Page 35 of Not Just for Christmas

‘I did, thank you,’ she confirmed briskly. ‘I’ll have just returned from my trip abroad then, but if I’ve recovered from my jetlag, I’ll do my best. My son called you volunteers superheroes and if I can lend my support, I will.’

As Heather wasn’t travelling further than Austria, she was unlikely to be affected by the change in time zone, but I didn’t comment. Perhaps she was as loath to attend as I was.

‘It’s not an ideal date, Malc,’ I added.

‘Understood.’ He gave me a small respectful smile. ‘But the big cheese from HQ wanted to come and it’s her only free date this year. We’d really love you to be our guests of honour.’

‘Thanks, man.’ Dylan rolled up a note and put it in the collection tin.

‘Thank y—’ Malc interrupted himself with a gulp and grasped Dylan’s hand, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. ‘Mr Wilde! I had no idea you were in the UK.’

‘We weren’t going to broadcast it,’ I said, bemused at the reaction people had to our famous friend.

‘Sure, but …’ Malc spluttered. ‘Could you come to our event, and maybe if Lucy didn’t mind, you could launch the boat for us? The publicity would be fantastic!’

Dylan’s shoulders stiffened, his eyes narrowed and he slid his hand out of Malc’s. ‘I can’t, sorry.’

One of the things Dylan loved about being in Devon was the chance to lay low, stay out of the public eye. But on the other hand, he’d be doing me a big favour if he agreed to do it. With him there, nobody would pay me any attention. I’d be off the hook.

‘Maybe, Malc, we’ll let you know,’ I said, adding in a low voice to Dylan, ‘I’ll explain later.’

‘Sorry,’ Dylan winced, rubbing his chin awkwardly. ‘I meant to tell you; I’m in London for the day on the twenty-third. Media stuff.’

‘Oh.’ My heart sank.

Work. Of course. He’d been here less than twenty-four hours and already he was back in career mode. I was aware how fickle this made me. One minute I didn’t want him to be here and the next, I’m annoyed that he won’t be.

‘Right you are.’ Malc looked so deflated that I felt sorry for him. ‘If anything changes, the offer stands.’

As if the moment couldn’t get any more awkward, Nick appeared from the neighbouring stall, clutching a roll of raffle tickets.

‘Hi Lucy.’ He smiled, a little sheepish, then nodded to Dylan. ‘Hi again. Sorry if I was a bit odd last night. I don’t usually bump into people whose entire back catalogue I listen to on a regular basis.’

‘No problem, a new friend of Lucy’s is a new friend of mine,’ Dylan said easily, which made Nick go even redder.

Nick turned to me. ‘I enjoyed last night.’

I was aware of both Heather and Dylan standing beside me, listening with interest, and I felt my face heat up. This was worse than talking to Malc.

‘Me too,’ I said quickly. ‘We must do it again.’

‘Definitely,’ he beamed. ‘Look forward to it.’

It was going to be strictly business between Nick and I, and I hoped I wasn’t giving him false hope, but I could hardly discuss it in front of Heather and Dylan. I’d rather admit to going on a date with him than own up to the fact I was thinking of doing something with the farm.

Heather coughed pointedly. ‘Shall we attempt to get inside before Mary actually gives birth to baby Jesus?’

Sam’s classroom door opened, and the back of Miss Cooper’s figure came into view. She was wearing a short sparkly dress, silver ankle boots and a Santa hat.

‘That’s Sam’s teacher,’ I whispered to Dylan.

His eyes flashed with humour. ‘She’s just a kid.’

‘No running, fingers on lips,’ Miss Cooper told the children before standing to one side and allowing the children to file out.

‘Mummy, Uncle Dylan!’ Sam emerged from his classroom, spotted me and waved.

‘And Nanny!’ added Heather, waving back.