Sue Moorcroft - The Little Village Christmas

Enjoying the peace, Alexia ran up to change her dusty clothes before embarking on weekend chores – doing laundry, humming gently to herself as she ironed, wondering, occasionally, whether Ben would get her number from Gabe.

As the hours went by with no sound from elsewhere in the house, she revised her opinion about Shane and Jodie. They must have got up and gone out before she came home, which was pretty hard-headed of them considering how drunk Jodie had looked the night before.

By the middle of the afternoon she was seated at her kitchen table, happily emailing Elton an update on The Angel.

I’ve allowed twelve weeks for the project from tomorrow, but there’s a time contingency built into that. IF everyone turns up when they say they will AND we hit no snags I’d like to complete the refurb in ten. I’ll keep you posted …

A sudden noise caused her to cock an ear towards the kitchen ceiling as what sounded like Jodie’s footsteps crossed between bedroom and bathroom. She must have been sleeping off her heavy night all along.

Alexia returned to her email.

… and also get my portfolio and website absolutely spot-on to include loads of pix of The Angel. Maybe that would be a good time to resume the conversation about involving me with your investor’s portfolio of properties?

Evidently Elton was online too, because his answer pinged into her inbox in minutes.

You know I’m waiting for you with open arms, woman. Just get your crap together and give me something I can show my investor!

Alexia had typed back – You’ll have to give me till Christmas to get The Angel up and running, then, hopefully, in the New Year – as Jodie trailed into the kitchen wrapped in a past-its-best blue-striped bathrobe. Flopping down at the table she propped her head in her hands. ‘Bleurgh,’ she groaned piteously. ‘Have you seen Shane?’

Regarding her friend’s waxy pallor with sympathy, Alexia shook her head. ‘I assumed he’d be with you. He’s not working at The Angel today, is he?’

Jodie gave a tiny shrug, palms dragging her cheeks down. ‘Dunno. I’m dying, I feel horrible. Can you make me feel better?’

Sportingly, Alexia closed her laptop and picked up the kettle. ‘I’m surprised to see you quite so hungover. I know you had several beers but—’

‘I only had one beer!’ Jodie protested. ‘But it did go to my head. Shane had some lovely lemon stuff his auntie had brought him back from Sorrento and he said it would set me right. We took it up to bed.’

Alexia’s hand tightened on the tap. ‘ Limoncello ?’ Seriously? Shane had poured liqueur down Jodie when she was already drunk? His brain must have begun to rust from spending too much time outdoors.

‘Yes, that was it. I loved the limoncello,’ Jodie added, fairly. ‘But it didn’t make me better. I started to be sick so Shane got me a bucket.’

‘And cleared off? ’ Alexia felt anger bubble up that Shane wasn’t responsible enough to stay and ensure his girlfriend was OK when he’d quite obviously encouraged her to get drunk. What kind of shitty boyfriend did that? She set a mug of coffee before Jodie. ‘Don’t you mind that he didn’t stick around?’

Groaning, Jodie slowly collapsed until her arms pillowed her head. ‘He stayed till I went to sleep. Will you make me some toast?’

Deciding today wasn’t the day to demand the magic word, Alexia did so, scraping only the thinnest coat of butter across the warm surface so as not to upset Jodie’s stomach. She set the plate alongside the coffee beside Jodie’s head and settled back down to her work.

She’d just reread Elton’s email and decided she’d been right to step up her preparations for an exciting move down south when her phone began to burble.

‘ Urrghhhh ,’ groaned Jodie as if the noise had given her physical pain.

Alexia read the screen and answered, ‘Hi Gabe,’ scrolling to the foot of the email with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. She wondered suddenly whether Ben was with Gabe. He could easily have had plans with his uncle. The thought made her feel better about waking up alone this morning.

Gabe’s precise voice came loud in her ear, sounding puzzled. ‘I didn’t think there was any work going on today.’

Alexia clicked ‘reply’ on the email ready for when the call was over. ‘Is Shane at The Angel? Jodie was just wondering where he was.’

Jodie lifted her head from her arms, face already shaping itself into its ‘Jodie loves Shane’ expression.

‘No, Shane’s not here. But neither’s the roof.’

Alexia laughed. ‘Have you looked on top of the building?’

But humour was sadly lacking from Gabe’s voice. ‘The front of the building’s perfectly normal. But at the back? Fresh air where there used to be slates. If Shane has stripped the roof then why hasn’t he put a tarpaulin over the timbers? It’s already spitting with rain. We’ll have the damned place down around our ears with damp.’

Slowly, Alexia’s hand fell away from her laptop. Unless Gabe had been eating strange mushrooms, there was something going on. ‘There’s no reason for the slates to be stripped. The roof’s sound.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

Alexia’s unease grew. ‘I’d better come down to the site. Be there in five minutes.’

‘What’s up?’ Jodie managed to prop her chin on her hands as Alexia ended the call.

‘Gabe says the slates have gone off the rear aspect of the building.’

Jodie eased her head back down onto the table saying, ‘Can’t have,’ before once again closing her eyes.

After dragging on a jacket, Alexia strode along the uneven pavement to The Angel, casting about for an explanation that would account for Gabe’s astounding revelation. Leaving Main Road, she broke into a jog along Cross Street, passing the row of cottages known as Rotten Row before turning in to Port Road where many of the village’s redbrick Victorians were grouped together as if the rest of the village wasn’t quite good enough for them.

Where Shane’s truck had been outside The Angel last night was now an empty space. Gabe paced up and down the drive, silver ponytail flirting with the breeze. With his usual smile absent there was more resemblance between him and Ben than Alexia had hitherto noticed.

Wordlessly, Gabe led her to the back of the building.

She didn’t have to go far down the overgrown garden to see the naked roof timbers and daylight where the slates should have butted up snugly to the bricks of the gable end. ‘What the hell?’

She gazed around the jungle of the garden. No sign of stacked slates. Nor were they tucked between the skips in front of the property.

Fishing out her keys she hurried towards the building. And jerked to a stop when she rounded the porch.

Gabe did exactly the same. ‘Where’s the door ?’

A long snake of fear began to uncoil itself in Alexia’s tummy. She ran through the gap where the door ought to have been, into the Bar Parlour and then the Public. Having checked every room downstairs with a mounting feeling of doom, she raced across the foyer and through the doorway to the stairs.

It seemed more like a mountain than a staircase but she made it up to what had once been the living quarters of the pub, darting from bedrooms to bathroom to sitting room. When she could no longer dispute the evidence of her eyes she ground to a halt. Over the pounding of her heart she could hear the slates at the front of the building shifting uneasily as the wind prodded their unprotected undersides.

The noise receded and then flooded sharply back, mixing with the sound of men’s voices floating up from downstairs. She held her breath, hoping to hear Shane explaining why he was busy with unplanned work.