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But the contents of the basket at least seemed to resemble what she’d written down. Onions, potatoes, seasoning, butter, flour, lentils, carrots, a leek and Brussels sprouts all appeared from nowhere. “You’ll just have to take what’s left, Andrew. If you’d phoned earlier I could have put some things past for you.” There it was again. That tut. Was that aimed at her, or Andrew?
“What’s this rubbish?” Mrs. McGregor was looking at the list now, scowling at some of the items.
Andrew leaned over her shoulder. “Oh, it’s for a chocolate-something that Juliette wants to make.”
Mrs McGregor crumpled the precious list in her gnarled hand. “That’s not a Christmas pudding. Why on earth would you want to make something like that?”
Juliette smiled sweetly. No way was this woman getting between her and her chocolate tiffin. “I thought the best Christmas puddings took weeks to make. There’s no point in trying to make one the night before. We’ll just need to have an alternative.”
“Sherry trifle. That’s what you should make.” Mrs McGregor swept behind the counter and banged a bottle of pale sherry in front of her. “That will have to do.”
“Oh no, Andrew hates trifle,” Juliette said quickly and shot him a look that said argue with me and die. She bent down and pulled a packet of digestive biscuits from the shelf. “Look, here’s the first thing already.”
Mrs McGregor was obviously not amused. She bustled past and threw a few things into the basket, muttering under her breath. “Ten pounds,” she said to Andrew, holding out her hand.
Juliette looked at the overflowing basket. “It has to be more than that.”
The words were met with an icy stare that could have sunk the Titanic. Andrew pulled a ten-pound note from his pocket and put it into Mrs McGregor’s hand. He pulled a plastic carrier bag from behind the counter and started packing the food away. With a loud kerching the cash register opened and money was deposited inside.
Andrew bent and dropped a kiss on Mrs McGregor’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mrs McGregor. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“And you, Andrew.” There was the tiniest tremble of emotion in her voice. Juliette wasn’t quite sure where to look.
“Come on, Juliette. Let’s get to the butchers. I imagine Jim will want to shut up shop early today.”
They walked outside together. “What was all that about? There’s no way all that food cost just ten pounds.”
He shook his head. “It’s complicated.” It was clear he didn’t really want to explain.
“I’m an intelligent woman – try me. I’m sure I’ll be able to get my head around it.” She hated the thought that they’d just short-changed the elderly woman.
“Violet McGregor is one of my tenants.”
“At Garnock Hall? Is she in one of the cottages?”
He nodded. “She’s stayed there most of her life.”
“Then, that’s worse. Not only does she pay you rent, but you’ve cheated her out of her livelihood.” Juliette started digging around in her bag for her purse. There was no way she could let this go.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” She was snapping and she knew it. She couldn’t stand the thought of taking advantage. It just wasn’t in her nature – whether the old woman liked her or not.
He sighed. “She doesn’t pay me rent – hardly any of the tenants do. They’ve lived on the land most of their lives. Times are hard around these parts. Most of them are elderly with little income.”
She stopped. “But she works in the shop – even though she should obviously be retired. Surely she should pay rent?”
“It doesn’t work like that around here. I think you can tell she doesn’t really run a profit. She works to keep herself busy. Her husband died a few years ago and,” he said, shrugging, “she likes the company.”
Now, that brought a smile to her face. “She likes the company? Seriously?”
He smiled. “Seriously. Believe me – and that was her on a good day. Now, let’s go to the butchers.”
She hesitated in the doorway. “Go on without me. I’ll be along in a second, okay?”
He frowned. There was hardly anywhere else in the village she could possibly go. “Okay, see you soon.”
She watched him walk into the shop next door before she crossed the road to the hardware shop. A bell clanged as she opened the door and she gave a little smile. It reminded her of a sweet shop she used to visit with her grandmother where the sweets were all in large jars behind the counter.
“Well, a stranger on Christmas Eve. What can I do for you, lovely lady?” The booming voice came from an open door behind the counter. She watched as a man emerged from the shadows. He was wearing a dark blue boiler suit, but it was his hair and beard that made her catch her breath. It was like staring into the face of Santa Claus.
The shop was pure and utter chaos. Thousands of little boxes filled with screws, nails and other nick-nacks. It was nothing like the national warehouse type hardware stores.
How on earth could he find anything in here?
She glanced from side to side. It was pointless, there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to how things were placed in the shop. “I’m looking for a set of Christmas lights. Would you have any?”
“Ahh…” He rested his hands on the counter. “And where would they be for?”
His accent was even stronger than Andrew’s, his tone a little sing-songy. It took a few seconds to adjust her ear and work out what he’d said.
“I’m staying with Andrew Campbell at Garnock Hall. He’s going to cut down a Christmas tree.”
His face took on a serious expression, his voice becoming quieter. “There hasn’t been a Christmas tree at Garnock Hall for a long time.”
That was the thing about villages. No secrets. No strangers.
How should she respond? “I realise that. Andrew told me he’s sure he has some decorations somewhere. But I wasn’t sure about lights. If he has any, they probably don’t work anymore. I thought I could buy some to surprise him.”
The old man nodded slowly then held out his hand towards her. “Bert King, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Finally. A friendly face. She slipped her hand into his. “Juliette Connolly. I work with Andrew.” His handshake was firm and it was obvious there had been a few injuries to his fingers over the years. But whilst his fingers were gnarled and his skin paper thin his build was robust and his grip strong. “Do you have any lights I could buy?”
His eyes glanced from one side of the shop to the other. “We used to have. But I think I might have already sold them. Let me check my till.”
He pressed a few buttons on his cash register. Unlike the relic across the street this one was brand new and state of the art. “Yes, I sold them on the 20th and the 22nd.” He frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “Hold on, I might have something else back there for you.”
He disappeared into the dark recesses of the shop again and Juliette was left wondering if she should follow him or not. She could hear shuffling and the movement of boxes, a minute later he emerged with a bashed green box in his hands. “Here we go, from a few years ago. White twinkling stars. That will do won’t it?”
The box was more than a little bashed, part of it was missing and she could see the green wire strand of lights poking out. “It will be perfect, thanks.” She stuck the box under her arm and pulled around her handbag. “How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, nothing. They’re free.” He walked over to his shop window and pulled down a blind. “I’m busy tonight. So, I need to close the shop a little early today.”
All the little hairs pricked straight up on her neck. She pulled out her purse. Didn’t anyone pay for things around here? “Let me give you something.” She turned over the box but there was no price.
“No charge.” He paused from pulling down the blind on the other window. “It would do some good for a little Christmas spirit in Garnock Hall. Might l
ift the place a little.”
Something crawled down her spine. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Now, best get on. Good day, Juliette. It was nice to meet you.”
He opened the door ushering her back outside into the falling snow. As she turned to thank him he closed the door and pulled down the blind on the door with lightning speed.
It was like being caught inside a crazy Christmas film. Santa was running the hardware store. If it was Mrs Claus in the grocery store they were all in trouble. Who else lived in this crazy village?
She crossed the road to the butcher’s shop. Andrew was chatting happily to a red-nosed stock guy who was wrapping some meat in paper. “Sausage meat, chipolattas, smoked back bacon and the turkey. Anything else?”
