‘Really?’ said Freddie, his expression matching his wife’s.
‘The notes,’ said Brogan, quickly jumping in, hoping to direct Lucy’s thoughts away from any gossip she might have heard about her and Nick. It suddenly dawned on her that the village shop was the perfect place for little rumours to start, with locals using it as a place to catch up with one another. And though well meant, it didn’t take long for the little rumours to spread, growing bigger with each re-telling. ‘You know, the ones Nick and I have come to collect from you so we can start posting them through the letterboxes in the village and roundabout.’
Little Mary looked on, puzzled.
‘Ah, right, yes. I’ve actually got them right here.’ Lucy reached under the counter and lifted out a box. She pulled out one of the notes. ‘There, what do you think?’
‘Oh, you’ve done such a lovely job,’ said Brogan, her eyes alighting on the small piece of paper Lucy and Freddie had decorated to look festive and eye-catching. ‘It must’ve taken you both ages to get them all printed off and cut to size.’
‘It did take a while and meant a rather late bedtime, but we wanted to get them done for this morning; Christmas isn’t that far off if we’re wanting to get something organised,’ said Freddie.
‘So what exactly is it all about? What are you wanting to get organised for Christmas?’ asked Little Mary, peering at the note through her glasses.
Between them, Brogan and Nick, and Lucy and Freddie gave her an outline of Jimby’s suggestion from the meeting. Brogan noticed Little Mary’s face visibly brightening as she listened.
‘Oh, my, how lovely,’ said the older lady, her hand on her chest.
‘It just means that everyone will have the option of spending Christmas Day with someone, rather than being on their own,’ Lucy said.
‘Well, I have to say, that’s just typical of young Jimby Fairfax to come up with something like that. He’s always been such a thoughtful lad. And, it comes at a very good time for me, since I’ve only recently found out that I was going to be spending Christmas Day on my own. I can’t tell you how sad that made me feel – not that I’d let on if I hadn’t heard about this. My nephew and his family, who I usually spend it with, are off to Australia to be with his wife’s sister. Told me they’re going to be having their Christmas dinner on the beach. A barbecue! Can you believe that?’ she said with a chuckle, turning to Brogan. ‘Anyroad, lovey, where do I put my name down?’
Brogan’s heart squeezed at the thought of Little Mary feeling sad on Christmas Day. She caught Nick’s eye, and he pulled a sympathetic face; he’d been touched by it too.
‘We’ve got a book right here. We’re keeping a list of everyone interested and you’re top of the list, Little M,’ said Freddie, kindly.
‘Oh, how exciting!’ Little Mary beamed around at them all, sending a wave of happiness through Brogan.
Just then, the door opened, the bell jangling cheerily as Molly’s mum, Annie, stepped inside, a thick burnt orange scarf wrapped around her neck, a matching hat pulled over her dark wavy bob. With her large brown eyes, there was no mistaking the family resemblance between her and her daughter, not to mention Kitty and Jimby. ‘Crikey me, it’s perishing out there,’ she said with a shiver. She pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into her pockets before retrieving a shopping list from her bag then scooped up one of the wicker baskets that were stacked by the door.
After a chorus of ‘good mornings’, Freddie said, ‘You’re not wrong, Annie, and if the forecast is to be believed, it’s set to get even colder before the week’s out.’
‘Aye, so I hear.’ She turned her attention to Nick. ‘Hello there, you must be Nick, the new vet our Molly was telling me about.’ Annie gave him a friendly smile. She and her husband Jack lived in a barn conversion on land belonging to Withrin Hill Farm where Molly and her family lived.
‘Yes, that’s me,’ said Nick, smiling.
Brogan groaned inside as she wondered exactly what Molly had said to her mum.
‘Our Moll says you’re staying with Brogan for now ’til you get somewhere more permanent sorted. And I have to say, after hearing about that dodgy pair with the dark-grey van, I’m relieved to hear it; it wouldn’t do for a young lass to be on her own when there’s folks like that sneaking about the place. Jack and me saw them when we were heading down our lane yesterday. They’d pulled in and were looking over the dale with a pair of binoculars. Had a right shifty air about them, and most certainly didn’t strike me as birdwatchers.’
‘Ooh, I really don’t like it when this sort of thing happens. Thankfully, we don’t see that sort round here much, but when we do, they don’t half make their presence felt.’ Little Mary’s smile had fallen.
A spike of unease shot up Brogan’s spine. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen, though she kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to add to Little Mary’s concern.
‘I get the impression that everyone’s being extremely vigilant and keeping an eye out, reporting on local social media whenever they see anything out of the ordinary. If the pair are planning on doing something, then that should make it more difficult for them. Seems to me we’re keeping a step ahead,’ Nick said.
‘True,’ said Lucy.
Brogan couldn’t help but agree. There had been an increase in the reported sightings, with plenty of people taking photos, though no one had yet managed to capture a facial shot. She felt sure it was only a matter of time before someone did. Plus, PC Snaith was on it too, which was reassuring; he always took people’s concerns seriously.
‘Right then,’ said Annie. ‘I’d best get started with this shopping list. I’ve got a dozen mince pies to bake for my reading group this evening, and a lamb stew for Jack and me for dinner, and I’m short of ingredients for both.’ She waved her list at them as she shot off down the shop.
Brogan felt her gaze drawn to Lucy to see the shop owner wearing a look of mock horror. Brogan found herself having to stifle a giggle. Annie was a lovely lady, but she was infamous locally for her dreadful culinary “skills”, her reputation helped in no small part by Molly who regularly shared entertaining stories of the inedible meals she and her brother had to suffer growing up. ‘Honestly, it’s a wonder we weren’t seriously malnourished or didn’t have rickets since most of the muck she churned out ended up in the dogs – and even they’d been known to turn their noses up,’ Molly had said on more than one occasion. Most of the village had experience of Annie’s fruit scones from when she baked for the fund-raising coffee mornings that regularly took place in the village hall. They were known for being as hard as rock with a strong fishy aftertaste thanks to her liberal addition of bicarbonate of soda, but no one had the heart to tell her.
‘I suppose we’d best get started dishing out these notes,’ said Brogan, turning her attention to Nick.
‘I think we’d better had,’ he said.
‘And we’ll keep you informed of the Christmas Day details, Little Mary.’