Christmas Every Day by Beth Moran

Author:Beth Moran [Moran, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

‘Wipe that look off your face!’ I hissed at Mannequin Diana as I caught her smirking at me through the open master-bedroom door. There was no way she could tell whether I’d been spinning an elaborate, detailed daydream about me pottering about upstairs while my lovely husband worked at the kitchen table, him calling up to offer me a cup of tea, leaning in for a kiss as he handed it to me, then getting caught up in the moment, putting the tea on the dressing table before he lowered me manfully yet tenderly to the bed…

‘Jenny, do you want tea?’ Mack called up the stairs. My face: virtually bubbling with molten embarrassment. Diana’s face: smug and suggestive at the same time. I spent about two minutes sticking my head out of the window to cool down before he appeared.

‘It’s a bit stuffy in here.’ Mack offered the tea. I backed away so far he had to lean forwards and stretch his arm out. ‘You must be boiling – your cheeks are pink.’

‘Yes,’ I mumbled. ‘My cheeks are pink because it’s stuffy.’

He turned around, leaning on the sill. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Tediously. How about you?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘So-so.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve distracted you.’

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘It’s not you.’ He opened his mouth as if to say more, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

‘That must be her,’ I said, while the tone of my voice said, Eek!

Mack led the way, swiping a golfing umbrella from the hallway as he did.

Brenda was way better than I expected. I decided then and there I flippin’ loved the police. She listened, carefully, wrote everything down, asked questions, nodded sympathetically and promised to keep me informed.

‘We’ll have a look for evidence of anyone hanging about in the forest. I’ll make some calls, see if any of the usual suspects aren’t where they’re supposed to be, and follow it up if I smell anything suspicious. We’ll have a patrol officer make themselves known the next few nights. That’s usually enough to deter any more funny business. My gut instinct? Kids messing about. I really don’t think you need to worry.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

I expected Mack to make a move once she’d left, but instead I found him rummaging in the fridge.

‘Do help yourself.’

He pulled back out, a pot of soup in his hand. ‘Do you mind? I didn’t have breakfast. Or lunch.’

‘Crap! Neither did I. Why didn’t you say something?’

‘I figured you didn’t have much of an appetite.’

My stomach, suddenly realising that, yes, today of all days it deserved a darn good lunch, made itself known. ‘I’ll heat the whole pot.’

A few minutes later, as we sat eating together, not at all like a married couple, and I wasn’t thinking at all about Mack’s wife, he put his spoon down and took a deep breath.

‘Do you think you’d be better off using an alternative form of transport, just for now?’

‘Like what?’ I took a moment for my brain to catch up with my ears.

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