‘Poppy? The very woman behind Diner Might?’ He smiles, looking amazed. As in, What are the chances of us meeting like this?
I groan inwardly.
Honestly, Jed Turner, you have no idea!
‘Er, yes, that’s me.’ My brain is still trying to catch up. This must be him. He certainly sounds like Jed. And he obviously recognised my voice.
But why, then, did Clemmy practically dive on the other man with such enthusiasm? And who is the other man?
‘So not Pamela, then?’ He looks confused, as well he might.
I swallow. ‘Er, no. Well, yes, actually. It’s – erm – my middle name, which I sometimes use …’ I trail off, my face scorched with embarrassment.
‘Poppy Pamela,’ Jed murmurs, solemnly weighing it up. ‘Interesting.’
He grins at me, his eyes twinkling, and I have a terrible feeling he’s seen right through my pathetic attempt at hiding my identity from him. Oh God, he must realise I’m there to spy on him!
‘Anyway, it’s nice to meet the entrepreneur in person, whatever you want to call yourself.’ He holds out his hand.
Dazed, I offer up my paw and he envelops it in a cool, strong grip.
‘It’s Poppy,’ I tell him firmly. ‘Definitely Poppy.’
He nods. Then he glances behind him. ‘I’d introduce you to my brother, Ryan, but he seems to be occupied.’
We both look over at the man Clemmy was so pleased to see. He’s frowning into his mobile phone, deep in conversation, and Clemmy is standing nearby, looking a bit like a fish out of water, waiting for him to finish.
‘So that’s your brother?’ I murmur, gazing at Ryan with interest. There’s a definite likeness around the mouth, but in terms of colouring and stature, they’re very different. Ryan is blond, slim and medium-height, while his darker-haired brother, Jed, is much taller and rangier, with a powerful build.
Jed grins. ‘Ryan hates the countryside. It took all my powers of persuasion to get him to spend Christmas in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.’
‘It sounds heavenly to me.’
He studies me with a slightly bemused look on his face, as if he’s still trying to work out whether bumping into each other was by coincidence or design. ‘So, Poppy. How’s the throat now?’
Oh God, I’ve been forgetting to whisper!
‘Erm, well it’s …’ Gingerly, I ‘try out’ my voice. ‘Gosh, d’you know it actually seems a bit better now.’ Fire flames in my cheeks at being found out. But by the look on his face, he wasn’t in the least bit fooled anyway.
‘Good. Good. I’ve been trying to think of a name for your cooking enterprise.’
‘You have?’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty good, actually. You could call it ‘Cordon Blur’ with a logo of your van hurtling at top speed to the diner’s rescue. So fast, you’re just a blur?’
I open my eyes wide. Is he serious? He looks serious.
His lips twitch. ‘Only joking.’
Heather, who I’ve quite forgotten about, clears her throat pointedly. I turn and she’s waggling her eyebrows and making signs that she wants an introduction. I think of Leslie and decide she can dream on.
‘Anyway, nice to see you again, Heather.’ I beam. ‘But I’m afraid I really must dash.’
‘Oh. Well, cheerio, then.’ She looks none too pleased at being so abruptly dismissed. ‘Nice glasses!’ she calls back with a sneer.
Oh, shit! I’d forgotten I was wearing them. I’ve been vaguely assuming there was a thunderstorm brewing outside.
I whip them off and sneak a sideways glance at Jed.
‘Bad hangover?’ he remarks casually, as we head for the exit.
‘What? Oh, the glasses. Yes. Er, very bad.’
‘Celebrating after your successful night last Saturday?’
I smile at him, flattered he should have remembered. ‘Something like that.’
‘It’s a small world, isn’t it?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I mean, what an amazing coincidence that we should meet like this,’ he points out. ‘Were you seeing someone off on the train?’
I glance at him, uncertainly. I thought he’d rumbled me straight away. But perhaps he does, after all, think our meeting was entirely accidental. ‘Yes! I was seeing someone off …’
He looks at me interestedly, as if expecting more, so I swallow and cross my fingers behind my back. ‘Yes, it was my – erm – Great Aunt Lucinda, actually.’ I shrug. ‘She was staying for a few days.’
‘Did she travel far?’
‘Er, yes, Leeds. She – um – lives in Leeds. With her cocker spaniel. Called – erm –’ I glance around for inspiration. ‘Costa!’
He grins knowingly. ‘As in Costa Coffee?’
‘No.’ I adopt a haughty tone. ‘As in Costas. He’s Greek. The dog.’
I fumble in my handbag to hide my desperate blushes. Of course he knows I’m fibbing. And now I’ve just gone and made an even bigger plonker of myself.
‘Actually, I’m glad I bumped into you,’ Jed says smoothly, stopping at the entrance, presumably to wait for his friends to catch up. ‘I was going to phone you anyway.’
‘You were?’ I stare up at him, surprise at this mixed with relief that the subject of Costas the Greek dog appears to have been dropped from the agenda.
He nods. ‘I – um – find myself in a bit of a knotty predicament which I was hoping you might be able to help with. You see, I rashly agreed to host the family Christmas at my uncle’s holiday home, on the understanding that his caterers would be available to do the honours for us over the festive season.’
‘But that’s not going to happen?’ I ask, not quite sure I like where this is leading.
He shakes his head. ‘What I hadn’t banked on was Uncle Bob meeting a woman called Gloria during a business trip to Newcastle, and falling madly in love at first sight. And subsequently forgetting – in his lovesick delirium – to engage the caterers for the Christmas period.’ He grins. ‘They’re off to cook for a client in Barbados over the festive period and who can blame them?’
‘So you’re stuck with no one to cook for you?’ My heart is cantering about like a frisky thoroughbred. ‘And I’m guessing it’s impossible to engage a caterer this close to Christmas?’
He answers with a rueful nod.
‘Couldn’t you all just pitch in and do it yourselves?’
He laughs heartily at this by way of an answer, clutching his hand to his chest for emphasis.
‘Right.’ I nod understandingly.
Suddenly serious, he locks his green eyes onto mine. ‘I was actually going to ask if you’d consider doing it?’
For a moment, the world stands still. I’m staring up into the depths of Jed Turner’s intense gaze, feeling weirdly mesmerised. It must be the total shock I’m feeling at his sudden request. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
‘You don’t need to decide now,’ he says swiftly. ‘I realise you’ll have to talk it over with your other half because obviously cooking for us would mess with your own Christmas plans.’
I swallow and finally manage to speak. ‘Well, actually, Harrison – my, erm, boyfriend – is away for Christmas. At his mum’s in Spain.’
Jed nods. ‘Very nice. Lucky Harrison. But still, you shouldn’t agree to do it out of politeness. I will manage. If I have to.’ He pretends to wail into his coat sleeve, which I – and several passing women – find very funny. ‘Incidentally, the place we’re going to is called the Log Fire Cabin and it’s pretty special. Not that I’m trying to influence you in any way, shape or form.’
My heart revs up from a canter to a full-blown gallop. I can’t do it. Can I? Just the thought of it terrifies me. So why on earth am I giving him hope that I might say yes?
I take a deep breath. I’ll just say to him, ‘No, sorry. Now that I think about it, I’m all booked up this Christmas.’
But weirdly, my mouth seems to have other ideas because, instead, what comes out of it is far less decisive. ‘I might be able to help you out but I’ll have to check my diary. Can I let you know later on today?’
Jed’s face breaks into a warm smile that reveals beautifully even white teeth, and crinkles up his green eyes as he gazes at me with undisguised relief. This is a worry, to be truthful. Have I somehow implied that I’ll definitely do it?
My heart is banging, and excitement is whipping my poor brain into frenzied overdrive. My head might very well explode as a result, and it would probably serve me right (although I’m not sure what for). Perhaps I’m channelling my inner Erin: maybe that’s where this sudden bravery is coming from. How else to explain the sneaky desire I’m feeling to just say ‘yes’ to Jed Turner?
Of course, the fact that my cooking at Mrs Morelli’s was such a great success has boosted my confidence. I’ve proved I can do it – and do it surprisingly well – so why not spread my wings a little further? It’s such an amazing opportunity. I don’t even have to worry that I’ll be spoiling Harrison’s Christmas because he won’t even be here.
Then I think of Mum. I’ll be spending Christmas Day with her and the last thing I want to do is let her down. My brain whizzes round a bit more as I frantically work out the logistics. As long as I’m hired to cook only Christmas dinner on the big day, I’d still have plenty of time to spend at home with Mum. We could still open presents together in the morning, and then have our Christmas lunch, just the two of us, before I nipped off to cook the Log Fire Cabin Christmas dinner in the evening.
But what about Erin? I’ll need her help. What if she has plans with Mark that she can’t alter?
But she will help. Of course she will. She’s lovely and I’ll bribe her if necessary. A romantic weekend away for her and Mark in the New Year – if only she’ll be my right-hand woman!
We’ve stopped by the station entrance, waiting for Ryan to finish his phone conversation and come over with Clemmy.
I smile shyly up at Jed, who’s looking incredibly relieved. It seems faintly odd that a big man like him – he’s well over six feet with a powerful body and an equally powerful presence – should be practically wiping the sweat off his brow at such a close shave, saved by me at the final hour from a near calamity on the cooking front! I can’t disappoint him now, can I?
‘So you’ll do it? If your diary’s clear?’ he asks.
I smile, feeling suddenly certain. ‘I will.’
‘That’s brilliant, Poppy.’
His voice is so smooth and velvety. Jed Turner could audition to be the host on a late-night radio show.
He gives me a lopsided grin. ‘I was trying to act cool about the situation. But the thought of all that cooking was making me want to head for the nearest airport, to be honest.’
‘So, is that all I’d be doing? Cooking on Christmas Day?’
His look turns apologetic. ‘Well, I’d hoped for a little more than that. The gang arrives on the twenty-second of December and they’ll be staying right through until the second of January.’
I gulp. That’s a lot of catering. ‘And I’d be cooking for how many?’
He narrows his eyes, thinking. ‘Me, Ryan, Clemmy, Uncle Bob, his new girlfriend Gloria plus her two teenage kids. That makes seven.’
‘And would you be wanting all meals?’
He looks at me thoughtfully. ‘That would depend on you, really. As I said, the last thing I want to do is screw up your Christmas. Perhaps just dinner each night?’
‘And maybe a cake for afternoon tea each day?’
‘Sounds perfect.’
‘Well, whatever you need, I’m sure I can manage. You’re the client.’ Jed Turner has no idea that underneath my calm exterior, I’m running round in circles going waaaaah!
Then another horrible thought crashes me back down to earth.
What about my waitressing duties at the hotel? They’d never give me time off so near to Christmas.
That’s that, then. I can’t do it. I shouldn’t have promised until I’d thought it through properly. There’s just something about Jed Turner that seems to make me act out of character. Yes, I’ll blame him. It’s definitely his fault.
I wonder if I could make dinner in between my shifts and get Erin to serve it in the evening?
But, even as I’m thinking this, I know it could never work. So many things could go wrong and I wouldn’t be there, at the Log Fire Cabin, to sort them out. It wouldn’t be fair on Erin to leave her with the nerve-racking task of making sure the food was presented well before getting it to the table. Oh God, what do I do?
Mimi will laugh in my face if I ask for time off this close to Christmas.
I’m going to have to beg. Not a pleasant thought. But I’m definitely a bit braver these days, so maybe I’ll just have to do it!
‘Are you okay?’ Jed frowns.
The panic must be showing on my face.
I paste on a smile. ‘Oh, yes. Just thinking hard. Planning menus in my head already!’
‘That’s the spirit!’ He grins. ‘And, between you and me, Uncle Bob is currently on the lookout for a talented, reliable caterer to cover business lunches at his architect’s firm.’
‘He is?’
Jed nods. ‘He’s not particularly impressed with the current lot.’
‘Gosh. Right.’
‘He’s a bit of a foodie, though, is Uncle Bob, so you might have to pull out all the stops to impress him.’
Me? Providing fancy business lunches for a man who’s a connoisseur of food? I almost laugh out loud at the very idea. My childhood stammer would return with a vengeance.
But instead, I give Jed a pert look. ‘I always pull out all the stops – even if I’m not trying to impress Uncle Bob!’
As soon as I’ve said it, I feel like biting my tongue off. I shouldn’t be cheeking a potential client, even if it was only meant as a joke. I don’t know what’s come over me.
But Jed gives me a disarmingly sheepish smile. ‘Sorry. Of course. I’m sure you do. And that’s why I’m asking you to save our Christmas.’ He puts his hands together and groans, ‘Please save our Christmas, Poppy! It’s the season of goodwill to all men, and I’m a man.’
Oh, you certainly are!
The thought that whizzes through my head is so unexpected, I actually feel myself blushing. I didn’t mean it in a sexual way. It’s just he is big and, standing next to him, with his broad shoulders and long, athletic-looking legs, I feel so very dainty by comparison. It’s an unusual sensation. I feel ultra-feminine, somehow.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be putting pressure on you to agree,’ Jed says, clearly misinterpreting my awkward silence and red face. ‘It’s not fair of me.’
I shake my head. ‘No, it’s fine. And actually, I’d love to cook for you. I’m just trying to work out the practicalities.’ I’d better not mention that I’m also working as a waitress because he might think I’m just an amateur. Oh God, and he’d be right!
Straightening up, I tell myself: I am a cook. And I’m a good one, too!
‘Listen, why don’t I take you over to see the Log Fire Cabin just now?’ Jed indicates the car park. ‘Then you can decide.’ He grins mischievously. ‘I’m hoping the charm of the place will make up your mind for you.’
‘Okay.’ I smile up at him, thinking: never mind the charm of the Log Fire Cabin! The man himself is doing a pretty good job of charming me!
I glance at my watch. Right now, Harrison will be settling himself into his plane seat (on the aisle because looking at clouds from above makes him feel sick). He’ll be buckling his belt and studying the safety leaflet, before settling down to read the book I gave him as a parting gift to take his mind off flying. It’s on the subject of mathematical probability, so he’s sure to be engrossed the whole flight.
I feel a sudden pang of sadness that I’m not sitting beside him, reading my own book and looking forward to enjoying the festivities together. We’ll have to make up for it next Christmas. But it will be strange without him, however busy I might turn out to be—
‘If you haven’t got time now …’ Jed is speaking, pulling me back to the present.
‘No, I have.’ I smile confidently at him, slipping into professional mode. ‘There’s no time like the present. Let’s do it!’
He leads me to his car, Ryan and Clemmy following a little way behind. Clemmy is chatting away happily, doing most of the talking, I notice. Jed opens the passenger door for me.
I hesitate. ‘Won’t Clemmy want to sit in the front?’ I don’t want to usurp her place.
He grins. ‘She won’t mind. She can chat up my brother in the back.’
‘Oh. Right.’ I slip into the seat and he closes the door for me then nips round and slides into the driver’s seat. His words strike me as being far too close to the truth for comfort. I glance at him anxiously. He obviously has no idea that Clemmy – the girl he’s decided that he wants to spend Christmas with – is clearly enamoured with Ryan.
As I fumble with the seat belt, Jed leans across to help me. His arm accidentally brushes my thigh and I have to stop myself leaping away, it feels so strange. I force myself to breathe slowly while he reaches round for the belt slot. His thick, chestnut hair is inches away and he smells gorgeous. The citrus, slightly peppery scent makes me feel sort of spacey and a bit light-headed.
‘Okay?’ he murmurs, clicking the seat belt in place, and I feel a flutter of breath on my neck that does very weird things to my insides.
I smile stiffly. ‘Great, thanks.’ It’s a relief when he’s back on his own side.
The back door opens and, when I turn, Clemmy’s getting in.
‘Do you mind scooting along?’ she asks with a radiant smile, and Ryan stops fumbling for the seatbelt, glances up at her, and moves to allow her in the same side.
‘This is cosy,’ she laughs.
Jed turns. ‘Poppy has almost agreed to cook for us over the holiday.’ He gives me a lazy smile and my heart does a little flip. ‘So, please be nice to her.’
‘Oh, fantastic!’ Clemmy’s obvious delight makes me even more determined to organise it somehow. She peers at me. ‘Poppy, is it? I thought you said Pamela.’
‘Middle name,’ says Jed, tipping me a sly wink, which I pretend I haven’t noticed.
‘Ah. Right.’ Thankfully, Clemmy seems satisfied by this half-explanation. ‘Well, anyway, Poppy, I was just saying to Ryan, the last time the three of us spent more than an evening together was on a family camping holiday in France when we were teenagers!’
‘Really?’ That must be the legendary holiday Jed mentioned in his phone message.
Jed laughs. ‘God, yes. La Rochelle. You were appalled at the unisex toilets, remember?’
Clemmy giggles. ‘I’d forgotten about that. I was a bit of a prude back then. You were really gentlemanly, Ryan. You used to go in and check the loos for men, to make sure the coast was clear for me. Do you remember?’
‘Did I?’ Ryan sounds vague.
‘Yes, you did,’ says Jed. ‘Clemmy, I seem to remember my football-mad kid brother used to duck out of knockabouts on the beach on the pretext of a sprained ankle, just so he could spend time with you.’ He grins slyly at his brother in the rearview mirror. ‘Ring any bells, Ryan?’
I turn and smile at Ryan and catch Clemmy digging him delightedly in the ribs.
Ryan looks awkward. ‘Did I? I don’t remember.’
There’s a brief, rather awkward silence.
Then Clemmy says, ‘So where is this place? I can’t wait to see it. The Log Fire Cabin! I adore the name. Doesn’t it conjure up the most wonderful Christmassy scenes? Of course, if your Uncle Bob designed it, it must be incredible!’
Jed grins at her in his mirror. ‘With some help from me, I’ll have you know.’
‘Oh, really? It was a joint project?’
He shakes his head. ‘I had nothing to do with the log cabin. That’s Uncle Bob’s baby. But I designed the summer house he added a few years later.’
I glance with interest at Jed. He’s an architect, too, then.
‘That’s some spacious summer house,’ remarks Ryan. ‘More like a studio flat.’
‘Yes, and that’s where you and I will likely be sleeping this holiday, I’m afraid.’ Jed grins and turns to me. ‘The cabin’s pretty spacious itself, but it only has four bedrooms, and we have seven people to accommodate.’
‘It sounds like a magical setting,’ says Clemmy. ‘Right on the lakeside.’
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. Right on the lakeside? Oh God, I think I know where the Log Fire Cabin might be. But a second later, I tell myself not to be so silly. It can’t possibly be there. I mean, what are the chances?
Ryan is silent in the back and Jed is concentrating on the road. Clemmy is chattering away about the friends she’s going to be visiting the next day in Easingwold, but I’m not really paying attention. The closer we get to the Log Fire Cabin, along roads that are bringing the memories flooding back, the more my insides are churning.
When we motor through the little village of Westbury Edge, then turn down a bumpy, potholed road that tests the car’s suspension to the limit, my fears are finally realised.
The road, not much more than a track, leads to Shimmer Glass Lake. And from memory, nestling on the southern shore is a pretty little whitewashed cottage that was once a B&B.
I sway from side to side, the bumpy track aggravating my slight nausea.
I last saw it eighteen years ago. Christmas at Shimmer Glass Lake was magical. Mum’s stubborn determination not to enjoy herself was the only thing to mar a perfect four days. I’d thought it was the start of a whole new chapter in my life. But as quickly as my hopes surged up, they crumbled away to dust.
Suddenly, I’m wishing I could change my mind and tell Jed to drive me back to my car, which is parked at the station. I have a sudden yearning to be away from this place and all the memories. I want to be at home with Harrison, going through our lovely familiar routine. But of course that’s not possible. Harrison will probably be flying over the English Channel by now.
‘Here we are,’ says Jed, and I suddenly realise we’ve turned off the track earlier than I expected, down a little dip into a spacious parking area, and the Log Fire Cabin is right there ahead of us.
It’s built from wood, but this is clearly no ordinary log cabin. Standing among the trees, it’s a large, modern structure with lots of tall windows to let in the light. A breathtakingly stylish piece of modern architecture. And yet it tones in so beautifully with the surrounding trees, it almost seems an integral part of the forest.
We get out of the car and Clemmy gives a little sigh of wonder. ‘Ooh, it’s gorgeous. I didn’t know what to expect when you said “log fire cabin”. I guess I was picturing something the three bears might live in. A bit rustic. But this is incredible.’
I nod. ‘I can just see it featured in a fancy homes magazine.’
‘I know. I can’t wait to see the log fire.’ Clemmy rubs her hands together. ‘It’s all so romantic!’
‘Glad you approve.’ Jed’s voice rumbles, right at my shoulder. ‘You okay, Ryan? You’re not saying much.’
‘Yeah, fine. I can think of more exciting places to spend Christmas, to be honest. I’m not exactly a fan of getting back to nature in the middle of nowhere. It’s far too quiet out here.’
Clemmy nudges him. ‘Don’t be such a grumpy guts, Ryan. You’ll love it once you settle in. And I’m sure the food will be spectacular if Poppy’s cooking for us.’ She beams at me. ‘Your throat seems a bit better.’
‘Er, much better, thanks,’ I assure her, deliberately avoiding Jed’s eye.
I love Clemmy already. She’s so warm and friendly and genuine.
Jed leads us through to a well-proportioned and deceptively spacious kitchen. A feeble winter sun has broken through the clouds and is filtering through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, which look down to the lake at the back of the house. Smart, shaker-style units and stainless-steel appliances are ranged along two sides of the room, and a cosy breakfast bar, with great views over the lake, effectively divides the space into a working kitchen area and a place for relaxing, with a squashy, cushion-strewn sofa and a coffee table.
It’s light and airy, with big glass patio doors by the sofa overlooking the lake, but at the same time it’s incredibly cosy with its lamps and subtle, under-unit lighting.
‘Wow. What a lovely space,’ I murmur, running my hand admiringly over the gorgeous grained wood of the island worktop, with copper pans suspended above it. ‘A cook could be very happy in here.’
Jed spins round. ‘Is that an actual commitment?’
I cock my head on one side, thinking, as everyone – even Ryan – looks at me expectantly. ‘Do you know what? I think it is.’
Clemmy gives a little cheer. ‘That’s fab, Poppy! I can’t wait to taste your food.’
Even Ryan raises a smile. ‘Thank God. You’d have all been in the shit if you were relying on my cooking skills. I make a mean full English, though.’
‘We’ll hold you to that, mate,’ grins Jed, switching on the kettle and opening cupboards.
My heart is racing. I can’t believe I’ve just agreed to cook for this family for twelve whole days! Only time will tell if grabbing the opportunity was the right thing to do. Or if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
But for now, it feels right, somehow, like an adventure. The start of something brand new.
Of course, the whole thing is far from straightforward. I feel a bit bad that I haven’t had a chance to talk it over with Harrison first. And I’m dreading having to ask Mimi for time off over the festive period. My next shift is tomorrow tonight, so I’ll sort it out then. My stomach turns over queasily at the thought.
Clemmy does a happy little twirl in front of the sparkling lake view and declares, ‘This is going to be the best Christmas ever!’
I push the thought of Mimi from my mind and smile to myself, hoping that maybe – just maybe – Clemmy might be right.