Page 50 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Well done that woman.’ Fiona gave Imogen an appraising look. ‘Refusing to inhabit your dramatic side is hardly the same as mistletoe sabotage, but I am genuinely pleased you’re getting involved.’
‘We’ve not started rehearsing yet,’ Imogen said. ‘It might be a total disaster. Not because of Dexter, but …’
‘Frank and Valerie are doing a music hall number,’ Jazzsaid. ‘I’m not sayingthat’llbe a disaster, but it’s certainly going to be interesting.’
‘The whole thing will be marvellous,’ Ermin said magnanimously. ‘I was worried we’d end up with a soggy, dispirited Oak Fest. It’s so generous of Mr and Mrs Anderly to let us take over the manor.’
‘Mr and Mrs Anderly!’ Fiona chortled. ‘Who would have forecastthat?’
‘Just about everyone, from the moment I arrived here,’ Jazz said. ‘I got to Mistingham last November,’ she told Imogen. ‘Sophie and Harry were hiding their true feelings behind a lorry-load of bickering, but it was pretty obvious they were falling for each other. Anyway, the Oak Fest went ahead but there was a proper winter storm – and a power cut.’
‘Yes, but that only lasted a few hours,’ Ermin said. ‘This is meant to be a week-long snowstorm. It’s good to change things up, anyway.’
‘It sounds dreamy,’ Imogen said. ‘The playsandthe snow. I’m glad I can be here for it.’ She flung another bundle of mistletoe into the back of Ermin’s van. ‘I need to do something else useful, though – aside from convincing the local baker to put his acting pants on.’
Dexter grinned at her, and she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.
‘What did you do for a job, in London?’ Jazz asked. ‘Or what do you still do, I guess?’
‘I’m a PA at my dad’s law firm.’
‘You’ve already been so helpful,’ May said. ‘And if youdidwant something to do, we’ve got the new community hub in the hotel. They moved the post office there when itwas going to be shut down a couple of years ago, and there’s a community kitchen now too – Winnie and Mary have gone all in. The hub’s for tourist information and general enquiries, with a couple of computers for silver surfers or job applications, people who want to access online courses. I’m sure they could do with some help covering it, and you’d be perfect.’
‘You really think they’ll want me? I’ve only been here a few weeks.’
‘They would bite your hand off,’ Fiona said. ‘Mary told me they’ve had people asking for help with Christmas shopping, and you’ve already proved how creative you are. And a lot of villagers already know you from your Story Time sessions. It’s a wonderful plan.’
‘OK,’ Imogen said. ‘I’ll speak to them. If I can help in the run-up to Christmas, then I will.’
‘Perfect,’ May said. ‘And look – it’s done. The green has been returned to its former glory, and the compost heap is going to be happy with all its new greenery.’
‘We’ve also come up with a job for Imogen,’ Fiona said, ‘and I made Dexter blush.’
‘I did not blush!’ Dexter ran a hand through his sodden curls.
‘You blushed when I implied your change of heart about performing had something to do with Imogen.’
‘Right guys, this impromptu clean-up session has been great, but I’ve left Luke on his own at the bakery and he’ll be rushed off his feet. I need to get back.’
‘Bye Dexter,’ Fiona said sweetly.
‘See you later.’ As he was leaving, he caught Imogen’s eye, and she was sure his smile kicked up a fraction.
‘Bye,’ she called, and after she’d watched him disappear around the corner, she realized everyone was looking at her. She would have to work extra hard on managing her Dexter crush, otherwise she was going to find herself in serious trouble – and she’d already caused enough of that to last her a lifetime.
Chapter Nineteen
If Imogen thought too hard about how close it was to Christmas, and how far away she was from everything that constituted her real life, then she might end up running back in the direction she’d come from just over a month ago, Birdie’s bright green coat in place of her wedding dress, which was hanging, like a spectre, in the wardrobe in her adopted bedroom. But when she thought aboutthat, she realized there wasn’t a lot of her London life that she was looking forward to returning to.
As she walked to Mistingham Manor, the sky a bright blue and the air so cold it was like needles against her skin, she busied herself listing the things she’d left behind that shedidcare about. There was Nikki, who she missed like crazy, who was able to cut through her worries and get to the truth; there were the mornings off she’d spent at the local library, reading to toddlers – except that they had finished months ago, when the library had been absorbed into one of the bigger ones and closed its doors.
Her job wasn’t awful, and she was good at it, but she wouldn’t say it was a passion, and now it was tied up with Edmund and her dad conspiring, things being chosen for her without her full knowledge or consent.
She reached the gates at the end of the manor’s long driveway. They were flung open, inviting her in. It was just after lunch, but the string lights from the wedding were still on, wound through the branches of the tall trees. At least they hadn’t been removed along with the mistletoe.
She imagined she was an actress, striding along a sweeping boulevard towards a film festival or a posh, exclusive dinner where her skills, the emotion she brought to each role, would be praised effusively. She would smile demurely, eyes dropping to the floor, and when she looked up he would be there, his curls tamed, but only slightly; his stubble dark, in defiance of the black tie event, his bowtie slightly wonky. He would smell of warm dough and—
‘Imogen!’
