Page 99 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘I bet it was bored teenagers.’ Dexter shook his head. ‘God, I sound like an old person.’
Imogen laughed and threaded her fingers through his. ‘It was Valerie and Frank,’ Lucy said, matter-of-factly.
Nobody replied immediately, and the only sound in the snowdrift-thickened world was the gentle patter of water droplets hitting leaves.
‘It was not,’ Imogen said eventually. ‘Was it really?’
‘There’s no way,’ Dexter added. ‘Those two, tearing around the village and removing all the mistletoe? Frank’s got a dodgy hip.’
‘Frank has anewhip,’ Lucy said. ‘And I heard them, atthe Snow Show. Valerie was moaning that there was a whole load more mistletoe. She said it was bad for dogs and it shouldn’t have been cut down in the first place, and that everyone was stupid but she was too busy to take it all down again. And thenFranksaid she couldn’t anyway, that most of it was in the manor, and she’d never get away with it because Harry could be really scary when he wanted to be, and his dogs were called Darkness and Terror, which was obviously a threat.’
Birdie chortled. ‘She has a lot of fire, that Valerie.’
‘Nobody tell her about Just Stop Oil, or she’ll go and chuck soup at priceless paintings.’ Dexter shook his head. ‘Well, I’m not going to let them stop me,’ Imogen said. ‘Once Christmas is done, we should come up with some winter wreath designs for January and February, go on another foraging trip. And spring flowers will be lovely in March and April. Lots of people have wreaths all year round, and Mistingham is surrounded by so much beautiful countryside, there are endless resources.’
‘You’ll find enough in my garden,’ Birdie said. ‘You know, I couldn’t be prouder to have you as my granddaughter.’
‘She’ll be showing you her spell book next,’ Dexter said. ‘Lucy’s already an enthusiastic apprentice.’
Birdie rubbed her hands together. ‘The coven is finally getting stronger.’
‘Save us all,’ Dexter murmured, and Imogen grinned up at him.
Sophie and Harry greeted them at the front door, enveloping them in hugs and leading them into the large kitchen where May was already waiting. The room was bright, with thelarge windows showing off the wintry view, and the smells of frying bacon and roasting turkey mingled in the air, Christmas carols playing low in the background.
Fiona and Ermin were peeling potatoes, and Jazz was stirring a large saucepan of mulled wine. Birdie put her vegetables on the counter, and while Sophie went back to her pancake batter, Imogen and Dexter helped prepare the Brussels sprouts.
‘Where’s Felix?’ Lucy asked, as Artichoke joined Darkness, Terror, Poppet and Clifton on the rug.
‘He’s in his pen,’ Harry said. ‘He gets limited time in the house because of his tendency to destroy everything. We’ve already had to move the mistletoe higher up, because he stood on his hind legs and tried to nibble it.’
‘Sorry about that,’ Dexter said with a grin.
Harry shook his head, his eyes bright. ‘If we could predict all the ways Felix would find to be mischievous, we’d be world goat experts.’
‘Tell them what you told us about the mistletoe theft, Lucy,’ Birdie said.
Lucy stood on the rug and waited until everyone’s attention was on her, then repeated what she’d overheard. When she’d finished, the room descended into incredulous laughter and speculation, and by the time the vegetables were prepared and the pancakes were ready to go, they’d turned Valerie and Frank into a Norfolk-based Batman and Robin, cancelling out the errors of other residents with their stealth attacks.
‘I need to get them on the events planning team,’ Ermin said.
‘I’m never going to be so careless about online orderingagain.’ Harry rubbed a hand down his face. ‘Who knows what other causes they feel strongly about?’
‘Maybe they’d like the bookshop to reopen,’ Fiona said pointedly, and Harry tipped his head back and groaned. It reminded Imogen of a conversation she wanted to have, so she sidled up to May, who was pressing sausage meat stuffing onto a baking tray.
‘Happy Christmas,’ she said.
May looked up. ‘Happy Christmas, Imogen. I’m so glad that you and Dexter sorted things out.’
‘Me too. I can’t believe that this is my life, now. With Dexter and Lucy, getting to know Gran again, helping out with the community hub.’ She shook her head. ‘Jazz says I can keep doing the Story Time sessions with her, too.’
‘And after the success of the Snow Show, I’m sure Fiona and Ermin will be putting more drama into the events programme for next year.’
‘Great.’ Imogen got distracted, her heart thumping erratically as she watched Dexter and Lucy make Yorkshire pudding batter, Lucy throwing flour into her dad’s hair, Dexter smudging batter onto his daughter’s cheek. She was a part of that, now, and after playing a role for so many years, none of it felt fake: she didn’t have to pretend to fit someone else’s mould. Dexter and Lucy wanted her for who she was, weird foraging demands and all. ‘I could get involved in more plays,’ she said to May. ‘And I wanted to thank you.’
‘Me?’ May pressed a hand to her chest, and Imogen knew – she justknew –that here was someone who kept a lot of herself hidden: who put a persona out into the world that was only a fraction of who she really was.
‘You’ve been so supportive, so encouraging since I’ve been here,’ Imogen said carefully. ‘But there’s one specific thing.’
