Christmas at Strand House: A gorgeously uplifting festive romance!. Linda Mitchelmore
again. She’d ask her brother-in-law to be with her. Or a solicitor.
Janey looked at Xander and then Bobbie and they were both nodding, as though they agreed with what Lissy had just said.
‘Have you listened to Stuart’s call?’ Xander asked. ‘Sam said, well, he said it wasn’t the nicest Christmas message.’
A bubble of laughter fluttered inside Janey – Xander was trying to lighten the mood, trying to comfort her.
‘No. I’m not going to,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t have said anything I haven’t heard before. He’s a fair bit older than me,’ Janey went on. ‘Did I say?’
Her three friends shook their heads. There was so much none of them knew about each other.
‘Sixteen years.’
‘Really?’ Lissy said, eyes widening in surprise and leaning forward as though wanting to hear better. And more.
Lissy sat on the couch beside Xander, opposite her and Bobbie. Lissy had crossed her legs as though holding herself, and her emotions tight, but Xander was sitting, legs sprawled and Janey thought he looked so comfortable, the house might have been his not Lissy’s.
‘My mother warned me about the age difference,’ Janey said.
‘Oh, mothers!’ Bobbie laughed. ‘They don’t always get it right, you know, Janey.’
‘I know. But mine sort of did. She warned me that the age difference would throw up all sorts of issues, if not in the beginning but as time went on. She said that Stuart and I had been brought up in different eras with different music and different politics. We’d had a different education – Stuart went to uni, I didn’t – and been subjected to different morals in our upbringings. That’s what my mother said.’
‘And your father?’ Lissy asked.
‘I must have had one,’ Janey said with a shrug. ‘But he was never mentioned. My mother married Grant when I was six and then they had Suzy. If I bought up the subject of my real father my mother swiftly changed it. So I stopped asking. It just wasn’t worth the hassle.’
‘And does your mother know? About Stuart? How your marriage has been for you?’ Lissy again. Janey could tell she really cared, and that she wasn’t being nosy, just trying to get the fuller picture.
‘I told her once. I went to her, covered in bruises, and all she said was I’d made my bed and I’d have to lie in it. She and Grant are living in Spain now.’
‘Oh, God,’ Lissy said. ‘All these mothers swanning off to live abroad, leaving their children!’
‘With respect, Lissy,’ Bobbie said, rather sharply Janey thought, ‘sometimes people – even mothers – have to do what they have to do. And what’s more, you and Janey are hardly children anymore.’
If Lissy was taken aback at Bobbie’s comment, she covered it well, although Janey noticed Xander turned sharply to look at her, checking she was okay.
‘You’re right, of course.’
‘And,’ Janey said, unable to let the subject of Stuart go although she knew she had to or it was going to spoil this whole Christmas break, wasn’t it? ‘He liked Freddie Mercury. So Eighties’ music and I was only a child then listening to Postman Pat!’
‘Postman Pat and his black-and-white cat,’ Xander said in a sing-song voice.
And then there was what was possibly the most bizarre moment Janey had ever had, or would have, when they all sang the Postman Pat song. Bizarre, but heavens how it lightened the mood.
‘Freddie Mercury was one helluva performer,’ Bobbie said. ‘It’s an age difference thing. There’s quite a gap between my age and you three.’
‘Yeah, yeah, so there is,’ Lissy said. ‘It didn’t seem to matter much at the art workshop though, did it?’
‘No. And it doesn’t matter now really,’ Bobbie said. ‘I was just saying.’
Bobbie was right – the difference in their ages didn’t matter at all, not back then and not now in Lissy’s beautiful house with Christmas to look forward to together. Janey’s head was a mishmash of thoughts and she struggled to find something to say – she was finding it slightly embarrassing now that all the attention was on her.
‘Thanks,’ Janey said. ‘All of you. For being so kind …’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Bobbie said, giving Janey’s hand a squeeze. ‘It’s what friends are for.’
‘Oh my! Gosh! Is that the time?’ Lissy said jumping up. ‘Janey, will you be okay here with Bobbie while I get on with supper?’
Janey nodded.
‘No one’s going to harm you anymore, Janey,’ Lissy said, her tone softening. ‘Not if the three of us have anything to do with it. You’re safe here. Right, gang?’
‘Right,’ Xander and Bobbie agreed.
Janey hoped not, but surprised herself with what words actually came out of her mouth.
‘I won’t let anyone hurt me. Not anymore.’
Bobbie let go of Janey’s hand and put an arm around her shoulders, gave her a squeeze, but when Janey turned to look at her she saw there were tears in Bobbie’s eyes. What, she wondered, had Bobbie had to put up with in her life?
Again, a silence fell over them all, soft as gossamer, not uncomfortable.
‘I think it’s time we had some Christmas music. Vonny loved Christmas music, the carols and the classical stuff.’ Lissy went over to a dresser, opened a drawer and brought out a handful of CDs. ‘Player’s over there, Bobbie. Can I leave you in charge of light entertainment?’
‘You can.’
‘And help yourself to drinks.’ Lissy waved an arm towards the drinks trolley. ‘Oh, and Xander, could you put the wreath Janey made on the front door?’
She marched over to the couch, the hostess taking charge of the situation again, and reached out a hand to help Xander up, although he didn’t exactly look reluctant when he took it.
Well, well, well … what might happen there, Janey wondered, as Bobbie put a CD in the player and Bing Crosby began to croon.
Xander
‘I hope it’s not all going a bit Pete Tong,’ Xander said.
‘What?’ Lissy asked. ‘This savoury swirl filling? It firmed up a bit when we were in there with Janey. I’ll need to loosen it, fill the pastry, and then whack it in the top oven.’
Xander watched as she lobbed in a tablespoon of mascarpone and gave it a vigorous stir. He began to salivate, thinking about supper. A side of salmon sat in a dish, covered in some herb or other and slices of lemon ready, he supposed, to go in the oven when these swirl things were done. Claire had never made swirls. Or cooked salmon for that matter. Cooking hadn’t been Claire’s thing and the few times she’d attempted it had been total disasters so that they’d had to go up to the Boathouse to eat or get a takeaway.
‘No, not that,’ Xander said. ‘I meant your plan for a jolly, ho ho ho, Christmas break. All Santa hats and stockings and champagne and mince pies.’
‘The plan is still on track, if running late a little,’ Lissy said, smiling warmly at him. Her cheeks looked like little crab apples glistening with the effort of her cooking under the downlighters of the kitchen island. ‘Although I’m right out of stockings, I’m afraid. The felt variety with Christmassy logos on, I mean.’ She pressed her lips together and gave him a cheeky look.
Was