New Beginnings at Christmas Tree Cottage, page 1
NEW BEGINNINGS AT CHRISTMAS TREE COTTAGE
GEORGIA HILL
Copyright © 2023 Georgia Hill
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The right of Georgia Hill to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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First published in 2023 by Bloodhound Books.
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Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN: 978-1-5040-8763-6
CONTENTS
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Acknowledgements
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A note from the publisher
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For Lynn as she so generously ‘gave’ me Jago.
CHAPTER 1
‘DECEMBER WILL BE MAGIC AGAIN’ – KATE BUSH
Friday 19th November
Violet clouds, shot through with apricot, chased across the wide Dorset sky. The day was nearly done. One day closer to a Christmas none of them wanted to celebrate.
Jago Pengethley opened the attic window and inhaled the salty sea air. The window was a fancy one that opened up onto a balcony, so he went out to stand on it, not quite trusting it to bear his weight. He breathed in the view. This was why he’d agreed to the house. From its position a little way up the hill, he could see across the tumbling roofs to the little town of Charmouth and West Bay beyond, stretching over the sea to Portland in the east. Beyond the raggedy houses snaking down to the sea, he glimpsed one side of the harbour wall curled round and the fishing boats bobbing in the high tide against the walls. The halyards on a few dry-moored yachts clinked wildly; the boats were chained up for the winter on a scrap of yard behind the RNLI station. Thankfully, the station building itself was out of view.
In the bowels of the house he could hear faint noises. His mother was making one last round of tea before the removal men headed back on their long journey to London. His little sister was busy in her new bedroom. She was supposed to be unpacking her overnight case but, from the rhythmic thumping sounds, he suspected she was trampolining on her bed. Merryn had been beside herself with excitement about the move to the coast, but he knew under the excitement lay a febrile anxiety. It was the same with all of them. The sense that, even while grabbing at happiness, there was every chance it would slip away like something intangible in the night. Love for his family surged fierce and hot. He’d love and protect them as long as he lived. That was the promise he’d made to himself. He’d go down and help soon but was content for the moment to contemplate the view and the dying light. A glorious sunset was spreading across the late November afternoon, with the sky crimson over a midnight-blue sea. His fingers tingled to get his sketchbooks out, but they were still all packed up. From here, frustratingly, he wouldn’t be able to see the moment the sun finally sank into the sea in the west, but it was only a short stroll to the seafront, the promenade and the beach. If it was clear tomorrow, he’d do it then. There was too much to do today.
He glanced round at the room behind him. The space was crowded with boxes piled up neatly, but it would soon become his working and living room. The attic flat stretched the length of the house and had been converted for use as a holiday let. It had a small shower room, a kitchenette, a decent-sized bedroom with the rest devoted to a vast living space. With four windows and a balcony facing onto the sea it was full of light, even at this time of day and year. It had influenced his decision to move in with his mother and sister.
With half his equity gone after the divorce, there hadn’t been a great deal of money left. Besides, being self-employed meant a mortgage was difficult. Up here he’d have complete privacy whenever he chose, it was an ideal workspace, but he’d also be near his family. After all they’d been through, he wanted to keep them close.
He was itching to unpack his crafting gear, desperate to get settled at his workstation and get creating again – there was something about this town that set his creative juices going – but he needed to go downstairs. His mother had been keeping herself deliberately and frantically busy over the last few weeks and he knew that, unless he stopped her, she’d be unpacking boxes into the night. Apart from making up the beds there was nothing that needed doing immediately, but his mum wouldn’t see it that way. He’d have to force her to stop ripping open boxes with the promise of fish and chips. At least they wouldn’t need cutlery for those. Opening the door which led to the narrow stairs he glanced around. They would be happy here. It was a new start. They needed to be happy here. He ran downstairs.
As the removal van belched diesel with the effort of crawling up the steep hill, Jago waved it goodbye. It was the final link between them and their old life. Feeling foolish, he stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and ignored the heap of unpacked boxes he could see in the hall. He concentrated on gazing at the house, their new home. Although it was called Christmas Tree Cottage, there was little of the cottage about it. Instead, it was a solid square Victorian villa, set sideways onto the road, with a terraced garden behind and a tiny parking space in front. Both rare things to possess this close to the harbour and seafront they’d been told by Ellie, the efficient woman from the estate agents, when she’d shown them around.
The irony that the house was called Christmas Tree Cottage wasn’t lost on him. He didn’t think he’d ever feel the same about Christmas again. He’d make the effort this year for Merryn and his mother, but it would feel hollow. As his glance slid sideways to their immediate neighbours, he could see they already had their Christmas tree up, decorated and festooned with twinkling lights. He swallowed a sigh. That was the trouble with Christmas, it was hard to ignore.
As Avril came out of the house to stand by his side, he slipped an arm around her. ‘No regrets then, Mum?’
He watched as she took a deep breath of sea air, half-closing her eyes in pleasure. Even though it was nudging December, it was still mild. One of the gifts of being in the southwest.
‘None.’
‘Happy we bought here and not in Cornwall? Don’t you think Dad would have wanted us to go back to his hometown?’
‘He might have, I suppose. Your dad and I were happy there when we first married before we went to London, but I needed a fresh start. We all needed a fresh start somewhere new.’
‘I wish I could remember living in Fowey better.’
‘Well, you were tiny when we left.’ She leaned into him.
He sensed her exhaustion. ‘I’m a proper city boy. Definitely lost my Cornish roots.’
‘You are,’ she reproved gently. ‘Living here might be a challenge for you. No Ubers, no Deliveroo, but it’ll suit Merryn and me. I can feel it in my bones. Cornwall was one step too far west. Living here means we can visit the family in Fowey, or what’s left of them, it’s only an hour or so away. And Lullbury Bay’s well-served to get back up to London if any of us need a city fix.’
‘True.’ He contemplated the view again. ‘Although I’m not sure I’ll ever want to leave here.’
‘You might. I think you’ll miss the city more than you realise.’ Avril peered up at her rangy son. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be happy sharing with your old mother and little sis? Won’t it cramp your style?’
Jago laughed. ‘There’s been none of that going on since the divorce.’ He felt his mum’s arm tighten around his waist. She was so tiny, it was the only place she could reach when they were both standing. ‘And it made sense to pool resources so we could buy what we wanted. You and Merryn have the house and the attic flat will suit me absolutely fine. It’s got masses of light so I can work. If I get any done – think I’ll spend all day l
CHAPTER 2
‘DO THEY KNOW IT’S CHRISTMAS?’ – BAND AID
Monday 22nd November
Honor smiled at the line of children impatiently waiting to come into her class. They twitched and bobbed like yachts on the sea, their woolly hats and scarves flying. Now Bonfire Night was done, there was only one thing on their mind: Christmas! She loved her job, challenging though it had been over the last couple of years. And through the exhaustion of a hectic autumn term shone a creeping excitement. She loved Christmas too. With a passion.
‘In you go, folks. Get your reading books out and I’ll be in in a moment.’ She turned to the woman standing to one side clutching the hand of a skinny girl. ‘Hello,’ she said, addressing the little girl. ‘You must be Merryn. Welcome to St Winifred’s Primary School. I’m Miss Martin and you’ll be in my class. We’re delighted to have you with us. We’re just about to start practising for the Advent Service so I hope you’ll enjoy joining in.’
‘I’m Mrs Pengethley, Merryn’s mum. Avril.’ They shook hands.
‘Honor Martin. It’s lovely to meet you,’ she said, over the top of the child’s head. The woman looked anxious and had put emphasis on the word mum. An older mother, maybe in her late forties? Perhaps she was often mistaken for the grandmother. ‘Welcome both. I understand you’ve just moved here?’
‘Only on Friday. I was keen to get Merryn into school.’
‘Oh my goodness, you must have been busy. Well, welcome to your new school.’ She smiled gently at Merryn, who looked terrified. ‘And it’s hard making new starts. I understand.’ She reached out a hand and was relieved when Merryn took it. ‘I know because I moved here from the Midlands. But, do you know, Merryn, I think Lullbury Bay is the friendliest town in west Dorset. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. Are you ready to come in now? I’ll show you where you can hang your coat and PE kit and then we can meet the class. You’ve arrived in town at the absolute best time. There are lots of Christmassy things going on.’ Over the child’s head, she mouthed to her mother, ‘She’ll be fine.’ Too many new parents hung anxiously on, prolonging the agony. And there had been a flurry of new children recently. Some settled quickly but some didn’t. Either way it meant disruption to class routine as the dynamics shifted and changed. The sooner Merryn got into class and met her new classmates the better. Thankfully Mrs Pengethley took the hint.
Giving her daughter a huge hug, she said, ‘Off you go now, Merryn. The day will fly by and I’ll see you at three thirty. We can go for a hot chocolate in the café on the seafront you liked the look of.’
Honor looked seriously at them both. ‘Only with marshmallows though. It’s the only way to drink hot chocolate at the Sea Spray Cafe.’
‘You can only have it with marshmallows?’ Merryn looked up at her, eyes wide.
Honor winked. ‘Absolutely. It’s the law. And in November and December, you have to have it with a chocolate flake too. So come on in then. Tell me all about your new house. Did you get to choose the biggest bedroom for your own? It’s Christmas Tree Cottage, isn’t it? The one on Harbour Hill with the fabulous views? What a wonderful place to live.’
She steered the little girl towards the classroom. Merryn was so busy telling her all about her new bedroom which she planned on having painted turquoise, Mum was forgotten. Honor gave a subtle thumbs up to Mrs Pengethley who smiled and went.
‘And they have a class hamster. He’s called Chestnut and you get to look after him in the holidays. Holly had him all through half term. And I had chicken pasta for lunch. It was delicious. Holly didn’t eat all of hers but I did. Holly wants me to go to tea. Can I, Mum?’
Avril pushed the mug of hot chocolate nearer. They were sitting in the cosy fug of the café. Right on the seafront, it was decorated in yellows and blues and smelled sweetly of cake and pastry. ‘Of course you can. Introduce me to Holly and her mum tomorrow morning and we’ll sort out a date.’ She grinned at Jago over the child’s head. ‘Think she’s enjoyed her first day.’
‘I think she has.’ Jago ruffled Merryn’s hair. ‘Did you ever stop talking? Your poor teacher. What’s her name?’
‘Miss Martin. She’s so beautiful.’ Merryn sighed happily. ‘She’s got eyes like the sea and hair like honey. We did similes in literacy,’ she added, importantly. ‘Miss Martin says my similes make her smile.’
‘Impressive.’ He chuckled. ‘How would you describe me then?’
Merryn put her head on one side, studying him. ‘Hair like bubbles and eyes like green sea glass. Like the bit we picked up off the beach on Saturday.’
Jago laughed and tugged on one of his dark curls. ‘Even more impressive. Maybe I should get it cut though?’
‘No. It makes you look like a pirate. We had a pirate story at home time. Miss Martin tells stories so well. She does all the voices. It was really funny.’ Suddenly distracted, Merryn pointed out of the window. ‘Look at that dog!’
Avril and Jago turned to see what she was staring at. An enormous man with an equally large dog were loping along the promenade, past the café.
‘I’ve never seen such a big dog,’ Merryn cried. ‘It looks like a wolf!’
‘Irish Wolfhound I think,’ Jago explained. ‘Or deerhound maybe. Huge but gentle giants.’
‘Can we have a dog, Mum? Can we?’
Avril hesitated. It had been a request repeated ever since the child had learned to talk. Their London house had had a long strip of garden but she’d never thought their lifestyle was right. Her husband had worked all the hours known to man, and so had she. It would have been cruel to have a dog they wouldn’t have time for. But now, with the move to Dorset, it might be possible. With savings, Kenan’s pension and her redundancy money, she didn’t need to look for work straight away. Maybe it was time for a puppy? Merryn had been the bravest of all of them through this, perhaps she deserved a reward?
The girl picked up on the fact her mother hadn’t squashed the idea flat straight away. ‘Can we, Mum? I’ll look after it, I can walk it on the beach. I promise.’
‘Well maybe. Not for Christmas though,’ Avril added firmly. ‘Christmas is not the right time to get a puppy.’
‘And possibly not an Irish Wolfhound,’ Jago suggested. ‘Maybe something smaller?’ He saved Merryn’s mug from being knocked over as the child leaped to her feet and threw her arms around her mother’s neck. ‘Jolly-wow! A dog,’ she cried. ‘I’m getting a dog!’ Bouncing back to Jago, she landed, half on his lap.
The movement caught Honor’s attention as she walked past. She never once took for granted that she could walk home from work along the promenade. She could take the route uphill from school and then down the high street, but it was much prettier this way. Plus, it was good to get the fug out of her lungs from a day in school, and she needed the exercise. Even today, with the light going and mist hanging over the sea, it was beautiful. Stopping outside the café, she wondered about going in. She often did at the end of the day. It was easier to grab something quick to eat rather than cook for one at home. But it was Monday and she had a pile of marking to do. Through the steamed-up windows she glimpsed Mrs Pengethley and Merryn. The girl had settled easily into her new class and had already made a friend. Holly Carmichael hadn’t been in Lullbury Bay long either. Lots of new people had moved into town. COVID had forced people to re-evaluate, and many came in search of a better quality of life, which Lullbury Bay offered in buckets and spades. Seeing Merryn hug her mother, she thought she’d leave them to it, not wanting to intrude. A man got up from their table. He was tall and lanky and looked much younger than his wife. Honor shrugged. In twelve years of teaching, she’d learned families came in all shapes and sizes. Pulling up her collar against the damp, she shifted her heavy workbag onto her shoulder and turned to go. If she got a move on, she could throw something together to eat in front of It Takes Two. This year’s series of Strictly was the best she’d watched and she was obsessed. Trying not to dwell on the fact that she was thirty-two and the highlight of her life was a reality dance show, she made her way home.
