Page 28 of A Country Practice Christmas
‘Hey,’ Will said, putting his arm around her shoulders. (Also nice.) ‘What’s all this?’
‘I’m fine. Really. It’s just so sad, you know. People dying too soon. Other people—me, for instance—losing sight of the fact that every day alive is a gift.’
A kiss fell on her temple. (Very,verynice.) ‘You need a minute?’
‘No. It’s fine. I’m good,’ she said. What she meant was,I’m actually feeling quite vulnerable right now, but I’m okay with having you here to witness it.
She took a breath and rallied herself. ‘The big question now is how are we going to let Carol know that Joan didn’t steal her recipe? That the same one was passed down in two separate families?’
Kirsty had reappeared with a plate of biscuits. ‘Let me get this straight. Carol’s mother wrote the recipe out and posted it to her husband Bruce in New Guinea to give to Joan’s father, who wanted to pass it to his wife as a suggestion she might like to bake him a cake, too. That’s how it ended up in Joan’s family: a gift. Guys, you’re overthinking this. Just tell her.’
‘She’s been so upset, Kirsty,’ said Jodie. ‘Quiet. Moody. Totally unlike her usual self. What if she’s already pieced it all together? What if she’s embarrassed at the commotion she caused at Clarence Gardens and doesn’t know how to make things right?’
‘I can’t imagine Carol being embarrassed,’ said Kirsty. ‘About anything.’
‘Ordinarily I’d agree with you, but she has been looking a little frailer of late,’ Will said.
‘It’s such a lovely story, really,’ said Jodie. ‘Two young men sitting around a soldier’s cake tin in the jungle, talking about their families back home. Imagine what their two little girls would have been wearing. Joan and Carol in homemade dresses. Ribbons in their hair.’
Will chuckled. ‘Aren’t they both from farming families? I’m picturing mud pies and grubby feet, not ribbons and frills. But you’re right, this would be a lovely story, if only there wasn’t a cake war involved. A war which is going to be decided imminently. You know we’re only two days out from the Christmas Twilight Markets?’
Crap. If only she knew what was best.
‘What really upset Carol?’ Kirsty said. ‘Finding out Joan used her recipe? Or worry that her cake is going to come second place to Joan again this year?Losing?’
They were all silent.
‘Okay,’ said Jodie. ‘How about this for a plan: we wait to see the outcome of the competition. If Carol wins, she’ll be feeling all magnanimous and happy, and when we tell her what we’ve discovered she’ll find it easy to be magnanimous to Joan about the whole whose-recipe-is-it business.’
‘And if she loses?’ said Will.
‘We still tell her. But we hide the sugar bowls. And we’ll all be there to help with the fallout.’
Chapter 12
Later that night, the ginger cat appeared annoyed to have its stewardship of the pub’s garden interrupted when Will usurped its position in the hammock.
‘Sorry,’ he said, not actually sorry at all. ‘This is my thinking place.’ Especially now, when the pub was closed, and the only company was the stars overhead and the crickets and cicadas in the scrappy hedges.
The cat swished its tail, then jumped back up and settled in the crook of Will’s leg, its head resting on his now-almost-twinge-free thigh. After a minute, a purr started up.
Contentment, thought Will. It had seemed a worthy goal. Actually, it had seemed an unattainable goal for a while there. But now, to use the go-to sporting phrase that had been done to death but was actually a super great description for what was going on in his head: the goalposts had shifted.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. Late—very late—but still …
He found the contact and hit the green button to make the call.
‘Will? This better not be a butt dial, mate. How the hell are you?’
It was surprisingly great to hear Voula’s voice, and his guts didn’t clench up even one bit. A promising start. ‘It’s not a butt dial. I’ve been thinking about you since the magazine arrived. A stealth move, by the way.’
‘Well, you’ve been ghosting me so hard, I had to do something. Besides, our article is wonderful. You should be sharing in some of the recognition it’s getting.’
‘I’ve left psychology behind.’
‘I wish you hadn’t.’
Yeah, well, Will wished for a lot of things—like having been able to succeed with his last patient in the kids’ psych ward. Some wishes didn’t come true. As he thought it, a star shot across the heavens above him. Whether fate was trying to prove him right or wrong, he didn’t know.
