Christmas at the Farmhouse - Rebecca Boxall Page 0,20

room again wearing her best coat and matching hat.

‘I’m afraid I ought to go now,’ she said. ‘The coach is leaving at quarter to ten and I don’t want to be late.’

‘Have a lovely time, Mother.’

‘I’ll worry about you.’

‘You don’t need to. I’m just going to rest.’

‘Sleep tight, then,’ she said and, after tucking the sheets in tightly around me, she left. I heard the front door slam and breathed a sigh of relief. I jumped up out of bed and quickly started getting ready, wearing the red mini-dress again, with thick tights and my favourite shoes. I brushed my hair and tied it back, putting a red bow around my ponytail. I felt sick with nerves – I couldn’t quite believe I was doing something so rebellious – but I was alive with excitement. Alive was the best word to describe it, really, for most of the time my existence in Silverhurst could hardly be described as living.

I arrived at Mr Jenners’ house at five to ten and was about to knock on his door when a beautifully kept Austin 1100 pulled up. The driver looked just like Mr Jenners, but grumpier. He got out and looked at me.

‘You have to be joking!’

Then the big red front door opened and Mr Jenners appeared, looking very smart.

‘How old is she?’ the brother asked, his arms crossed.

‘She’s nearly seventeen. Just looks younger. Ah, here’s your friend,’ he said, nodding across the street. Penny was clattering along on her high heels, all dressed up in a geometric shift dress (no coat, despite the time of year!), her lips coated in frosted pink lipstick.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said to Mr Jenners’ brother. Reluctantly he took her proffered hand and shook it.

‘David,’ he said.

‘Hi Mr Jenners,’ Penny added, with a little wave at her former teacher. ‘So, are we all set?’

‘You said you had two women coming with us,’ David grumbled to Mr Jenners as the men climbed into the front, leaving us girls to make ourselves comfortable in the back.

‘Stop complaining,’ Mr Jenners replied. ‘This is going to be the most memorable day of our lives.’

David just shook his head, in an exasperated fashion, and started the engine. Penny and I chatted away for a bit, but within about half an hour I began to feel sick. I’ve always been a bad traveller and I think the excitement must have got to me as well.

‘I’m really sorry,’ I said. ‘But I feel a bit sick… please could you stop?’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ David said, looking daggers at Mr Jenners, but he pulled over two minutes later. I grabbed the door handle and hurled myself out of the car into the lay-by where I threw up on the gravel. Mortified, but feeling better, I returned to the car, where Penny gave me a clean handkerchief.

‘All done?’ asked David impatiently, but Mr Jenners gave me a sympathetic look.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I feel better now.’

‘You could have told me she gets travel sick,’ David muttered to Mr Jenners.

‘I didn’t know!’ he replied. I closed my eyes and slept the rest of the journey.

***

It wasn’t what I’d expected at all. When I woke up, I saw we were parked on a wide London street with tall, brick buildings on both sides.

‘We’re on Savile Row. That’s where they do their recordings,’ Mr Jenners explained, pointing across the road. ‘This roadie mate of David’s has told us they’re planning to make a recording up on the roof in half an hour’s time. The best place for us to watch is from the roof of the offices next door. We’re just waiting for David’s friend to meet us.’

I felt butterflies in my tummy and Penny and I grabbed each other’s hands in excitement, while Mr Jenners pointed out the window. ‘Is that him?’ he asked David, spotting a burly man exit the black front door.

‘That’s him,’ said David. He quickly got out of the car and greeted his friend, who was huge and bald and kept looking around shiftily as if he wasn’t meant to be doing this. Which he probably wasn’t. After a brief chat, David beckoned to us and we all scrambled out of the car.

‘Come with me!’ the burly man said in a London accent and we all followed him through the door next to the Beatles’ building and up a series of steep staircases until we reached a white door. ‘This leads to the roof. Once the office workers downstairs hear the noise, they’ll probably come