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‘You must be thrilled—the place is packed and people are having an amazing time.’
The outside area buzzed with noise and laughter overlaid with the exquisite sound of the local choir, whose pure voices filled the air with Christmas carols. Children raced around a designated part of the lawn with hoops and sticks, and in another part a boisterous game of quoits was underway. The smell of roasting chestnuts tantalised her tastebuds, and everywhere Victorian re-enactors roamed chatting to the visitors.
‘It’s a true extravaganza! A day everyone will remember.’
There was that smile again, and she would swear her hair had frizzed. Time for a breather.
‘I’ll go check out the stalls. I want to find extra gifts for Cathy and Martha and Steph.’
He frowned.
‘I’ll be fine, Gabe. In two days’ time I’ll have to fend for myself.’
The words were a timely reminder as she headed off.
Authentic-looking Victorian toys glinted in the light of the December sun, and delight filled her as she browsed the beautifully crafted spinning tops and Victorian dolls. Her gaze landed on a stunning jewellery box that Steph would adore. As she ran her finger over the glossy wood, with its inlay of mother-of-pearl and gold leaf, she could picture her friend’s appreciation of the two-tier box.
But before she could ask the price her neck prickled and she spun round.
‘Hello, Etta.’
Tommy stood there, dark hair slicked back, a leather jacket over a white T-shirt, a swagger in his stance.
‘Fancy seeing you here. I knew I’d get you alone if I was patient. I’ve been watching you.’
His voice was low—friendly, even—but Etta recognised the underlying menace. Tommy was at his cruellest when he sounded his most pleasant, and a cold drop of fear ran down her spine.
‘Hardly alone,’ she reminded him, her hand darting to the panic button round her neck. No. She would not cause a scene—would not cast a shadow over the success of the fair.
‘But minus Sir Toff. I wanted another chat.’
‘I have nothing to say to you.’
‘But I want to talk to you. In person. I like the personal touch, Etta. You know that. You remember my personal touch, don’t you?’
Now fear burned cold and she stepped back, unable to help the instinctive movement. ‘This is getting old, Tommy. Please leave.’ Brave words, given that her insides were roiling.
‘But this is a new message—a Christmas greeting. I’ve decided that this Christmas should be a nice family affair—you and me and our daughter, sitting down to a nice roast dinner, cooked the way I like it.’
‘You’ve lost the plot, because that is not happening. You’re not family.’
‘I think Cathy might disagree. That’s why you’ve hidden her away isn’t it? But I know you’ll be spending Christmas with her.’ Then his expression altered. ‘Ah, here comes Mr Toff now.’
Relief doused her in a wave as Gabe arrived, the warmth of his muscular body next to her shielding her. ‘Get off my land. Now.’
‘It’s a public event, Toff. My money is as good as anyone’s. And I’m sure you don’t want to cause a scene.’
‘I have no problem with a scene. You’re leaving now. Either of your own volition or with my
assistance...’
Malevolence lit Tommy’s eyes and Etta tensed, braced herself in that old familiar response.
His dark eyes rested on her for a second and then he stepped back, his hands in the air. ‘Nice try. But I don’t brawl any more. I’m a nice, peaceable man who has seen the error of my ways. All I want is the chance to be a father.’
He winked at Etta and bile rose in her throat.
‘I’ll be on my way...but I’ll be seeing you. Happy Christmas!’
