Page 96 of Cooking Up a Christmas Storm
‘I blame John McKenzie,’ Jodie added. ‘For pretty much everything at the moment.’
‘He’s not here.’ Pavel wrapped her hand up in his. ‘You’ve got cold hands.’
‘I’m sure you can find somewhere warm to put them.’
He shot her a look that managed to combine ‘stop now’ with ‘you bet I can’. Something inside Jodie went a little bit wibbly.
The walk through the village was magical. Houses flicked their lights on as the group approached and finally the pub was lit up in sparkling cascades of white and gold, before they continued over the bridge and into the castle’s chapel, lit with candles and the walkers’ lanterns.
Jill led them singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’, ‘Silent Night’ and ‘The First Nowell’, before she invited Nina and the children and parents from toddler group up to sing ‘Away in a Manger’, which involved very little singing and a lot of waving at nanas in the congregation.
‘I think we have time for one more. And I hope you’ll indulge me with one of my favourites. Let’s close with “In the Bleak Midwinter”.’
As the first chords played Jodie felt something pricking at her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. No. Jodie was always overemotional. Gemma had said it was adorable, but even she’d pointed out, very sensibly, that most people would find it a bit much. Jodie had to be better at keeping it together.
The congregation around her flowed into song.In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan. The words were gentle and plaintive and the voices of the village, raised together, washed over her.
She wasn’t upset. The tears that were pricking at her eyes weren’t born out of sadness or anger or even joy. They were more like an over-spilling from a soul simply too full of emotion – every emotion. And she let the tears fall, and the words and the music wrapped around her. It was ridiculous. It was pure Jodie behaviour. Gemma would have play-punched her on the arm and told her to pull herself together.
Next to her she felt a hand brush against hers and then wrap her fingers in its grasp. She squeezed Pavel’s hand and leaned her head gently against his arm as the tears continued to flow.
Pavel didn’t crowd Gemma for the rest of the evening, but he did keep an eye on her. The last few days seemed to have unlocked an openness in her that he’d only glimpsed before, but that had brought a vulnerability with it. All her emotions were on the surface, raw and unguarded. Pavel had to find a way to protect her.
Before he could go back over to her he was accosted, or perhaps more accurately ambushed, by Anna, his mother’s friend Netty, and Flinty. ‘So what’s this with you and our Gemma?’ Flinty asked.
‘We’re going out.’
‘From what your mother said it sounds more like staying in,’ Anna suggested.
‘What did my mother say?’
‘She said you wereseeingone another.’
Pavel nodded. ‘Yeah. Well, we are.’
‘Did you break the Reverend’s heart?’ Flinty asked.
Jill was currently deep into her third mince pie chatting to Bella by the food table. ‘I think she’s fine. You can go and ask her though?’
‘We’re asking you.’
‘Right. Well, I think she’s fine.’
‘Can I keep the same hat?’ That was Netty.
‘What?’
‘Can I wear the wedding hat I bought for you and Jill for you and this Gemma?’
‘You bought a hat for me and Jill? We barely went on one date.’ Pavel looked to the other two women for moral support but none was forthcoming.
‘You don’t want Netty to waste a good hat, do you?’ Flinty asked.
Pavel shook his head.
‘It’s in poor taste though. How would you feel if you were the bride and you knew people had bought their outfits for his previous paramour?’ Anna folded her arms.
‘That’s my worry,’ Netty replied. ‘It’s like wearing his ex’s wedding dress.’
