‘The very same. I bet she’d help with the food, but we’d better keep it on the downlow from Mum.’
‘Jacqueline had her nose put out of joint by her arrival?’
‘A bit. Poor Mum, I don’t think she was expecting the homebody of a second wife she’d heard about to, in fact, be rivalling her for stardom.’
‘Did Douglas never tell her?’
‘Maybe he did, and she wasn’t paying attention, or maybe he just didn’t dare. Or maybe he thought Mum already knew. I don’t know him well, but it’s possible it just didn’t occur to him. She wasn’ttheEstelle Knight when they were together and he’s not at all interested in celebrity. Other than James Bond, of course.’
‘Well, we can see if she’d help. Maybe a fun theme for the food might be some sort of chic Yorkshire thing, referencing local food but making it all look super sophisticated.’
‘What, you mean like tiny little bite-size Yorkshire puddings? I love it!’
We talked for a while longer about possible party ideas, then I glanced at my watch.
‘Oh no, it’s much later than I realised. I said I’d be back for the Nativity, and I was cutting it fine already.’
‘Don’t worry – go, go! I’ll be in touch and see you soon.’
I dashed out of the café and, to my relief, stepped onto a bus almost immediately. This was only the first step of my journey to King’s Cross, but at the underground station I was also lucky and soon speeding along the Piccadilly line. I checked the time again: I should, all being well, make the last train I can catch to get back in time for the Nativity. At my stop I was ready by the doors and leaped out, running all the way to the main part of the station where, thanking the gods of technology, I scanned my e-ticket and jumped onto the train with a couple of minutes to spare. I sank into a seat, exhilarated by the success of my journey, and took out my book to enjoy a couple of hours’ peace.
Everything went smoothly until we were nearly at Peterborough, when the train juddered to one of those heart-dropping stops when you know all your plans have been laughed at. Indeed, a minute or so later a voice came booming over the tannoy:
‘Ladies and gentlemen, sorry about this, just a small issue with the signals. Shouldn’t be long until we’re off again. In the meantime, do make yourselves comfortable and ask our staff if there’s anything you need help with.’
A grumble made its way around the carriage as everyone shifted in their seats and prepared themselves for a long wait. They, like me, didn’t believe a word of the jaunty announcement; we all knew that we’d be sitting there for hours and that there wouldn’t be a member of staff in sight. But what could you do? I looked at the time again. It was almost inevitable now that I would miss some, if not all, of the Nativity. I tapped out a quick message to Alexander to let him know my predicament, pushed my phone back into my bag and stared gloomily out of the window into the rapidly darkening afternoon. I thought about Theo, getting ready for his performance and being told by his dad that I wasn’t going to make it. I hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed. I thought of the night before, the glamorous party and all the energy it had taken to get there. I thought of the pleasurable debrief I had had with Sam over lunch, always one of our favourite parts of a big job.I shouldn’t have gone for that lunch, I told myself. But I had wanted to, and I had gone, despite knowing that it would jeopardise my chances of getting back to Yorkshire in time. So, for all my thoughts about Alexander and Theo, despite my growing feelings for both of them, I had put myself and my work first.Now who does that remind you of?I asked myself viciously. The tannoy crackled back into life, and I steeled myself for another cheery broadcast that we would be sitting there for at least half an hour more. But even as he startedspeaking, the train jerked into motion again, and to everyone’s surprise we heard:
‘Hello again, ladies and gentlemen. Many apologies for that short delay, but we’re on our way again.’
Hardly able to believe my luck, I looked again at my watch. If there were no more problems, I should make it just in time. I considered firing off another text to Alexander, but didn’t want to risk further delay and then having to send another text, which might start to look a bit crazy. And besides, he hadn’t replied to the first one yet. Instead, I found the number of the local taxi firm and rang them, arranging a car for what I desperately hoped would be my accurate ETA.
There were no more holdups, and when I stepped out of the overly warm train into the bitingly cold late afternoon air, I immediately saw my car and scuttled over to it.
‘Lingfoss, is it?’ asked the driver, and I agreed, almost throwing myself and my bag into the back seat. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to get you all the way in,’ he added, pulling slowly away. ‘The Nativity’s on there today, you know?’
‘Yes, I know, that’s what I’m going for.’
‘Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?’
I took a breath.
‘Yes, unfortunately. How close can you get me?’
‘Well, the main street’s all shut off to traffic, all the way to the church, but I can drop you by the bus stop. Can’t get much closer than that.’
I agreed with some relief, remembering the bus stop where I had first seen Coco, right by Meg’s café, but still spent the journey leaning forward in my seat, urging him on silently to a speed he was never going to achieve.
After an infuriatingly leisurely ten minutes, the driver pulled his car over to the side of the road and came to a stop. My eyes darted from side to side, seeing only dark, cold fields on either side, rather than the welcoming lights of Meg’s café or, indeed, any sign at all of the village. A cold chill suddenly ran through me as I wondered if the deceptively cheery driver had, in fact, brought me into the middle of nowhere for his own nefarious reasons. I sneaked a surreptitious glance at the lock on the inside of the door and saw that, mercifully, it was open. A silence stretched out as I started planning my escape, only to be broken by a polite cough which, quiet though it was, made me jump out of my skin, so wound up was I by my lateness, tiredness and creeping anxiety.
‘We’re here, love,’ said the driver, eyeing me uncertainly in the rearview mirror.
‘Here!?’ I said, my brain struggling to catch up with reality from its adrenaline-fuelled visualisation of me dashing across the moors with the elderly driver in hot pursuit.
‘At the bus stop?’ he said, the eyes in the mirror now looking rather worried.
‘Bus stop?’ I repeated, starting to panic now that he was the one irrationally scared of me.
‘Yes, love, the bus stop where we agreed I’d drop you. I can’t get you in a lot further, it’s impossible to turn and the road will be shut off soon. It’ll only take you a few minutes to walk it, though.’
