A Winter Wedding at Mistletoe Gate Farm by Helen J Rolfe
Chapter Three
Tilly was glad to be home. It was amazing how stressful twenty-four hours could be, and how busy. She’d arrived at her parents’ house to find their concerned neighbour basically camped out on their doorstep. She and the man who lived the other side of Tilly’s parents had taken turns to keep a lookout and the whole neighbourhood was on high alert in case the burglar decided to target any of them.
Right now it felt a relief to head to Mistletoe Gate Farm to choose her tree and the warm smile Benjamin greeted her with when he answered the back door told her all she needed to know – she was glad to be back in the Cove.
‘You’re sure this is all right?’ she asked him as he pushed a foot into one of his boots out on the veranda. ‘I know you’re busy here and you have the pub…’
He stood back up to full height. ‘I offered, remember.’ He pulled on his other boot. ‘I’m happy to help, and besides, I need to know how it all went in Nottingham.’
‘There was a bit of damage to the door, a broken window, and of course the locks needed changing, but apart from that it was just some tidying up.’ She’d fallen into bed last night, exhausted from the stress, the drive, the clearing up and coordinating the repairs, not to mention worrying about the shop in her absence, although Melissa stepping in to lend a hand had been a relief because when Tilly had called Lois she’d sounded as though she and Barney didn’t know whether they were coming or going. ‘The hardest part was knowing what was taken. But after a few messages back and forth with Mum and Dad it seems not much is missing at all and we made a list.’
Tilly had found that apart from the mess where the intruder must have emptied drawers and shelves in search of money or anything of value, there wasn’t much cleaning up to do. She’d heard some terrible stories of burglaries and, unsurprisingly, all of those had replayed on a loop as she drove up to Nottingham, but within a few hours she’d welcomed the locksmith who was already booked in, the repair man had sorted the door and she’d tidied enough that you would never even know anything untoward had gone on.
‘They took all the cash lying around,’ Tilly added. ‘Dad had about a hundred quid’s worth of notes in the dining room in a pot that he uses when he has to pay the window cleaner. They took some of Mum’s jewellery so she’s upset about that. But the television was still there, as was the computer.’ She began to laugh. ‘The thief must’ve thought all his Christmases had come at once when he picked up the swear jar I bought Dad. It was totally full and coins had been replaced by notes. It’s been building up for years – Dad doesn’t hold back when he feels a curse coming on.’
‘Did they smash the jar?’
She shook her head and smiled. ‘They left it intact, and seeing as I said plenty of naughty words while I was at the house, I made a fresh start and dropped in a few coins.’ She had a fluttery feeling in her stomach at the way Benjamin was looking at her and swiftly moved the conversation along. ‘I hope there are some trees left here for me.’
He took the lead and stepped off the veranda. ‘Come on, you’ve got your pick of a beautiful bunch, just you wait.’
The smell out here at the farm was heavenly – a mixture of a spicy Christmas tree scent and the earthy aroma that came as they trudged up along one row of trees, crossed to another. There was a distant sound of an electric saw, families huddled in groups chatting, another family bickered about what would make the best tree – that one’s too tall, that one is way too fat, no not the right shape – and the sun had at last peeped out from behind a cloud enough to add some brightness to a cold December day.
‘Do you have a preference as to which variety?’ Benjamin wanted to know.
‘Not really…’ Her wellies squelched into the mud as he led her down a different row. ‘But remember I live in a small cottage.’ They’d passed stunning trees so far but all of those would bend over on the ceiling they were so tall. Others were so wide at the base that they’d take up the entire room.
‘I remember.’ But he stopped so suddenly she almost crashed into him and her feet slipped. He caught her arm.
‘Thank you, I don’t much fancy landing in the mud.’
‘It’s still slippery in parts after the big storm – mind your step.’ He looked down at the bright red wellies she’d found at a charity shop last year. ‘We certainly wouldn’t lose you out here in those.’
‘They’re fur-lined,’ she bumbled. ‘I couldn’t resist.’
‘Fur-lined, you say – well, I might have to get myself a pair.’ His eyes didn’t leave hers as they stood surrounded by the rich green of Christmas as though they were the only couple on the farm and everyone else had faded into the distance.
‘I don’t think red’s your colour.’ They were flirting and Tilly felt as though she were floating on air; at least she did until a kid barrelled past, slipped in the mud and wailed.
Benjamin scooped him up in his arms, the boy’s sky-blue coat covered in muck that was now also coating Benjamin’s jacket, until the boy’s dad found them. ‘I think I have something that belongs to you,’ Benjamin told him and the man took over consoling the boy, who looked as though he’d got overexcited in the madness of the run-up to Christmas.
‘He’ll be hyped up on the sugar,’ Benjamin said quietly when they were left alone once more. ‘I saw that kid having a hot chocolate. I’m not sure how much milk was in the drink but it was definitely piled high with marshmallows – we’re a bit generous with those here.’
When she began to feel awkward standing so close, both looking at each other but neither of them able to think of what to say, Tilly declared she had to make a decision. ‘I need to get a move on, I’ve got a shop to open.’
He led her to the right. ‘These are the Nordmann fir variety. And don’t worry, they’re not all this big.’ He cocked his head to indicate she should follow him a bit further, past a couple of dozen trees or so, and they came to a row of specimens that were all much shorter. ‘These are below six foot. See how they’re much fatter at the bottom than some of our other trees.’ He’d crouched down and was pointing to the shape he referred to and after removing his glove put a palm beneath a branch so that the greenery sat against his skin. ‘The needles are soft and the retention is good, so less sweeping up for you.’
‘That’s always a bonus.’ She took off her glove and felt the silky leaves, leaned in to inhale the scent some more. Then she stood back to assess the height, regard the width at the bottom.
‘It’ll fit in your cottage,’ he assured her.
‘I have beams, remember.’
‘How could I forget?’ His smile reminded her of the one time he’d been to her home. It was a couple of months back and the local artisan blacksmith, Lucy, had made several items for Tilly to keep for herself rather than sell at the shop. Benjamin had seen Lucy struggling with the heavy box and had offered her a lift. He’d gone inside with her to help deliver the goods and had promptly bashed the top of his head on one of the beams as he headed from the front door to the kitchen when Tilly offered to put the kettle on and make them all a cup of tea.
‘If you put it in the corner of your sitting room then it’ll be fine,’ he advised. ‘It’ll be far enough from the log burner that it won’t dry out, close enough that you’ll be able to see both when you’re relaxing on the sofa.’
A family nearby were talking about tagging a tree and Benjamin stepped in to help, pulling from his pocket a couple of pink labels that explained the colourful strips on the tops of several trees Tilly had seen this morning flapping about like masts on a sailboat.
He turned back to Tilly. ‘Saw.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I didn’t bring a saw, only tags. I’ll tag this, or else you could stay here on guard and I’ll run back to grab one.’
‘I think tagging it’d be better anyway, then I can have it delivered later.’
‘I’m happy to cut this down now and take it straight back to yours, if you like.’
‘I don’t want to be any trouble.’
‘It’s no bother at all. I just hope I can find my way back to you again,’ he winked before setting off towards the equipment shed to grab what he needed.
Tilly didn’t mind hanging around at the farm. As much as she loved her shop, there was just something about being out in the open air at this time of the year. And while some winter days were damp and relentless with the chill reaching your bones somehow, being out here at Mistletoe Gate Farm with Benjamin had been the perfect antidote to the last twenty-four hours and the stress over her parents’ break-in.
Tilly was busy trying to decide which had been the best thing for her today – the fresh air or Benjamin’s company – when the man in question reappeared. His light brown hair was highlighted beneath the sun, and the smile that came with him warmed Tilly through.
‘What’s the piece of cardboard for?’ she asked as he laid it down on the ground.
‘I don’t mind the great outdoors but I’d rather not get any dirtier than I am already.’ He lay down on his side, saw in hand.
‘Need me to do anything?’ She tried not to look at the hair snaking down a taut stomach as his layers rode up when he reached further beneath the base of the tree with the saw. At least he couldn’t see her staring, his own face well hidden in amongst the branches by now.
‘Hold the tree by the trunk and tilt towards you when you feel it give a little,’ came his muffled voice.
She’d been expecting a No thanks to her offer of help but was glad she wasn’t just standing around watching and so slotted her hand through the branches to the trunk as Benjamin sawed away at the bottom. When she felt the tree move she did as instructed and eventually a puffed Benjamin emerged.
Although not easy to stand on tiptoes in chunky wellies, Tilly managed to reach up and pull a couple of needles from one side of his hair when he took charge of the tree.
‘Hazard of the job,’ he laughed. ‘Now, let’s get this to the netting machine.’
‘Which end do you want me to take?’ At his surprise she added, ‘You think I’m going to make you carry it by yourself? I’m not so girlie I can’t pick up part of a tree – it’s all a part of the tree-choosing process.’
‘You fit in very well around here,’ he complimented before lifting the top of the tree as she took the bottom and they marched over with it to join the queue of customers waiting for their trees to be netted.
While Benjamin stood in line Tilly took her chance to pay for her tree and choose two fresh wreaths – one for the shopand the other for her cottage. She selected one with cinnamon sticks and pine cones and studded with plump red berries, and another covered in natural green foliage with small frosted red apples and sprigs of holly.
‘Don’t forget your mistletoe,’ Heather encouraged at the hatch of the shed. ‘You can cut your own near the gate – there’s so much, Tilly, you’d be helping us out.’
‘And what am I going to do with a load of mistletoe?’ Tilly laughed.
‘You never know when it might be your lucky day,’ Heather shrugged. Looking glamorous all wrapped up in a puffy jacket with a looped scarf around her neck, make-up in place as always, she gave Tilly a somewhat knowing glance. ‘I’m sure you’d get some use out of it, a beautiful young girl like you.’
When Benjamin came over, tree hoisted onto his shoulder, Tilly waved goodbye to Heather.
‘What’s my mother up to?’ Benjamin asked.
‘No idea,’ she lied, because she’d seen Heather look first at her and then at her son and back again, the sort of look a parent gives that leaves no doubt as to what they’re thinking.
Tilly had her wreaths, one over each arm, but before she could offer to somehow help with the tree as well, Benjamin told her he’d take it by himself. ‘Much easier to carry once it’s netted,’ he said, resting it on one shoulder as though it weighed nothing at all.
Back at Tilly’s cottage, she set down the wreaths and helped Benjamin negotiate the doorway that was lower than most and once he was through, minding the beams in the rest of the cottage, he took the tree into the sitting room.
‘I’ve got the stand in the kitchen, let me grab it.’
Already she knew the tree would be perfect just where he’d said, in the corner. Last year she’d had the tree the other side of the fireplace but she’d gone for a slightly taller, skinnier variety then.
‘Scissors?’ Benjamin asked once he had the tree in its stand.
Tilly grabbed a pair and began to cut the netting from bottom to top and as the branches splayed out, so did her smile. ‘I love how fat it is at the bottom.’
‘It’s a great tree. Hate to say I told you so, but…’
She shoved his arm playfully. ‘I’ll make sure I get this variety every year from now on – it fills the part of the room that needs it.’ All the rooms in the cottage could be described as compact and the sitting room, with its low beams, was no exception. It was at its cosiest in winter, with the log burner and a tiled hearth, two sofas – one along the far wall, a smaller one at an angle – and a flatweave pale blue rug covering a carpet that really needed replacing at some point.
‘Now it feels like Christmas is coming.’ She stood next to Benjamin as they admired the tree and when his fingers accidentally brushed hers she felt her heart skip a beat.
‘Did I see Mum trying to tempt you into buying some mistletoe earlier?’ he asked.
‘She did her best. Do you have lots in the house? Back at the farm…inside, I mean.’ She tripped over her words in an eagerness to shift the focus away from herself.
‘Mum puts sprigs here and there.’ A frown knitted across his brow.
‘What’s that look for?’
‘I’m not sure why she does it, really – she and Dad don’t seem to make the most of it anymore. Not this year, anyway.’
‘I suppose they’ve been married a long time.’ She hoped it was the right thing to say and that it didn’t sound as if she was trying to trivialise his worries. Her parents were as solid as they came as a married couple but Tilly couldn’t really see them pausing in their daily routine to snatch a kiss under the mistletoe. Then again, if Benjamin’s parents usually did and mistletoe played such a big part in their business, maybe he was right to be concerned.
‘Would you like a cup of tea to say thank you for your help with the tree?’ She hoped the offer would take his frown away and give her back the relaxed Benjamin she was used to. She did need to get to work but another twenty minutes or so wouldn’t matter. ‘Hold that thought,’ she said when a knock on the door disturbed them.
Tilly opened the door to find Jade from the Twist and Turn Bakery armed with a plastic container that had a see-through lid. ‘Treats for you,’ Jade announced. ‘Chocolate, cranberry and orange cake for morning tea. I did come to the shop but you weren’t there.’ A puzzled look passed across her face. ‘You’re not sick, are you?’
‘No, I’m not sick.’
Benjamin stepped into Jade’s eyeline. ‘Hey there.’
‘Good morning,’ Jade smiled, a knowing look on her face.
Hands pushed into his jeans pockets, he looked at Tilly. ‘I’d better be going, no worries about the tea.’ And with a nod to them both, off he went down the short path and away from the cottage.
Jade bustled inside, her lips sealed until she’d shut the front door to the cottage. ‘OK, give me details!’
But Tilly shook her head. ‘Nothing to tell. He helped me choose a tree and bring it back here, end of story.’ She pulled on her coat from the hook near the narrow staircase, looped her scarf around her neck, picked up her bag and keys and took the plastic container from Jade. ‘Thanks so much for these – we can enjoy them together, but I really do need to get to the shop, if you don’t mind.’ She opened the door again.
‘Not at all.’ Jade followed after her, down the path, still wrapped up against the cold. ‘We can walk and talk.’ And when Tilly said nothing, Jade prompted her. ‘Come on, give me the gossip!’
But Tilly was already striding on ahead of her friend. ‘Nothing to tell,’ she called over her shoulder.
And there really wasn’t…but did that mean that there wouldn’t ever be?