Page 12 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

‘Of course I did, Jet was a legendary part of our college days, right?’ He looked around at the others, who both nodded. Jet had lived to the ripe old age of twenty, and had welcomed her college friends in an enthusiastic bid for cuddles whenever they’d visited. ‘And I know how much you love cats, so . . .’ He shrugged.

‘I love it,’ Jen said. ‘Thank you.’

‘I thought – I know you’ve always wanted a cat, but I thought you’re probably not quite at that . . . so you can have this one with you whenever you want. Until you’re ready for the real thing.’

‘That’s so sweet of you.’ A cat, or even several, was definitely on Jen’s list and she had a dream of one day being the woman who spent rainy Sundays curled under a blanket by the fire, reading a book with a cat snuggled on her lap.

Once again, she found herself enveloped in his bear hug. She squeezed him tight, and the feel of his broad, taut chest under the soft knit he wore brought a sudden memory of their brief dalliance at college. She banished it from her mind, not wanting any awkwardness to threaten their easy friendship.

‘Right,’ Rich said, clapping his hands. ‘Present time’s over, birthday girl. Let’s get out for this hike.’

Once she was outside, Jen began to believe that the snow that was forecast might actually appear. The air felt like icicles were plunging into her chest with each breath, and the sky was ominously heavy.

The hike was still beautiful. She found herself marching along as they walked up rolling hills, admiring the views of fields and starkly bare trees, silhouetted dramatically against the purple sky, lit by a smouldering sun.

‘Get a move on, you slow coaches,’ she shouted, laughing and breathless after she’d raced to the top of the hill.

They soon caught up, panting and grumbling good-naturedly about how it was unfair that she wasn’t sleep-deprived or worn down by job stress. Jen felt full of energy. The walk and fresh air and gorgeous views had been invigorating; she’d forgotten how much she loved being out in the countryside. Grudgingly, she had to admit that a birthday hike had turned out to be the perfect choice.

‘I’m hungry,’ she said, as they sat down for a minute to catch their breath. The view that spread below them, of fields and farms and smatterings of houses in villages, was so comforting, they were just drinking it in. Jen hadn’t realised how much she’d missed this sense of space.

Lou laughed. ‘How can you be hungry? We ate a massive breakfast!’

‘Here,’ Ted said, handing Jen a cereal bar that he’d produced from his pocket. ‘I knew this would happen, you always need to be no more than five minutes away from a snack.’

Jen took the bar gratefully. He was not wrong.

She remembered coming for walks to places just like this when she was small. Back when they were all happy, she and Julia would run around picking flowers or splashing through puddles or clambering up hills, their parents laughing as they watched.

She shook the memory away.

Chapter Six

Jen glanced nervously around the busy pub, scanning the crowds of cheerful customers, looking out for Julia’s auburn curls, so similar to her own; no sign of her.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jen sipped her mulled wine, letting the warming spices course through her, easing her aching muscles and chilly fingers and toes after the walk. Babblebrook really was the worst possible location for her birthday weekend. How was she supposed to relax and enjoy her friends’ company when she was constantly worried she was going to bump into her snooty sister?

Still, she was satisfied that Julia wasn’t in the pub, she probably had other things to do, didn’t she? Perfect mum stuff, like doing a shop at a farmer’s market or taking the kids to gym club or the library.

Her stomach dropped a little as she imagined her niece and nephew. She sent presents for their birthdays and was happy to look at the pictures her mum occasionally sent, trying not to let herself think of the feel of a small child’s warm embrace. She FaceTimed the children occasionally, so she knew Amy had her dad’s dark curls – or at least, he’d once had dark curls, he was probably bald now – and George was a sturdy toddler with no hair at all. Perhaps he was actually the one who took after his dad.

She preferred to avoid Julia. But she was still the children’s auntie, and so she went to family gatherings, usually managing to play with them and avoid the adults as much as possible.

They were shown to a table by the roaring open fire, and settled themselves in. ‘I’m starving,’ Jen said, her eyes running over the delicious-looking options on the menu. They all laughed, shaking their heads.

‘Of course you are,’ Ted said.

‘What?’ she asked, smiling. ‘I’ve worked up an appetite. Bit early for turkey, though.’

‘I’m having the lot – pigs in blankets, roasties, stuffing – yes please, bring it on,’ Ted said, closing the menu decisively.

‘You’re in full Christmas mode already,’ Jen grunted.

He grinned. ‘You know me. Never too early.’

‘Yeah, remember at college, when we all came home one day in September and you’d decorated everywhere?’ Rich said.

Lou was nodding vigorously. ‘It was so cute, all those lights and—’