Now, in the throes of winter, the hedgerows were bare and the branches of the trees stretched across the road like skeletons, trying unsuccessfully to block out the white winter sky.
The next pretty village looked a lot like the last—the inevitable bright red postbox somewhere in the center, contrasting with the local yellow Cotswold stone walls and higgledy-piggledy houses from every era of the last thousand years. The pub. The church. The dog walker, wrapped up from head to foot in wool and tweed. And the hint here and there that we were in the month of madness—wreaths on doors, lights around windows, decorated trees in front gardens. Insanity.
It had been a long time since I’d made it to this part of the world, but I found I still knew it as well as my bedroom ceiling. For the last decade or so, I’d sent my driver to bring Granny to London to stay with me. It saved me time and she enjoyed the break. I didn’t often leave London, unless it was to go abroad. What was the point? London had everything I needed. The recruitment business I’d worked tirelessly to create. The penthouse that overlooked the Thames. The life I’d built for myself.
Being back in the Cotswolds was like stepping back into my childhood. I’d spent every summer navigating the hills that surrounded Snowsly. Foraging in the hedgerows, getting lost in the maize fields, being a kid with no worries. Every summer. Every Easter. Every school holiday.
Except Christmas.
“This is it, Bradley,” I said to the driver as we turned into High Street. Snowsly was one of the bigger villages in the Cotswolds. As well as the obligatory pub—two, in fact—and post box, it had a number of shops located around the village green, all popular with tourists and locals alike. Tea rooms that opened for breakfast and lunch only, a restaurant. And the Manor.
“The Manor is right at the top of the hill,” I said to Bradley.
Granny bought the Manor before my grandfather died and before I was born. It had been a number of years since she actively ran it. I convinced her she needed a manager in the place a few years before. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have her nose in most things. And it didn’t mean she wasn’t still running the village. Granny couldn’t sit back. I’d gotten the trait from her.
We drove past the village green—the place where I played cricket every summer and hunted for Easter eggs in spring, where Granny would drag me to watch the local children dance around the maypole on May Day. Now, in the maypole’s place stood a large Christmas tree, lit up with thousands of gold lights. The edge of the green was circled with beech trees adorned with more lights.
Even I had to admit it looked pretty.
We pulled up in front of the Manor and I got out, my expensive, inappropriate shoes crunching in the snow.
How ironic.
As a child, seeing Snowsly in the snow at Christmastime was all I’d wanted. It was as if the place had been built for the season. I’d been convinced that all the village needed to make it perfect was a sprinkle of ice and snow.
Then it would be Narnia.
Now, over a decade after my last trip here, my childhood fantasy had come true. I tipped my head back to take in the four stories of windows set into the yellow stone of the Manor. I’d known every inch of this place growing up. It had been my sanctuary. My safe haven. The place I’d felt most like myself. And even now, there was something comforting about it. Not as comforting as a first-class seat to Barbados, but comforting all the same.
“Sebastian?”
I snapped my head toward the sound of my name and smiled. “Mary. Good to see you.” I bent and placed a kiss on Granny’s housekeeper’s cheek. She looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen her—big bosomed and not to be messed with, like some nineteen fifties matron. I knew that inside, she was pure marshmallow.
“I finally get to see you at Christmas,” she said. “I have the Blue Room made up for you.”
I might not have been here for a long time, but I knew enough to know the Blue Room was the best in the house. “Are you sure it’s not booked for guests? I’m happy to stay in the Green Room.” The Green Room had a single bed and was so small you couldn’t swing a cat in it, but I knew my Granny would rather cancel Christmas than accept money from me, so I’d rather I wasn’t depressing takings.
“We’re fully booked apart from the Blue Room.” Mary’s tone was clipped and not to be argued with.
“I can’t wait,” I replied, taking a small case from Bradley. I’d decanted the things from my Barbados case that could be used in Snowsly, and Bradley would take the rest back. Cotswold-appropriate clothing would follow by courier tomorrow. I was pretty sure I was going to need more than sunglasses and swimming trunks to get me through the next couple of weeks.
“Let me take that.” Mary yanked my case out of my hand. “You need to get to the committee meeting. It starts in three minutes.”
Granny was clearly still ruling the roost with an iron fist.
I took the case back. “Then I’ll have to take the stairs two at a time,” I said. There was no way I was letting Mary take my case for me. I wasn’t a guest. I was here for Granny.
And I’d be gone by Christmas Eve.
Two
Celia
The adrenaline coursing through my veins made my legs bounce, the panic chased fluttery breaths from my chest while nausea swirled in my stomach. Every second we weren’t doing something was time wasted. I swallowed and pulled my mouth into a smile.
Christmas in Snowsly this year was going to be the best yet. It just had to be.
A lot could be accomplished in two days. As long as no one else sprained their ankle or broke their leg or the village Christmas tree didn’t fall down.
I glanced around at the Snowsly Christmas committee and zipped the small gold “C” on the chain around my neck back and forth. Then I surreptitiously crossed my fingers. A little luck couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Celia, uncross your fingers and leave that necklace alone. Everything’s going to be fine,” Ivy barked. She might have sprained her ankle but there was nothing wrong with her eyesight.
“I know,” I lied, nodding.
“Ahh, here he is,” she said, a grin filling her face as if Santa himself had appeared in the doorway. “Most of you know my grandson, Sebastian.”
I turned to see a tall, suited man with a serious expression stalk toward Ivy and plant a kiss on her cheek.
“Come and sit by me,” Ivy said and she started to shuffle across her sofa.
“If you move, then I’ll be straight back to London,” he said through a smile. His voice was like thick cream poured over chocolate yule log—rich and silky. I made a mental note to buy the ingredients this week to make the festive treat. “The doctor has told you to rest. That’s why I’m here, after all.”
“Sebastian, young man. Good to have you here. It’s been a while,” Jim said, half standing, his usual floral shirt covered with one of my favorite of his Christmas jumpers: a green sweat shirt with a picture of his grandkids dressed up as elves on the front. Jim, the village florist, had a different Christmas jumper for each day of December.
“Too long,” Sebastian said, shaking Jim’s hand. “I’m here to work and don’t want to interrupt. What’s on the agenda?”