The Little Village Christmas: The #1 Christmas bestseller returns with the most heartwarming romance of 2018. Sue Moorcroft
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here, eating us out of house and home while, it turns out, he poked his nasty nose into our private things, stole anything he could get his shitty hands on including a lot of money we were responsible for, and left us to face the music.’
Though understanding it was fear that made Jodie snap and snarl like an injured animal, the attack left Alexia feeling sick and trembly. ‘I’m going to have a few drinks at The Three Fishes. Coming?’ The invitation was tacked-on with little enthusiasm.
‘I just want to stay here.’ Jodie turned her face into the cushions.
Alexia gazed at her, shoulders quivering under a mantle of unbrushed hair. ‘Do you want to phone DC Fitzhugh before I go?’
Jodie’s voice came out muffled. ‘No.’
Trying to persuade Jodie in this mood was like trying to cajole a timid dog out from under a bed – it was best for everyone to wait until she felt safe. Alexia shrugged wearily back into her jacket and let herself out of the front door. Her days didn’t usually involve being in the pub at six o’clock, but sod it. Her days didn’t usually involve fraud, theft, betrayal and a horrible throb of panic beneath her breastbone, either.
It was only a five-minute walk to The Three Fishes but it was chilly enough that Alexia was glad to push open the door into the pub’s bright warmth and make for a stool at the bar. Janice the barmaid appeared from the back regions as Alexia propped her elbows wearily on the polished wood. ‘A very big glass of Sauvignon blanc, please.’
Janice reached for a glass. ‘Your wrecking party took all our trade on Saturday night, by the way, so you’re on Tubb’s shit list.’
‘Unfortunately, the landlord being cranky doesn’t even make the top ten of “Alexia’s things to worry about” right now.’
Janice laughed as she placed the frosty glass in front of Alexia along with a tumbler of ice, not needing to be reminded that Alexia liked to pop ice into her wine no matter how well chilled it was already.
Alexia took a big gulp of wine to fortify herself before reaching for her phone. She hadn’t wanted to rub salt into wounds by checking her private accounts in front of Jodie but she was almost shaking with trepidation as she opened her banking app …
Phew. She took another big gulp of wine in relief. Both personal and business accounts were intact. Though he might have been able to find her Internet banking security device in her drawer, Shitty Shane hadn’t had the opportunity to look over her shoulder and catch her passwords as he probably had Jodie’s.
Grateful for small mercies but feeling decidedly un-chatty, she kept her eyes trained on her phone screen as she worked her way steadily down both her wine glass and her email inbox.
An enquiry about a small decorating job: lounge with garden room opening out. Two newsletters, which she deleted unread. Offer of £5 off if she took a train to London before the end of October. And an enthusiastic email from Elton about a property they were completing on in Wimbledon, The sort of thing you could so go to town on, rejigging the space for best effect and greatest profit.
The thought that she’d yet to tell Elton how spectacularly pear-shaped her project had gone made her feel queasy. Unless, she thought, regarding her now empty glass, that was due to pouring one-third of a bottle of wine into a stomach that had scarcely seen food today. She caught Janice’s eye and ordered cottage pie. And another glass of wine.
While she waited, she googled Shane Edmunds and Timothy O’Neill. If the police national computer hadn’t thrown anything up then her Internet search wasn’t likely to, but she had to try something. Predictably, all she dug up was their social media accounts, presumably as phoney as they were, and social media accounts of different Shane Edmundses and Timothy O’Neills.
Her dinner arrived and she felt better for eating it. She was just deliberating between another glass of wine or a more sensible cup of coffee when a man she didn’t know strode into the pub and came to stand just around the corner of the bar. Tubb had replaced Janice as server and he ambled over to hover expectantly.
‘I’m hoping you can help me,’ the man began loudly. ‘I’m looking for someone called Benedict Hardaker. Ben.’
Alexia gave him a second look. The man had thin sandy hair and a forehead that looked as if it saw a lot of frowns.
Tubb shrugged. ‘Sorry, mate. Don’t think I know him.’
The man’s frown dug deeper furrows. ‘He might be staying with his uncle. Gabe Piercy.’
Tubb gave his odd smile, the corners of his mouth turning down instead of up. ‘I know Gabe. Not been in here tonight, though.’
‘He’s not at home either. Neither he nor Ben seem to have been answering their phones lately.’
Tubb looked sympathetic. ‘Bad signal round here sometimes.’
‘Right.’ The man’s cheeks were mottled red. ‘Perhaps if you do see Gabe you could give him a message to pass on to Ben? It’s very important that Ben sees his brother. Tell him Imogen really needs his help, too. Oh, and we’d actually appreciate knowing that Ben’s OK.’
Tubb began to move off to serve a customer. ‘If I see Gabe I’ll try and remember the gist.’ He didn’t look as if he’d try very hard. Probably the man ought to have at least bought a drink before demanding favours.
Alexia pinned her gaze to her phone screen. Should she speak up and say that Ben was fine – if you didn’t count being moody and changeable? But Ben might be hiding out in the woods for a reason.
On the other hand … the messages had sounded as if they could be important.
The ‘buts’ continued to circulate in her mind while the man drummed his fingers on the counter then turned and left.
Tubb paused in front of Alexia on his way to the till. ‘Have you seen Gabe today?’
She nodded. ‘Think he was going out this evening.’ He’d been going to see Christopher – they’d taken one awkward interview each: him Christopher, her Jodie – so maybe he was still there.
‘Gabe’s nephew is the wizard in the woods, isn’t he?’
Alexia nodded, unsurprised. Tubb knew a great deal about the village and everyone in it.
Tubb grunted and went to the till, frowning. Alexia had known Tubb since she was a child being brought into the beer garden for lemonade and crisps on a summer’s afternoon. Despite his often dour façade he had a code so far as his pub was concerned. It was the village’s oasis and people deserved to be able to relax there unhounded. Ben was a prospective customer by virtue of having chosen to live in Middledip, even if on its very edges, whereas the man asking after him was an outsider.
In following the possible workings of his mind, Alexia found herself making a decision. ‘I’ll make sure the nephew gets the message. I can ring Gabe.’
‘Thanks.’ Frown disappearing now that someone else was taking responsibility, Tubb moved on to another customer without even making the anticipated complaint about the Middledip Wrecking Party taking all his business last Saturday.
Alexia fished out her phone and dialled Gabe’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. She sighed.
What now? Nobody would blame her for filing this under ‘not my business’ and simply passing the messages to Gabe tomorrow, but something about that solution didn’t sit well. She had a strong feeling Ben should be warned about the man looking for him. Maybe it was because the man had sounded closely connected with the family and Alexia remembered what Gabe had said about everyone who Ben loved letting him down.
Also … her conscience kept nudging her that her remark about the condom had been malicious and, from Ben’s expression, hurtful.
They were both aware that when she realised neither of them had a condom, she’d been so frustrated she could have screamed. Actually, she had screamed, just