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Festive greetings,
James
From: James Hunter-Savage
To: Estelle Foxbrooke
Subject: Your contractual obligations
Dear Ms Foxbrooke,
I presume by your continued silence, my emails are accidentally sitting in your spam folder, the letter I wrote to you at the livery failed to arrive, or you have been unable to find a way out of the contract you freely signed with BDE Entertainment. Kindly get in touch, so we may move forward.
Yours,
James
From: James Hunter-Savage
To: Estelle Foxbrooke
Subject: Your holiday
Dear Ms Foxbrooke,
I visited the livery today in the hope of speaking in person with you, but was informed by your stable manager that you were abroad. When questioned, Ms Kenyon seemed unsure as to your exact location, so I hope you are well, wherever you are.
I also hope your two extremely excitable dogs are being cared for in your absence. I’m particularly concerned the smaller of the two is adequately fed, as he presented a dead rat to me on my arrival. Is this his normal diet?
Safe travels,
James
‘Ugh,’ Estelle muttered, before shoving the phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
‘Everything okay?’ Eveline asked, as she bent to open the oven door.
Estelle dashed forward, elbowing her out of the way. ‘I’ll do that.’
Grabbing a double-ended pot holder from the rail by her head, she pulled out a large tray of sizzling sausages.
‘I know I’m not as strong as you,’ Eveline said behind her. ‘But I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.’
‘Yes, but I promised Jack I wouldn’t let you do any heavy lifting,’ Estelle replied, putting the tray on a rack by the side of the stove. ‘You might be carrying the second coming.’
Eveline rolled her eyes. ‘It’s only been two weeks since our wedding. I’m not expecting a miracle.’
‘Well, you should. You’re a vicar, so God’s on your side. And anyway, the rate at which you two have been banging, I expect twins in nine months.’
‘Shush!’ Eveline hissed, her cheeks turning pink as she glanced around the empty kitchen.
Estelle grinned. ‘You’re too easy to wind up. Is this the last tray?’
‘Yes, we took everything cold over first thing this morning,’ Eveline began, tearing off a strip of tinfoil and covering the tray. ‘And Jack took the rest of the sausages just before you arrived.’
‘Cool. Well, I’ll take this and you can lock up behind me.’
‘So what’s up, then?’ Eveline asked, as Estelle carried the deep tray from the rectory towards Saint Saviour’s church, across a tarmacked area filled with parked cars. ‘Is it Mr Hunter-Savage?’
