‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ Karen said. ‘Are you drinking wine?’
Emily smiled. ‘I’m on my second glass.’
‘Good. I could do with a natter. David and his family are watching Polar Express for the nineteenth time, so you’ve given me a good excuse to sneak out to the kitchen and slug a couple of glasses of expensive port. How’s it going down there?’
‘I’m about to start a revolution.’
‘Huh. Going all Che Guevara on me are you?’
‘Perhaps not that intense. I’ve decided that Cottonwood will go to the Christmas Ball, one way or another. Moody hot Scrooges be damned.’
‘Wow, that must be exciting. A bit more than getting drunk and fat and watching Christmas telly.’
‘I thought you liked it over at David’s? You can come down and be my chief of staff if you like. I’ll need someone to drive the bulldozer when we block the tyrant’s driveway.’
‘Sounds like fun. Where on earth did you find a bulldozer?’
‘It’s just a rough idea. That or trapping him with a mile of tinsel tied around the outside of his house.’
‘You’re a devil. No stocking presents for you, I imagine.’
‘I’ll take the trade.’
They turned to more trivial matters for a while before Karen made her excuses and they said goodnight. Emily curled up on the sofa with a third glass of wine, reading a Stephen King while the fire crackled in the hearth and a CD of Christmas songs performed by a classical orchestra played quietly in the background. On the coffee table lay a list Alan had given her, twenty-five names and addresses of local people who would most likely join their resistance against Trower and his Christmas-avoidance. She had tried drafting a note explaining her cause, but figured it would be far easier just to get up early and do some door-knocking. That had been another of Elaine’s philosophies: that the best persuasion was done face to face. Emily had spent many a long afternoon wandering around local villages knocking on doors and handing out discount coupons. With the exception of the hillier places it had been a pleasant enough experience, and the relentless custom Elaine’s teahouse had experienced was testament to her theory’s worth.
It was just after ten o’clock. Exhausted, Emily swallowed the last of her wine and prepared to go up to bed. She had one foot on the bottom stair when a knock came on the door.
Who could be visiting at this time of night? Emily felt a little spooked, and considered just ignoring the visitor. However, the person would see her lights were still on.
‘Who is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s me. Nathan.’
Of course. The most socially awkward person she had met in Cottonwood so far. Who else would show up at such an inappropriate time of night?’
‘What do you want?’
‘Can I come in?’
Emily had a sudden pang of realisation that she hadn’t yet turned off the lights of her Christmas tree. Nor would the solar lights in the garden—which usually lasted until around midnight—have gone out yet. He might be the owner of the property, but as a tenant she had rights. Just in case, she pulled up the local police’s phone number and had it ready in case he caused trouble.
She opened the door.
Nathan stood there, tall and imposing. Snowflakes flecked his dark hair and slowly melted into the fabric on his jacket’s shoulders. Before even looking at Emily, he peered past her into the hall, his eyes fearful of what horrific image of Christmas he might see.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
He looked at her, eyes focusing. ‘I … ah, came to say I was sorry about earlier today. I’m afraid I don’t have many visitors, and certain … things … upset me a little. I hope I wasn’t too … demonic.’
The submission in his voice allowed Emily to take the upper hand. ‘You certainly don’t know how to appreciate people’s efforts,’ she said. Then, with a smile, she added, ‘But it’s Christmas, so I’ll forgive you.’
‘Yes, it’s Christmas,’ Nathan echoed, again looking elsewhere.
‘I gave your cake to someone else,’ Emily said, as though the knowledge of what he’d lost out on might drive a knife of guilt into his heart.
‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘I’m not much of a cake person.’
Emily shrugged. Nathan stood awkwardly for a moment, still peering into the hall. The seconds ticked past without either speaking. Nathan, as always, was remarkably easy on the eye, but Emily felt invisible as the walls and skirting boards took up all of his attention.
‘Was there something else?’ she said at last. ‘I was about to go to bed.’
Nathan looked at her. ‘Yes, actually. The reason I called … the council contacted me earlier. They’ve detected a leaking water pipe and need to do some excavations to locate it.’
‘Oh? Where?’
‘In the plot to the rear of this property. The back garden. They’ll be here at nine a.m. tomorrow. I’m afraid you’ll need to remove all your … decorations in order for them to get to the garden.’
Emily stared at him. Was this another deliberate ploy to stop her celebrating Christmas? Not to mention how would he even know about the illuminations in the garden unless he’d been in the house or been spying on her?
Right now, though, she was too tired to argue.
‘Okay, fine. I’ll do it in the morning.’
‘Thank you. They’ll appreciate your assistance. Just to be warned, they’ll be noisy and it might take a few days, they said. If you wished to leave early I would be prepared to refund your entire stay.’
There was the crux of it. He wanted her gone.
Emily shook her head. ‘It’s fine,’ she said, meeting his stare and holding it. ‘I’m having far too much of a good time here in Cottonwood. I’m sure a little noise won’t bother me.’
Nathan lifted an eyebrow. Even after everything, part of Emily didn’t want him to leave.
‘Well, okay then. I just thought I should warn you.’
With that, he let himself out.
After he was gone, Emily stared at the closed door, slowly shaking her head.