Cathy looked from one to the other, speechless. Was she hearing all this right or had someone laced her tea with a good glug of cooking sherry?
‘I don’t understand…’
‘I’d like to take a look at your book, if I may, with a view to perhaps publishing it. I’d have to discuss it with colleagues at our next editorial meeting and that would be after Christmas now so there are no guarantees, of course.’
‘I wouldn’t expect any,’ Cathy said, still not quite sure if she was dreaming or not. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. They didn’t happen like this to anyone, surely? Publishers didn’t just pitch up and say, hey, we like the sound of your book, can we publish it?
‘I don’t know anything about your company, I’m afraid,’ she added, wondering if that sounded rude. She didn’t mean it to be, but that old habit of talking rubbish on first meetings was one that would always be hard to shake.
‘Here’s my card,’ Lydia said. ‘The web address is there if you want to take a look at what we do. My email is on there too. When you’re ready, feel free to send your book across.’
‘I only have a printed copy,’ Cathy said.
‘How about you scan the pages and send them?’ the vicar cut in. He looked at Lydia. ‘Would that work for you?’
‘I’d prefer a Word copy, but I suppose as an initial submission I could work with it. If we think it has potential I’d need to get something in a more appropriate format.’
‘I could do that!’ Cathy blurted out. She had no idea if she could or not but was fired by a sudden rush of excitement. Even if she couldn’t, she was sure she’d find a way to get Lydia what she needed.
‘Great,’ Lydia said. ‘It was lovely meeting you, Cathy. We’ll let you get back to your class.’
‘Thank you,’ Cathy said.
The vicar gave her a good-natured wink before he turned to follow Lydia out. ‘Thank you!’ she mouthed to him. But then she called out: ‘Merry Christmas!’
Lydia turned with a smile. ‘Merry Christmas, Cathy. I very much hope to be working with you in the new year.’
‘I still can’t believe you don’t like turkey!’
Cathy giggled as Matthias made an apologetic face. They were all wearing the obligatory rubbish paper crowns they’d pulled out of crackers and their best clothes. In front of Matthias was a plate piled with the usual crisp roast potatoes, honey-roasted carrots and parsnips, stuffing, pigs in blankets and Brussels sprouts. But instead of turkey he had two fat sausages.
‘I’m afraid I might have to reconsider this relationship,’ she added. ‘I don’t know if I can be with a man who doesn’t like turkey – it’s a bit suspect.’
‘I happen to like sausages. What’s wrong with sausages?’
Cathy grinned. ‘Nothing on any other day. But sausages for Christmas dinner… that’s just plain weird.’ She turned to Tansy. ‘You’ve done an amazing job on this turkey, by the way.’
She took a mouthful of wine. Her cheeks were rosy and her mouthfuls of wine were getting larger and less dainty the tipsier she got. Right now, she was at peak tipsy and heading towards full-blown sloshed. She hadn’t been this drunk in a long time but she was rather enjoying it. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time either. She’d arrived early to share gifts and help prepare lunch and it had been reserved at first – happy and pleasant but a little awkward from newness – but it hadn’t taken long to settle. They were soon getting on so well that Cathy felt as if she completely belonged.
Even the ever-dour Tansy managed to crack the odd smile, though, as was her way, she was never less than quite serious. The night before she’d pored over an online recipe instructing how to cook the perfect turkey and had made it clear that day it was going to be her job. Cathy would ordinarily have been longing to do it, but she realised that she was going to have to give Tansy this. Every little action, every little show of trust and respect brought Tansy out of her armoured shell that little bit further and it was wonderful to see. She’d spoken to her mother that morning on the phone, and Cathy had been afraid that it would set her back to the rude and insulting Tansy she’d first known, but thankfully her fears had quickly been dispelled.
‘Sausages and pigs in blankets… Sausages and sausages,’ Tansy agreed. ‘Poor pigs.’
‘At least I didn’t make you cook some different meat,’ Matthias said.
‘What do you think sausage is?’ Tansy’s eyebrows drew together as she reached for her own wine.
‘Well, at least I didn’t make you cook something that would take a long time.’
‘And who said you could make us cook anything?’ Cathy grinned at Tansy. ‘We’re women so we do the cooking?’
‘No, you do the cooking because my food wouldn’t be edible,’ Matthias said.
‘We’ll have to teach you, won’t we, Tansy?’
Tansy nodded.
‘I’m afraid you might find I’m unteachable.’
‘Nobody is unteachable,’ Cathy told him again. ‘Everyone can cook if they put their mind to it – there’s no great mystery to it.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘Some people can cook better than others,’ Tansy said. ‘Iris is rubbish.’
Cathy laughed. ‘Please don’t ever let Iris hear you say that.’
‘She thinks she’s brilliant at everything but she’s not.’
‘She means well,’ Cathy said. ‘And she has been very kind to me so I’m not going to comment on that at all. She lives on her own, don’t forget, and she’s an old lady now. I think if it stops her from getting lonely and gets her out of the house, then let her get involved in everything St Cuthbert’s has to offer. Believe me, I know what it’s like to be lonely and feel as if there’s no place for you in the world; I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.’
‘I hate to think of you feeling like that,’ Matthias said.
Cathy turned to him, a smile full of affection and gratitude. ‘But I don’t anymore.’
Tansy rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re going to do that, I’ll go and eat my lunch in another room, shall I?’
‘Sorry…’ Cathy said, blushing.
‘One day this will happen to you and then you’ll understand,’ Matthias said, chuckling.
‘What? One day I’ll turn into an idiot?’ Tansy fired back.
‘No, you’ve already done that,’ he returned.
Tansy pulled a face and he roared with laughter. ‘Round one to me!’
‘Believe what you like, loser,’ Tansy replied, but she was stifling a grin just the same.
Cathy chewed on a mouthful of turkey. ‘Tansy, this might be about the best turkey I’ve ever had.’
‘Really?’ Tansy looked doubtful.
‘Really. You should have more confidence in your abilities – you’re a natural cook.’
‘I thought you said anyone could cook,’ Matthias said.
‘Yes, anyone can cook, but it’s like art or music. Anyone can learn it, but some people have a gift that lifts them above everyone else.’