Once Upon A Christmas. Jennifer Joyce
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watched Stirling rise up on his back legs to greet the man at the door. With the only light coming from behind him, it was impossible to see the man’s face. He was tall, with longish hair, but she took comfort from the fact that the dog knew and liked him. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m very sorry to bother you, but I’m from the house next door and the electric’s off. I was wondering if you’ve maybe got some matches and a candle I could borrow for tonight.’
‘Of course, do come in.’ The dog, interpreting the invitation as being to him, dropped down onto all fours again and trotted into the house. Holly followed him, hearing the door close behind her. Like with her dad’s house, the door led straight into the kitchen which, while a good bit more modern in layout, was the same size and shape as next door. When she and the dog reached the middle of the room she turned round to face the man and got a surprise.
‘Oh, it’s you.’
He was smiling. ‘I wondered if my new next door neighbour might turn out to be you when I saw there was a rather nice old Porsche in George’s garden. Funnily enough, I saw one of them not so long ago when I was out delivering firewood. Scraped the exhaust on some stones as I recall.’ He held out his hand. ‘Hello, I’m Jack Nelson. Are you George’s daughter by any chance?’
Holly nodded, still surprised at the coincidence that the man with the Land Rover and the trailer full of logs was her next door neighbour. Of course, she told herself, with only about fifty houses in the village, it wasn’t really that unlikely. She shook his hand. ‘Yes, that’s right, I’m Holly. I’m very pleased to meet you again. I’m just sorry to interrupt you. Were you in the middle of something?’ There was an open book, lying on the table.
‘Nothing that can’t wait.’ He reached over, dropped a sheet of paper onto the book as a bookmark, and flicked it shut. ‘How amazing to meet you, Holly. George, your dad, spoke about you so often, I feel like I know you already.’
‘I’m afraid all I know about you is that you’ve got a Series 3 Land Rover and a trailer.’ She gave him a smile while surreptitiously giving him the once over. He looked as if he was maybe two or three years older than she was, probably in his mid-thirties. His curly black hair was still unruly and long, but he had evidently shaved in the last few days as the beard she had seen the previous week had been replaced by some rather enticing designer stubble. He was wearing what looked suspiciously like the same lumberjack shirt he had been wearing when she had last seen him. It did, however, look as if it had been recently washed, although his toes sticking out of holes in his woolly socks were a dubious fashion statement. But there was no doubt about it; a bit rough round the edges he might be, but he was a good-looking man. Holly found herself wondering what Julia would make of him up close.
‘Amazing… a woman who can tell a series 2 from a series 3 Land Rover. I don’t know what to say.’ There was genuine awe in his voice.
‘Everybody thinks I’m a bit weird, but I’m an engineer, you see, and I’ve got a thing about classic cars.’ She held up her fingers towards him and grinned. ‘Look, short fingernails.’
‘You sound like the person I need to sort out my old Land Rover. Mind you, the trailer wasn’t mine. I was doing a favour for a friend.’ He motioned with his hand. ‘Here, have a seat while I go and get Stirling one of his biscuits.’
Holly sat down as instructed. ‘You keep biscuits especially for the dog?’
‘We’re old pals, him and me. I would have taken him, after George… your father died, but my own dad’s been unwell, and I’ve been driving up and down to Bristol for the last few weeks.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he’s feeling better now.’ Holly was looking round the room. Although it was a kitchen, the whole place was packed with books. Every available surface appeared to be covered with books or papers and there were writing pads and pens strewn all around. His garden might be tidier than hers, but his kitchen certainly wasn’t.
‘He’s a lot better, thanks. Now, can I get you a coffee or a tea or maybe a glass of wine?’
Holly shook her head. ‘No, thank you, but I’m fine. It’s just that I haven’t got any electricity…’
‘Of course. Right, well I can certainly let you have some candles and matches. Would you like me to come over with you and see if there’s anything I can do?’ He caught her eye and hastily added, ‘I’m not an electrician or anything. I’m just trying to sound as if I can help, really, to be honest. In fact, with your mechanical knowledge, you’re probably better qualified than I am.’
She smiled at him, nodding towards his book. ‘Don’t worry. I can see you’re busy. A couple of candles would be great and maybe if you know of an electrician? My phone’s still working, so I can call from home.’
‘Best if I make the call. We have the good luck to have an electrician living here in Brookford, but he’s in great demand and he might not come out for somebody he doesn’t know. As it happens, he owes me a few favours so, let me call him.’ He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It probably won’t be till tomorrow now. Is that all right with you?’
Holly nodded. ‘Whenever he can.’ She listened as Jack Nelson made the call. The conversation only lasted a few seconds, but the upshot was that the electrician would come round first thing in the morning. Jack put the phone down and went off to find the candles. Curious, Holly took a quick look at the book on the table. It was a fairly hefty tome dealing with the history of the twentieth century, and it was very well thumbed. She looked up hastily as he returned with a packet of candles and a large household box of matches.
‘Here, you can hang onto these for future emergencies. I always keep a stock of them. Two winters ago we had a sort of mini tornado out here and a load of trees were blown down on the power lines. There was no electricity for almost a week and, since then, I always keep some in the house. By the way, your heating won’t work without electricity, but you should find a supply of logs in the store just outside your back door. Anyway, if it gets too cold or if you need anything at all, just come round. Your dad and I got on very well and next door is sort of a second home to me.’ He grinned. ‘And Stirling’s always been my best buddy.’ Holly and the dog stood up. For the first time she noticed that Stirling had positioned himself on the floor beside her. That felt rather good and she gave him a pat on the back. Jack accompanied her to the door, waved away her thanks and repeated to her not to hesitate if she needed anything.
Back home, she lit a few of the candles and set them on old jam jar lids around the kitchen, her mind still on her rather nice neighbour. Although different from her usual choice of man, there was something about him – and not just the fact that he kept a stock of matches and candles for damsels in distress. She opened the wood-burner and piled in some newspapers and kindling from the basket alongside the stove. She added some logs and, before long, had a good fire burning. The room rapidly started to warm up. She looked at her watch. It was only a quarter to ten, but she was beginning to feel really tired. She glanced down at the dog. ‘I suppose it would be too much to ask for me not to have to take you out for a walk?’
The dog’s word recognition skills extended only as far as the final word. He was jumping around in an instant.
‘Bugger.’
She pulled on her jacket, dug out a woolly hat and opened the door. In her pocket, she could feel the packet of little black bags Mrs Edworthy had given her for Stirling’s ‘offerings’, and rather hoped she wouldn’t need to use them. As it turned out, she needed two of them. Clearly, looking after a big, handsome pedigree dog wasn’t all glamour.
Saturday
All in all, Holly had a reasonable night’s sleep. The only interruption came at around three o’clock in the morning, when she was woken by a noise. By this time, moonlight was flooding into the room and she got the shock of her life when she saw the bedroom door swing open. She was already backing away to