‘Oh. Right. Well, I’ll probably see you later, then.’
‘You probably will. With a haircut.’ Alex grins as I hurry after Poppy.
On impulse, I call back, ‘There’s nothing wrong with beach hair,’ and he gives me an impressed thumbs-up as if he totally agrees.
I’ve been dreading meeting all the guests at the Log Fire Cabin. Having to talk to them and think of something interesting to say. But it feels a little less daunting now that I’ve met Jed’s friend, Alex.
It will be nice having a friendly face around the place …
Driving back along the road to the Log Fire Cabin, Poppy gives me a run-down of what I’ll be doing during my days here.
‘I really feel like I’m dumping you in at the deep end,’ she says, apologetically. ‘If it’s too much, just say so.’
‘No, honestly, it’s fine.’ The more hours I can spend at the Log Fire Cabin each day, the less time I’ll have to kick my heels at home, moping about Jackson, so I’ll get over him much faster. That’s the theory, anyway.
‘I haven’t spoiled your Christmas plans, I hope?’
I shake my head and explain about Mum and Dad going off on a cruise. ‘My flatmate, Flo, is away, too, with her family. They’re spending the festive season in New York.’
‘Ooh, lucky Flo!’
‘I know.’
‘So … I thought if you could make the desserts, I’ll concentrate on the main courses and we can do the starter together. How does that sound?’
‘Good,’ I say, as my stomach turns several somersaults in quick succession. Isn’t there a dessert called Eton Mess? That sounds right up my street.
As I park outside the house, I ask her how she first met Jed and her serious expression melts into a faraway smile.
‘He phoned me, thinking I was his brother’s girlfriend, Clemmy. He got the wrong number, you see. So he left a message inviting me – well, Clemmy – for Christmas. And, well, I phoned him back and told him he’d got the wrong number and we chatted …’ Her face is glowing just thinking about it.
‘So what happened?’
‘Well, I thought that was that. But there was something about his voice I really liked. And then I happened to be at the station when he was meeting Clemmy off the train.’
She shoots me a glance, her cheeks colouring up. ‘When I say I “happened” to be there, I actually went to the station deliberately. I suppose I was curious to see Jed in person. And it all sort of fell into place after that.’
‘Did you talk to him?’
‘Yes. He found out I was setting up my dinner party business and he just happened to need a caterer for over the Christmas holidays – so that was it!’
‘How romantic.’
She beams at me. ‘It was. I couldn’t quite believe it when we finally got together.’
‘And that was two years ago? And you’ve been together ever since?’
Her smile slips. ‘Two years, yes,’ she murmurs, almost as if she’s forgotten I’m there.
‘Do you live at the Log Fire Cabin with Jed?’
There’s a pause. Then she turns. ‘No, we don’t live together. I have my own flat in the village, although I stay over at Jed’s place once during the week. And most weekends.’
‘Lovely.’
She nods. ‘Of course it makes sense for me to stay here every night until the baking contract ends at Christmas. But after that, it’s back to my own place!’ She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
As we walk in the imposing entrance, with its modern, oak wood staircase rising up to the first-floor bedrooms, the man himself – Jed Turner – runs downstairs. Seeing Poppy, his handsome face spreads into a beaming smile.
‘Hey, you.’
‘Hey,’ she responds with a shy smile.
‘And you must be Roxy. I hope she’s treating you well?’
‘Oh, yes. Very well.’ I smile and we shake hands. Then he takes Poppy into a loose cuddle and plants a lingering kiss on top of her head.
She relaxes fully into his embrace for just a moment. Then she pulls away. ‘Right. We have two hundred gingerbread men to ice.’ She reaches up and plants a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘Let’s go, Roxy.’
She walks briskly along to the kitchen and I follow in her wake, turning back to smile at Jed. He’s standing there with his arms folded, staring after us, a pensive look on his face.
Icing gingerbread men turns out to be even more tricky than I’d imagined, and I need four tries – and much embarrassed laughter on my part and giggles on Poppy’s – before she deems me proficient enough to work on my own. I’m painfully aware that I’m slowing up the proceedings. But if Poppy is worried, she doesn’t show it. She just keeps making encouraging remarks and praises me to the skies when I finally get Santa’s red suit with white trim and black buttons almost perfect. He looks a little cross-eyed, but she doesn’t seem to mind about that.
‘Right, if we get these done by five, we can run through the recipe for the mince pies to get a head start for tomorrow. Then we can start on dinner. I’ve told them eight o’clock tonight because I knew we’d be working up to the wire.’
I nod, focusing on getting Santa’s pupils in the right place this time.
‘You’re very welcome to stay for dinner,’ she says suddenly, and I glance up. ‘You might as well. There’ll be plenty.’
She’s smiling encouragingly.
‘Oh, no. I really need to get back. But thank you.’ Flo will be desperate to know how today went!
‘Is there anything at all to read around here?’ says a voice.
We both turn to find a statuesque girl in her early twenties standing in the doorway, chewing gum in a rather bored fashion. She’s wearing a short, silky, pale lilac dress and skyscraper nude heels, and her hair flows down over her shoulders in sculpted honey-blonde curls.
‘I’m not being funny but is it always this tedious in the countryside?’ She crosses her arms and gazes around sulkily.
‘Oh, hi, Sophie,’ says Poppy. ‘Roxy, this is Sophie. She’s going out with Jed’s friend, Jack. Sophie, this is my new assistant, Roxy.’
I smile at Sophie. ‘Hi.’
She hitches her mouth up fractionally, flicks her eyes over me and continues chewing. ‘Well?’
‘Oh, books, yes,’ says Poppy. ‘If you go through to the study along the hall you’ll find a big bookshelf—’
‘I don’t mean books.’ She looks so horrified, I want to giggle.
Poppy raises her eyebrows questioningly.
‘Cosmo?’ snaps Sophie impatiently. ‘Harper’s Bazaar? Vogue?’
‘Ah, sorry, no. I’m afraid I don’t buy fashion magazines.’ She suddenly colours bright red and glances at me with a grimace that I don’t understand. ‘I mean, I do sometimes.’