LITMIR.BIZ

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I hope you don’t mind me prying, but are you okay?’

      ‘Oh dear,’ said Vera. ‘Is it that obvious? I’ve just heard that they want to close me down. It’s a government initiative, they say. We’re not profitable enough apparently. From the summer all postal services are to be moved to Ludlow.’

      ‘But that’s terrible!’ exclaimed Marianne. ‘How will all your old folk get their pensions?’

      Vera’s ‘old folk’ formed the core of her customers, and she protected their interests with the fierceness of a mother hen.

      ‘Exactly,’ replied Vera. ‘And what about the village as a whole? Along with the pub, the post office is the centre of our community. Without it we’ll be lost. But they say that with the building of the eco town, which is nearer to Ludlow, people won’t want to come here for their post, they’ll just get in their cars and drive instead.’

      ‘Very eco friendly,’ remarked Marianne. ‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Vera. ‘But I do know I’m not going down without a fight. Mr Edwards said I should start a campaign.’

      Vera blushed at the mention of Mr Edwards. It was not a very well kept secret in Hope Christmas that she nurtured feelings for the church organist but whether he was the only person in the village not to know, or whether he was too shy to approach her, so far Vera’s passion remained unrequited.

      ‘That’s a great idea,’ said Marianne.

      ‘Perhaps you could help?’

      ‘Oh, I’d love to,’ stammered Marianne. ‘But I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be here.’

      ‘Are you leaving us then?’ Vera looked disappointed and Marianne felt a pang that someone actually cared. Despite what had happened with Luke, she had started to put down roots here. Luke hadn’t been the only draw for coming to the country. From the moment Marianne had first come to Hope Christmas she’d fallen in love. The village, with its quaint high street with pretty little shops full of knickknacks and fabulous old-fashioned bookshop, its square complete with farmers’ market, and its tumbledown workers’ cottages was everything she’d hoped for from living in the country. The friendliness, the warmth of the school she taught in, the kids she taught—and Pippa, she would miss Pippa. And the longer she’d stayed the more she loved it. It would be hard to tear herself away.

      ‘Maybe,’ said Marianne, trying to sound vague. The post office wasn’t just the hub of the village, it was the main source of gossip. She didn’t really want the whole world to be discussing her business.

      Making a hurried excuse, Marianne rushed out of the shop, meaning to march straight to the post box and post her well-worn envelope.

      ‘Oh—’ Someone was coming in as she was coming out. And they got rather entangled.

      ‘Marianne, my dear, how lovely to see you.’

      Oh lord. Did Luke’s grandfather have to walk by just now? A reminder that getting out of Hope Christmas was going to be essential for her sanity if she was ever to get over Luke.

      ‘Er, hello.’ Marianne still hadn’t quite figured out how she should address her erstwhile grandfather-in-law—wasn’t he a lord or something?—and now they weren’t to be related by marriage, she felt even more awkward.

      ‘How are you, my dear?’ The kindness in Ralph Nicholas’ voice took her by surprise.

      ‘Not too bad, thanks,’ said Marianne.

      ‘If it’s any consolation, which I know it won’t be,’ Ralph continued, ‘I think my grandson is an utter fool for letting you go, and I’ve said so.’

      ‘Erm, thanks.’ Blimey. That was unexpected. Luke’s mum, who had always looked as though she were sucking lemons when she met Marianne, couldn’t have appeared more relieved by the turn of events if she’d tried.

      ‘I hope the actions of one Nicholas won’t be enough to drive you out of town,’ Ralph was continuing. ‘I think the school would struggle to replace such a talented teacher as you. I thought that you wanted to make a difference.’

      Now he’d touched a nerve. Marianne had got so fed up teaching in London schools where the class sizes had seemed impossibly large. Coming to teach in Hope Christmas village school had been a joy. For the first time in her teaching career she really felt she had the time to do the job she loved properly.

      ‘I did—I do,’ said Marianne. ‘Actually, I was thinking of moving on. I’ve got a job application to post.’

      ‘Pity,’ said Ralph. ‘I think you could do a lot of good in this village. Not least by helping poor Vera out. Still, if you’re determined to leave…’

      He looked at her so directly and clearly, she almost felt he was stripping her soul bare. Which was absurd as she barely knew him. But she felt her resolve crumble a little. She did like it here. Maybe she shouldn’t rush off home the minute something went wrong. That’s what her mum always expected her to do.

      As if mirroring her thoughts, Ralph added, ‘And don’t you think it would be better to face out the situation, rather than running away from it? After all, you’re not the one who’s done anything wrong.’

      He smiled at her and doffed his hat, before continuing into the post office and greeting Vera. ‘Ah, Vera, a packet of your finest Werther’s Originals if you please.’

      Marianne stared after him open mouthed. Perhaps Ralph was right. Perhaps she should stay. Help Vera with the campaign. Keep teaching the kids she loved. Pay Pippa back for being such a good friend. Show Luke what he was missing…

      She turned the envelope over once more, then crumpled it up and stuffed it back in her pocket. She still hadn’t quite made up her mind, but maybe Hope Christmas deserved another chance. And, maybe, so did she.

      ‘Cat, are you in?’ Noel walked through the door on Friday night and was met by an eerie silence. The hall light was on, but the rest of the house was dark. Odd. He didn’t recall Cat saying that the kids were doing anything tonight. Mind you, she was always accusing him of not paying any attention to their activities, so perhaps she had mentioned it and he’d forgotten.

      He went down the stairs to the basement kitchen, turning on lights as he went. The house was as quiet as the grave without the children. Much as the constant noise and chaos grated on him sometimes, it was better than this funereal silence. Where was everyone?

      There was a note on the kitchen table in Cat’s writing.

      Noel,

      I tried you on your mobile but it was switched off again. (Funny how such a simple sentence could bristle with so much hidden antagonism. Cat was always on at him to turn his mobile on, but he hated being in constant communication with the world, so turned it off unless forced not to. And, whenever he did ring, Cat always seemed to be engaged so he’d long given up trying.) Magda cut her finger chopping up vegetables—Noel’s eye was suddenly drawn to a pool of blood on the floor by the sink—so I’ve taken her to hospital.

       Mel on sleepover, Regina has everyone else. Back as soon as I can get away.

       Love Cat

       x

      Right. So now, instead of settling down with a well earned beer and a rerun of Top Gear on Dave, Noel was going to have to drag the kids away from Regina, their saintly and wonderful neighbour, probably feed them, put them to bed, then wait on his tod till Cat and Magda made it back from Homerton, which from their many experiences of family trips to Casualty could be anything up to several hours. He’d been looking forward to curling up with Cat on the sofa. Magda was normally out with her disreputable Russian boyfriend, Sergei, whom Noel darkly suspected was part of the Russian mafia. Bloody Magda. She ruined everything. Her life seemed to be one perpetual crisis—if

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