Hope’s Cornish Christmas

(A Holly Bay Novella)

Jo Bartlett

Copyright © 2018 Jo Bartlett. Published by Fabrian Books.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Typesetting and Design Fabrian Books – fabrianbooks.com.

Jo Bartlett asserts the right to be identified as the author of this book. All the characters and events in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to individuals is purely unintentional.

Contents

About the Author

Other books by this author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Also available from Jo Bartlett this Christmas

Also available from Fabrian Books

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Jo writes romance and women’s fiction in the pockets of time she finds between her day jobs, as an educational consultant and university lecturer, and family life. Jo lives with her husband, children and two dogs on the Kent coast, so far to the south east of England that they’re very nearly French.

Jo is one tenth of the Write Romantics, is published by Fabrian Books, Oakhill Press, Recorded Books, DC Thomson and Ulverscoft, and still can’t quite believe this is the twelfth book she’s had published. It took a brush with cancer to finally make Jo take the time to sit down and write that first book. Her ambition now is to drink tea and make stuff up on a full time basis.

You can find out more about Jo at www.jobartlettauthor.com

Other books by this author

The St Nicholas Bay Series

Somebody Else’s Boy

The Gift of Christmas Yet to Come

A Song for St Nicholas

The Channel View Farm Series

Give Me Your Answer Do

Second Chances at Channel View Farm

Finding Dad

Fabrian Books’ Feel-Good Novels

A Holly Bay Christmas

The Christmas Shop at Central Park

Among A Thousand Stars

A Highland Practice

Murder at the Highland Practice

For the Write Romantics – my writing family and the friends who understand this crazy business like no others

xx

Chapter One

There are only so many cinnamon lattes one person can drink and it turned out my limit was three; at least in one afternoon. I needed something to stop my head dropping onto the keyboard in front of me, though, and it was going to have to be an old-fashioned strong black coffee.

‘Have you got the kettle on again, Hope?’ Grandpa might have been nearing eighty, and have enough medication to re-stock a branch of Boots, but he had ears like a hawk when it came to the sound of a kettle boiling.

‘I sure have. Do you want a cuppa?’ I didn’t need to wait for an answer, and the teabag was already in his cup by the time he called out.

‘Of course, but should you be drinking that much coffee?’

‘It’s fine, those cinnamon lattes don’t really count anyway.’

‘Is that right, my darling?’ Grandpa came into the kitchen and gave me a knowing smile. It was still a shock to look over and see how thin he’d got, despite the fact that I’d been back living with him for over a year.

‘Okay then, maybe they do, but I can hardly keep my eyes open with the book I’m working on at the moment.’

‘What’s this one about?’

‘The theory of social anthropology in interpretive dance.’ I screwed up my face and Grandpa laughed. It was almost worth the pain of editing the worst book I’d ever read to hear that sound, he didn’t laugh nearly so much these days.

‘Is it better or worse than the one about the history of plastering?’

‘Worse, infinitely worse. In comparison, reading about how the Egyptians tackled plastering was an edge-of-the-seat thriller.’

‘I’m sorry, it’s my fault.’ Grandpa reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘You should be in New York now, having cocktails in some fancy bar. Not stuck drinking coffee with an OAP.’

‘I’m not stuck anywhere, I want to be here.’ I leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. He smelt of Old Spice aftershave and Murray Mints, like he had for as long as I could remember. There was something so comforting about that, it was the smell of home.

‘Yes, but you only turned down that job in New York to keep me company and you didn’t need to. I told you that me and Harvey are fine.’

‘I know you are.’ Grandpa’s West Highland Terrier, Harvey, looked up from his basket in the corner of the kitchen at the mention of his name. ‘But it wasn’t a job offer, it was just an introduction to a publisher. They probably wouldn’t have wanted me anyway.’

‘They would if they had any sense, and then you wouldn’t have been stuck here editing books about escapology.’

‘Anthropology.’ I laughed, sometimes it was hard to tell whether Grandpa was joking or not, but either way he always seemed to know how to cheer me up. ‘A book on escapology would be far more exciting.’ I could have done with a few tips on escaping. Not from Grandpa, I’d do anything for him and it really wasn’t a sacrifice to turn down the chance of an introduction to a children’s fiction publisher in New York. There was a small chance it could have led to my dream job, although to listen to Grandpa you’d think it was a given. A close friend from university had moved out to America a couple of years after we’d graduated, and she’d invited me out to stay with her in New York for Christmas. She was going to introduce me her boss and she’d seemed almost as confident as Grandpa that I’d be offered a job if I wanted one, editing children’s books. It was all set up, I wouldn’t be leaving him alone, my parents had promised to stay with him whilst I was away. But relying on my parents was like planning a garden party in the English summer—there was always a very good chance that you’d be badly let down. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I got the phone call to say they weren’t coming home to Cornwall for Christmas after all.

‘I’m not even going to ask what anthropology is.’ Grandpa took the cup of tea I handed him and I tried not to notice how shaky he was. ‘But even if you were still up in London, rather than New York, you wouldn’t be lumbered with editing books like that, would you?’

‘Almost certainly, or maybe something even worse. Somehow I just became the go-to boring book specialist. Going freelance hasn’t changed that.’ I took a packet of shortbread biscuits out of the cupboard, hoping I could persuade him to eat one or two, but knowing he’d probably say no because they weren’t as good as Nana’s.

‘Maeve was so proud when you went to university, I’m sorry things didn’t turn out as you planned. She always thought you’d end up being a writer, we both did.’

‘There’s only room for so many dreamers in one family, and Mum and Dad have already taken up those spots.’ I didn’t want to talk about my dreams of being a writer, not anymore. A stack of rejection letters high enough to re-paper Grandpa’s front room with, told me all I needed to know.

When I’d finally accepted that it wasn’t meant to be, I’d discovered the joy of editing other people’s work—after a summer working as an intern in a publishing house in London—and that had seemed the next best thing. I’d started off working in the children’s book department and I’d loved every minute of it. Somehow, over the years, I’d ended up moving into editing non-fiction and then textbooks, and love definitely wasn’t a word I’d use to describe how I felt about it.

The pay was better, though, and it was much easier to pick up freelance work, which had been a Godsend after I’d moved back to Cornwall. But, like Grandpa said, it wasn’t how I’d expected things to turn out. With an Irish grandmother and a Cornish grandfather, both of whom were naturally gifted storytellers, I’d grown up listening to fantastic tales and I’d always wanted to write them down and share them with the world. Things didn’t always turn out the way that you wanted, though.

‘Your nana wouldn’t have wanted you to give up on your dreams and neither do I.’ Grandpa set his cup down on the kitchen worktop and held his arms out to me.

‘I haven’t given up on writing.’ Hugging him, I knew I could never leave. He was the most important person in the world to me now, and the feel of his ribs, through the blue V-necked jumper he was wearing over a checked shirt, made me want to cry. He was literally half the man he’d been before Nana died. It might only be November, but I was opening a tin of Christmas chocolates later and leaving them by his chair. He needed fattening up and, without Nana, it was down to me.

‘You promise you won’t stop writing, whatever happens?’

‘I promise.’ I meant it, too, but I wouldn’t be looking for a publisher this time around. I just wanted to capture the stories that he and Nana had told me, so I could pass them on to my own children one day. That was my biggest dream now. Not that I was any closer to achieving that than I was to getting a book published. I hadn’t had a date since I’d come back to Cornwall, so it was probably me that needed Grandpa, not the other way around.

****

I would almost certainly have made more progress on the anthropology book if I hadn’t kept going online and looking at Christmas presents. It wasn’t as if I had loads of people to buy for, just a few family members and close friends, but I’d have to send my parents’ presents off well in advance, if they were going to get to Tenerife in time for the big day. At least that was the excuse I was giving myself, and trying to decide what to buy them was always a challenge. Last year—at their request—it had been matching black PVC skinny jeans. I bet none of my friends had ever bought something like that for their parents, and I’d only agreed to it as long as I never had to see them wearing the jeans. But then Mum and Dad had never been like other people’s parents.

When I was little, we spent most of our time living in a camper van, travelling around from town to town so they could do as many gigs in pubs and clubs as possible. I’d be left in a back room, or upstairs watching TV in the landlord’s lounge, whilst they did their thing. I must have eaten my weight in cheese and onion crisps by the time I was seven, and it was surprising I didn’t have a smile like a medieval peasant, given the amount of fizzy drinks I’d been given to keep me quiet. I was also falling behind at school, because we were never in one place long enough for me to attend on a regular basis. So when Nana and Grandpa asked if I could come and live with them, I don’t know who was happier, me or my parents. It freed them up to go all out to achieve their dreams of becoming international music icons—Mum’s words, not mine.

Except twenty-two years later, they were still scratching around for gigs and their quest for fame had got increasingly desperate over the years. Matching PVC jeans were just the tip of a very disturbing iceberg. But I’d never felt hard done by, I couldn’t have had a better childhood than the one my grandparents had given me. Mum and Dad were good fun too, in small doses and it felt like I had the best of both worlds. It meant I didn’t have to be around to see everything they got up to, especially during the teenage years when I was mortified by whatever they did. Although I had to admit I was upset with them for letting Grandpa down about Christmas. The year before we’d all been together, for once, but it was just after Nana died, and no-one felt like doing much except getting through the day. This year it could have been different, but they were convinced that the singing gig they’d been booked for, out in Tenerife, was going to be their big break. Even after more than thirty years of knock backs, they were still convinced that fame and fortune were just around the corner.

I was scrolling through a website, trying to find a present for my best friend Maddie, when a notification of a Skype call flashed up on my laptop. It was Mum and Dad.

‘Hello, pumpkin!’ Mum smiled out of the screen, with Dad behind her looking like he was fixing his hair using the little picture of himself in the corner. Mum had always called me pumpkin, because I was born in October. I counted myself lucky that they hadn’t officially registered me with that name. Thankfully, they’d been waiting to hear back from a record company on a demo they’d sent in, when I was born, so they’d chosen Hope. Sadly there’d been no record deal, and I sometimes wondered if my name was another reminder of what they didn’t have. Maybe that would explain why nine times out of ten she’d call me pumpkin, instead of Hope.

‘Hello yourselves.’ It was good to see them and it certainly looked like they’d been making the most of the sunshine. ‘I thought you were going to phone tonight, Grandpa’s having his afternoon nap.’

‘Is he still doing that?’ Mum shook her head and I noticed for the first time how long her hair was, it must have been down to her waist. The last time she’d Skyped, it had been shoulder length and a different colour.

‘He gets tired.’ I knew what she was thinking and I immediately got defensive of Grandpa, even if Mum had a point.

‘He’s depressed and he’s wasting the time he’s got left pining for your nana. She’s not coming back and you’ve got to make him realise that.’ Mum wagged a finger at me, as if I was the one tucking Grandpa into bed every afternoon and reading him a bedtime story.

‘I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, but I’m trying to find something he’s interested in, so he actually wants to get out and about.’

‘Good luck with that!’ Dad laughed and I caught sight of something shiny on the surface of his teeth. I knew it wasn’t anything as mundane as an adult brace, they’d both had them the year before after deciding that their less-than-perfect teeth were what was holding them back. The braces were off now and there was still no record contract, so they’d obviously moved on to something new.

‘There are lots of Christmas things going on in town that I thought Grandpa might want to get involved with. Maybe you can ring him later and try to encourage him a bit, too?’

‘We can’t call.’ Mum rolled her eyes. ‘Your Dad didn’t pay the mobile phone bill, so we’ve only got the hotel’s Wi-Fi, that’s why we’re Skyping.’

‘You were the one who spent five hundred Euros on hair extensions.’ Dad shook his head.

‘Oh, funny you forgot to mention the two hundred Euros you spent on tooth gems.’ Mum rolled her eyes again, but at least I knew what the shiny stuff on Dad’s teeth was.

‘Do you want me to send some money over?’ I waited as my parents exchanged a look, but Mum shook her head.

‘No it’s fine, we’ll be having a lot more money come in soon.’

‘Really?’ They got free bed and board with the gig at the hotel, but the wages could only be described as pocket money at best. So where this windfall was coming from was a mystery to me.

‘We’ve started a YouTube channel.’ The excitement in Mum’s voice was tangible. ‘If we get enough subscribers, we’ll get paid just for uploading our music videos and filming bits of our daily lives. People like to see what celebrities get up to behind closed doors.’

‘But—’ I wasn’t sure how to put it without hurting their feelings. ‘You’re not exactly celebrities, well not yet at least.’

‘Exactly.’ Mum grinned again. ‘But this way we soon will be. Alejandro, the head barman here, says we only need a thousand subscribers to get into the paid programme. He’s been helping us set everything up.’

‘Because he fancies your mother.’ Dad fussed with his hair again. ‘But if it gets us free help with the project, then we’ve got to use what we’ve got.’

‘And how many subscribers have you got so far?’

‘Four.’ Mum said it without a trace of irony and I had to admire their optimism, they’d chased their dreams for much longer than I had mine.

‘Well, it’s early days. How’s everything else going out there?’

‘It’s good, although our set last night was interrupted by a punch up.’ Dad shrugged. ‘There was a feud going on between a Scottish family and an English one, over reserving sunbeds, and someone’s towel ended up in the pool yesterday morning. The hotel security sorted them out, but it all came to a head again last night on the dance floor. We picked it back up, though, and the floor was packed by the time we started on our own material. Except it was getting late by then and the crowd drifted away quite quickly after that.’

‘I’m glad it’s going well.’ There was nothing else to say really. The last hotel they’d had a regular gig at had expressly told them not to perform any of their own material, and it sounded like their current hotel might be about to follow suit.

‘We’ve got to go, pumpkin.’ Mum was already blowing me a kiss. ‘Alejandro is doing a photo shoot by the pool for us, for our Insta page.’

The fact that she’d called it an Insta page was enough for me, and I didn’t even want to ask what the photo shoot might entail. ‘Okay, no problem. Will you try and give Grandpa a call later this week, or at least Skype him one morning, when you know he won’t be napping? I know he misses you.’

‘Of course we will, pumpkin. But you and Dad can always subscribe to our YouTube channel and watch our videos. You won’t feel like you’re missing out then.’

‘I’ll see if I can set him up on the iPad later. Bye, love you.’

‘Love you too.’ They both repeated the phrase, almost parrot fashion, but deep down I knew they really did love me, in their own unique way. They just weren’t great at remembering to ask how I was getting on.

‘Who were you talking to?’ Grandpa came into the room, just as I’d disconnected the call.

‘Mum and Dad, sorry I thought you were napping or I’d have given you a shout. Do you want me to call them back?’

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘Are you okay, you look a bit flushed?’

‘I’ve done something and I don’t think you’re going to be very pleased…’ Grandpa looked down at the ground. ‘Maeve would kill me if she was here.’

‘What is it?’

‘Harvey! Harvey!’ He called the Westie, and a few seconds later the dog trotted into the kitchen. If I hadn’t known for certain that it was a dog, though, I wouldn’t have bet on it.

‘What on earth’s happen to him?’ His coat was completely bald in places and elsewhere the kindest description would have been patchy.

‘I gave him a haircut.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he needed one.’

‘Yes, but why did you cut his hair?’

‘Because your nana used to take him to The Poochie Parlour in town and, last time I took him there, they all kept saying how sorry they were about her dying and how much they missed seeing her. How do they think I feel? It just brought it all back to me. So I decided to give him a cut with the clippers she used to use to do my hair.’

‘I’m sure they just wanted you to know how fond they were of Nana.’ I reached out and squeezed Grandpa’s hand, as Harvey scratched himself against the radiator.

‘I know, but it’s hard.’ There were tears in his blue eyes, which had dulled in the time since Nana had died.

‘It’s alright, Harvey’s fur will grow back before we know it.’

‘And until then?’ Grandpa wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘And until then, we’ll just have to walk him in the dark.’ I grinned and for a moment I wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or cry, but then he started laughing and it reminded me for the hundredth time that staying in Cornwall hadn’t been a sacrifice. It was my favourite sound in the world.

Chapter Two

I took a pink woolly hat off the hook in the hallway and pulled it on, trying to decide whether to tuck my long black hair into the hat or not, so it all got the flattened-out look rather than just the crown. It was only a five minute walk from Grandpa’s house to my creative writing group, but the temperature seemed to have dropped by about ten degrees in the last week.

Picking up my folder, I shoved it in the shoulder bag I was carrying and set off down the narrow driveway that led from Grandpa’s front door to Beach Street. The houses on his road were mostly old fishermen’s cottages and my grandparents’ place was a converted boat store, which meant that it was on a single storey. Nana had always said she was glad she wouldn’t have to move away from there when she got old, because there were no stairs. I couldn’t imagine Grandpa ever agreeing to move either, but the idea of leaving him there on his own wasn’t one I was ready to contemplate, no matter how often he insisted that he was okay.

One of the bigger houses at the end of the street, which was run as a bed and breakfast, already had its Christmas decorations up. I suppose I couldn’t blame them, they were making the most of what drew the tourists in. I loved the festive season as much as anyone, but I still thought there should be a law against people covering their house in fairy lights before the first of December. Maybe it was because Christmas tended to be an all year around thing in Holly Bay. Local legend insisted that our little town was the saviour of a very important tradition—the Christmas Carol, and I remembered Grandpa telling me all about it when I first came to live with them. According to Grandpa, when Oliver Cromwell banned the performance of carols, the songs had to be sung in secret and the tradition almost died out, until the Victorian era when it became common place again. Of course there were plenty of other towns which made the same claim as Holly Bay, but what my home town had in its favour was that it was very beautiful, so visitors and locals alike wanted to believe it had a special place in history. From the picturesque harbour, with its little chapel, dedicated to St Celia, the patron saint of music, to the narrow winding streets, lined with quaint independent stores, it was like something out of Christmas movie.

Tourists flocked all year round to have their photographs taken in front of shops with festive names, like Little Donkey Toys and Deck the Halls, the local DIY shop. My favourite store didn’t have a Christmassy name, though. It was Basil’s Adventures, which combined two of my great loves; books and cakes. There was a proper book shop at one end, which even had a children’s reading area, and at the other end there was a tea room, which served the most delicious carrot cake I’ve ever tasted. It was run by my best friend, Maddie, which meant I always got the largest slice of cake on the platter, too. We hadn’t known each other long, but since I’d come back to live with Grandpa, we’d just clicked. We both loved books and she’d persuaded me to join her writing group, The Mad Hutters.

The group met once a week in the weatherboard café that was wedged into a gap between the beach huts, which led out in two long rows from the left and right-hand side of the harbour. The Holly Bay Hut, as the café was known, had once been the lifeboat station, before a new, purpose built one had been positioned just along the coast. Now it was not just a café, but a community centre of sorts that hosted all kinds of creative workshops and groups, of which The Mad Hutters writing group was just one.

‘Hello, Hope. How are you this evening? Still as beautiful as ever I see.’ Gordon Glanville took hold of my hand and kissed it, before I could even answer. He was only a few years younger than Grandpa, but he still had a roguish glint in his eye whenever he was in female company. Gordon wrote regency romances when he wasn’t captaining the local lawn green bowls club. It seemed an unusual combination of hobbies, and when he’d shared the first chapter of his latest book for critiquing it had been nothing if not raunchy. Bodice rippers were a sure fire way of getting a publisher according to Gordon.

‘I’m good thanks. How has your week been?’

‘Brilliant. I’m up to chapter seven in my latest and it’s getting a lot racier. It even got Mrs Glanville all hot under the collar, when she read the last chapter through for me.’ Gordon laughed. ‘So it’s been worth writing this book for that if nothing else!’

‘That does sound like a good week.’ It was impossible not to like Gordon, and he had that same mix of old fashioned charm and stinging innuendo as a Kenneth Williams’ character from a Carry On movie.

‘Ah, Hope, did you have time to read the poem I sent you?’ Caroline Ferguson was in charge of The Mad Hutters. Whether that was official or not, no-one seemed to know. But either way, she was definitely in charge.

‘Yes, I had a read through this morning.’

‘This morning?’ Caroline wrinkled her nose. ‘That was a bit last minute, wasn’t it?’

‘Sorry, it’s been a busy week.’ I put my folder down on the table and offered her an apologetic smile. For some reason I always seemed to be saying sorry to Caroline and, more often than not, I wasn’t sure why. She just had that air about her, like a headmistress or a traffic warden, which made you feel like you’d done something wrong even when you hadn’t.

‘If you want to be a Mad Hutter then you have to prioritise the group.’ Caroline smoothed a hand over her already perfect hair. ‘What did you think of it?’

‘It deals with some complex themes.’ It was the best I could come up with. Poetry had never been my thing, but Caroline’s poem didn’t make any sense to me at all. Maddie’s theory was that she deliberately used words which most people wouldn’t understand, to demonstrate how clever she was. Caroline was already a successful short story writer, though, and had been published in magazines all over the world—a fact she’d mentioned many times—and now she was branching out into poetry.

‘What was it actually about? You lost me after the first verse.’ Gordon shrugged, as if to emphasise his point.

‘It’s probably because there was no sex.’ Caroline wrinkled her nose again. ‘Which means it almost certainly wasn’t your sort of thing.’

‘You’re right, it definitely wasn’t my sort of thing.’ Gordon laughed, not a bit bothered that Caroline was clearly looking down her nose at him.

‘Ah, here are the others.’ I seized the opportunity to leave the two of them discussing whose writing was more worthy, as Maddie and the four other members of the writing group came through the door of The Holly Bay Hut. ‘Thank God you’re here.’

‘Don’t tell me she’s started already?’ Maddie muttered under her breath, as she hugged me. The week before, the group had been critiquing a short story Maddie had written, which Caroline had described as banal. Constructive criticism was part of the process, all of us knew that, but Caroline only ever liked the criticism to go one way.

‘Gordon’s handling it.’ I grinned, as I stepped back. ‘You look gorgeous by the way, very festive.’

‘I know it’s early.’ Maddie fiddled with the dangly candy cane earrings she was wearing, which matched her red roll-neck jumper. ‘But all the Christmas books are in stock now and I’ve got to look the part.’

‘Bayview B&B have already got their Christmas decorations up, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Do you want a coffee?’

‘I think we’re going to need one if Caroline’s doing another reading!’ Maddie said as we headed over to the coffee machine, while Caroline interrogated the rest of the group about their views on her poem. There were eight regular members of The Mad Hutters and Caroline was the only one I wouldn’t have chosen as a friend. As well as Maddie, Caroline and Gordon, there was Tara, a teacher at the local primary school who wrote ghost stories, Dan, the community support officer who was writing a crime novel, Nora, another romance writer, who kept herself very much to herself, and Aisha, whose ambition was to write biographies of all five original members of Duran Duran. She was Eighties mad and the only person I’d ever seen wearing leg warmers in real life.

‘Come on then everybody, let’s get started.’ Five minutes later Caroline clapped her hands together and we took our seats. ‘I want to begin with a few announcements.’

‘I’ve got something to say.’ The excitement on Gordon’s face was obvious, but Caroline held up her hand.

‘The writing news round-up for November is item two on the agenda, you should know that by now, Gordon.’ Caroline sighed. ‘The first announcement is that our last session before Christmas will be on the eighteenth, and I need to know who wants to come to the Christmas meal on the twentieth?’

‘Where are we going? I can’t go anywhere that has nuts.’ Tara said, and Gordon muttered something under his breath.

‘What did he say?’ I whispered to Maddie, who was trying not to laugh.

‘Something about Caroline being the only nut she needs to worry about.’ There’d been a growing rivalry between Caroline and Gordon since he’d started to have some interest from a publisher for one of his novels.

‘I thought we could go to Angel’s Tavernita if that suits everyone? I could brief them about the nut issue beforehand.’ Caroline made a note in the little book she carried everywhere. ‘So will everyone be there?’ A general murmur of agreement went around the room.

‘Can we move on to group news now, then?’ Poor Gordon was clearly bursting to share, but Caroline wasn’t going to make it easy.

‘Of course, I’ll tell you my news first and then we can go around the room starting with Nora.’ Caroline gave Gordon a tight smile. ‘My big news is that I’ve just had my eighty-third short story accepted by The People’s Friend magazine, which I think you’ll agree is an amazing achievement given the increasingly difficult market for magazine fiction.’

‘Amazing.’ Most of us repeated the word robotically. Not that it wasn’t a significant achievement, it really was, but Caroline was never one to hold back and wait for someone else to offer her praise.

‘What about you, Nora? Have you got any writing news?’ Caroline turned to the lady sitting to her right. Nora was probably the quietest member of the group and I had to strain to hear what she was saying a lot of the time.

‘Two more rejections for short stories, but I am having a tip published in Take a Break magazine, and it’s my first paid publication.’ Nora gave a shy smile, as we all congratulated her, even Caroline.

‘It might seem a very small step to getting a story published.’ Caroline said. ‘But we all have to start somewhere. Even I started by getting letters published on the editor’s page of one of the women’s magazines. That’s a positive start. What about you, Aisha, or Tara?’

‘I started following Duran Duran’s ex-manager on Twitter and he followed me back!’ Aisha beamed. ‘So that’s a start, too, isn’t it? I just need to get someone to give me an introduction to one of the members of the band and then I can make the biographies official, rather than unofficial. They’ll be a lot more saleable that way.’

‘Indeed.’ Caroline looked distinctly unimpressed. ‘Tara?’

‘Nothing to report, I’m afraid. This term is always manic, getting all the Christmas things done with the kids, and I’ve been put in charge of the nativity play this year, for my sins.’

‘That sounds more like a horror story than a ghost story to me!’ Dan laughed, his cheeks staining with colour at the same time. He usually only managed a stutter when Tara looked in his direction, so this was progress.

‘Have you got any writing news, Dan?’ Caroline’s tone was sharp.

‘I’ve written another couple of chapters, but it’ll be a long time before I’m ready to submit it anywhere.’

‘Good things take time.’ Tara gave him a gentle nudge, and I exchanged a smile with Maddie. We’d been trying to help them along for months, but neither of them would make the first move. Maybe the Christmas get together at Angel’s Tavernita would be the game changer, if nothing happened before then.

‘And have you two got anything writing-wise to smirk about, or is there something else that’s amusing you?’ Caroline turned towards where Maddie and I were sitting. If anyone could have kept an unruly bunch of primary school children in line for a nativity play, it would have been Caroline. She was like a governess straight out of a Dickens’ novel.

‘I’m not writing for publication, but I’ve got another one of my grandmother’s stories written up, so I’d like to put that forward for one of the critiquing sessions, or maybe even one of the stories I made-up myself.’ I clenched the pen I was holding, knowing that the feedback would be useful, but not really sure if I wanted to put one of Nana’s stories forward for criticism. Caroline might be harsh in her feedback, choosing words like banal when other softer words would do, but she always had a point. And she clearly had a talent for storytelling, if not poetry.

‘I’ll make a note and put you down for the next available slot.’ Caroline scribbled in her notebook as she spoke. ‘And what about you, Maddie?’

‘I made some adjustments to the short story after everyone’s feedback and sent it off to a few places this week, so it’s back to the waiting game now.’ Maddie shrugged. ‘But I do have some other very exciting news.’

‘Yes?’ Caroline looked up from her notepad.

‘Jude Thomas is going to be doing a signing and author talk at Basil’s Adventures on the third of December.’ Maddie clapped her hands together. I’m not sure if my mouth actually fell open, but it certainly felt like it.

‘But that’s next week, why didn’t you say anything?’ My voice came out in a squeak. Most people idolised movie stars or singers, but even the mention of Jude Thomas had me star struck.

‘Sorry, I had to wait until it was all official and I only got the email from his publisher on the way over here tonight.’

‘That’s quite the coup for a little provincial bookshop like yours, isn’t it?’ Caroline arched an eyebrow. ‘Can anyone attend the talk?’

‘Yes, you’re all welcome, but the reading he does first will be for the kids, and they’ll take priority for the book signing.’ Maddie squeezed my hand. ‘But if you’ve got time, Hope, I thought maybe you could help out that day? So you definitely get to meet him.’

‘Try keeping me away!’ I already knew I’d be counting the hours. There was only one person who was going to be more excited than me; a little boy named David, whose mother ran a Christmas shop in Holly Bay, called The Silent Night Emporium. He’d lost his father in a car accident, when he was only a baby, and then the family had been hit by tragedy all over again when David had contracted meningitis, which had left him with some disabilities as a result. He was a local celebrity in Holly Bay and the unofficial mascot for Basil’s Adventures. We’d bonded over our love of Jude Thomas books, and I was even more excited at the prospect of David meeting his hero than I was of finally meeting mine.

‘Okay, you’re going to have to tell me who Jude Thomas is?’ Aisha turned towards Maddie.

‘He’s the most successful children’s author of the last decade and he writes two different series, one for three to six year olds, and the other for older children.’

‘But was he famous in the Eighties?’ It was always Aisha’s measure of success.

‘I think he was born sometime in the Eighties, so he was probably learning to write then, but that’s about it.’ I grinned. I could have told Aisha exactly how old Jude Thomas was, if she’d been interested. I wasn’t a celebrity stalker, but he was the reason I did what I did.

‘What’s so great about him, then?’ Aisha had admitted more than once that books weren’t really her thing, she was more into music. She just wanted to be able to write about her musical heroes, rather than writing for its own sake.

‘He creates these worlds you just want to get lost in.’ Maddie took the words straight of my mouth. ‘And he’s the reason Hope became an editor.’

‘You mainly work on academic books, though, don’t you?’ Caroline’s question was loaded. She hated the fact that I had a writing related job, as if that somehow threatened her position in the group. She was right, though, the stuff I edited these days was miles away from what Jude Thomas wrote.

‘Now I do. I just found a niche in those sort of books over the years.’ I fought to keep the sigh out of my voice. ‘But when I first started out, I did an internship at one of the big publishers and had a rotation in the children’s fiction department. They let me do some sub-editing on one of Jude’s books and I just fell in love with the job. I wasn’t planning a career as an editor until I read his first book, but once I did I was hooked.’

‘What a shame it didn’t work out as you wanted, Hope.’ Caroline really was a cow. ‘But I’ll definitely come along to hear Jude’s talk and hopefully we’ll have the chance to chat afterwards. Right then, if we’re all ready we can move on to the writing prompt for December.’

‘What about Gordon’s news?’ I for one wanted to hear it.

‘Ah, yes, sorry I forgot.’ She turned to face him. ‘What is it you have to tell us, Gordon?’

‘I heard from the publisher who asked for the full manuscript of my last novel.’ Gordon’s tone was downbeat and I couldn’t help noticing how Caroline’s mouth turned up in the corners.

‘Well, bad news is part of the process.’ She nodded and he started to laugh.

‘It is, but not this time! They want to publish it and they’ve offered me a three book deal for erotic regency romances.’

‘Congratulations!’

‘Well done!’

‘Brilliant news!’

We were all shouting our responses at the same time and only Caroline remained tight lipped. Despite her success with short stories, she’d been trying for a couple of years without any takers to get a first novel published, and for a moment I almost felt sorry for her.

‘Okay then, now that we’ve got the updates out of the way, let’s talk about the December prompt.’ She raised her voice to be heard over the congratulations still being offered to Gordon, and loudly cleared her throat when the room failed to fall silent. ‘If you’re all finally listening, the writing prompt for December will be the one thing you’d save from a fire.’

****

‘Where are we going for this celebratory drink, then?’ Maddie turned to me as I followed her out of The Holly Bay Hut with the rest of the writing group. Only Nora and Caroline had turned down the opportunity of going out for a drink to celebrate Gordon’s publishing deal. Nora didn’t like to leave her husband, who was in his late eighties and partially sighted, on his own for too long, but Caroline’s reasons for turning down the invitation were far less altruistic.

‘How about The Melody Makers again?’ I suggested our usual haunt, the hotel at the top of Holly Bay High Street. The view from the hotel’s bar, which looked out towards the sea, made it hugely popular in the summer. But it would be much easier to get a table for six at this time of year.

‘Sounds good to me.’ Gordon linked his arms through mine and Maddie’s, on either side of him. Tara and Dan walked ahead of us, their hands inches away from touching, as we made our way along the pavement. Aisha brought up the rear, playing festive Eighties’ songs on her phone. November might still just be hanging on, but it was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.

‘Have you got any idea what to write about for the December prompt, Gordon?’ Maddie asked, as we continued up the hill. ‘Or now that you’re a big time novelist, will you not bother with all of that?’

‘You’re stuck with me I’m afraid, even if Caroline is a pain in the you-know-what! Anyway, I already know exactly what I’d save and what I’m going to write about.’ Gordon’s voice was suddenly wistful. ‘I’d save Nellie’s wedding dress.’

‘That’s so sweet.’ Maddie wiped her eyes. Unlike her, I wasn’t a die-hard romantic, but even I couldn’t help feeling a bit emotional about that. Nellie was Gordon’s wife of more than forty years and she was also the heroine in all of his stories, in one guise or another.

‘How about you, what would you save?’ He looked at Maddie.

‘The wooden biplane ornaments in Basil’s Adventures, they remind me of my Granddad so much, and he’s the reason I opened the shop. What about you, Hope, do you know what you’re going to write about?’

‘It’s similar to you, really. It’s the pendant Nana gave me before she died.’ I ran my fingers over the smooth surface of the silver as I spoke, to reassure myself that it was still there.

‘But you never take it off. Do you think Caroline will let you get away with writing about something you’d have with you anyway?’ Maddie pulled a face, both of us knowing that Caroline would find something to criticise if she could.

‘I take it off when I’m in the shower.’

‘Ooh good!’ Gordon had that twinkle in his eyes again. ‘So we can look forward to a story about you running away from the fire in nothing but a towel? Now that sounds like the start of one of my stories.’

‘Except in your books the heroine is more likely to be wrapped in a silk shawl than a bath towel.’ I squeezed his arm. ‘We really are proud of you, Gordon, and I bet Nellie is too.’

‘She’s beside herself.’ He grinned again. ‘But your time will come, girls, and I want to be there to see Caroline’s face when it does.’

I touched the pendant again, as we reached the top of Holly Bay High Street. I didn’t want fame or fortune, or even a publishing contract. I just didn’t want Nana and Grandpa’s stories to die out. If I added some of my own stories to the mix every now and again, it didn’t mean anything. I’d never be able to write as well as someone like Jude Thomas and I’d given up on that dream a long time ago. Like I’d said to Grandpa, two fantasists in the family was more than enough.

Chapter Three

Halfway through editing the final chapter of the book about social anthropology and interpretative dance, I just had to escape. There was only so much a girl could take and I’d reached my limit working through the section on dance ethnologists. It was never a good sign when I had to look up every third word I was reading. I had no idea who on earth the intended audience for this book was, but it definitely wasn’t me.

Since it was the middle of the day, taking Harvey out for a walk was out of the question. I might have made a joke about walking the dog in the dark, but after Grandpa had been interrogated by a neighbour about the state of Harvey’s coat, he’d convinced himself that someone was going to report to him to the RSPCA, and now we really were waiting until after dark to take him out. There was one thing I wanted to do, though, and it gave me the perfect excuse to go out.

Even though Nana’s family were Irish, when she’d arrived in Cornwall and ended up marrying a local man, she’d embraced all things Cornish. She told me all about my great-grandmother, Grandpa’s mother, who’d died before I was even born and who’d passed on a lot of Cornish traditions to Nana. My mother had never shown any interest in learning about them, so Nana and Grandpa had always wanted to involve me in getting ready for Nadelik, which was Cornish for Christmas.

Every December, Nana would make a special kind of wreath, called a Cornish Bush. She’d get a circle of willow and weave strands of ivy, mistletoe and holly around it. It was supposed to be hung on the twentieth December, but I had a feeling I was going to need a couple of practice runs before I created anything that could be hung on the door without scaring away visitors. I’d helped her make the wreath more than once over the years, but I’d never taken charge before. The first year after she’d gone I hadn’t felt like doing it, but I was ready to revive the tradition now and it was something else I didn’t want to let fade away.

It meant a trip down to the florists in Holly Bay, too, the perfect excuse to take a break from editing. Setting off into town, I felt another surge of Christmas spirit when I saw the posters advertising Gift Day, where all the children from Holly Bay would receive gifts and a book from Santa Claus, and locals could hang decorations on the memory tree to remember loved ones no longer around to celebrate. There was a whole range of festive events in town, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, which would culminate in a big concert where they celebrated Cornwall’s role in reviving the tradition of Christmas carols. Holly Bay laid claim to being one of the first places to practice songs from William Sandys’ book of carols, but, if the town’s PR was to be believed, it was almost solely responsible for sparking the revival. Taking a picture of the poster on my phone, I slid it back into my pocket. If I could persuade Grandpa to come to a few of the events, we might be able to find a way of not just getting through Christmas without Nana, but actually enjoying it.

Twenty minutes later, as I walked past the poster again, heading in the opposite direction, I was feeling far less festive. The florists had been able to provide the willow circle and some ivy, but no mistletoe and, ironically, they’d also run out of holly. I wasn’t ready to go back to the editing, though, so it meant a trip to the nearest big town and that meant borrowing Grandpa’s car.

There was a narrow driveway to the left of The Old Lobster Pot, the name Grandpa’s cottage had been given at some point in the time since it had been converted from a boat store. Grandpa kept his ancient Ford Cortina in the garage at the end of the driveway and I always felt a desire to breath in whenever I drove it down the narrow track, as if that might help ensure the car didn’t get stuck. I had another problem now, though. There was a Range Rover parked right across the driveway, on an angle so that the majority of the back end of the vehicle was on the pavement, but the front wheels were on the road. Not only was it blocking Grandpa’s driveway, it would also make it impossible for someone pushing a wheelchair or pram to get past, without having to walk into the road. I’d have bet my freelance fee, for editing the anthropology book, that the Range Rover belonged to a DFL and my scalp started to prickle in response.

DFLs weren’t unique to the Cornish coast by any means, there were towns dotted all around the south coast where locals used the phrase to describe people who’d moved down from London, or more commonly had weekend places that pushed up the price for locals. Technically speaking, I was a DFL, although I considered myself a local and I was in no position to buy a property, let alone a weekend retreat. It wasn’t so much the fact that they wanted a place in Holly Bay that bothered me, after all who could blame them? It was the sense of entitlement that some of them brought with them that got to me, and whoever owned the Range Rover was definitely guilty of that.

Driftwood Cottage was a holiday let and the first house on Beach Street past Grandpa’s driveway. Seeing as I’d never noticed the Range Rover before, there was a very good chance that the owner of the vehicle blocking me in was the latest tenant of the cottage.

‘Can I help you?’ The man who answered the door had a bushy dark brown beard, jeans that I could tell just by looking would have cost me a month’s wages, a navy blue fisherman-style jumper, and designer sunglasses. It was November and he was indoors; if that didn’t confirm him as a DFL, I didn’t know what would.

‘I think your car might be blocking my driveway.’

‘That’s your driveway? I thought it was just a dirt track.’ There was no apology and the prickling on my scalp doubled its intensity.

‘Well it isn’t and I need to go out, so can you move it please?’

‘I’m waiting for a call, I can move it after that.’

‘I need to go out, now.’ For a moment I wondered if he was joking, but then he shook his head.

‘Look, like I said, I’ll move it as soon as I’ve taken the call, but I can’t afford to miss it.’ He shrugged and I wanted to rip the sunglasses off his face, but Grandpa would have been mortified if I’d sunk that low.

‘Can’t you just take your phone with you? You’re not the only one who has things to do, you know.’ I straightened myself up and fixed him with an intense stare. It was something else Nana had taught me and I’d inherited her sky blue eyes, too. She had this look, and you knew when she got it that she meant business. But it didn’t seem to be having any effect on Mr DFL.

‘The mobile signal up here on my network is a nightmare, so the call’s coming through on the landline. Go and make yourself a cup of tea or something, and the car will be moved by the time you’re done.’ He looked me up and down. ‘You can’t be doing anything that won’t wait ten minutes.’

‘Do you practice being an arrogant pig or does it come naturally?’ I could almost see Nana shaking her head, she’d always hated it when I used bad language or resorted to insults to make a point, but every once in a while there was no alternative.

‘For Christ’s sake, if it means that much to you, just move the bloody car yourself.’ He pulled the keys from his pocket and practically threw them at me. ‘Just put them back through the door when you’re done and try not to hit anything.’

‘Yes sir.’ I did a fake bow, to add to the sarcasm, but I don’t know if he even saw it. When I looked up, he’d already shut the door in my face.

‘What a piece of work.’ I carried on grumbling to myself, even as I got into his car and finally figured out how to start the engine. Pulling up about twenty metres along the road, I made sure I left plenty of room for anyone to pass on the pavement. If a passing car left a dent in the side of Mr DFL’s Range Rover as a result, or knocked off his wing mirror, that would just be an added bonus. Pulling the handbrake up with unnecessary force, a wallet slid out from underneath the passenger seat. It was tempting to leave it there—it wasn’t like Holly Bay was a crime hotspot—but it was even more tempting to be nosey. He was a horrible man, and I wanted to know his name so I could make sure I avoided him at all costs. Picking up the wallet, I slid out the driving licence and I immediately recognised the photograph, before I even read the name. Jude Thomas.

‘But that can’t be him.’ I said the words out loud, in the silence of the car. He looked completely unrecognisable, hidden behind the beard and sunglasses. But even as I sat there shaking my head, I knew it was true. My writing hero, and the author I’d always dreamed of meeting, was a total nightmare in real life. Climbing out of the car, I grabbed the wallet and seconds later I’d posted it through his door, along with the car keys. Jude Thomas was the absolute opposite of everything I’d imagined, and I hadn’t been that disillusioned since I’d spotted elastic holding on the department store Santa’s beard, when I was seven. So much for feeling festive, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to make Nana’s wreath anymore.

****

Harvey was sitting right next to the wood burner, panting like a marathon runner with his tongue hanging out. Even the drastic haircut that Grandpa had given him wasn’t enough to cool him down, but he still wouldn’t move away from the fire.

‘Sometimes I wonder if that dog’s tuppence short of a ha’penny.’ Grandpa laughed, as he put a steaming cup of hot cocoa down on the table beside me.

‘Oh, I don’t know, I think he’s got the right idea. Hanging out by the fire all day with nothing to worry about apart from being too hot.’ I smiled. ‘He’s not even bothered that he looks like he’s had a fight with a lawnmower and lost.’

‘We’re hoping to start a fashion trend, aren’t we boy?’ Harvey looked up as Grandpa spoke, his tail thudding against the slate floor. ‘But you’ve clearly got more on your mind, what’s up?’

‘I should be celebrating, I finally finished editing that book this afternoon.’

‘But?’

‘But I don’t suppose whatever’s next is going to be any more exciting, and I keep thinking I’ve gone horribly wrong choosing this for a career.’

‘It’s never too late and you could still book a flight to New York, in time for Christmas if you wanted to.’

‘I don’t want to, I want to be here with you for Christmas. I’m just not sure editing is for me anymore, even if it’s with a big publishing house in New York, working on children’s fiction.’ I picked up the hot chocolate and blew on the surface.

‘That was always your passion though. I still remember seeing the look on your face when you talked about it, the summer after you finished at uni and got that job where you didn’t get paid.’ Grandpa had found the idea of an unpaid internship strange to say the least, and he’d been convinced that they were ripping me off, so he’d been relieved when it quickly led to a job offer with another publisher.

‘I’m a bit disillusioned. Most writers are awkward to work with and I met someone today who really made me think again about what I want to do.’

‘And who was that? Grandpa looked at me. If I said my new dream was to be a stand-up comedian, or try out for the Olympic volleyball team, he’d have supported me. He just wanted me to be happy, that’s all he and Nana had ever wanted for me. I’m sure that’s why Mum was so resilient every time she got a knockback, and why she still thought her big break was just around the corner. She had parents who’d always told her to pursue what made her happy. I just wasn’t sure what that was anymore.

‘There’s a new DFL next door, renting Driftwood Cottage from the Hollanders.’

‘Ah, you don’t want to aspire to a big shiny car and a six figure salary like those DFLs, it’s not that sort of stuff that makes you happy in the end.’

‘Oh God, no. I don’t want to be anything like him.’ I took a sip of the hot chocolate that was finally cool enough to drink. ‘It’s just that it turns out he’s not any old DFL, he’s one of my favourite writers. But he’s a complete ar— not a very nice man, in real life.’

‘He’s probably got everything he ever thought he wanted and still isn’t satisfied. That can breed misery, and miserable people are usually not very nice.’ Grandpa shook his head. ‘But you’re not even thirty yet, there’s still plenty of time for you to work out what it is that makes you happy, and go after it.’

‘What if I never work it out?’ As I spoke, Grandpa reached out and took my hand.

‘Of course you will, you’re our clever little Hope, and you made your nana and I happier than we’d ever believed we could be.’

‘I just hope I don’t let you down, you gave me the best start possible.’

‘Of course you won’t.’

‘You might not say that if you saw what I’d done this afternoon, after I finally finished that book.’ I couldn’t help laughing at the thought as I stood up. ‘I’ll go and get it, it’s outside the back door.’

‘You’ve got me wondering now, Hope!’ Grandpa called out, as I went to retrieve my creation from outside and brought it into the sitting room, holding it behind my back.

‘Get ready for it.’

‘Should I close my eyes?’

‘You might want to when you’ve seen it… Tada!’ I pulled the wreath out from behind my back and held it out towards him.

‘Did you run it over when you took my car out?’ He was already laughing and I had to admit that my attempt at the Cornish Bush did look more like roadkill than a wreath.

‘It’s supposed to be Nana’s Nadelik wreath. It took me three hours and about thirty pounds in a florists in Penzance buying mistletoe and holly, and it looks like something you’d pull up from the garden and stick on the compost heap.’

‘So maybe floristry isn’t your thing, but you always do one thing brilliantly.’ Grandpa held out his arms to me. ‘You make me smile, even when I’m missing your nana the most.’

‘There’s nothing else I’d rather be good at.’ Leaning into Grandpa, I put thoughts of my job and Jude Thomas to the back of my mind. These were the moments, and in a few weeks’ time I’d have forgotten all about the anthropology book and the row with Jude. Now that he was no longer my favourite author, he didn’t mean anything to me anymore.

Chapter Four

The Holy Bay Hut had been given a festive makeover in time for the first Mad Hutters writing group of December. There were strings of paperchains, made by the craft club, hanging from the ceiling beams, and a big Christmas tree in the corner which had been decorated with ornaments made by the parent and toddler group. The Mad Hutters were due to critique one of my stories and I felt strangely nervous as we waited for Caroline to arrive. It wasn’t like her to be late, or Nora come to that, but the rest of us were still gossiping when they finally arrived.

‘I’m so sorry we’re late, but it’ll be worth it I promise.’ Caroline took her place at the front of the room, as Nora slipped quietly into her seat. ‘There’s been a slight change of plan for this evening and we’ve got a guest speaker.’

‘But we’re supposed to be critiquing Hope’s story tonight.’ Maddie said, knowing how much I’d been anticipating getting some feedback.

‘Yes, well, we can do that any time.’ Caroline held up her hand to silence any further protests that might be forthcoming. ‘But Nora here has been hiding her light under a bushel.’

‘Well it’s not really me, it’s my nephew.’ Nora murmured the words, but Caroline was already speaking over her.

‘When we were talking about Jude Thomas last week, she didn’t say anything but it turns out her nephew is his agent!’ Caroline beamed at Nora, who was still looking like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. ‘When she mentioned it to me, I asked her whether there was any chance, and I mean any chance, that we could get him in to The Mad Hutters as a guest speaker.’

‘That’s who our guest speaker is?’ Gordon winked at me. As far as everyone else knew, I was still Jude Thomas’ biggest fan. I hadn’t even been able to bring myself to tell Maddie about the argument, I didn’t want to take the shine off the book signing she’d set up by revealing what a pillock he was.

‘Yes, he’s just parking his car now. This is an amazing opportunity for all of you to hear from a bestselling author, and we even managed to get in before Basil’s Adventures.’ Caroline turned to Maddie. ‘I’m sorry to steal your thunder, but it was too good an opportunity to miss.’

‘Sorry my arse.’ Gordon spoke in a stage whisper, but Caroline didn’t miss a beat.

‘Here he is, the man of the hour!’ She went all giggly, as soon as Jude came through the door, and then she gave herself a title we’d never heard before. ‘As you know, I’m Caroline Ferguson, the creative director of The Mad Hutters We’re so delighted that you’ve been able to fit us in this evening.’

‘My agent didn’t give me a lot of choice.’ He scanned the room, but he didn’t smile at anyone. Whether he recognised me or not I don’t know, but he certainly hadn’t bothered to acknowledge me if he did. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses this time and I didn’t need a driving licence to recognise those striking green eyes that had caught my attention in every magazine article I’d ever read about him. He was still sporting the over-sized beard, though, along with an expression of bored dis-interest.

‘You’re such a joker!’ Caroline gave him a playful punch on the arm.

‘I’m not joking. Let’s get this over with, shall we?’ Jude sat on the table that Caroline usually commandeered. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Did you want to start with some introductions?’ Caroline was trying her best to maintain the illusion that she was in control.

‘I don’t think that’s necessary.’ Jude scanned the room again. ‘I assume you all know who I am and what genre I write in?’ There was a general murmur of agreement and Aisha stuck up her hand.

‘How much money do you earn?’

‘Aisha!’ Caroline widened her eyes and turned to Jude. ‘I’m so sorry about that.’

‘It’s a fair enough question.’ Jude frowned. ‘I earn a good living, in the company of about one percent of published writers. The rest of them earn far less than the minimum wage for the amount of hours they put in. So, if you’ve got JK Rowling expectations, you’ll be more likely to make your fortune setting up an Ebay shop.’

‘And how difficult was it for you to get a publishing deal?’ We all knew that Dan had tried to join the police force, just to make sure the research for his crime novel was spot on, but it wasn’t that easy anymore and he was having to put in a stint as a community support officer first. If Jude Thomas crushed Dan’s dreams in a single exchange, he was going to sink even lower in my estimation—if that was possible.

‘For me it was easy, in fact it happened by accident. My partner was working for a senior editor from one of the big publishing houses and a chance conversation led to my first contract. But it’s not always easy, in fact for many people it proves impossible altogether, and then there are the publishing deals that aren’t worth the paper they’re written on.’

‘So you’re saying it’s got nothing to do with talent. It’s who you know, not what you know?’ I looked at him levelly. It was hardly a Noel Coward style put down, but it made me feel better—for all of about twenty seconds, anyway.

‘That’s about the size of it.’ He kept his eyes fixed on my face. ‘So what do you write?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Why do you come to a creative writing group then?’ He was still looking at me. Did that man ever blink?

‘What Hope means is that she isn’t writing for publication.’ Tara clearly felt the need to step in and save me, the school teacher coming out in her tone. ‘Some people write just for pleasure and I’m sure you know how cathartic that can be?’

‘Absolutely. It was never my intention to seek a publisher, and I think the books we write for ourselves are by far the best sort.’ For a moment Jude sounded almost human. ‘I suppose the rest of you are hoping to get published?’

‘Gordon has already got himself a three-book deal, actually.’ Tara seemed to have become unofficial spokesperson for the group.

‘Really? What’s the genre?’ Jude turned towards him.

‘Historical romance.’ Gordon smiled and I crossed my fingers under the table that Jude wasn’t about to rip him apart. He’d already written the dedication to his wife Nellie, to go inside his first book. Those were the sort of things that really mattered.

‘I thought they were pitching it as Regency Erotica?’ Caroline cut in, with that uncanny knack she had of making the words sound sordid. Admittedly, Gordon’s books weren’t my sort of thing, either, but I could still appreciate what an amazing achievement it was for him to secure a publishing deal.

‘Well sex sells and it’s a well-known fact that it makes you less uptight.’ Gordon winked at Caroline, and I wanted to stand up and applaud. I was sure there was even a hint of a smile playing around Jude’s mouth.

‘I hope it does well for you, but most first books bomb pretty spectacularly and you should keep your expectations for a modest outcome at best. Publishing deals often aren’t renewed.’

‘Well this is cheerful.’ Gordon muttered under his breath and Aisha snorted with laughter, earning her a death stare from Caroline.

‘So what you’re saying is that a publishing deal shouldn’t be celebrated until you see how well the book actually does?’ Caroline was wearing that smug smile again.

‘I think it should be celebrated, but you need to recognise that it’s a first step.’ Jude shrugged and Gordon made another aside, but this time it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘It’s a lot more than our creative director has ever managed.’

I wasn’t the only one to laugh, but it was me who was on the receiving end of Caroline’s death stare second time around. Jude must had wondered what on earth he’d walked into, but based on what I’d seen he probably had a lot more in common with Caroline than with the rest of us. Nothing he said during the session did anything to change my first impression of him, and I was just praying he’d be on better form for the reading in Basil’s Adventures. I wanted him to live up to David’s expectations and fulfil the little boy’s dreams of meeting his favourite author. It was way too late for me.

****

The smell of wood smoke filled the air as I unlocked the door to Grandpa’s house. He always damped down the fire before he went to bed, but he’d turn the heating on for me instead if he knew I was going to be late. If the fire was still burning, it meant that Grandpa was up late. It worried me when he didn’t sleep. He’d said that his days felt too long without Nana, but the nights must have stretched endlessly when he lay awake, reaching out to the empty space on the other side of the bed. It broke my heart that I couldn’t do anything to ease that burden, but maybe if I could help him to fill the days again, he’d be exhausted enough to sleep when his head hit the pillow. Getting him active again was my mission and the real reason I’d been so willing to take Mum and Dad’s place, when they’d opted to spend Christmas in the Canaries.

‘Can I get you a hot drink?’ Grandpa looked up from the book that was open across his knees, as I walked into the sitting room.

‘I’ll do it. Cocoa?’ I smiled, as he nodded, suddenly catching sight of the monstrosity of a wreath I’d made that he’d hung above the fire place. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Munster house. Walking through to the kitchen to make the drinks, I rehearsed in my head what I was going to say to him. Maddie had mentioned that the Gift Day committee were looking for volunteers and I was going to try to persuade him to help out. He’d stopped meeting up with his friends when Nana first started getting sicker, and now staying in, and doing nothing much at all, had become a habit.

‘Here you go.’ I set the drinks down on the table between Grandpa’s chair and the one that had always been Nana’s, which had become mine over the past year. I’d wondered at first if Grandpa would mind me sitting in it, but he’d said it was just nice to look over and see someone there.

‘Thank you, my darling.’

‘You’re up late tonight. You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?’ I’d gone out to The Melody Makers again, with most of the others from The Mad Hutters, so we could pick apart Jude’s talk. Everyone had agreed that Caroline had been her usual self, making barbed comments at every opportunity. What had surprised me, though, was that the others all thought Jude was okay. Gordon had even said he appreciated his honesty and that it would help him to manage his expectations. It might have made me feel better if everyone had seen him the way I did, but at least Jude hadn’t upset any of my friends. They hadn’t seen how he’d acted the first day I’d met him, though. The man who’d been too arrogant to move his car, because his time was so much more important than mine, had absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

‘I was just reading, but you know I always like waiting to see you come in. You look so much like your nana did at your age’ Grandpa’s cheeks had a soft glow, in the reflection of the flames flickering in the wood burning stove. He had a grazing of white stubble and I was suddenly reminded of the time when a friend from school had convinced herself that Grandpa was Santa. I could see the resemblance myself and he was every bit as generous.

‘That’s the biggest compliment you could give to me, to say I look like Nana.’

‘You’ve got her colouring, the jet black hair and those sky-blue eyes. I was under her spell from the first day I met her.’ Grandpa nodded. ‘But most of all, you’ve got her big heart.’

‘I don’t know about that, Grandpa. Sometimes I have distinctly uncharitable thoughts about people. Nana always saw the best in everyone.’

‘You’re only human.’

‘And Nana was an angel.’

‘She was most of the time.’ Grandpa frowned. ‘But she’d have a sharp word or two to say about how I’ve been spending my time since she went. I sometimes wonder what the point of me still being here is.’

‘Because I need you.’

‘And because of me you’re spending Christmas editing books that bore you to tears, instead of taking the opportunity of a life time.’

‘I’m not having this conversation again. I want to be here and, like I said, I’m not even sure editing is for me anymore. Having this time in Holly Bay, with no pressure to earn enough to rent my own place, is the perfect opportunity to think about what I want to do next. If anything, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s me who’s holding you back.’

‘That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.’

‘Well, if that’s true, and you want to make better use of your time, maybe you could do some volunteering?

‘Oh I don’t know—’

‘It would make Nana proud.’ I was playing my trump card.

‘That’s blackmail.’

‘Whatever works!’ I laughed and Grandpa wagged a finger at me.

‘I suppose you’ve already got some ideas in mind.’ He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. They must have slid down a hundred times a day, but he refused to get a new pair. Not without Nana around to help him choose them.

‘Maddie was saying earlier how desperate they are for more volunteers for Gift Day. She and Ben are heading up the committee this year and I know they’d love your help.’ Ben was Maddie’s fiancé and, the first year they’d met, she’d somehow roped him into dressing as an elf on Gift Day. Grandpa clearly hadn’t forgotten that story.

‘I’m not dressing up. This is not a body that would suit green tights.’

‘You don’t have to dress up. There are lots of things they need help with, including wrapping the gifts for the children. They’re starting to get together this week, in The Holly Bay Hut, to meet up and wrap gifts once a week. It’ll be a chance to chat to some new people and Maddie assures me there’ll be biscuits.’

‘Biscuits? Hmm.’ Grandpa pretended to mull it over. ‘Well I suppose I could be persuaded to give it a try, at least once.’

‘That’s all I’m asking. You won’t regret it, I promise.’ I leant across the space between us and kissed his cheek. ‘Did you get the text from Mum about their YouTube video?’

‘I did, but she knows I don’t understand any of that internet business. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even know how to text.’

‘Shall we watch it together?’ I didn’t tell Grandpa that I’d transferred some money to Mum and Dad’s bank account so they could pay their mobile phone bill, even though they’d assured me that they’d soon be earning from their YouTube channel. Grandpa refused to accept any rent from me, so I was just paying it forward. I bought shopping, and filled his car up with petrol whenever I used it. But I had to be sneaky to help him out and he’d be cross if he knew I was propping Mum and Dad up financially, mainly because he still thought it was his job to take care of everyone else.

‘Why not, I could do with a laugh.’ Grandpa grinned. Like Nana, he’d always encouraged Mum to follow her dreams, but he wasn’t afraid of saying when he thought they were heading in the wrong direction. Nana had told my parents that every performance they gave was wonderful, but even when Grandpa didn’t say much, I could tell from his face when he thought it was less than brilliant.

Grabbing my iPad from the shelf underneath the TV, I followed the link in the email Mum had sent me to their new YouTube channel. It was called The Malones’ Music Magic, and the profile photo featured my dad in ripped skinny jeans and a leather jacket, and Mum wearing nothing but an oversized feather boa, which just about covered her bits and pieces. It was at times like this that I wondered if they might have picked the wrong baby up from the hospital.

‘Here we go.’ Clicking on the link to the first video they’d uploaded, I held my breath. It had thirty eight views so far, but had picked up almost as many thumbs down as it had likes. I suddenly felt weirdly protective of Mum and Dad, and the thought that they might inadvertently be making strangers laugh was a little bit sad.

‘What’s up guys?’ Dad started the video with a double thumbs up, with Mum standing just behind him. Both of them were wearing the same outfits they’d had on in their profile picture, although thankfully Mum appeared to be wearing a body stocking.

‘This is the first video on The Malones’ Music Magic channel, but don’t worry we’ll be uploading content as often as possible. We’ll be putting up at least one new song a week and showing you snippets of our daily lives, so you can get a glimpse into the pop star lifestyle.’ Mum flicked her feather boa, giving a flash of body-stocking clad under-boob. I was already tempted to give the video a thumbs down myself.

‘That’s right!’ Dad gave another double thumbs up to the camera. ‘And today’s video is all about the performance of one of our favourite songs, but first we want to introduce ourselves.’

‘I’m Lulu Malone, also known as MC Elle!’ Mum shouted the words, like a TV presenter doing an outside broadcast from a particularly noisy location. I knew she’d dropped the name Louise in favour of Lulu years ago, but this was the first I’d ever heard of MC Elle. Looking to my left, I caught a glimpse of Grandpa’s screwed-up face.

‘And I’m Ju Malone, most people know me as DJ Ju, though.’ Poor Dad, being lumbered with a name like Julian had hardly given him a head start on his rock star dreams. But most people still knew him as Julian Malone, whether he liked it or not.

‘You’ll be hearing a lot more about us over the weeks to come, but for now, let’s hit it!’ Mum was doing that shouty voice again, but seconds later it was drowned out by the music and they both started to jump around like they were in a heavy metal mosh pit. Thankfully Mum was definitely wearing a body stocking, but I still wanted to cover my eyes at a couple of points. If I wasn’t holding the iPad, it would have been quite tempting to cover my ears too, especially when Mum started rapping. It made Ant and Dec’s ‘Let’s Get Ready to Rumble’ look edgy.

‘Don’t forget to like and subscribe!’ I was quite thankful when Mum was back to shouting again. ‘We want a hundred thousand subscribers by Christmas.’

‘See you later guys!’ Dad put his hand over the camera lens to bring the video to an end and I turned to Grandpa.

‘Well that was… different.’ He laughed and I shook my head.

‘I don’t really know what to say.’ I quickly clicked the like and subscribe button. I wasn’t sure if I could take watching too many more videos like that, but I didn’t want to upset them either. They hadn’t always been very good at putting me first, but they were my parents and I loved them.

‘What do you think of their chances of getting a hundred thousand subscribers by Christmas?’ Grandpa pushed his glasses up his nose again.

‘With material like that, there’s always a chance of it going viral and everyone sharing it because they can’t believe what they’re seeing. Although maybe not for the reason they hope.’

‘It might  not be the same as topping the Hit Parade, but fame is fame, right? And it’s what your mum and dad have always wanted.’

‘I guess so.’ I wasn’t sure I wanted a hundred thousand people seeing my parents doing what they were doing in that video, but for now it seemed to be making them happy and I wanted the same for Grandpa. ‘I’ll text Maddie in the morning and give her your number, so she can get in touch about volunteering for Gift Day then, shall I?’

‘Whatever you think is best is fine by me, my darling.’ Grandpa patted my arm. I couldn’t do anything to make Mum and Dad’s Christmas wish come true, but all I really wanted for Christmas was for Grandpa to get some of his old spark back, and I was going to do everything I could to make that happen.

Chapter Five

It was already dark enough, by five o’clock, to walk Harvey without the risk of anyone calling the RSPCA. Luckily I knew the beaches in Holly Bay like the back of my hand. I must have walked on those sands thousands of times over the years. There was Main Beach down by the harbour, which was what most people stuck to and it was the only beach the tourists ever found. Then there was the second ‘secret’ beach, tucked away at the bottom of the path that led down from the end of Grandpa’s road. Half Moon Cove had more pebbles and stones than Main Beach, but it was one of my favourite places in the world. Even if it hadn’t already been nearly pitch black, I was almost guaranteed to have the beach to myself when I headed down there.

‘Come on, Harvey.’ I clipped the little dog’s lead on and took the flashlight off the hook by the back door, where Grandpa always hung it in case of a power cut.

Now that we were in December, most of the houses in the street had been decorated with Christmas lights and I’d persuaded Grandpa that we should decorate his place at the weekend. He was out at a Gift Day meeting, which was why I was taking Harvey out, and he already seemed a bit more enthusiastic about celebrating Christmas. Nothing could take away how devoted he’d been to Grandma, but he was still here and he needed to go on living, and Gift Day really felt like the first step to making that happen.

Half Moon Cove had been given its name because of the crescent shape of the beach, hidden from view of the harbour by a bank of rocks, where I’d spent hours searching for treasure as a kid. Nana would pack a picnic and the three of us would hunt in the rock pools too, searching for starfish and hermit crabs. We’d always leave them where they were, though, and carefully replace the rocks to keep their hideaways safe.

Try as they might to put on impressive displays of Christmas lights, the householders of Holly Bay couldn’t compete with the blanket of stars sheltering Half Moon Cove from whatever it was that was hidden beyond them. It was such a clear evening that there was almost certain to be a frost the next morning, and the night winds blowing off the sea were making my ears burn, despite the woolly hat I had pulled down low over them.

‘Slow down, Harvey, if I end up on my bum down here, I might freeze to death before anyone finds me.’ I kept a firm grip on his lead as we headed down the last of the stone steps, which were well worn by years of exposure to the weather. There was no way I was letting the dog off the lead in the dark, though. If he found an old cuttlefish bone, or spotted a crab to chase, I might never get him back.

The tide was quite a long way out, which meant we had a large expanse of beach to walk across. I’d just accepted a new contract, editing the autobiography of former MP, who’d gone on to become runner-up in a series of Strictly Come Dancing. After the last book, it sounded positively riveting, and I couldn’t spend all my time contemplating my navel whilst I worked out what to do with my life. I had some savings, not enough to buy a house, but maybe I could take out a lease on a commercial premises in Holly Bay and start my own business, like Maddie had. There were only two problems with that, the first was that commercial premises coming up for rent in Holly Bay were as rare as hens’ teeth, and the second was that I had absolutely no idea what type of business I’d want to open.

Every time I tried to create enough space in my head to think through what I wanted to do with my life, it got filled with another story idea. Even as I walked across the beach in the dark, I was thinking of a story about a starfish that couldn’t find its way back to the sea. It wasn’t one my grandparents had told me but it still linked back to them, like almost everything I did, because of the time we’d spent searching for starfish at Half Moon Cove.

‘You should look where you’re going, I nearly tripped over your dog.’ The voice was deep and I almost fell over backwards.

‘And you shouldn’t creep out of the shadows like that, you look like a serial killer with that beard as it is.’ For a split second, I’d thought about making a run for it, in case the owner of the voice really was a serial killer. But then I realised who it was—Jude Thomas. He might be rude and arrogant, but at least he wasn’t a murderer. Probably.

‘Thanks for that.’ Despite his words, he actually smiled as I shone the torch towards him. ‘But I’d prefer it if you didn’t blind me with that thing.’

‘Sorry.’ I directed the light towards the floor. ‘What are you doing out here in the dark, anyway?’

‘I could ask the same of you.’ He sounded different to before, less defensive somehow.

‘It’s because of Harvey’s coat.’ I shone the torch on to the dog’s back, making the patches in his fur obvious. ‘My grandfather decided to try and trim Harvey himself, but it turns out that it isn’t quite as easy as it looks.’

‘And you had the cheek to say my beard looks sinister.’ Jude actually laughed. I hadn’t even known he was capable of that.

‘We can only walk him in the dark until it grows back a bit, in case someone thinks he’s got some kind of complaint and reports us to the RSPCA. Harvey is all Grandpa has left of Nana and I think it would kill him if anything happened to the dog.’ I had no idea why I was opening up to Jude. I didn’t owe him an explanation, let alone any insight into my family’s life.

‘Couldn’t you just explain to people what happened?’

‘Probably. But it’s easier this way and, like I said, it’s just not worth risking it.’

‘I get that. Dogs can be a life savers when you lose someone.’ It was tempting to shine the torch back into Jude’s face as he spoke, so I could read the expression there.

‘You’ve got a dog?’

‘I did have until this summer, but he died.’ Jude’s voice caught on the last part of the sentence.

‘I’m sorry, I—’ I had no idea what to say to someone I’d written off as only caring about himself, when it turned out he obviously did have some feelings after all.

‘These things happen. You let something into your life and then it turns around and breaks your heart.’

‘Are we still talking about dogs?’

‘What else?’ Jude’s voice lost its softness, almost instantly.

‘That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, wandering around on the beach in the pitch black.’

‘I needed to clear my head, to take a break from work, do you know what I mean?’

‘Oh yes, I know only too well.’

‘So what do you do?’ Was this really Jude Thomas, showing a genuine interest in someone other than himself?

‘I’m a freelance editor. Mainly for non-fiction books.’

‘I bet reading through other people’s work and analysing every little nuance can get mind-numbing at times?’

‘Uh huh.’ I wasn’t about to admit to him that editing his book, as an intern, had been the highlight of my career. He had a big enough head as it was.

‘Well it’s the same for writers. Sometimes I just need a break and I wanted to go for a walk. I didn’t want to risk going down into town, though, in case that woman from your writing group spotted me.’

‘Who? Caroline?’

‘Yes, that’s the one. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that she’s stalking me, but everywhere I go she seems to be there and she’s sent me about ten messages asking me to meet her for coffee.’

‘Oh well, at least you know there’s one person who isn’t put off by the beard.’ It came out before I could stop myself, but to my utter surprise Jude was laughing again.

‘In that case, maybe it’s time to shave it off?’

‘I highly recommend it, especially if you’re going to make a habit of lurking in the shadows and jumping out on people.’

‘I’ll see you around, Hope.’ He didn’t rise to the bait and I found myself staring after him until he disappeared into the dark. I hadn’t even realised he knew my name, but he must have heard one of the others say it at The Mad Hutters. Even more surprising was the fact that Jude Thomas had a sense of humour and, if nothing else, he’d loved his dog. Maybe there was still hope for my one-time favourite author after all.

****

Basil’s Adventures, the bookshop that Maddie owned and ran, was heaving with people on the day of Jude’s book signing. We’d cleared as much space as we could for the children to sit down for the reading, and David was the guest of honour. His mum, Becky, owned a shop a few doors down from Basil’s Adventures and everyone in town knew who David was. He’d been left with only partial hearing, and a number of other physical disabilities, after contracting meningitis. A couple of years before, the Gift Day committee and some other local businesses had raised the money for David to have an operation to loosen the muscles that had tightened around his hips following his illness. As a result, he’d become far more mobile, but that hadn’t made him any less of a bookworm than he’d apparently always been. The first time I’d met him, he’d been in the reading corner at Basil’s Adventures, engrossed in the latest book by Jude Thomas and, ten minutes later, I was just as big a fan of David’s as everyone else in town seemed to be.

‘I’m so excited about meeting him, Hope!’ David hadn’t been able to sit down for more than about ten seconds at a time since he’d arrived at the shop. Maddie, who was brilliant at reading stories, and who did different voices for all of the characters, had already done a couple of readings. Usually David would have sat and listened to the stories, completely enthralled, but not this time. Even the Gruffalo, which according to his mum had been David’s absolute favourite, before he’d discovered Jude’s books, couldn’t hold his interest. He was just too excited.

‘He should be here any minute now.’ I’d been watching the door for the last twenty minutes and Jude was already ten minutes late. He’d probably just misjudged the amount of time it took to walk from the cottage he was renting to the bookshop, at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

‘When is he coming, it must be time by now?’ David was almost beside himself ten minutes later, when Jude still hadn’t arrived, and I had to admit I was getting a bit panicky myself.

‘I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute, sweetheart.’ I turned to Maddie, who had two bright spots of colour flushing her cheeks. She was worried too, I could tell. ‘Do you think it’s time to make a phone call?’

‘I guess so, I’ll be back in a minute.’ As Maddie disappeared, I put on a CD of Christmas music and desperately tried to keep the faith. As well as the waiting children with their families, there were several members of the local press on hand, and apparently even a journalist from one of the nationals. All of The Mad Hutters were there, too, and more and more people were staring at their watches. This didn’t look good.

‘He’s not coming.’ Maddie was even more flushed by the time she re-joined me behind the counter. ‘I managed to get hold of the contact from the publishers who set the signing up, and she said she’s been calling me. Apparently they’ve been trying to get hold of me all morning to let me know he can’t make it after all.’

‘I’d ask if you were joking, if I couldn’t already tell by your face that you aren’t.’

‘I’m going to have to tell this lot that he’s not coming.’ Maddie looked close to tears as she turned towards me. ‘And, worse than that, I’m going to have to tell David.’

‘Oh Maddie, I can’t believe he’s done this.’ If I hadn’t met Jude on the beach a couple of days before, it would have been so much easier to believe. I thought I’d misjudged him, but it looked like I’d been right all along.

‘Me neither. Poor David.’ Maddie stepped out from behind the counter and walked over to David, taking hold of his hand and leading him over to where his mum, Becky, was sitting. I watched as Maddie crouched down and spoke to them both, and David’s face immediately crumpled. I could hear him sobbing, even over the sound of the Christmas music, which suddenly felt falsely bright.

As Maddie walked back towards the counter, I could tell she’d been crying too and my scalp started to prickle, the way it always did when something annoyed me. I’d been right the first time—Jude Thomas was a nightmare.

****

My hand hurt from hammering on the door. He clearly wasn’t in, but I didn’t seem able to walk away. I’d been practising all the way over what I was going to say to Jude Thomas when I saw him, and I wasn’t going to be able to rest until I said it. If he wasn’t at home, then maybe he was down on the beach at Half Moon Cove.

I was still wearing the high heeled boots I’d set out to Basil’s Adventures in, but I was in no state of mind to think about stopping to change them. I wanted to tell Jude Thomas exactly what I thought of him.

The stone steps were slippery with algae and a couple of times I thought I was going to lose my footing, but I was determined to keep going even before I spotted Jude on the beach.

‘Oi, Thomas, I want to speak to you!’ I yelled at the top of my voice into the sea breeze. The image of seeing both David and Maddie in tears fuelling the rage that was burning at the back of my throat.

‘What the hell—’ Jude finally turned to look at me, when I was about ten feet away from him.

‘You’re a monster, do you know that? Have you got any idea how many kids are in tears, down at the bookshop right now, because of you?’

‘I hardly think that makes me a monster.’ His voice was so calm, I wanted to fly at him, to make him understand just how much he’d hurt David.

‘There’s a little boy down there who thinks you’re a hero and, when you broke the promise you made to do a reading, you didn’t just ruin his Christmas, you broke his heart.’

‘That’s a little over-dramatic, don’t you think? Maybe you should be writing sickly sweet romances like your friend from the writing group.’ Jude’s face was as emotionless as his voice. ‘Anyway, I told my publisher to let them know I wasn’t going to be able to make it. It’s hardly my fault if communication broke down somewhere along the line.’

‘But you could have made it. You’re doing absolutely nothing right now. The only way I could have forgiven you for what you just did, was if you’d had some sort of life threatening emergency, but all you’re doing is wandering around like you don’t have a care in the world.’

‘I don’t need your forgiveness, but if you must know I’m thinking. I needed some space to think and I didn’t have the time, or the right mind set, to spend the afternoon as a performing monkey for a group of kids in some poky little bookshop.’

‘Those kids are your readers and the reason you can afford to swan around in a flash Range Rover and spend the afternoon just thinking, as you put it. And that poky little bookshop belongs to my best friend.’ I was still shouting, but I couldn’t seem to help it. Not that it bothered Jude, he didn’t even look at me.

‘This sort of crap might be important to you in a place like this, where nothing of note ever really happens, but it’s nothing to me. So you might as well go home and get on with writing one of those stories of yours that you’re never going to publish.’ He turned away from me to continue along the beach, and I stood rooted to the spot for a moment. But I wasn’t done yet.

‘I haven’t finished talking to you.’ I had to jog to catch up with him, but he didn’t stop, even when I drew level with him.

‘Yes you have. At least, I’m more than done talking to you. You’ll never understand why I couldn’t go to the bookshop today, you’re just a wannabe writer like a million other people. And, worse than that, you don’t even have the courage to let people read what you’ve written.’

His words hit me just where he’d aimed them, right in the heart. Somehow he’d worked out that I still wanted to be writer, before I’d even realised it myself, and all this time I’d been trying to fool myself that being an editor was the next best thing. He could read me as easily as one of the books he wrote for the under sevens, and he was right about something else too. I’d never understand the way he acted, or how easy he clearly found it to let someone like David down and, more than that, I didn’t want to understand it.

****

The only alcohol Grandpa had in the house was a bottle of mulled wine that he’d won in a raffle at the Gift Day committee meeting. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and after my latest exchange with Jude Thomas I needed a drink.

‘Starting early, aren’t you?’ Grandpa gave me a knowing look as he came through the kitchen door and I ladled a third helping of mulled wine into my glass.

‘I’ve had a bit of a bad day.’ My shoulders slumped as I looked at him, and he pulled me into his arms, the scent of Old Spice aftershave mingling with the aroma of the mulled wine.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘You know I told you about that DFL I rowed with, who turned out to be Jude Thomas, and that he came and did a talk at The Mad Hutters?’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Well he was supposed to do a reading and book signing in Basil’s Adventures today, and David was so excited, but then Jude didn’t bother turning up.’

‘Oh I hate the thought of little David being upset, but maybe Jude had some sort of emergency?’ Grandpa’s tone was reasonable.

‘That’s just the thing, though. I found him on the beach and he just couldn’t be bothered to show up, he said he needed time to think.’

‘And let me guess, you gave him a piece of your mind?’ Grandpa pulled away slightly and I nodded. ‘That’s my girl, he sounds like he needs to be taken down a peg or two and I bet you managed that.’

‘Umm.’ I didn’t want to admit how much the confrontation had affected me, especially the bit about me being a wannabe writer. I needed to hear something positive. ‘Never mind all of that, how has your day been?’

‘Really good, actually.’ Grandpa smiled. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I’m just glad one of us had a great day and I want to hear all about it.’

‘When we were doing the wrapping for Gift Day, one of the others put on some Christmas carols and we were all singing along. Maddie’s fiancé, Ben, asked if I’d ever thought about joining the Holly Bay choir, as they’re apparently very short on basses.’

‘You used to love singing, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I sometimes blame myself for your mum getting so into it.’ Grandpa laughed. ‘And I used to belong to the Holly Bay choir years ago, before you even came to live with us.’

‘Why did you give it up?’

‘Life just got a bit busy.’ He didn’t say it, but I knew that was down to me. My grandparents had encouraged me with everything I’d shown the slightest interest in. There’d been dancing, horse riding lessons, Brownies and gymnastics. Nana had never learned to drive and poor old Grandpa had spent half his life ferrying me around from one activity to another, so he almost certainly hadn’t had time for his own hobbies any more.

‘I think it would be great for you to start singing again. Are the choir performing at Gift Day?’

‘Yes and a lot of other events in the run up to Christmas.’ Grandpa looked at me. ‘You don’t think your nana would mind, do you?’

‘She’d have loved to watch you up there singing if she was here and I’m going to love it too.’ I laid my head against his chest. I wasn’t going to let Jude Thomas ruin my Christmas, he’d done enough damage already. Grandpa was about to throw himself headlong into the community’s festive events and there suddenly seemed a lot to look forward to, even if I couldn’t wait for our temporary next door neighbour to move on.

Chapter Six

By the second Mad Hutters meeting of December, there was no denying that Christmas was just around the corner. Gordon was already sporting a Christmas jumper, which featured a reindeer’s head, with velvety antlers covered in real bells. Every time he moved there was a tinkling sound and Caroline must had nearly detached her retinas, given the amount of times she rolled her eyes.

I finally got some feedback on my story, having had my critique pushed aside the week before because of Jude Thomas showing up. In the end I’d chosen one of my original stories and I was pleasantly surprised by what the rest of the group had to say, as most of them seemed to love it. Even Caroline described it as ‘quite good’, which was about as gushing as praise from her ever got.

Despite the positive feedback, I couldn’t wait for the meeting to finish, so that I could spend an hour or so in The Melody Makers with my friends, giving Jude the character assassination he deserved. I hadn’t had a chance before, because I’d been busy doing a first read through of the autobiography I’d agreed to edit, and when I wasn’t doing that I was writing. The stories seemed to be pouring onto the page, ever since I’d admitted to myself that I wanted to write. Even if nothing ever came of it, I was enjoying the process. I was still writing up some of Nana and Grandpa’s stories, but most of what I’d written since my row with Jude had been my own stuff and I felt like I had a purpose for the first time in a while. Grandpa was out more than he was in, too, either helping out the Gift Day committee, or practising with the choir, so I had plenty of writing time.

‘The first round is on me tonight, Hope. I’ve had an advance from my publisher!’ Gordon did a little jiggle as we stood in front of the bar in The Melody Makers, making his bells jingle again. ‘It isn’t enough to buy a holiday home, unless I want to settle for a tent, but I can certainly stand a round! Go and grab a table with the others and I’ll bring the drinks over in a minute.’

‘We should be the ones buying you a celebratory drink.’ I smiled as Gordon put an arm around my shoulders and gave me a friendly squeeze. It was a bit like having another granddad, although he might have been disappointed to know I viewed him in that way, he was so young at heart.

‘Listen, Hope, when you get your first publishing deal, you can buy us all a holiday home. With talent like yours, you could be one of the small percentage who make a decent living from writing, like Jude Thomas said.’

‘Just saying his name is as bad as swearing as far as I’m concerned.’ As I walked over to the others, I couldn’t help feeling a warm glow that Gordon had such faith in my writing. And if I did ever make it big, he’d be high up on my list of people to repay. It was a fantasy, but just for one night I was going to indulge myself. As long as I didn’t turn into Mum and Dad and allow myself to become totally deluded, it couldn’t do too much harm.

‘Here you go. I got everyone their usual.’ Gordon put the tray of drinks on the table and sat down next to Aisha. As always, Caroline and Nora had elected not to join us, but things finally seemed to be progressing between Tara and Dan. They were sitting next to each other, so close that their legs must have been touching and she was laughing enthusiastically at everything he said—even when it wasn’t funny. I exchanged a look with Maddie and she smiled, we were both hoping that our friends would be an official couple by Christmas.

‘So what’s new?’ Aisha looked around the group, the electric blue mascara she was wearing clumping her eyelashes together. I didn’t know whether her makeup was Eighties style, or from the Eighties, but either way the mascara looked like it was well past its sell by date.

‘I know we’re supposed to save our writing news for the December round up, but I can’t hold it in any longer!’ Maddie grinned. ‘I’ve had a story accepted by a magazine in Australia and they’re paying me a hundred and fifty Australian dollars to publish it at some point during the spring. So I’m officially a published writer!’

‘That’s brilliant!’ I lifted up my glass and everyone else followed suit. ‘Cheers!’

‘Anything else?’ Aisha looked around the table and the rest of us shook our heads.

‘How about you?’ I said, wondering if she was asking because she had some news she was desperate to share.

‘I’ve been invited to a party that Andy Taylor is going to be at!’ Aisha nearly spilled her drink as she lifted her glass in the air, waiting for the next round of ‘cheers’ to ring out.

‘I know I’m as old as the hills, but who is Andy Taylor?’ Gordon furrowed his brow.

‘Andy Taylor was one of the guitarists with Duran Duran.’ Aisha looked at the rest of us for confirmation that we knew who he was. I didn’t like to say that the Eighties were a bit before my time. ‘That guy I got talking to on Twitter, who was one of their former managers, is throwing a Christmas get together, which he’s invited me to, and Andy has RSVP’ed to say he’ll be attending. If I can just persuade him that I’m the right person to do an up-to-date biography on the band, I’ll be half way to fulfilling my dream.’

‘That’s fantastic. Cheers to that too!’ I lifted my glass again, more than ready to move on to the topic of conversation I’d been wanting to raise since the start of the evening. ‘I just hope Andy Taylor isn’t a disappointment in real life. I mean, look at Jude Thomas. I used to think he was great, but what a let-down he turned out to be.’

‘I don’t know if that’s entirely fair. His publishers did say he had a good reason for missing the signing.’ Maddie was too nice for her own good sometimes.

‘Really? His reasons didn’t look all that convincing when I found him down on the beach at Half Moon Cove.’

‘Maybe, and maybe I wouldn’t have forgiven him so easily if he hadn’t made amends in spectacular style this week.’ Maddie swirled the wine around in her glass, as the others murmured their agreement. I’d obviously missed something, but I’d been so buried in writing for the past week that I hadn’t been on Facebook or Instagram, or even texted anyone.

‘What did he do?’

‘He got in contact with me and asked if I knew the names of the kids who’d been let down. When I told him that most of the children were pupils at Holly Bay Primary school, he arranged to go in there on Wednesday and do a reading for the kids. He also gave them all signed copies of his last three books, and left copies in the shop for any other kids who’d missed out at the reading to pick up. Even better than that, he told David he’s going to dedicate his next book to him. I know you two got off on the wrong foot, but I think he’s probably a decent guy deep down.’

‘Way deep down.’ I crossed my arms. Jude Thomas was going to have to do a lot more than hand out some freebies, which his publisher probably supplied anyway, to convince me that he was a decent guy. There was too much evidence to the contrary.

****

Two days after The Mad Hutters’ meeting, I found myself walking Harvey on the beach at Half Moon Cove again. Part of me was expecting to bump into Jude, but thankfully this time there was no sign of him. Maddie might have forgiven him, and he might have been reinstated as David’s hero, but I couldn’t be won over that easily.

I was back inside the warmth of Grandpa’s house when I realised it was missing—the pendant that Nana had given me just before she died. I’d been waiting for the kettle to boil when my hand drifted to my neck, as it often did when I was touching the pendant for reassurance, without even knowing I was doing it.

‘Oh God.’ It had definitely been there when I’d set out on the walk. I’d stopped to put on my hat, using the mirror in the hallway, and I’d noticed the pendant glinting under the ceiling light. That meant I had to have lost it out on the walk, and finding it was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Even though I knew I had almost no chance in the dark, I had to go out and look. Unhooking the flashlight and pulling on a coat, I ran down towards Half Moon Cove. The temperature had dropped drastically again, over the past few days, and within half an hour my hands were numb with cold. I’d walked across the beach at least ten times and hadn’t spotted anything that looked even remotely like the pendant. I was freezing cold and miserable, as I trudged back towards Grandpa’s cottage. The thought that Nana’s pendant might be lost forever, made me want to burst into tears. That wouldn’t solve anything, though. I’d just have to wait until the morning and try again, even if I already knew I’d lie awake all night worrying about where it was. But things were about to get even worse.

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ Reaching into my coat pocket, as I drew level with Grandpa’s house, I realised I didn’t have my key. The back door was the type you couldn’t open without a key once you’d pulled it shut. In my panic to go out searching for Nana’s pendant, I hadn’t stopped to pick up my key. Now I was locked out and Grandpa was at choir practice, so he wouldn’t be back for hours.

‘Are you okay?’ Jude Thomas walked along the pavement towards me, just as I gave in to noisy sobs. Crying might not be of any use, but I couldn’t help it.

‘Does it look like I’m okay? He was the last person I wanted to see.

‘Not really. Maybe I should have asked if I can do anything to help, then?’

Even through the tears I could see he looked a hundred times better for having shaved off his beard. ‘Unless you can pick a lock or you’ve got night vision goggles then probably not.’

‘I can’t help on either count, I’m afraid.’ That reasonable tone he’d had, the first time we’d met at Half Moon Cove, was back. ‘I take it the request to pick a lock is because you’re locked out?’

‘Yes and I won’t be able to get in until my grandfather gets back home at nine thirty.’

‘I can’t get you into the house, but you’re welcome to come and wait at my place until he gets back.’

‘I’d rather freeze.’ I knew I was being childish, even as I said it, but Jude Thomas brought out the worst in me.

‘Would you really?’

‘It’s a close call.’ I hated the fact that I seemed to be amusing him; that definitely hadn’t been my intention.

‘So are you coming in for a cup of tea or not?’

‘As long as you realise that if I had any choice, I wouldn’t be.’ It wasn’t strictly true. I could have walked down to Maddie’s place and waited there, or even gone down to The Holly Bay Hut and interrupted choir practice to pick up Grandpa’s key. But for some reason, I found myself following Jude into Driftwood Cottage.

‘Take a seat in the lounge and I’ll bring the drinks through. Do you take sugar?’

‘No, thanks.’ He disappeared down the hallway and I walked through to the lounge, perching on the edge of the sofa whilst I waited for him. He didn’t seem to have added much in the way of personal touches to the cottage, but then I don’t suppose many people did when they were staying in a holiday let. There were no Christmas decorations up, but there was a large silver picture frame, with a picture of a teenage boy holding a small terrier dog. It could well have belonged to the Hollanders, who rented out the cottage, but as far as I knew they only had daughters.

‘I haven’t got any biscuits, but I found a packet of Kit Kats in the back of the cupboard. I didn’t buy them, though, so they might have been here a while.’

‘Thanks.’ I took the cup he handed me and the silence between us already felt awkward. If we were going to have to hang out together for a couple of hours, I might as well jump in with both feet. ‘Is that your picture?’

‘Yes, it’s my son Barnaby with Teddy, the dog I was telling you about.’

‘You don’t look old enough to have a son that age.’ For some reason, now that I had no desire to impress Jude, I seemed to have lost the ability to filter my comments, but he just shrugged.

‘I’m old enough, and that was a couple of years ago now. He’ll be eighteen in January.’

‘You’ve never mentioned him in any of your interviews.’ I had a feeling that even if I’d clamped my hands over my mouth, I wouldn’t have been able to stop the words coming out.

‘You’ve read all my interviews?’ He widened his eyes, probably starting to wonder if he’d invited a mad groupie into his cottage.

‘Probably. Not that you do that many.’

‘True, I try to keep as low a profile as possible these days and I’ve kept my family completely out of the spotlight. So even when I do get forced by my publisher or agent into press interviews, I never talk about my family.’

‘What about his mother?’ I was sure I’d never read about Jude being married, but he’d mentioned something about his partner at the Mad Hutters’ talk. Either way, I was definitely in danger of sounding far more interested in his personal life than I should be.

‘How about you answer a question for me, before I answer any more of yours?’

‘Fair enough, I can tell you all you need to know about next year’s must read books in the world of anthropology and interpretative dance.’

‘I had something more personal in mind.’ He looked straight at me, as he sat down in the chair directly opposite.

‘Okay, but I’m not telling you how much I weigh.’

‘That wasn’t what I was going to ask.’ He laughed again and I tried not to notice how his eyes crinkled in the corners when he found something funny. A big part of me still wanted to wipe the smile off his face.

‘So what do you want to know?’

‘I just wanted to ask why you were so upset? You don’t seem the type to start crying, just because you’ve locked yourself out.’

‘That’s true, but the reason I locked myself out was because I was rushing out of the house to try and find something I must have lost on the beach, when I was walking Harvey.’

‘Were you out in the dark again?’

‘Uh huh.’ I took a sip of my tea, trying to regain my composure. I didn’t want to start crying again when I told him I’d lost Nana’s pendant. I didn’t like making myself vulnerable at the best of times, let alone in front of someone like Jude.

‘What did you lose?’

‘A pendant my grandmother gave me just before she died.’

‘The sort of thing someone could slip into their pocket then, rather than deciding to hand it in?’ If Jude was rubbing me up the wrong way accidentally, then I’d hate to be around when he was deliberately trying to wind me up.

‘Thanks a lot. That’s just what I wanted to hear.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He actually looked like he meant it. ‘I just can’t help imagining every possible scenario. But the only person I’ve ever seen down on that beach is you, so there’s a good chance you’ll find it when you go back in the daylight.’

‘Do you really think so?’ The expression on his face gave him away, before he even answered me.

‘There’s always hope.’

‘Is that supposed to be a joke?’

‘Not even my jokes are that corny.’ He smiled, but I didn’t respond. ‘I just meant that a few stars would need to align for you to find it. For a start, if the tide comes in past where you dropped it… Well, you know.’

‘Maybe it’s not even on the beach. It could be on the path that leads down there.’

‘It could.’ It was obvious he didn’t think I had any chance of finding Nana’s pendant, and I desperately wanted to change the subject before I gave into tears for a second time.

‘Okay, I answered your question, so you owe me another one.’ I looked back across at the framed photograph, it was obvious now that the teenage boy in the picture was Jude’s son, he had his father’s eyes. ‘Where are your son and his mother now?’

‘Technically speaking that’s two questions.’

‘You’re not going to try and wriggle out of a promise you’ve made for a second time are you?’

‘Are you ever going to forgive me for that?’ Despite the question, his tone hadn’t changed. He didn’t sound annoyed, like he had when I’d confronted him on the beach. It was almost as if there were two Judes, and Mr Nice Guy had obviously come out to play this time.

‘I very much doubt it, but it might depend on how you answer my questions.’

‘Barnaby lives out in Boston with his mother.’

‘So you’re divorced?’ There was still no sign of the filter that should have stopped me asking such personal questions. The way I was going, I could easily find myself turfed out onto the street long before Grandpa got back.

‘We were never married. We met at university and she fell pregnant just before I finished the first year of my degree. I was nineteen and she was twenty.’ Jude sighed, as if he’d told the story a hundred times before. ‘We tried to make it work for a few years and both our families helped out so we could carry on studying. But after we graduated, she met someone new and I only got to see Barnaby every other weekend.’

‘It must have been tough keeping up your studies with a baby to think about?’

‘That was the easy bit, getting used to seeing less of Barnaby when his mother, Keeley, remarried was what I found hard. I wanted to let him know I was thinking of him, even when we weren’t together. That was why I first started writing the stories. I always called him Bumble B, it was my nickname for Barnaby, and I named that first series after him.’

‘That’s sweet.’ My response was grudging, even though it really was a touching story. I still couldn’t equate this version of Jude to the arrogant version I’d encountered more than once. ‘So how did you come to get the stories published? You said at the writing group that it happened almost by accident?’

‘When Keeley’s marriage broke up after only a year, just after Barnaby turned four, we tried to make a go of things again. I wanted us to be a family so that I could see him every day, and I figured we were both older and wiser. I was working as an English teacher and Keeley took a job as a nanny to a family who owned one of the biggest houses in the area where we were living. It was something that fitted in well around taking care of Barnaby and more often than not she’d take him to work with her. The family were okay with it because they had a son about the same age, so Barnaby was like a ready-made playmate for him. Keeley was reading one of my stories to the kids, when she was babysitting for the family one evening, and her boss asked her where she’d found the book. When she told her it was a story I’d written, her boss asked to meet me. It turned out she was a senior editor in the children’s fiction department at a big publishing house, and within a month I’d signed a book deal.’

‘Wow, that was really lucky.’

‘Yeah, but then things went wrong between me and Keeley again, and within six months of me releasing my first book she’d married her second husband. This one had plenty of money and could give her the lifestyle she’d always wanted, so I knew he was a keeper.’

‘I take it you didn’t like him?’

‘He was okay and Barnaby told me he was always nice to him, so I couldn’t really complain.’

‘Were you still in love with Keeley?’ I clapped my hand over my mouth for real this time, I really had gone too far, but Jude just shook his head.

‘I don’t think I was ever in love with her, I just didn’t like sharing Barnaby, and one day the unthinkable happened. Keeley told me that her husband had been offered a new job in Boston and that all three of them, plus the two girls she’d had with him, were moving out there.’

‘I’m sorry—’ It was hard to go on hating Jude when he looked so sad.

‘Yeah, it was tough, but I carried on writing the stories and started the second series for older kids as Barnaby got too grown up for Bumble B’s adventures. I wrote all of them just for him.’

‘He must love that?’

‘I think he did once, but now I suspect he finds it embarrassing. He was supposed to be coming over here to spend Christmas with me, which was why I rented this place for six weeks. It was his phone call I was waiting for when we first met and you asked me to move my car. I was desperate not to miss his call and give him the chance to duck out of coming.’

‘He wouldn’t want to do that, surely?’

‘I had a feeling, when we spoke the time before, that he was building up to tell me something. When I took the call, he said he still wanted to come, but when I tried to pin him down to a date he said he wasn’t sure yet.’ Jude pulled a face. ‘And then, on the morning of the reading at Basil’s Adventures, he phoned again to say he wasn’t coming after all. I shouldn’t have pulled out, there was no excuse for letting David and the others down, but I couldn’t think straight. All I could think was that my son didn’t want to see me, and I knew I’d be under pressure from the press who were there to tell them when my next book would be out and what it would be about. But without Barnaby as my inspiration, I’ve got no reason to write anymore and the story ideas have just dried up. I couldn’t face admitting either of those things to myself, let alone anyone else.’

‘Oh God and there I was giving you a hard time.’ I could almost hear Nana’s voice in my head, telling me that’s why she’d always given people the benefit of the doubt before jumping to conclusions. But like Grandpa had said, she’d been an angel. I was far more fallible.

‘I don’t blame you. You couldn’t have known, and you and Maddie had to deal with the fall out. When you told me how upset David was, I felt awful, and I figured the best form of defence was attack. But there’s no excuse for that either.’

‘I should have given you a chance to explain before going for the jugular.’ I wrapped my hands around the mug of tea. ‘If Barnaby is anything like I was as a teenager, then he won’t have realised how much it means to you. My grandparents brought me up and I had the best childhood in the world, but I still went through a phase in my late teens and early twenties when I could hardly find the time to have a five minute chat on the phone with them, let alone come home to see them on a regular basis. But it didn’t last and I soon realised that time spent with them was the best possible use of time. He’ll come back to you, I’m sure of it.’

‘I hope so.’ Jude put down his cup. ‘I didn’t realise your grandparents had brought you up, no wonder the pendant means so much to you.’

‘It really does.’ I couldn’t help my voice cracking and I had to bite my lip to stop myself crying again.

‘I’ll come down to the beach and look with you tomorrow if you like? Two pairs of eyes have got to be better than one.’

‘Are you sure you’re not too busy?’

‘I’ve got nothing else to do, I’ve got the worst case of writer’s block I’ve ever had.’

‘In that case, I’d really appreciate your help.’ I smiled and tried not to think of all the horrible things I’d said about him. Jude had a chance of getting back his hero status after all, and I just had to hope he could pull off a miracle and help me track down the pendant. Either way, I might finally be able to forgive him. But if the pendant was lost forever, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to forgive myself.

Chapter Seven

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when Jude didn’t answer his door the morning after I lost the pendant. He’d revealed so much of himself to me and he couldn’t even use alcohol as an excuse. All we’d had was tea and out-of-date Kit Kats. If I’d expected a best-selling author to sit sipping champagne and eating oysters, I would have been in for a disappointment. I hadn’t had any expectations of Jude, though, and rather than being disappointed, I’d discovered over the slightly-chewy-Kit-Kats that I really liked him. The only thing that disappointed me was that it didn’t look like he was going to keep his promise to help me look for the pendant. But I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and live by Nana’s principles. Maybe something had happened with Barnaby, or he’d managed to work through the writer’s block that had been plaguing him for months now. Hopefully, I’d get the chance to ask him, but for now my priority was to find the pendant so I headed down to the beach on my own.

I looked into every gutter and dip in the pavement as I went towards the path that led down to Half Moon Cove, but all I found was a toy car and a cat collar, which the wearer must have escaped from. The path itself was covered in a mixture of sand and shingle, making it doubly difficult to search for the pendant, and it took me well over an hour to finally make it on to the beach. My heart lurched when I spotted a figure in the distance, moving a metal detector over the strip of sand that was exposed by the receding tide. That was all I needed, someone with the means to find the pendant, but who might not be willing hand it over if they did. Counting on the power of Christmas spirit, I forced myself to go and speak to him, in the hope he might be willing to help me.

‘Excuse me.’ I cleared my throat as I got within a few feet of the man and he turned around. ‘Jude!’

‘Morning. Did you get the note I taped to my door, telling you to meet me down here? I was beginning to think you’d overslept.’

‘There was no note on the door.’ I still couldn’t believe it was him. ‘When you weren’t there, I started searching the path down to the beach for the pendant. I didn’t oversleep, in fact I hardly slept at all.’

‘I guessed you probably wouldn’t, but I wondered if you might finally have dropped off and then woken up late.’ He smiled and for a split second an image of waking up next to him popped into my head. It was just because he was being so nice, that was all.

‘I can’t believe you’ve got a metal detector, why didn’t you mention it yesterday? It’s perfect.’

‘Because I didn’t have it yesterday. I looked online last night and there was someone selling one in Truro. I messaged him and he said I could pick it up if I could get there this morning before he left for work.’

‘But that must have been a two or three hour round trip?’

‘You weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.’ He smiled again and something flipped over in my stomach. Oh God, I’d be a walking cliché if I got a crush on him. He probably had to put up with that sort of thing all the time.

‘Thank you so much, that was really amazing of you. You’ll have to let me know how much I owe you.’

‘Don’t be silly, just call it a bit more payback for me missing the reading at Maddie’s bookshop.’ His eyes met mine and there was another flip-flop in my stomach. I was going to have to get over this and fast. I’d be mortified if he realised.

‘No luck yet, I’m guessing?’

‘Not yet, but the cove suddenly seems a lot bigger when you’re scanning it with a metal detector, inch by inch.’

‘I’ll go and look over by the rocks then, just in case a magpie or something picked it up and dropped it over there.’ It sounded ridiculous, as I said the words out loud. There was every chance we were both wasting our time searching for the pendant. But I didn’t want to stop, and not just because the thought of losing my last connection to Nana broke my heart.

‘Okay, good luck.’ Jude dropped his gaze back down to the ground and I headed over to the rocks. Two hours later, my hands were numb, and my back was killing me, but Jude was still slowly moving along the beach.

I walked back over to him, but he didn’t even seem to notice I was there, he was so engrossed in what he was doing. ‘We’re not going to find it, are we?

‘We can’t give up yet.’ Jude finally looked up at me and I shook my head.

‘Maybe not, but I think we should stop for a bit. You look almost as cold as I feel, and we probably need a different strategy and a few more pairs of eyes. Maybe I could ask Maddie and some of the others to help us out? Who knows, Caroline might even want to use it as a writing prompt for The Mad Hutters’ next short story exercise. That way we could sell it to them as being research in action.’

‘Maybe I should join The Mad Hutters? I could do with some writing prompts of my own.’ Jude frowned. ‘Shall we go back to mine and get a drink, then we can come up with some other ideas to give you a better chance of finding the pendant.’

‘I’m not sure I can stomach anymore slightly stale Kit Kats.’ I laughed, despite the hollow feeling that had settled in my chest when I realised that Nana’s pendant wasn’t just going to be lying in the sand waiting for me to pick it up. ‘Grandpa will have gone out to choir practice by now, so we can go back to his place and have a drink there, if that’s okay with you?’

‘And you’ve got biscuits there that are still in date?’

‘We have, we’re decadent like that!’ I laughed again. Glad that I had Jude to take my mind of losing the pendant, at least a little bit. I’d probably have been in tears if he hadn’t been there, and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to admit to Grandpa that I’d lost it yet; not while there was even a tiny slither of hope left.

‘It’s a date then.’ It was just a throw away comment, but that didn’t stop the somersaults in my stomach going into free fall. It was like being thirteen all over again.

****

‘You looked really at home on the beach.’ I said, bringing the tray of drinks into the sitting room where Jude was already sitting by the fire. ‘Did you grow up somewhere like this?’

‘No, I was a city boy, but I went to university in Exeter and I headed down this way at every opportunity I got. Keeley, Barnaby’s mum, hated it, but Barnaby loved it as much as I did and I brought him down here whenever I had him for long enough. My agent suggested I get away to try and unplug the writer’s block, so that’s why I rented Driftwood Cottage for such a long time. When Barnaby was supposed to be coming over here, it seemed perfect—we’d get to spend a Christmas in Cornwall together and do all the things we used to do. But I suppose I’m forgetting that he’s seventeen now and not seven anymore.’

‘I’m sure he’s got as many happy memories of those days as you. Like I said, just give it time, he’ll come back to you.’

‘Can I ask you a personal question?’

‘Another one?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ He leant slightly forward in his chair, so that I could have reached out and touched him. ‘I find it’s the best way to get to know someone.’

‘Go on then, but the asking about my weight caveat still stands.’

‘Why did you end up living with your grandparents?’

‘If you’d ever met my mum and dad you wouldn’t need to ask that question.’ I picked up a piece of shortbread from the plate on the table between us and snapped it in half. ‘They’re aspiring pop stars and the pursuit of their dreams didn’t sit well with a settled family life. Nana and Grandpa were the only stability I had in my childhood and this place always felt like home. They asked if I could come and live with them, when the disruption to my schooling from following Mum and Dad around really started to have a negative impact. I don’t know who was more delighted, me, my grandparents or my parents. But, either way, it worked out best for all of us.’

‘And they’re still pursuing their dreams, even now. They must be in their late forties, at least?’

‘Mid-fifties, actually, and you’re right, most people would have given up by now, especially in an industry like that. But not them.’ I looked over at him. ‘Some people might even call them wannabes.’

‘Ouch!’ He pulled an imaginary arrow out of his chest. ‘I deserved that and I’m sorry. I was on the worst possible form that day.’

‘It’s okay. It helped actually.’ I breathed out, feeling like I was an alcoholic about to confess my addiction. It seemed every bit as momentous to say it out loud and admit that I really was a wannabe. ‘I do want to be a writer. I suppose I always did, but then I got an internship as a sub-editor and absolutely fell in love with one of the books I was asked to work on. It seemed less of an impossible dream than becoming a writer myself and I didn’t want to end up like my parents, spending years chasing the impossible. So I became an editor instead.’

‘And the book you fell in love with, was it like the ones you work on now?’ It was as if Jude could see into my soul when he looked at me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I might as well tell him the truth now we’d come this far.

‘No, it was one of yours. I think it was the third one you released Bumble B’s Big Adventure. It made me want to be four years old all over again and I laughed at the jokes and nearly cried when Bumble B lost his friends. It probably sounds stupid, but I thought if I could spend every day working with books like that, it would be more than enough for me, even if I never wrote another word.’

‘I wrote that book when Keeley took Barnaby to live with her second husband. If you were to read it now, knowing that, you’d be able to see that Bumble B was working through the same feelings as I was at the time. What you’ve said doesn’t sound stupid, but this probably will… When I was writing it, I thought if Bumble B could find his way back to his friends and have things come right again, that my relationship with Barnaby could survive our separation too. It’s what I meant, when I said at the talk that we need to write the books we’re creating for ourselves. If you’re doing that with your stories, then you’re already a successful writer.’

‘Thanks.’ I reached out and touched his hand, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity it sent through my body when I did.

‘What for?’

‘For sharing that with me and for making me think I’m not wasting my time writing.’

‘I should be the one thanking you, for reminding me why I started writing in the first place. I’d love to read one of your stories, if you’ll let me?’

‘Maybe one day.’ I looked down at my mug of tea, finally dipping in half of the shortbread biscuit. I didn’t want to open myself up to Jude’s criticism, my dreams were still far too fragile for that.

‘The way you’ve decorated this place is like something out of Winter Wonderland, Barnaby would have loved it when he was a kid.’ Jude looked around at the sitting room as he spoke, thankfully seeming to realise that I wasn’t ready to be pushed into sharing one of my stories.

‘We decorated it a few days ago. Nana always loved Christmas and she added to her collection of decorations over the years. Last year, not long after we lost her, we kept things to the bare minimum, but since Grandpa started volunteering, he seems to have found his Christmas spirit again. So he wanted to put up all of Nana’s decorations this time.’

‘Did he find it hard to start doing things again, after he lost your grandmother?’

‘I had to emotionally blackmail him to get involved at first, but then he was asked to join the choir and now he’s showing glimpses of the man he was before. Sometimes a bit of well-intentioned nagging pays off, but it was his idea to put the decorations up.’

‘It makes my place look pretty pitiful in comparison!’

‘Are you at least planning to put a tree up?’

‘I was going to, when I thought Barnaby would be there, but without him it all seems a bit pointless.’

‘I think it’s my turn for a personal question.’ I had no right to ask about his romantic life, but I’d drive myself crazy if I didn’t.

‘I’m bracing myself!’

‘I just can’t help wondering why someone like you hasn’t got married and had more children. You clearly love being Barnaby’s dad.’

‘I suppose I didn’t want to risk it again. I’ve lost a lot of people over the years, but being separated from Barnaby was probably the worst thing of all. I didn’t want to take the chance of it happening again. So I’ve grown a tough shell.’ Jude looked at me over the top of his cup. ‘Some people even get the impression that I’m arrogant and standoffish.’

‘No! Really?’ I laughed, the arguments we’d had were all water under the bridge. We understood each other now.

‘Yes, really. Can you believe it? Me!’ He laughed too, and I found myself wishing that he was willing to take the risk of having another serious relationship. Alright, so this wasn’t a movie script and he wouldn’t be taking that risk with me, but he deserved to find happiness. I could see that now.

‘Would you like more children?’

‘Is that an offer?’ He laughed again and I shook my head. ‘In an ideal world, yes, but I wouldn’t want Barnaby to feel like he mattered less to me as a result.’

‘Why don’t you move out there, then? So you can be close to him, even if you do meet someone else. He’d never have any reason to doubt how much he meant to you then.’ What the hell was I doing? I didn’t want him to leave. But he would eventually, anyway, when his lease came to an end.

‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’

‘No, but my Nana’s theory was that people should follow their hearts first and their heads second. It was what gave Mum the courage to keep following her dreams, even when they didn’t turn out as she planned.’ I could almost hear Nana again, telling me that I was doing the right thing. Jude had done his best to help me and I wanted to repay the favour.

‘Maybe there’s some truth in that. But first I need to do what you encouraged your grandfather to do, and start making a life for myself again, instead of grieving for all the things I don’t have.’ Jude smiled in my direction, and I could have sworn I actually heard my heart hammering. ‘I’m going to put up the biggest tree that will fit in Driftwood Cottage and decorate it. Will you help me?’

‘Of course.’ I didn’t need persuading to spend more time with Jude.

‘That’s great, and I might just have an idea to help us find your pendant too. Let me put in a couple of calls and we’ll take it from there.’

‘Thank you.’ I still didn’t think we had much chance of finding the pendant, but if anyone could make it happen it would be Jude. Heaven knows how I’d explain to Maddie that I’d gone from hating him, to something I couldn’t even put into words, in less than twenty four hours. Sometimes even a person like me, who made a living from manipulating words, could discover that words alone weren’t up to the job.

****

I’d just got back from walking Harvey in the early evening when Grandpa got home. I heard him singing, long before I heard his key in the lock—his deep, rich voice filling the air.

‘You sound on good form.’ I looked up from where I was making notes on my laptop for a new story idea, and Grandpa planted a kiss on top of my head.

‘I am, my darling. Singing is good for the soul, your nana always said that and she was right.’

‘Are those new glasses?’ It was a stupid question, really, since they obviously were.

‘Yes. Derek, one of the other basses, is an optician and he rushed an order through for me. I think the rest of the choir were sick to death of me pushing my glasses up twenty times during every choir practice.’

‘That’s great, but when I suggested getting some new ones, you didn’t want to do it because Nana helped you pick the old ones out.’

‘I know, but I was being silly. I don’t need to wear the glasses your nana chose to have her with me, she’s in here.’ He laid his hand over his chest.

‘That’s true and I’m really glad you’re making so many new friends. Are you practising every day now?’

‘We have to, there are so many events happening and I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. The others have been practising the repertoire since at least September.’ Grandpa squeezed my shoulder. ‘I’m not neglecting you, though, am I?’

‘Of course not. I’m busy with the new editing job and writing some stories, and I’ve made a new friend too.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t look at me like that and don’t get your hopes up. It’s nothing romantic.’ It was bad enough I had to keep reminding myself of that.

‘So, who is this friend of yours?’

‘Jude Thomas.’

‘You mean the DFL next door, who you couldn’t stand the sight of?’ Grandpa raised his eyebrows. ‘You know another thing your nana said, don’t you? That love and hate can be two sides of the same coin.’

‘Oh stop it!’ I couldn’t help laughing though, it was so nice to see him back to his old self.

‘What do you fancy for dinner? Shall we get some fish and chips?’ I was just about to answer him when there was a knock at the door.

‘I’ll get it.’

‘You’re keen.’ He laughed again. ‘Are you hoping it’s your friend?’

Sticking out my tongue, I walked towards the front door. So what if a big part of me wanted it to be Jude? I was hoping he was ready to tell me his idea to track down the pendant, that was all. But when I opened the front door, I was so shocked that my mouth actually fell open.

‘Are you just going to stand there staring all night, or are you going to let us in, pumpkin?’ The sound of Mum’s voice brought me back to reality.

‘I’m just so surprised to see you. That’s all.’

‘But you’re thrilled we’re here, right?’ Dad pulled me into his arms and I mumbled some kind of agreement into his chest. I still couldn’t believe they were here.

‘You’re letting all the cold air in.’ Grandpa walked up the passageway and stopped in his tracks, as I pulled away and turned to face him.

‘Mum and Dad are here.’

‘I can see that.’ It was hard to tell whether he was pleased or not. ‘The question is what are the two of you doing here? I thought you were booked in to perform at that hotel in Tenerife until after New Year?’

‘We were, but an opportunity came up that was too good to miss.’ Mum straightened the skirt of the mini-dress she was wearing. ‘So are you going to invite us in, or do we have to freeze to death on the doorstep?’

‘Come in, of course, and you can tell us all about it. You just caught us by surprise, that’s all.’ Grandpa ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind them.

‘You three go through and I’ll make some tea. You must be gasping for a proper cuppa.’ I looked at my parents, still finding it difficult to imagine why they’d walked out on the chance to perform every night over Christmas. If something bad had happened, I wanted them to have the chance to talk to Grandpa about it first. But when I brought the drinks through to the sitting room, they were all chatting happily.

‘Oh thanks, love, you’re right about not being able to get a proper cuppa over there. There’s something different about the water I think.’ Dad took his cup from me.

‘That’s not why you’ve come home, is it? Just to get a decent cup of tea?’ I turned to Mum, she’d always been the driving force behind their partnership and, whatever the reason for them coming home, it would be down to her.

‘Of course it isn’t, pumpkin.’ Mum took hold of Dad’s hand. ‘We’ve been given the chance to audition for Britain’s Got Talent and it was just too good an opportunity to turn down.’

‘When’s the audition?’ I caught Grandpa’s eye as I spoke.

‘The third of January.’ Mum could hardly sit still.

‘Why couldn’t you finish your contract out in Tenerife first, then?’ I was sure there was more to the story than they were letting on.

‘There were some artistic differences.’ Dad shrugged.

‘And we need time to work on our routine with the choreographer. Since he’s based in the UK, it just wasn’t going to give us enough time to do ourselves justice.’ Mum tapped the side of her nose. ‘You’ve got to put a hundred percent in, to get a hundred percent out.’

‘So you’ll be home for Christmas?’ It was still hard to tell if Grandpa was pleased.

‘Probably, well almost certainly.’ Mum held out her hand to me. ‘We want to spend Christmas with our baby girl, of course, but the choreographer is based in London, so it depends when he can fit us in.’

‘Well it’s good to see you either way.’ Grandpa looked at Mum and then over at me. ‘Your nana would have loved to see us all back together like this.’

‘She would.’ I blew him a kiss. Nothing was turning out as I’d expected, but then Christmas was supposed to be full of surprises, wasn’t it? And this one had barely got started.

Chapter Eight

In the week since my parents had been home, they’d taken over the house. The sitting room had been transformed into make-shift dance studio, with all of the furniture pushed up against the walls, and half of Nana’s Christmas decorations had been packed away again for their own safety.

Grandpa seemed to be spending all his time rehearsing and, with the big Gift Day performance coming up, it was something he could justify. Although I’d caught him having coffee in town with his friends more than once, so I think avoiding becoming Mum and Dad’s unwilling audience had something to do with it. I’d finally admitted to losing Nana’s pendant and he’d forgiven me instantly, so I could hardly hold his clandestine coffee-mornings against him.

I was spending a lot of my time with Jude and he’d more than fulfilled his promise to come up with a way to get more people looking for the pendant. He’d broken the habit of a lifetime and willingly done an interview with the local press, which had been sold on to the nationals. He’d mentioned the missing pendant, of course; but to give the story more traction, he’d even opened up about the writer’s block and given a bit of insight into his personal life. To top it all off, he’d offered a reward of five thousand pounds of his own money, to anyone who found the pendant. I’d tried to talk him out of it, but he’d been insistent. It had created a few issues of its own when the story went live, with people offering up a myriad of necklaces they’d allegedly ‘found’. I still didn’t hold out much hope of us tracking down the real thing, but it meant a lot that Jude had done all of that for me.

Other people appeared to be reading far more into, though. Grandpa and my parents were convinced that there was something going on between me and Jude, and they weren’t the only ones.

‘There she is, the best seller’s muse!’ Gordon announced my arrival at The Holly Bay Hut, for the last Mad Hutters session before the Christmas break, and I fought the urge to sigh.

‘I get enough of that rubbish at home, thank you!’

‘You can deny it all you like.’ Aisha, who was wearing mistletoe deely boppers, raised her palms in the air. ‘But why else would anyone donate five thousand pounds to help you find a missing necklace. It’s definitely lurve!’

‘Oh leave her alone, you guys, she obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.’ Tara said, and as I looked over to where she was standing, next to Dan, I saw her hand slip into his.

‘Yeah and if she was going to tell anyone first, she’d tell me. Wouldn’t you, Hope?’ Maddie fixed me with a look and I nodded. There really was nothing to tell, but I’m not sure even my best friend believed me.

‘Of course.’

‘Well I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. Those eyes of his… Mmmm.’ Aisha’s deely boppers went into overdrive.

‘We’re just friends.’ I turned my back on them to get a coffee from the machine, and for once I was pleased when Caroline turned up and called us all to order. I was being a hundred percent honest when I said we were just friends, but I didn’t want anyone else to pick up on the fact that I had feelings for Jude, even if they weren’t being reciprocated.

‘Are you coming to The Melody Makers tonight?’ Maddie turned to me, as we came out of the session. The harbour side was lit up by rows of multi-coloured lights and our breath was making clouds in the air.

‘Of course, we always go for a drink after the meeting.’

‘Uh huh.’ Maddie grinned. ‘But you don’t usually have a gorgeous best-selling author standing across the road waiting for you!’

‘Oh God.’

‘Is it my imagination or has our Hope gone red?’ Aisha laughed so loudly there was no chance of Jude missing us coming out.

‘Hi.’ He walked over and kissed me on both cheeks. I just hoped he couldn’t feel how much my face was burning.

‘Hi yourself.’ This was ridiculous, we were friends—the same as I was with the other Mad Hutters—but I suddenly felt so self-conscious.

‘Sorry to surprise you like this, but I’ve bought a ridiculously big Christmas tree from the nursery on the Penzance road, and enough ornaments for a town centre display, and I could really use your help decorating it.’

‘I’m just off to The Melody Makers, we always go for a drink after a Mad Hutters’ meeting.’ I bit my lip, feeling torn. Part of me wanted to invite him to join us, but if the others kept dropping none-too-subtle hints about our so-called relationship, it might be the last I ever saw of him.

‘Like you said, Hope, we always go for a drink after The Mad Hutters’ meeting. Why don’t you do something different this week and give Jude a hand?’ Tara virtually pushed me towards him, and as I turned to look at Maddie she nodded.

‘Yes, go on, Hope. Change things up.’ She did a weird sort of eyebrow wiggle. The trouble with having friends who were all writers, was that they had far too much imagination.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘As long as you ring me later.’ Maddie’s eyebrows were doing it again.

‘Okay.’ I shook my head, trying to telepathically relay the message that there would be absolutely nothing to report later. Except maybe an allergic reaction to the pine needles.

****

‘I never had you down as someone who was into cheesy Christmas tunes.’ I threaded another string of lights through the branches of Jude’s Christmas tree, as he turned up the music.

‘Who doesn’t love Now That’s What I Call Christmas?’ He grinned and I wanted to ask him what had changed. He seemed like a different person from the one who didn’t even want to decorate the cottage a couple of weeks before, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said how many decorations he’d bought. ‘It’s really good of you to help me out with this and I’m sorry I disrupted your drinks with The Mad Hutters.’

‘I owe you about a million favours after that interview you did with the papers, and I’m the one who should apologise for my mum and dad tagging you into all their posts on Twitter.’

‘Have they?’ He unwrapped the tissue paper around one of the glass ornaments. ‘I don’t really read any of the messages I get on social media, and someone from my agent’s office manages my Twitter account.’

‘Oh. Well they’ve been tweeting about the lost pendant and they made a video about it on their YouTube channel, and they’ve tagged you into their posts. But if you don’t read them, it doesn’t matter.’ I tried to keep my tone casual, but I can’t have done a very good job of it.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve paid for an extra member of staff to monitor any info that comes in about the pendant and to follow up any messages that seem worth checking out.’ He put a hand on my shoulder and looked straight into my eyes. ‘I made you a promise and, despite what you think, I don’t make a habit of breaking those.’

‘It doesn’t seem enough to just keep saying thank you, after everything you’ve done to help me try to get the necklace back.’ I couldn’t look him in the eyes and I made an exaggerated effort to undo a non-existent knot in the string of Christmas lights.

‘You’ve done more for me than you realise, in fact because of you I’ve had my first story idea for ages.’ Jude stopped talking, until I was forced to look up at him.

‘That’s great.’

‘It is, but I just want to make sure I’m not stepping on your toes.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t want you to think I’m turning the lost pendant into a positive, but it’s given me an idea for a Baxter Jones’ book. If you want to use the premise yourself for something, though, I won’t do anything with it. You said it would make a good story that first day we were searching for the pendant on the beach. Then, when I was thinking about it later, the idea for the book just came to me.’ I’d read all of Jude’s Baxter Jones’ books, even though they were aimed at under thirteens. His hero from the novels, a teenage detective, had been hailed the new Harry Potter, and there’d even been talk of making the first three books into films.

‘I wasn’t planning to do anything with the idea, so it’s all yours. And don’t worry about turning it into a positive, if something good can come out of it, then it’ll stop it being a complete disaster.’ Tears stung the back of my eyes and I dropped my gaze back down to the Christmas tree lights. ‘You said you wrote the Baxter Jones books for Barnaby, too, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. When he grew out of the Bumble B books, I wanted to write something else for him. He had a bear that my parents had bought him when he was first born, which he kept at my house, and for some reason he called it Baxter Jones. The bear had a deerstalker hat like Sherlock Holmes, and one day I just had the idea for the first book in that series. I wrote it to keep Barnaby entertained and, when my publisher asked if I had something new to show them, I sent it in. They’ve been pressing me for an idea for the next book in the series for the last six months, but I couldn’t come up with anything that hadn’t been done a million times before. Then, when I was thinking whether there was anything else we could do to find the pendant, the idea for Baxter Jones and the Amulet’s Eye started to take shape.’

‘That’s brilliant.’ I looked up at him again and he took hold of my hand. Surely he could hear the hammering of my heart, too, this time?

‘I feel like a massive weight’s been lifted and it’s all because of you. I’ve even been rethinking things with Barnaby because of what you said.’

‘I’m glad I could help, I—’ I completely forgot what I was going to say, so I just stared at him instead.

‘I should have bought some mistletoe.’ Jude’s tone was gentle, and what I said next must have surprised him almost as much as it surprised me.

‘You use your imagination for a living. Just pretend we’re standing underneath the mistletoe.’

‘Okay.’ He lowered his head and I moved a step closer to him. Noddy Holder and Slade were belting out Merry Christmas Everybody, as our lips finally met. It might not have been the most romantic song to accompany the moment, but I’d never forget it. I’d spent far too much time imagining what it would feel like to kiss Jude over the past couple of weeks and, for once, the reality lived up to expectations. He’d be going back to his real life after Christmas, though, so I had to keep my feelings in check. Even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it was going to be almost impossible to do. When he kissed me again, the rules I’d set for myself, just a moment before, went straight out of the window.

****

By the time Gift Day came around, I’d given up pretending to Maddie and the others that Jude and I weren’t dating. They’d interrogated me mercilessly during The Mad Hutters’ Christmas get together at Angel’s Tavernita, and I’d finally admitted that we were seeing each other. Although, I’m not entirely sure if you could call it dating. We spent lots of time walking on the beach, or hanging out as his place. Ever since he’d got rid of the beard, and with the recent press articles, it was much harder for him to keep a low profile and neither of us wanted to attract attention. There were enough weirdos coming forward as it was, and someone had even offered to hold a séance to speak to Nana, so she could tell me where the lost pendant really was.

I didn’t want to miss Gift Day, though, especially as Grandpa was singing with the choir. It was an annual event that had been started by the Traders’ Association, and the parents who could afford it made a small donation for their children to get a gift from Santa, which were donated by local businesses, as well as a book from Basil’s Adventures. The money raised went to the hospital that had saved David’s life after he’d contracted meningitis. The event had got bigger every year, and the decoration of the memorial tree also took place on Gift Day. The town’s Christmas tree had a prime position on the harbour side, and locals and visitors alike were invited to hang stars, or other wooden ornaments, on the tree to commemorate the lives of loved ones who were no longer around to join in with the Christmas celebrations. Grandpa and the rest of the choir were due to perform a medley of Christmas carols just as the tree was illuminated by a thousand tiny white lights. It was always a moving event and I’d chosen a hand carved wooden angel to hang on to the tree for Nana. Even if that didn’t make me emotional, I knew that hearing Grandpa singing for her would.

‘Coo’ee, Hope, Jude!’ Gordon waved a paisley patterned handkerchief in the air as he called out to us. He was wearing an illuminated Christmas jumper and a Santa hat.

‘You’re looking very festive.’ I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

‘We’ve got to show you youngsters how it’s done. You remember Nellie don’t you?’ Gordon turned to his wife, who was wearing a matching jumper and earrings in the shape of Christmas stockings.

‘Of course, how are you doing, Nellie?’

‘Good thank you, Hope.’ Nellie and I exchanged kisses. ‘And who is this handsome young man. Can this be the famous Jude Thomas? I’ve heard so much about you!’

‘All good I hope?’ Jude shook her hand.

‘Absolutely.’ Nellie smiled as her husband put his arm around her.

‘I thought you might be helping Maddie out?’ Gordon directed the question at me and I shook my head.

‘I did offer, but she turned me down. She said she was over-run with volunteers this year, and Tara and Dan have even put themselves forward to play Santa’s elves.’

‘It’s so nice to see they’ve finally got it together.’ Gordon’s eyes had that familiar twinkle. ‘Everyone needs somebody to love and, if they can be half as happy as Nellie and I have been, they can count themselves lucky.’

‘I was starting to wonder if either of them would ever make the first move.’ I looked towards the stage, which had already been set up with Santa’s big wooden chair and a collection of artificial fir trees, which had been sprayed with fake snow. ‘Do you know if Aisha’s coming today?’

‘She said she’d try and make it in time for the choir and the memorial tree. But you know her, kids aren’t really her thing. In any case, she was at an Eighties themed Christmas disco in Penzance last night, and judging by the pictures on Facebook she had a very good time, so I doubt she’s even up and about yet.’ Gordon could always be relied upon to know what everyone in The Mad Hutters was up to.

‘It looks like something’s about to happen.’ Nellie said, and there was definitely a bit of movement over by the stage.

‘I thought it wasn’t due to start for another half an hour?’ Jude looked at his watch.

‘It’s not.’ I’d persuaded him to come down early, so we could find a good spot to watch, where we wouldn’t be overwhelmed when it started to get crowded later. I was looking forward to the reading Maddie always did for the kids, and to seeing Dan and Tara kitted out as elves, but it was Grandpa I really didn’t want to miss. What I wasn’t expecting was to see someone else I knew putting on an impromptu and uninvited performance. ‘Oh God, it’s Mum and Dad.’

‘So it is.’ Jude looked far more pleased at the prospect than I was. He’d met them a couple of times since they’d come home to rehearse for Britain’s Got Talent, and he seemed to find them entertaining. I’m sure they were in small doses, or if they weren’t your parents. All I could do was cross my fingers—which was surprisingly difficult when you were wearing gloves—and hope they didn’t embarrass themselves.

‘Good Afternoon Holly Bay!’ Dad picked up the mic that had already been set up and called out to the crowd, which was beginning to build. ‘I said good afternoon Holly Bay!’

‘Good Afternoon.’ At the second attempt there was a muted response from small pockets of the crowd, but lack of interest had never deterred my parents.

‘I’m DJ Ju and this is my partner, in love and music, MC Elle. And together we’re The Malones!’

‘Yo, yo, yo!’ Mum grabbed hold of the mic and went straight into it. ‘We’re here to entertain you, one and all, old or young and big or small. DJ Ju’s on the decks, whilst I shake my booty, so show us your moves, it’s your Christmas duty!’

‘Why are you staring at me like that?’ Jude furrowed his brow and I hadn’t even realised I was doing it.

‘I was waiting for the top half of you to turn into a lizard, so I know this is all just some hideous nightmare.’

‘I think they’re pretty funky!’ Nellie shouted, already waving her hands in the air, as my parents launched into their first song, She was producing enough static energy from her jumper to stand Gordon’s hair up on end.

‘Just tell me when it’s over.’ I leant into Jude and he put his arms around me. Once Mum started twerking, I turned my head so that my face was pressed against his chest. Three songs later, it was all over and not a moment too soon.

****

‘I’m sorry about my parents earlier, but I think this makes up for it.’ I whispered to Jude as the choir launched into their final song. Oh Holy Night had been Nana’s favourite Christmas carol and it was mine too. As Grandpa and the rest of the choir got to the end of the first verse, some of the crowd started to file towards the memorial tree. It was the centre of the town’s Christmas display and stood twenty feet high, in its position facing the harbour. It was always decorated in the same way, with memorial decorations and rows and rows of simple white lights.

‘Your mum and dad’s performance was one of the highlights of the day.’ Jude took my hand, as we started to walk towards the tree.

‘I suppose one thing you could say for it is that no-one who saw it will ever forget it. They’ll be some complaints about the twerking though, if only from me!’

‘I did wonder if they were going to have to be forcibly removed from the stage.’

‘They were lucky it was Maddie and Ben who intervened, so that Santa could get ready to start handing out the gifts. I can’t believe they just turned up and started singing, without clearing it with the committee first.’

‘Sometimes you just have to seize the moment when it presents itself.’ Jude squeezed my hand and I wondered if that was what we were doing; seizing a moment. Christmas would be here before we knew it, and after that Jude would be gone. Maybe my parents weren’t so crazy after all.

‘I’ve got Nana’s decoration here, I can meet you on the other side of the tree, after I’ve hung it up, if you want?’

‘Actually, I’ve got a couple of stars to hang for my parents.’ Jude’s voice was barely audible, now, over the noise of the crowd and the sound of the choir.

‘Oh, that’s great’ I nodded, and for a few moments we were parted as we each hung our decorations on the tree, sending a silent message to the family members we’d loved and lost.

‘That’s a lovely tradition.’ Jude smiled as I found him on the other side of the crowd. ‘They should have something like that in every town.’

‘I didn’t realise you were going to hang some stars.’

‘Neither did I, but I saw them for sale in The Silent Night Emporium and it felt like the right thing to do.’ Jude put his arm around me. ‘I lost both my parents in the first year after Barnaby moved to America. Then, when my dog, Teddy, died too, it felt like my whole life had fallen apart. So even if your parents make you cringe every now and again, you should make the most of them whilst you can.’

‘I know.’ I wrinkled my nose. I really should start counting my blessings. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been through so much.’

‘A lot of people have been through far worse, but my agent was right when he said I needed to take time off to find a way to move on. Finding the cottage in Holly Bay happened by chance rather than design, but the last few weeks have done more to get me back to my old self than anything else I’ve tried.’

‘I’m glad. Maybe you should stay for a bit longer in that case?’ I wanted to ask him to stay for me, but we weren’t anywhere near that place in our relationship.

‘Maybe I should. There’s a lot to stick around for.’ He pulled me towards him and kissed me gently. I didn’t know what the future was going to bring, but Jude had said that life was about seizing the moment when you could. And that particular moment was just about perfect.

Chapter Nine

I always put the extra copies of my stories, for the critiquing group, in a purple folder that Grandpa had bought me when I first started going to The Mad Hutters. As there wouldn’t be another meeting of the group until mid-January, I was planning to go through the file and sort it out. But when I went to look for it, in its usual spot in the book case, two days before Christmas, it seemed to have completely disappeared off the face of the earth, just like Nana’s pendant. There were still people out looking for the necklace, though, a reward like that kept people interested and getting the money could transform someone’s Christmas. People were still handing in silver pendants that they’d ‘found’, but none of them were Nana’s, even if some of them looked pretty close to the original. We deliberately hadn’t mentioned the inscription on the back of the pendant, from Grandpa to Nana on their twenty fifth wedding anniversary—my only, my everything, my love. It’s what she’d been to him.

I was still searching for the folder in the sitting room, in case it had slid under the sofa, or fallen behind the book shelf, when Mum and Dad burst in, both of them talking at the same time, so that I had no idea what was going on.

‘Okay, one of you needs to let the other one talk, so I can understand you.’ Whatever it was, they seemed pretty excited.

‘We’ve gone viral!’ Mum beamed at me and I just stared at her for a moment, until she took hold of my shoulders and gave me a shake. ‘Isn’t it brilliant, pumpkin? It means things are starting at last and we’re finally going to be famous!’

‘I don’t understand… do you mean one of your YouTube videos?’

‘Not one of them. All of them!’ Dad punched the air and Mum started whooping again.

‘That’s great.’ I was pleased for them, but I couldn’t help worrying that the videos were being shared for all the wrong reasons.

‘It’s more than great and it’s all down to your boyfriend. He tweeted a link to our appeal about the pendant on his Twitter page and some of the other videos, including one we got sent from Gift Day. Within twenty four hours we’d had more than a million views and exceeded our target of a hundred thousand subscribers.’ Mum was shaking her head. ‘I keep having to pinch myself, I’m still worried that I’m going to wake up and find out that this is all a dream.’

‘Just keep looking at all the comments on Twitter or YouTube and you’ll know it’s real!’ Dad grinned and Mum thrust the iPad she’d been holding towards me.

‘You’ve read the comments?’ It was what I’d been dreading, but they were both nodding happily.

‘Take a look for yourself.’ Mum tapped an icon on the iPad and scrolled down. There were over thirty thousand comments on the Twitter link to one their videos and I read the top few.

Haven’t laughed this much in years!

This is rap with a silent C.

Whoever put these two together, is a genius. We need more of The Malones!

This can’t be for real, surely? It’s like they actually think they’re good. Brilliant.

Jude Thomas has created his best characters yet. The Malones are HILARIOUS!!!

‘And you’ve actually read these comments?’ I turned to my parents, as Grandpa came into the room humming a Christmas carol, which he always seemed to be doing these days.

‘We started off reading all of them, and replying, but we just can’t keep up with it anymore. Every time we look there are thousands more!’ Mum did a little spin and I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being disappointed, but sometimes it felt like I was their parent, not the other way around.

‘Some of the comments don’t seem to be about the music.’ It was the gentlest way I could say it, but Dad just grinned again.

‘We know, but at the end of the day we’re entertainers. If what we do makes people smile, for whatever reason, then that’s great. Me and your mother have always got so much joy from performing, we just wanted to share it with the world. Thanks to Jude, that’s finally happening.’

‘What’s happened?’ Grandad said. Having come in half way through the conversation, he was still catching up.

‘Jude shared a link to one of our videos on the internet and over a million people have seen us perform now.’ Mum threw her arms around him. ‘We’re finally famous, Dad!’

‘Congratulations. Maybe I should open one of those bottles of champagne from mine and your mum’s golden wedding anniversary, when Jude comes over later? They’ve been sitting there gathering dust for nearly ten years now.’

‘That’s a great idea.’ Mum took the iPad back and looked down at the screen again. ‘I can’t wait to show Jude some of these comments. Ooh, look, there’s a tweet here with a link to a video of him appearing on Good Morning America. Maybe he mentioned us in that interview, too? World domination, here we come!’ Mum clicked on the link and turned the iPad around so that we could all see it.

‘Our next guest, appearing live via satellite, is best-selling author Jude Thomas.’ The presenter had perfectly coiffured blonde hair and a Hollywood smile.

‘Good morning, Anneka. It’s great to be here. I always love having the chance to speak to my readers in the US.’ Jude was on a split screen, positioned in front of a backdrop of the Cornish coast. I knew he’d driven to Wadebridge for a television interview the day before, but I’d assumed it was for a local channel. Speaking to Good Morning America was something most people would mention, but then it was probably nothing special to Jude.

‘Well your readers over here are all really excited to hear that there’s a new Baxter Jones novel on the way. Baxter Jones and the Amulet’s Eye—can you tell us all about it?’

‘It’s set in Cornwall, where I’ve been spending a lot of time recently and it’s about the search for a missing pendant, an amulet that has the power to let the holder see into the future. The dilemma the holder of the amulet has, is whether to try and change what they see. And of course Baxter gets into all kinds of scrapes, making sure that the amulet doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.’

‘You’ve clearly found Cornwall inspirational and there are a lot of fans of Poldark over here in the US, so we can see the appeal. I think many of your readers were worried about the interview you did earlier this month, though, when you talked about having writer’s block.’

‘I think it’s being here that has cured my writer’s block. As you said, Cornwall has been a huge inspiration and so have some of the people.’ Jude smiled out of the screen and Mum nudged me.

‘He’s talking about you, you know.’

‘Does that mean you’ll be staying on in Cornwall?’ Anneka looked down at her notes and then back up to the screen, where Jude was already shaking his head.

‘Actually, no. I’ve decided that I’ll be moving to America as early as possible in the New Year. It was something a friend suggested to me, and it just feels like the perfect time to do it. So, by the time Baxter Jones and the Amulet’s Eye comes out, I should just be able to pop down to your studio to tell you all about the finished book.’

‘That’s great and your US readers will be thrilled to hear that their favourite author is making America his home.’ Anneka looked pretty pleased about the prospect, too.

I turned away from Mum as she closed the app on the iPad. ‘I’ve got to go, sorry.’

‘Did you know he was leaving?’ Her voice was gentle and Grandpa put his hand on my shoulder.

‘No, he didn’t say anything.’ It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach, but we hadn’t given each other any guarantees. He didn’t owe me anything, but I’d hoped he thought enough of me to mention a little thing like the fact he was moving to America.

‘Are you okay?’ Dad’s eyes were round with concern.

‘Uh huh, I just need to get out for a bit that’s all. I’ll be fine, though, I promise. Me and Jude… Well, we were nothing serious.’ Forcing a smile that made my face ache, I walked out of the sitting room. Jude was leaving, just like I’d always known he would. Only I’d had no idea how hard it was going to hit me when he did.

****

‘I thought I might find you here.’ Jude walked across the beach at Half Moon Cove, towards me. Most of the pendant hunters had finally given up and headed home for Christmas, so the beach was back to being mostly deserted.

‘And I thought I’d find you busy packing up for your big move.’ I’d told myself I wouldn’t be confrontational when I saw Jude again, but my mouth didn’t seem willing to cooperate.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I did the interview, but I was planning to talk to you about it tonight.’ He reached out towards me, but I stepped back. ‘I had no idea your mum would find the link and show it to you before we got a chance to talk. When I went over to your place, and your grandfather told me what had happened, I was gutted.’

‘I have to admit it wasn’t the best way to find out, in front of my whole family, but then we were never serious, were we?’ He wasn’t the only one who was gutted.

‘I really like you, Hope, and it was you who inspired me to make the move.’

‘You want to move thousands of miles away because you like me so much?’

‘No, but you said if I moved to where Barnaby was, he’d always know that he was my priority. And that really made sense.’

‘It does make sense, and it’ll be great for you to be so much nearer to him.’ I swallowed hard. ‘When do you leave?’

‘On the twenty ninth.’

‘If you got a flight today, you could be with him in time for Christmas day.’

‘Are you trying to get rid of me, again?’ This time when Jude reached out, I didn’t flinch. ‘I thought we were spending Christmas day together. Or is the invitation to come to your grandfather’s place off?’

‘Of course not, I just thought if you’re going to leave, you might as well leave as soon as you’re ready.’

‘I want you to come and see me, as soon as I’m settled over there.’ Jude put a hand under my chin and tilted it up, so I had to look at him.

‘We hardly know each other.’

‘That isn’t true, I’ve told you things I haven’t told people I’ve known for years. We might not have known each other long, but you mean a lot to me. Your grandfather said you gave up the chance to take a job in New York because you were worried about him. He also said you’ve done loads for him, to help him get his life back after being widowed, and that it’s time for you to pursue your own dreams now. Maybe you can look at other opportunities, if you come out there to see me.’

‘I’m not just staying here for Grandpa. I’m staying here because Holly Bay is my home, it’s where my friends are and it’s where I’m meant to be.’ I swallowed again. ‘I’m really happy for you, and Barnaby, but let’s not pretend this was more than it was.’

‘If that’s really how you feel.’ Jude’s hands dropped to his side. ‘Maybe it’s better if I skip Christmas dinner at your place.’

‘Whatever you think. I hope things work out the way you want in America.’ I leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. His skin felt icy cold. ‘Goodbye, Jude.’

‘Hope!’ He called out as I walked away.

‘Yes.’ I half turned, and he nodded.

‘I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.’

‘Uh huh.’ It was all I could manage and I turned away again, the wind stinging my eyes. It had to be that, I couldn’t be crying over a man I hardly knew. Except that I was.

****

Christmas Eve was usually my favourite day of the year, but it was hard to be jolly when I felt like an uninvited guest at the party.

Mum and Dad were off in town, making a Christmas video for their YouTube channel and Grandpa had gone out for lunch with some of his friends from the choir. They were performing at the Christmas Eve service later, but they seemed to have almost as many social events as singing events. It was great, and it was the best Christmas present I could have had to see him so fulfilled again. Without Nana, he’d needed a reason to get out and about, and the choir had given him that and more.

I turned down Maddie’s invitation to join her and her fiancé, Ben, for lunch. So I was watching a medley of Christmas cartoons and eating my way through a tin of Quality Street when my mobile rang. It was an unknown number and I almost rang off, but even talking to someone about whether I’d ever suffered an accident that wasn’t my fault, seemed preferable to watching the Daffy Duck Christmas Special.

‘Hello.’

‘Good afternoon, is that Hope Malone?’

‘Speaking.’

‘Hi, my name is Meredith Banks and I’m from the Johnstone Dimbleby literary agency. One of our authors, Jude Thomas, got in contact with us about your work.’

‘He what?’ I sat up from my slouched position on the sofa, wondering if I’d heard her right.

‘He sent in a children’s book you wrote, Pansy Pirate and the Pearls of Penzance?’

‘Okay—’ I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing and, of all the stories, I wouldn’t have sent that one in. It was one of the ones I’d made up myself, not a reworking of one of Nana and Grandpa’s stories, and it needed a lot of work before I’d have shown it to anyone outside the critiquing group. God knows how Jude had got hold of it, the only people I’d shown it to were the other Mad Hutters.

‘We think it’s got huge potential and we’d like to work with you to get it ready to send out to publishers. We’d represent you, of course, and we could put you in touch with some brilliant illustrators, who could help make the book all the more marketable.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘We’re not expecting a decision right now, although most people are pretty thrilled with the news.’ Meredith laughed.

‘Oh no, I am, completely thrilled. But I’m even more shocked, I had no idea that Jude was going to send the story in.’

‘He clearly thinks a lot of your work, and he couldn’t say enough good things about you. He’s promised me you’ll be a dream to work with.’ She was laughing again and, just like Mum, I had to pinch myself to believe what I was hearing.

‘Thank you, this is amazing.’

‘If you can give me your email address, I’ll send you through a draft of the terms, and you can confirm after the Christmas break if you’ve got any questions or whether you’d be happy to accept.’

‘Yes, its hope.malone@hollybayediting.com, I run my own freelance editing business.’

‘I know. Jude told me all about it! That’s great, I’ll ping the documents over before I leave today.’

‘Thanks again and don’t work too late, it’s Christmas Eve.’

‘I won’t and merry Christmas to you.’

‘And to you.’ Ending the call there was only one person I wanted to talk to—Jude. But when I raced around to his place and hammered on the door, like I had the first time, when his car had been blocking Grandpa’s drive, there was no response. I just hoped he hadn’t already left. I hadn’t thanked him for what he’d done for Mum and Dad, and now he’d given me a life changing opportunity too. I still wished he wasn’t leaving, but more than that I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, before he went.

Chapter Ten

I’d spent the Christmas Eve carol service searching the crowd for Jude, just in case he’d decided to come down and watch the choir. But if he was in the crowd, then he was hiding in plain sight. Grandpa had opened a second bottle of golden wedding champagne when we’d got home after the service, to toast my offer from Jude’s agent, but there hadn’t been a light on in Driftwood Cottage when we’d passed it on the way home. I had a horrible feeling that I’d left it too late and missed my chance to tell Jude how I felt. I’d been stupid and pig-headed, turning down his offer to meet up with him in America. Long distance relationships rarely lasted, and it was far too early to know if things would have worked out between us, even if he was staying in Cornwall. I knew one thing for certain, though, I wanted Jude in my life. If that was as a friend, who I met up with occasionally, when we happened to be in the same place at the same time, then that was enough. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

‘Merry Christmas, darling. My soon-to-be best-selling daughter.’ Mum hugged me, as I came into the kitchen. She’d never been much of a cook, even when she’d been around, but she was wearing Nana’s flowery apron and there was something in the oven. ‘I thought I’d try and make some of your nana’s Christmas biscuits to celebrate.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’ I breathed in the scent of cinnamon, mingling with Mum’s perfume. She wore the same brand as Nana and I was sure it was deliberate, a way of keeping her own mother close when she was away. Deep down, I had a feeling that home and Holly Bay meant a lot to her too.

‘I’ve got something for you, actually.’ Pulling away, she reached down and took a gift wrapped box out of the pocket of the apron.

‘We always do presents after breakfast.’

‘This is something special, just for me and you.’ Handing me the package, she smiled.

‘What is it?’

‘I guess there’s only one way of finding out.’ Mum waited and I carefully peeled back the paper, opening the box.

‘Is it—’ Tears were already blurring my eyes. ‘Is it Nana’s ring?’

‘It’s her engagement ring.’

‘It’s beautiful.’ I looked down at the simple solitaire ring that Grandpa had proposed to Nana with. ‘But I can’t take it, she left it to you.’

‘I know, but I’ve got her wedding ring and I wear that on my right hand, every day. I want you to have this one, to make up for the pendant.’

‘It was my fault I lost the pendant.’

‘Accidents happen and I know she’d have wanted you to have this. If you get it sized to fit you properly, there shouldn’t be any chance of it coming off and getting lost.’

‘Oh Mum, it means the world to me.’

‘I know, pumpkin, and you mean the world to me and your dad, even if we don’t always show it. It’s why I wanted you to have it.’ She pulled me into her arms again. ‘We’re so proud of you.’

‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’ Grandpa came into the kitchen, his soft white hair sticking up on end, and I could imagine Nana nagging him to take a comb to it before a bird nested in there.

‘You could never interrupt, Dad.’ Mum pulled away again. ‘I was just trying to bake some biscuits like Mum used to make and I think they’re probably ready now. If you two go through to the sitting room, I’ll bring them in. But remember this is the season of goodwill, so if they’ve got the texture of floor tiles, you’ve got be generous with your feedback.’

‘Oh we will and I’m famished anyway, so I could happily clear a plate of floor tiles.’ Grandpa laughed and I noticed that the lines on his face looked less pronounced. His cheeks were filling out again, too, and he’d lost that gaunt look. The choir really had worked miracles and he’d started eating regularly. I couldn’t have asked for anything more for Christmas—Grandpa was happy again, Mum and Dad were living their dream and I had a chance of living mine. But even with all of that, I couldn’t help wishing for one more thing. Jude had his own life, though, and his own dreams, so I was trying my best to be happy for him, and not check my phone every two minutes to see if he’d texted or called.

‘Who’d have thought your Mum would be out there baking up a storm!’ Grandpa patted the seat beside him on the sofa, as he sat down, and I walked over to join him.

‘There’s been a lot of surprises lately. Including that solo at the concert last night that you omitted to mention you’d be doing!’

‘Thank you so much for making me volunteer for Gift Day, if I hadn’t done that I’d never have joined the choir. I feel so much better for it, I’m less breathless and I feel much happier, like there’s a point to me being here again. Even without your nana.’

‘There was always a point to you being here. I couldn’t get by without you.’

‘Yes you could, and there’s one thing I want from you for Christmas that money can’t buy.’

‘What?’

‘I want you to promise me, that if you get an opportunity like the one to go to New York again, you’ll take it and you won’t worry about me.’

‘Is this because New York is in America and that’s where a certain someone will be? It doesn’t matter how much you or I might want it, Jude and I aren’t going to be together.’

‘So you want it, too?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Yes you did!’ Grandpa laughed. ‘But never mind all of that. If you’re meant to be together, then fate will find a way, you just need to take the opportunities that fate gives you. Promise me you’ll take the chance if you get another offer like that.’

‘I promise. But I’m not going to go to the States unless it can offer me more than I’ve got here. Holly Bay is my home, unless this is your way of telling me you don’t want me living here anymore?’

‘Of course not, my darling. This will always be your home and I love you more than anything, I just want you to know that I’ll be okay, if you need to move on one of these days.’

‘I love you too.’ I rested my head on his shoulder and he stroked my hair.

‘Can you do one more thing for me?’

‘Anything.’ I looked up at him.

‘I think Harvey is finally ready to be seen out in the daylight. Can you take him for a walk on the beach after we’ve sampled your Mum’s biscuits? That’s if we don’t need a trip to the emergency dentists first!’

****

Mum had surprised as all again by baking biscuits which weren’t just edible, but were buttery and light, just like Nana used to make. I ate so many that I was more than ready to head out for a walk with Harvey, to try and work up some kind of appetite for breakfast. Dad was insisting on doing a cooked breakfast with all the trimmings and bucks fizz, but I was going to struggle to fit in a slice of toast.

‘Come on Harvey, you’re no longer too hideous to be seen in public!’ Calling the little dog over, I grabbed a coat from the rack, pulling on the first one I found. I reached into the pocket, to check I had some of the biodegradable bags I always carried when I took Harvey out—in case he decided to do his business on the beach. There were no bags, but I could feel a small lump in the lining under the pocket. Running my fingers over it again, I caught my breath. It couldn’t be, could it? It felt like the right shape.

‘You’re not going to believe this, but I think I might have found the pendant.’ Pulling off the coat, I turned it inside out to see if there was a gap in the lining where I could feel for the pendant again. Running my hands across the material, I searched for a split somewhere and, when I got to the front of the neck, just below where it would have zipped up to, I found a large tear.

‘Is it really your nana’s necklace?’ Grandpa widened his eyes. Telling him I’d lost it had been so difficult, and he’d been so understanding, but I knew he wanted me to find it as much as I did.

‘I think so. I hardly ever wear this coat, it’s so old, but I think it’s the one I had on, the day I lost the necklace.’ I pushed my hand through the rip in the lining and kept pushing down towards the pocket area, until my hand finally made contact with something. Pulling it out again, I opened my hand and there was Nana’s pendant.

‘If you didn’t believe in Christmas miracles before, then you should now!’ Grandpa lifted the pendant off my hand. ‘It looks like the chain snapped and it must have slid inside the lining and worked its way around.’

‘I’m so glad we’ve found it, but I can’t believe I put everyone to so much trouble. Jude put up the reward and there were loads of people out trying to find it. He even bought a metal detector, just so he could help me search for it.’

‘Your nana was a great believer that things happen for a reason and so am I.’ Grandpa said. ‘The pendant was meant to get lost and it was meant to be found again. We might not understand why, but there’s definitely a reason.’

‘I’m just so happy I found it. Can you put it somewhere really safe, until I get back with Harvey? I don’t want to let it out of my sight again.’

‘Of course I will, my darling. You go off and have your walk and then we can really start celebrating Christmas. It’s turning out to be a pretty good one, don’t you think?’

****

I was just glad there was no-one on the beach still searching for the pendant. I’d have felt even guiltier if someone had given up their Christmas day to search for non-existent treasure.

Half Moon Cove was back to its usual deserted state though, and so poor old Harvey didn’t get the chance to showcase the re-growth on his patchy coat. He didn’t seem to mind as he chased imaginary prey across the beach. He was probably just glad to be out in the daylight and off the lead as a result. All he’d wanted was his freedom back and even Harvey’s Christmas wish had come true.

I was just turning back towards the stone steps, when I saw him walking towards me. I told myself I’d act casually if I ever saw Jude again, and that I’d thank him for the opportunity he gave me in a calm and considered way. But despite my best intentions, I sprinted straight across the sand towards him and almost knocked him flying as I ran into his arms.

‘Hey you, happy Christmas! I should disappear more often if this is the response I get.’

‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance to see you again.’

‘Don’t be sorry.’ Jude grinned as I looked up, and I tried to remember what it was I’d been planning to say to him.

‘I wanted to thank you for sending my book to your agency. How did you even get hold of it? Was it Maddie?’

‘No, you left a purple folder at my house, on the day you came to help me decorate the tree.’ Jude gave an apologetic shrug. ‘I know I shouldn’t even have read the stories without your permission, let alone sent one in to my agent’s office. But I didn’t want to give you the chance to talk yourself down and refuse to take the risk. I figured this way you never needed to know if they didn’t want the story, and that you’d find a way to forgive me if they did.’

‘I forgive you.’ I smiled, suddenly feeling shy. ‘I do that, though, don’t I? Talk myself down, I mean.’

‘You do, but I think it’s because you see it as your duty to be a realist, while your mum and dad get to be the dreamers.’

‘How come you know me so well?’

‘Like I said before, it might not have been long, but I know you and you know me.’

‘You’re everyone’s favourite person now that you’ve made Mum and Dad’s dreams come true. They’ve got a massive following on YouTube and I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so happy. Was it you who tweeted the link to their video?’

‘Sort of, I asked the person managing my account to do it. Your mum and dad made me smile at Gift Day and I thought other people might enjoy their performances too.’

‘I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do at first.’ I bit my lip again. ‘I thought people might be laughing at them, rather than with them, but when they told me they just wanted to entertain people—whatever that looked like—I knew the exposure would be good for them. Any negative comments they get seem to be like water off a duck’s back, anyway.’

‘Then they’re cut out for the music business.’

‘Are you still coming to Christmas lunch? I know they’d love to thank you.’ It took all the courage I had to ask him, but I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to say goodbye properly pass me by again.

‘I thought I’d been uninvited.’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry I overacted. The offer’s still on, if you haven’t had a better one by now. And I’d love to meet up with you in America, if I’m ever out there. If that offer is still on the table, too?’

‘I’m not going to America.’ I couldn’t read his expression, but my stomach flipped over. I wanted him to stay, but not because something had gone wrong between him and Barnaby, and he’d told Jude he didn’t want him out there.

‘Why not?’

‘Because when I told Barnaby about it, he said he’d been planning to tell me something. He wants to come and study in the UK, so he can live near me. It’s why he decided to spend Christmas with his mum this year, so he could break it to her more gently. That’s why he didn’t tell me when he phoned to cancel our plans, he thought he owed it to his mum to tell her first.’ Jude couldn’t stop smiling now. ‘That’s where I was all day yesterday, looking at some places to buy. One of the universities he’s applied to is in Exeter, so I’m trying to steer him in that direction. If he goes there, Cornwall will be close enough for him to come and see me whenever he can squeeze me in, between nights in the Student Union bar and football matches.’

‘You’re staying here?’

‘I’ve fallen in love with Cornwall. Being in Holly Bay makes me want to write again and there’s another reason I want to stick around.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Not what, who. It’s you Hope, you’re the reason I want to stay in Holly Bay.’ Jude took hold of my hand. ‘I don’t want to freak you out and I know you think it’s too early for anything serious, but I want to give this, us, a chance. Your grandfather told me you were down here and he seemed to think I was in with a shot.’

‘You are, you definitely are.’ Standing on tip toe I tilted my face towards his and, when he kissed me, I knew for certain there was treasure at Half Moon Cove after all.

‘I found the pendant.’ My voice was breathy when we finally moved apart and Jude nodded.

‘I know, your grandfather told me about that too.’

‘I felt awful about you putting up the reward and doing the interview, and everyone out there searching for it, when I had it all along. But Grandpa seems to think it happened for a reason.’

‘I think he’s right and, if it makes you feel better, we’ll choose a charity to donate the reward to. But if you hadn’t lost it, I’d never have found you crying in the street and we might still have been sniping at each other.’ Jude stroked the side of my face. ‘That day changed everything, and because of you I started writing again and reconnected with Barnaby. If it’s too early to say it, I’m sorry, but I love you Hope Malone and you’re just going to have to get used to it.’

‘I’ll give my best shot, but you might as well know the feeling is mutual.’ Linking my arm through his, we headed back across the beach. Grandpa was right, everything happened for a reason and meeting Jude was mine. Who needed Christmas in Manhattan, when I had everything I’d ever wanted, right here in Holly Bay?

The End

Also available from Jo Bartlett this Christmas

The Christmas Shop at Central Park

Libby Cooper hasn’t celebrated Christmas for four years. How can she when the most important people in her life are no longer around to enjoy the festivities – because of her?

Hiding out in her grandparents’ failing micro-pub, she wants to forget that the season of goodwill even exists; but her grandmother has other ideas. It’s time for Libby to face her fears – and Christmas – head on. And what better way to immerse herself in the celebrations, than working in her great aunt’s Christmas shop, just a few blocks from Central Park?

Making new friends is the easy bit, but leaving the past behind proves much more difficult. The only way Libby can cope is by taking long walks in Central Park and joining an art therapy group to help her express her emotions.

Harry Stanwick is a Central Park Ranger, who’s as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside. He seems to know instinctively when Libby wants to talk and when she just needs to be left alone.

Working with Harry and the rest of her new friends to save an old off-Broadway theatre and community centre from closure, Libby finally starts to remember the magic of Christmas. But she can’t stop questioning her right to be happy when her parents are gone.

Can Harry convince Libby that she deserves her own Christmas miracle, or will she leave her heart -and her chance of happiness - in the Christmas shop at Central Park?

‘The Christmas Shop at Central Park’ is available on amazon.co.uk and amazon.com

Finding Dad

A chance discovery in a box of old Christmas decorations changes everything.

Freya Halliwell has always wanted to get married in Kelsea Bay, the place where she spent so many idyllic summers as a child. So when the chance arrives to have a Christmas wedding at Channel View Farm, perched high up on the cliffs above the Bay, everything in her life seems to be falling into place at last—almost two years after losing her beloved mum.

Ellie Hastings is finally making a success of the wedding business she set up after inheriting her great aunt’s farm and, even better than that, she’s about to become a mum for the first time. Christmas is just around the corner, but with runaway sheep causing havoc, a festive fundraiser to host, and the worst snow storm Kelsea Bay has seen in decades, life is anything but quiet.

When Freya uncovers an entry in an old journal, hidden amongst some boxes of Christmas decorations, her life changes forever, and soon everything she thought she knew about herself begins to unravel. Taking refuge at Channel View Farm and leaning on new friend, Ellie, for support, the best she can hope for is to make it through to New Year with some idea of what she wants to do next. But Ellie has problems of her own and, when it’s her turn to ask Freya for help, another big secret starts to unfold, which threatens to change everything for the people they love most.

Can Freya and Ellie find what they’re looking for in time to celebrate Christmas at Channel View Farm, or will it be too late to ever put things right?

Fabrian Books' feel-good novels leave you with a smile on your face and the belief that good things really can happen. Perfect for the festive season!

‘Finding Dad’ is available on amazon.co.uk and amazon.com

A Holly Bay Christmas

Fabrian Books' feel good novels are heart-warming romantic stories that leave you believing a happy ever after does exist.

Maddie owns her dream business running a combined bookshop and tea rooms, in the beautiful Cornish village of Holly Bay. When Ben arrives looking for a place to rent, Maddie is keen to help him find a home in the town she loves, where they really know how to celebrate Christmas.

Stepping in to help Maddie raise money for a charity that’s close to her heart, and even dressing as an elf on Christmas gift day, Ben seems too good to be true. Letting her guard down, she realises she’s falling for the newcomer, but, when it turns out he’s got a hidden agenda, she can’t wait for him leave.

Will the storm that breaks out two days before Christmas, and cuts off Holly Bay from the rest of the world, give Ben another chance to prove himself to Maddie? Or is she destined to spend another Christmas with only her books for company?

‘A Holly Bay Christmas’ is available on amazon.co.uk and amazon.com

A Song for St Nicholas

Anna Byron is supposed to be living the dream. With a six figure salary and a boyfriend hinting at a Christmas proposal, it should be the perfect end to the year. Except Anna’s life has never felt so empty and a chance encounter makes her realise it’s time to go home to the beautiful seaside town of St Nicholas Bay.

Jamie Harrington was eighteen the last time he saw Anna, when he disappeared from her life without explanation; but ten years later he’s back in the Bay, too, as the newly appointed vicar.

Setting up a Christmas choir seems like the perfect opportunity for them to give their relationship a second chance, but there are tensions in the group and secrets from the past soon start to unravel.

Someone’s out to get the Harrington family and rumours about who was really involved in a tragic drowning a decade earlier won’t go away. Weighed down by guilt, Jamie convinces himself that he doesn’t deserve Anna’s love and it looks like history - and his disappearing act - are about to repeat themselves.

Can Anna and Jamie let go of the past and learn to trust each other again or will the choir be disbanded for good by the time Christmas Eve comes around?

‘A Song for St Nicholas’ is available on amazon.co.uk and amazon.com

The Gift of Christmas Yet to Come

Surrounded by friends she has had since childhood, with a job she loves, as a special-needs teacher at the primary school in beautiful St Nicholas Bay, Kate Harris has it all ... well, almost. As Christmas rolls round once again, she longs for a child of her own to share it with.

In a town where Christmas is big business all year round, it turns out Santa Claus isn’t the only one with mysterious powers. When a psychic reveals that the answer to her future will come in red and white, Kate follows this sign. It leads her to disastrous dating agencies and demoralising dead-ends until, finally, the answer seems to be revealed.

But will her search for the missing piece of her family mean she doesn't recognise the one person who's loved her from the start? Or can Kate really have it all in time for the perfect Christmas?

‘The Gift of Christmas Yet to Come’ is available on amazon.co.uk and amazon.com

Also available from Fabrian Books

Fake Fiancé for Christmas

By Pat Posner

Best friends Flora and Val, will usually do anything for each other. But Flora refuses to pretend she’s engaged to Val’s brother when Val says it will scotch the rumours about Bryce so their uncle won’t disinherit him.

True, many years ago, as a very young teen, Flora idolised Bryce. She’s learned the hard way to stop doing that, though, and it’s no surprise to her when Bryce ridicules his sister’s idea. But then…

Flora and Bryce discover Val has a desperate reason of her own for needing their pretend engagement. So, for Val’s sake, even though acting as if they even like each other will be hard, they agree to go along with the idea.

They’ll tell their families they want to keep their engagement a secret until after Val’s Christmas wedding so as not to take the limelight away from her.

Because it will only be family who’ll think Flora and Bryce are engaged, breaking it off after Val’s wedding won’t cause any more unwanted publicity for Bryce.

But Christmas is a few weeks away and playing a part to deceive others can sometimes misfire.

Available from amazon.co.uk and worldwide.

Christmas at the Ginger Cat Café

By Zara Thorne

As far as Isla Marchant is concerned, Christmas is cancelled.

Left standing in the church porch with three redundant bridesmaids dressed in black and no groom in sight, it’s no wonder she isn’t feeling festive.

Asked to run The Ginger Cat café in the Sussex village of Charnley Acre while the owners are away, Isla seizes the chance to escape from Nottingham with its constant reminders of what might have been. But running a busy café isn’t as easy it sounds, especially when one staff member is out of action with a broken ankle, and the rest of the team consists of eighty-something Horace, as grumpy as they come, and dreamy, lovesick teenager, Molly.

When Harry Anderton pitches up in a campervan, Isla finds the perfect solution to her staff problem. Harry isn’t ‘doing Christmas’ either. Fresh from a traumatic break-up, he’d rather sit this one out, thank you very much.

Then Isla discovers that as proprietor of The Ginger Cat, there are certain traditions she’s expected to uphold, and her carefully orchestrated non-Christmas looks like becoming, well… Christmas. With Harry by her side, can she hold back her own feelings and give the people around her the celebrations they deserve?

And what happens afterwards? Harry’s moving on with his life; can Isla do the same, or is she destined to remain forever looking backwards?

Available from amazon.co.uk and worldwide.

Acknowledgements

Thanks as ever to my writing family, The Write Romantics, for your support and never tiring of being a sounding board and source of reassurance.

Thanks to all at Fabrian Books for helping me to get to this stage, with special thanks to the incomparable Pat Posner.

Finally, to my family and friends, thank you for your support, love and belief.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten