Julia Williams - A Merry Little Christmas

AVON

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright © Julia Williams 2012

Julia Williams asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN-13: 9781847560896

Ebook Edition © October 2012 ISBN: 9780007443253

Version: 2015-07-28

For my gorgeous girls: Katie, Alex, Christine and Steph And in loving memory of Rosemarie Williams

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Part One: Let Your Heart Be Light

January

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

February

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

March

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Part Two: If the Fates Allow

April

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

May

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

June

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Part Three: We Will Be Together

July

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

August

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

September

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Part Four: A Merry Little Christmas

October

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

November

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

December

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

By the same author

Read on for an extract from Last Christmas

Prologue

Part One: I Gave You My Heart

Last Year

December 22

About the Publisher

The last rays of a winter’s sunset sent streaks of orange and pink across the white fields. Dusk was settling as a motorbike roared its way through the snowy countryside. Large groups of birds took to the air as it sped past, and flocks of sheep ran wildly round in circles. The sound of the engine echoed down the country lanes, disturbing the chilly peace. The leather-clad rider wore a black jacket with a flaming sword emblazoned on his back which, along with his gold and orange helmet, made him resemble a modern day knight. As the rider stopped at the top of the hill overlooking Hope Christmas, he took off his helmet and stared down into the town. The Christmas lights were still twinkling in the High Street. The lamps from the houses down below gave the place a cosy homely feel, as if the whole town were drawing a collective sigh.

The rider flexed his hands, and smiled; the words, Dux , on one set of knuckles and Michael on the other, just visible underneath his fingerless gloves. He was good looking, with a dark complexion, devastating cheekbones, curly dark hair which tickled the collar of his jacket, and piercing blue eyes.

‘So Hope Christmas, long time no see,’ he muttered. ‘Uncle Ralph was right, it’s a beautiful little place. I shall look forward to renewing my acquaintance with you.’

He put his helmet back on, revved the engine, and roared down the road and into town, noting the quaint little shops; the antiques market, flower stall, the bookshop and market square where a Christmas tree stood proudly in the centre. The town was deserted, with only one or two brave souls prepared to come out on such a cold night. One of them, a pensioner tootling along on a mobile buggy, stopped to say hello.

‘Well, Michael Nicholas, as I live and breathe. Your uncle said you might be coming. It’s good to see you after all these years.’

‘And you, Miss Woods,’ Michael smiled a devilishly handsome smile. ‘It’s been far too long.’

‘Will you be staying a while?’ she asked.

Michael looked around him. ‘That, I think depends on who needs me,’ he said.

‘I think you’ll find there’s always a need,’ said Miss Woods.

‘Then yes, I think I’ll be here a while,’ said Michael, his smile crinkling up to his blue eyes.

‘I look forward to it,’ said Miss Woods. ‘Happy Christmas.’

‘And to you,’ said Michael, before climbing back on his bike and speeding off to Hopesay Manor.

It was good to be back.

Cat Tinsall unwound the fairy lights from her suddenly bereft Christmas tree, then carefully placed them in the Santa sack which was bulging with the rest of the Christmas decorations. She sat back on her heels and looked out of the large patio door onto her frozen garden, where a lonely looking robin pecked at the crumbs on the bird table. It was a grey cold day, the sort that sapped your soul in early January. She sighed and tried not to feel too bereft herself. Even the Shropshire hills (the view of which was one of the reasons they’d bought this old converted farmhouse when they’d moved up to Hope Christmas four years earlier) were shrouded in grey gloom.

Christmas, her favourite time of the year, was over once more. The bright shiny new year, which had beckoned so enticingly at Pippa’s New Year’s bash through a happy haze of mulled wine and champagne, now seemed less so; reality being grey and drab in comparison. Noel was already back at work, groaning as he’d left in the dark to look at a project the other side of Birmingham, where he’d be meeting Michael Nicholas, Ralph Nicholas’ nephew, for the first time. The kids were at school (Mel to mock-GCSEs for which Cat had seen no evidence of any revision over the holidays), and Cat herself had a pile of proofs to tackle for her new cookbook, Cat’s Country Kitchen . They’d been guiltily shoved aside in a pre-Christmas planning frenzy, but she knew she could ignore them no longer. She looked at the picture of herself on the front cover – thanks to the power of Photoshop, looking more glamorous and slimmer then she felt right now. No doubt it would add fuel to the tabloids’ ‘Top Kitchen Totty’ moniker that had haunted her since the launch of her first book, Cat’s Kitchen Secrets , three years earlier.

All in all it had been a good Christmas, Cat thought as she carried the Santa sack up the creaking stairs of their old country cottage, to put back up in the loft later. Even Mel’s moodiness had done little to put a spanner in the works. It was weird how a previously model daughter had morphed into the teenager from hell over the last year. From having once enjoyed a close relationship with her daughter, Cat felt constantly baffled by Mel now. Noel was always telling her she needed to relax and not force the issue so much, but she couldn’t help wanting to find out what was going on in her daughter’s head – while realising that the more she pushed, the further Mel retreated from her.