Page 26 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

The dark of a starry winter’s evening settled over the quaint market town. Carollers began to sing their last round of songs, gathered around the steps of the Market Cross in the square, and magic and frost filled the air. Smells of cinnamon and spice, pine and mulled wine drifted by. Lights glowed from the big Christmas tree that took pride of place beside the cross and from all the shops and stalls with their seasonal finery.

The day had been hectic, but rather lovely. She and Abby began to pack up, and as Lucy took down a strand of silver tinsel from the hatch, she realised that today had made her feel rather festive too. Like a bit of that Christmas magic was in the air. Whatever was to come, she was determined to make this festive season a special one.

And as she stood beside the horsebox, closing down the shutters, she overheard a couple of teenage lads (who she’d served not long before) talking about her pizzas. They’d had the nduja sausage with extra chillies.

‘Mate, that pizza was brill.’

‘Yeah, spicy and, like, really lush. Best I’ve had in ages.’

Lucy stood there feeling quietly proud, a warm smile spreading across her face. She gazed up at All Fired Up. Papa would have been proud of her, for sure. She reminded herself what she’d already achieved; this really was one dream that had become a reality. She shored herself up with that realisation. And the fire in her belly to make sure her business continued to go from strength to strength was as sure as the fire in that pizza oven.

Chapter Thirteen

Waking up in her cosy cottage bedroom the next morning, Lucy stretched contentedly and gave a yawn. Daisy came to at the same time, snuffling her way higher up on top of the duvet and pushing her nose into Lucy’s hand in greeting.

‘Morning, Dais.’

Lucy received a happy lick in reply. She still felt a little tired after her full-on day at the Christmas market, but finally getting a good night’s sleep had done her the world of good.

Looking around her cottage boudoir, with its off-white shabby-chic furniture and curtains and cushions in cool-linen shades of blue, grey and white, Lucy very much felt that this was now home, in the warmest sense of the word.

‘Well little lady, breakfast and then a walk on the beach? How does that sound?’

The word ‘breakfast’ worked its magic, with Daisy’s tail wagging merrily in anticipation. Lucy sat up in bed, swept her legs around, and scooped up her little dog. They were soon downstairs in the kitchen, dog kibble poured and coffee on the go.

With their toast-and-butter stack swiftly licked clean by owner (and dog), and coats on, they then set off, the white wooden front door of the cottage opening onto a dazzle of autumn sunlight.

All Fired Up was there where she’d parked her beside the cottage last night, and Lucy was just about to trip on by for her wander on the beach, when she took a closer look. The vintage horsebox looked wrong somehow. Strangely sunken …

Lucy walked on over, trying to see what might have happened … when it dawned on her. Oh, the tyres, well the two she could see from this angle, were well and truly flat. How odd! Surely it would have felt all wrong towing it home last night like that? She moved closer, crouching down to inspect, with Daisy sniffing curiously at her side. Not just two tyres, but all four were down. Totally empty. The metal wheel hubs almost touching the ground. Oh no, there was no way her poor old horsebox would be going anywhere like that. Blimey, she’d have to get it sorted out before her Alnwick market session this week.

Something just didn’t add up: if she’d driven over some glass or debris on the road on the way back yesterday, surely she’d have felt it, noticed a change? At the least, a wibbly-wobbly feeling as she towed, or worse, making her swerve … possibly going off the road. She couldn’t countenance it at first, but perhaps it had been done last night … deliberately?

No. Not here, in her safe haven of a village, where everyone was so friendly?

She knelt down by each tyre to take a closer look, discovering a nail still in one – ah, okay, she might have run that over. Then, another nail was lying on the gravel driveway by the second tyre, which had a small hole pierced in it, and then there was a slash in the third. She felt a bit sick. This was no accident …

Who might have done such a thing? Bored youths, someone with a grudge? But she couldn’t think who might possibly feel like that. Other than hosting the street party, she was a quiet soul at home, and she hoped she came across as friendly and approachable in the village. This made her skin prickle … it was just so hard to get her head around.

Should she call the police? Ring Jack, for some comfort or advice? Her mum or Olly? But she didn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily. She just needed time to think. She sat on the low wall of her back courtyard for a few moments gathering her thoughts.

Pragmatically, she realised she needed to get some help to get her horsebox back up and running and on the road again. It was her livelihood, after all. Most likely she’d need a new set of tyres – damn, yet more expense. And, as Cathy at the village shop was seemingly the fount of all knowledge, Lucy headed off in that direction with Daisy trotting by her side. It wasn’t quite the walk they’d had in mind for this morning, but things needed sorting out.

There was a customer waiting at the till when they arrived, so Lucy bided her time and picked up some milk and bread. She then ventured forward to pay.

‘Hey Luce, hi.’ Cathy, as usual, was smiling, her tone bright and breezy.

‘Hello, Cathy,’ she replied, noting the subdued tone to her own voice.

‘You okay, pet?’

‘Ah no, not really,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve just had a bit of a shock, to be honest.’

‘Oh … you do look a bit pale. Why not take a seat?’ The shopkeeper gestured to the small plastic chair she kept near the till for the elderly to have a rest if needed – and of course a little chat – before their walk back home with their shopping. ‘What’s happened, lovely?’

Lucy took up the seat, realising that yes, she did feel slightly wobbly with all that had gone on, and began: ‘Well, when I went out this morning with Daisy, I noticed the horsebox, my pizza business … well … it looks like someone’s let the tyres down. There’s a slash mark and a couple of nails left there. I’ve been wracking my brains wondering if it might have happened on the way home yesterday. It was dark, I might not have spotted something in the road I suppose, but well, I’d never have been able to manoeuvre it to park it up. That’s one tight gap. The box would have been all over the place. No, it must have happened last night in the driveway.’

‘Oh goodness. How dreadful. So, it seems like sabotage?’