintry sun shone down on his wiry-haired back. His oversized ears lolloped around in all directions, smacking him in the face as he bounded through open field after open field. I could even hear Shakin’ Stevens’s Merry Christmas Everyone
playing in the background.
My smile froze as hard as the snowy ground in my imagination. Acknowledging that Frank had a less than perfect recall, I realised I’d be the one chasing after him.
Chapter 3
Two weeks to Christmas
Violet’s engine coughed and spluttered. Nearly there,
I said, trying to sound cheery as I checked the satnav. Continuing to slip and slide on the icy road, I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure the most – Frank, my trusty, yet nervous-looking, travel companion; or myself.
A thick blanket of cloud threatened more snow, and I gave Violet’s steering wheel a comforting pat, encouraging her to keep going until we reached our destination. I knew when I bought the old Transit, I was taking a chance. But with money tight it made sense to spend as little as I could on my new venture, something I was beginning to regret. How did I let you talk me into this?
I said, thinking of Jules.
Knowing exactly how, I giggled as I recalled my friend’s face when I told her about my new business.
You’re going to be a skip rat?
she’d said, her expression a mix of confusion and horror.
Roadside reclamation specialist, if you don’t mind.
I delved into my handbag, pulled out one of my hot-off-the-press business cards and handed it over. See.
Not that my professional approach seemed to make any difference; Jules continued to appear less than impressed. I don’t think I’ve heard anything more ridiculous,
she said.
Have you any idea how many people are renovating property these days?
I asked. I could make a fortune in London alone. Everyone’s on the lookout for that one statement piece.
My excitement built just thinking about it. Well, I can get it for them.
I snatched my business card back. For a price.
You are aware that what you’re planning is illegal, right?
Jules said.
Not if I ask permission before taking, it isn’t.
I wore a smug smile as I pointed to Jules’s primary source of entertainment of late – the television. And as you know, upcycling isn’t just all the rage right now, it’s profitable.
Jules chuckled. Doesn’t change anything though. You’ll still be a skip rat.
She laughed some more. I can’t wait to tell Harry.
I wouldn’t have cared but it was her who had put the idea into my head.
You can’t go yet. You have to see this,
Jules had said, the day she suggested I make the trip to Little Leatherington on her behalf. It’s a show about a woman who spends her days at the tip intercepting people’s rubbish before they can throw it away.
And why would she do that?
I asked.
She repurposes stuff to sell on. Turns old ladders into pot racks and pianos into sideboards. That kind of thing.
People throw away pianos?
I plonked myself back down on the sofa, my interest piqued.
We’re not talking about a Steinway Alma-Tadema. But with a bit of creativity, some things become more valuable,
Jules said. That’s how she earns her money.
By the end of the show, I’d seen the light.
Not long after that, it seemed so had Jules and firing up my imagination, on and on she went, talking about all the fantastic stock I’d be able to source up in the Yorkshire Dales. Proper authentic pieces, that were new to the London market. I needed somewhere to stay while carrying out such business dealings, of course, and it just so happened her Aunt Lillian’s cottage would make the ideal base.
I shook my head at the recollection. Never mind Jules’s job as a medical secretary, she would have made a fantastic saleswoman. Thanks to her patter, before I knew it, I’d bought a van, packed my bags, and hit the road. Talk about persuasive.
Frank shifted in the passenger seat and bringing my thoughts back to the present, I looked up to the heavens, cursing the second I’d agreed to Christmas in Little Leatherington. I’d known it would be cold, but while Jules had encouraged my new venture, backed up with stories of log fires, mulled wine, and roasting chestnuts, not once had she warned me about such freezing temperatures or the prospect of Violet breaking down smack bang in the middle of some wilderness.
While the drive had started off well enough, conditions had become increasingly difficult the further north we got. The sky went from having flashes of blue to a ceiling of grey. Rain showers came in, only to be replaced by hail and sleet, and, as the roads ascended to higher ground, eventually snow. Glancing