amusement. ‘I intend to stay on the right side of her from now on.’
By the time Daniel made his way back to the waffle shack for the delivery that afternoon, pleased he’d cleared the air with two more of the Cove’s residents, he wondered if he was right to feel so comfortable here in the village already.
He had a horrible feeling Harvey might be the one to make things so difficult for him he’d wish he’d never come back.
Chapter Six
Lucy dried her eyes and made her way to the front of the chapel and the row of candles lined up before the altar. She lifted a long match, used an already burning flame to light it and held it on the wick of a fresh candle. For Joanna. It was something she always did at this time of the year, bittersweet as she remembered the good times they’d had, the closeness they’d shared. Joanna had always loved to sing carols, attend a Christmas service, and so since then Lucy had made sure she did the same.
Lucy sat down again to enjoy the choir’s practice. It was less than two weeks to go until Christmas and this sound was a magical part of December in the village Lucy had all but fallen in love with. A choirmaster stood in front of the group conducting some twenty singers and as their sounds, accompanied by the organist, filled the small space, the sopranos’ voices rang out with ‘O Holy Night’. It was one of Lucy’s favourite carols – as though they’d specially chosen it for her. The next, a tune she wasn’t quite so familiar with that was delivered in a rich baritone, fell over her like velvet. She’d always found the magic of Christmas multiplied tenfold with a choir and tonight this local group of singers had well and truly lived up to expectations, and when they began to sing ‘Silent Night’ she had to cover her mouth to stop laughter from escaping at the memory of Joanna lying at the end of her bed after they’d been out to a pub on Christmas Eve, belting out the song at the top of her voice while all Lucy wanted to do was go to sleep. Her cousin had eventually crept back to her own room under the wine-fuelled impression she may have sung Lucy to sleep, and Lucy had got her own back by flinging open Joanna’s door the next morning and belting out her own rendition of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’.
As the choir voices filled the chapel and wrapped around her, Lucy thought back to how supportive Joanna had been of her dream to become a female blacksmith. The teachers had looked at her as though she was loopy, her parents’ frowns suggested maybe she ought to think of something different, but Joanna had insisted she never give up on the idea. She’d be so happy if she could see her now, see the work she did with her own business, and Lucy knew she’d have backed her cousin all the way in her quest to become a singer. She had talent for sure and although she’d not shared her dreams with many, Lucy knew them. She wanted to take singing lessons, audition for the West End, travel the world.
But she hadn’t got to do any of that. All Joanna had got was twenty years – twenty birthdays, twenty Christmases, twenty New Year’s Eves – before she was cruelly taken away.
Lucy pushed her tissue back into her pocket after blowing her nose and nodded a thank you to the choirmaster when he spotted her get up to leave. She buttoned her coat and stepped out of the chapel into the freezing wintry air. There’d been hailstones this morning; Lucy had been woken by them and watched out of the window as they bounced off the tarmac of The Street, pelted the roof of the inn on the corner as you arrived in the Cove from one direction, danced on the pavements outside the tea rooms and the bakery. They were mesmerising to watch, but by mid-morning the hail had given way to shivering rain and bleak skies and now only a gentle wind and the winter cold remained.
Lucy wished it would snow. Tracy, who ran the Heritage Inn, had lived here all her life and when Lucy went to one of her book-club meetings Tracy had shown her photographs of Heritage Cove blanketed in white like a perfect scene