Page 2 of Christmas Spirit
Georgie shivered, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his thin coat as a blast of wind whipped around him. He looked up at the sky. What had Julia said, about snow? There were a few clouds floating in the light grey sky, but that was all. Maybe she’d made it up. Georgie bit down on his lower lip. No, that wasn’t fair. For the second time in a few minutes he was being mean about Julia, when she was the last person at the Manor who deserved that.
Whether he liked it or not, he was going to be walking. Georgie groaned as he picked up his rucksack and settled it on his shoulders.
The quickest way to the train station, on the edge of the small country town, the small country town that wastwelve milesaway, was to go cross country. It would shave some time off but the sensible thing to do was to make his way to the main road, which wasn’t really much more than a country lane, but it was where there might be a chance of hitching a lift. Did people still hitch rides? He wasn’t sure but, the way his luck was going, if they did they wouldn’t be pickinghimup.
Georgie looked around at the staff car park. There were five or six other cars remaining, all of them being packed up by their owners. He had approached every single one, and every single one had knocked him back. It wasn’t even as though he was expecting a free ride. He was more than willing to contribute to the petrol, despite having very little money to spare. But nobody had been willing to help the kitchen boy. Christ, he felt like Cinderella.
Pulling his shoulders back and tilting his chin upwards, he was ready to go. He had his pride and he wasn’t willing to risk another rebuff. Twelve miles. It would take him over two hours, and his train was in three. He could do it, but he needed to make a move.
Looking up at the sky again, Georgie’s heart fell. Had the sky really darkened, and the clouds turned a deep and dirty yellow in the last few seconds?
“Julia…”
Seeing him laden down and the sky looking more threatening by the second, maybe she would relent…?
Julia ignored him, as she carried on her conversation with the Head Housekeeper. Georgie’s shoulders slumped under what he told himself was the weight of his rucksack. The one person at the Manor who had ever given him the time of day wasn’t doing that now.
“Happy Christmas,” he mumbled under his breath.
He turned away and with a heavy tread began to make his way towards the gates that would take him out of Pendleton Manor and on the long, cold trek to the station.
“Georgie! Georgie, wait.”
Relief burst in Georgie, warming deep in his chest. He’d gone no more than a few steps, and she had changed her mind, she’d made some room, she was going to give him a lift after all. He turned, a smile lifting his lips, but it fell when he saw who was standing behind her.
“Roland’s heading in your direction and he’s got plenty of spare room. He’s very happy to give you a lift.” Julia was beaming, but she was the only one who was.
Roland was happy to give him a lift? Not if that bad-tempered scowl was anything to go by, he wasn’t. But Roland wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy. No way was Georgie going to endure being stuck in a car with Roland Fletcher Jones, threatening snow or not threatening snow. And twelve miles? He’d walk fifty, or a hundred. Georgie didn’t care that the man looked like a model from a style magazine, or that he had the greenest eyes, or a wide kissable mouth, and a body he would drop to his knees for. Oh, no. None of that mattered, because the man was Pendleton Manor’s resident Head Bastard who had made Georgie’s life hell from his very first day, and everybody had followed his lead. The man was a kitchen God, and had put the Manor on the map, winning it untold accolades.
Roland Fletcher Jones, Executive Chef and Georgie’s boss.
Georgie cleared his throat. “It’s all right. I’m preparing for a triathlon, so the walk to the station is part of my training.”
Triathlon? He couldn’t ride a bike, had failed his ten metres swim at school, and got puffed out even thinking about running.
“No, you’re not, and no it isn’t.” Julia scowled at him. “Just a few minutes ago you were all but begging me for a lift to the station, which I really can’t give you. But Roland is more than willing to give you a lift. Aren’t you Roland?”
Julia smiled up at Roland. She may have been small and dinky, with a round, pale moon face and soft curls, but there was steel in her voice and hard determination in her eyes.
“Yes,” Roland said, through stiff lips.
“Problem solved,” Julia said, clapping her hands together, her smile triumphant. “Now, I really must get going. You have a very happy Christmas, Georgie, and I’ll see you again in a couple of weeks’ time. Here.” She rummaged in her handbag. “I’ve got you… just a little something…”
A present? For me?
Georgie’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given a Christmas present.
“Damnation. I must have left it in my room. I haven’t got time to go up and get it now, so you’ll have to wait until January. It really isn’t very much. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to unwrap on the big day.”
“Thank you,” Georgie muttered. “It was a lovely thought.”Isn’t very muchwas a hell of a lot more than the big pile of fuck all he’d have to open on Christmas morning.
“Right, I’m going.” Julia pulled him into a tight, short squeeze, before she planted a kiss on his cheek. A moment later her over-packed car was trundling down the driveway.
Taking a deep breath, Georgie turned to Roland.
The man was as stiff as a plank of wood and his scowl looked like it had been carved into a slab of granite. Pleased to give him a ride to the station? He looked like he’d be more pleased with a bee stuck up his bum.
“You’re not obliged to give me a lift. I’ll make my own way to the station.”
