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“Quick.” Andrew’s head was right on her shoulder. “Find out how to cook the turkey first.”
She pulled up the page. For a few seconds the signal faltered and they both held their breath. Then it appeared. Christmas Turkey and Stuffing. “Read it! Memorize it!” They started reciting the ingredients out loud together. “Breadcrumbs, herbs, wait…shouldn’t someone write this down.” She turned her head and bashed noses with Andrew. “Youch!”
His hand reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. How about we just put our heads together and try and remember?”
His lips were only inches away from hers. Her reaction was instant. She licked them, unconsciously preparing for them to be kissed. If she moved forward just a little…
His face broke into a smile again and his hands rested at her waist. “You okay?”
She blinked. She must be imagining things. He obviously couldn’t feel the strange pull that she did. No wonder. She most likely looked like a drowned rat.
Her gaze went back down to the screen. “Stuffing,” she murmured. “Pork sausage meat, sage, onion, an egg and breadcrumbs.” She flicked the next page. “Brussels sprouts and bacon, extra virgin olive oil, chicken stock, butter, onion, garlic.” She groaned, “How are we going to remember all this? We haven’t even reached the soup or potatoes yet.”
His hands tightened a little at her waist as he continued to read over her shoulder. “We’ll just have to wing it. I’m sure we’ll manage to put something together.” He looked back towards the house. “We should head back. We can scribble a list before we go into the village.”
They walked back down the hill, this time without the hand holding. It was odd how much she actually missed it. Her feet were more than just a little soaked now. There was no way she could go back in the house with these sopping wet boots.
As they reached the door she knocked the snow from her boots and pulled them off outside. “Not much point in keeping these.”
Andrew unlocked the door and waited until she’d pulled her sodden socks from her feet then swept her up into his arms. He walked through to the library and took a few minutes to start the fire. The chimney in here was apparently clear and the heat from the fire instantly warmed the cold room.
She slid her arms out of her jacket and gave her hair a shake.
“Can I get you anything?”
The fire was starting to crackle. If she’d been at home she would have stripped off her clothes and put on her dressing gown. But there was no chance of that here. “A cup of tea would be great. I’ll change into my other suit and do something with my hair so we can finish the filming.”
“Are you sure you want to do that today? We could do it tomorrow if you want? All this talk of food is making me hungry. What’s say we just go to the village and buy what we can?”
“Sure, sounds great. Just let me dry off a bit first.”
He disappeared off to the kitchen and she hugged her damp knees up to her chest and wriggled her bare toes.
If anyone had suggested she’d be working on Christmas Day she would have baulked at the thought. But somehow it didn’t seem so bad.
She looked out the window at the snow-covered landscape. Her skin was finally starting to lose its chill, the heat of the fire was making steam rise from her damp clothes.
Andrew had been nothing but hospitable. She’d thought she was only person who’d struggle with Christmas this year, but her problems seemed to pale in comparison with his.
A family home that seemed to be a money pit. A mother in a nursing home. And a house full of memories of a dead brother. A house that could be haunted and was certainly tinged with sadness.
When was the last time Andrew had celebrated a happy Christmas?
Now she felt truly pathetic. She’d lost a crappy boyfriend. Not a brother. Not, potentially, a home. Her family was still intact. She had her mum, her dad and her sister and family, all in good health. Andrew didn’t have any of that.
She looked at the list of ingredients she’d scribbled on an old receipt she’d found in her pocket. The instructions about basting and stuffing the turkey. The scrappy notes about chocolate tiffin she’d pulled up online before the signal gave out. She was probably supposed to have looked for the recipe for Christmas pudding but she’d always hated it. Andrew would have to make do with a tray bake filled with digestive biscuits, marshmallows, raisins, cherries and lots of chocolate.
She stood up and stretched out. Her legs were aching from the walk up the hill. Her notes were lying on one of the library tables for filming tomorrow. She had pieces on Elizabeth Campbell who may have been pushed down the stairs, Angus Campbell who’d duelled with his brother and been killed, and Annie, the ten-year-old kitchen maid who’d apparently been scalded and died from her burns. Every one was a compelling and tragic story. Every one would make good television.
But there was another story that was swilling around her brain. The story of Andrew’s brother. Could he be the one haunting Garnock Hall?
A shiver crept down her spine. Andrew didn’t even believe in ghosts. There was no way she could even suggest something like that to him.
She walked over and perched on the wide windowsill looking out towards the forest. A forest full of Christmas trees all topped with snow. It would look perfect on the front of any Christmas card.
Andrew said there hadn’t been a Christmas tree in this house for years. How sad. He was sure there were some decorations stashed in the house.
It was time to fill this house with the smell of a freshly cut tree and aroma of Christmas dinner. Never had a place needed it so badly.
She would help bring some life back into these empty rooms. And maybe she’d remember what the spirit of Christmas was all about.
Maybe she could help Andrew remember too…
Chapter Five
‡
The drive to the village was bumpy, with the car sliding in parts along the country roads. Juliette was bundled back up in her red parka with her feet in an old pair of wellingtons that Andrew had found for her in a cupboard in the house. He’d no idea who they belonged to and she’d had to put two pairs of his thick socks on her feet before they finally stayed on.
“Are you
sure we’re going to be able to get everything we need?” She was looking around anxiously as they drove down the main road in the village, past the pub, the post office and the few village shops.
“We’ll be fine.” He pulled the car up in front of the old grocery store. “We’ll get a few things in here. Then, we’ll go the butchers next door where Jim agreed to pluck the turkey for us.”
She climbed out the car and looked along the street. It was already starting to get dark even though it was only three o’clock. The orange street lamps were sending a warm glow across the snow-dusted street.
This was so far away from the rush and roar of London it was scary. This street could be a scene from a Christmas card. It sparked a little thought in her head.
But Andrew wasn’t waiting. He strode ahead into the tiny shop. “Hi, Mrs. McGregor. Would you be able to help us with our shopping list?”
The elderly woman was standing behind the counter in the old-fashioned shop with an apron tied around her waist. Most of the counter was taken up by the biggest, oldest cash register Juliette had ever seen. It made her fingers itch to touch it.
Mrs McGregor walked around the counter and gave Andrew a bear hug. “Andrew Campbell, it’s lovely to see you. When did you arrive?”
“Late last night. There are problems with the roof so I had to come and sort them out.” He gestured towards Juliette. “This is Juliette Connolly, my colleague. We’ve got some work to do while we’re here. What we don’t have is any Christmas dinner.” He put the list on the counter top which Mrs McGregor dutifully ignored. She was too busy looking Juliette up and down.
“And where are you from?”
“London.” Why did that feel like the wrong answer? Mrs McGregor made a sound that resembled a tut and set a wire shopping basket on the counter.
“Do you have a turkey?”
Andrew nodded. “I got one from the Strachans’ farm. Jim said he’d pluck and prepare it for us.”
Mrs McGregor might have been old – probably in her eighties – but there was nothing wrong with her legs or her arms. She started throwing things into the basket. Juliette was starting to feel anxious. She hadn’t even looked at the list.
