Just for Christmas - Emily Harvale Page 0,64
know that the cottage is the last place I want to be. Is everything okay? Xx’
A text pinged back almost immediately.
‘Sorry. I wouldn’t ask unless I had to. Please come, Molly. ASAP. Really urgent. I need you here.’
‘Okay. That’s weird,’ Sarah said. ‘Oh my God! You don’t think Bruce is some sort of maniac and that he’s kidnapped her and is holding her to ransom or something, do you?’
Molly raised her eyebrows, stared at her friend, and laughed.
‘No, Sarah. I don’t. And if he was, she would text her son, not us.’
‘Good point.’
‘It is a bit odd though,’ Terry added. ‘Why doesn’t she just tell you what’s wrong?’
‘I’ll ask her.’
Molly sent another text simply saying, ‘What’s wrong?’
A second later her phone rang and she saw it was Vicky calling.
‘For God’s sake, Molly! What do I have to do to get you here? I could be dying, sweetheart. If you care about me at all, come right now. I really, really need you here.’ And then she rang off.
Molly stared at Sarah and Terry in disbelief.
‘Well, that was really strange. Bloody hell. You don’t think Bruce has dumped her and she’s gone back to the bottle?’
Terry sighed. ‘That’s about as daft as Sarah’s suggestion. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you go to the cottage and find out what she wants?’ His voice dripped sarcasm.
‘Because, brother dear, that bloody cottage is not somewhere I want to be on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Five minutes wouldn’t hurt you, surely?’
‘Terry does have a point.’ Sarah looked thoughtful. ‘The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back and we can go to the pub.’
‘Or you could come with me.’
Sarah and Terry exchanged glances again.
‘We could do that,’ Terry said. ‘And I’m happy to, if it’ll put an end to this stupid conversation.’ He got up from his chair and walked towards the door. ‘Come on then.’
‘Right now?’ Sarah asked.
‘Isn’t it supposed to be an emergency?’ Terry rolled his eyes.
‘I wish you’d stop doing that,’ Molly said, grabbing her coat and bag and slipping her phone inside the front pocket. ‘Oh no. I’ve just thought of something. You don’t think something’s happened to Miracle, do you? And that’s why she wouldn’t tell me? Because that’s not the sort of news you break over the phone, and certainly not via text.’
‘Oh hell.’ Terry looked worried.
So did Sarah. ‘I truly hope not. Let’s go.’
Sarah grabbed her coat and all three of them rushed out into the snow.
‘I’ll drive,’ Terry said, getting in the driver’s seat.
A second later, they sped off towards Wishing Well Cottage.
Thirty-Two
‘At least we know the place hasn’t burnt down,’ Terry said, as they pulled up outside just a couple of minutes later.
The curtains were drawn tight, but a warm glow seeped through a few chinks in the material and a rainbow of colour reflected on the snow-covered front garden from the myriad fairy lights around the doors and windows.
‘That’s not very funny.’
Molly got out of the car, took a deep breath, and made her way gingerly across the snowy path, to the front door. Her thigh-high leather boots kept her warm in this weather, but the soles weren’t great for snowy conditions.
As she neared the door, she couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful wreath she and Chance had made. It was full of white-painted pine cones, white winter roses, silver glittery sprayed leaves and twigs, and tied in a soft-grey, sparkly ribbon to match the warm-grey paintwork.
She knocked on the door and rang the bell, just for good measure.
The door burst open and Vicky stood inside, arm in arm with a handsome, grey-haired man, who looked to be in his late sixties.
‘Hello, sweetheart. This is Bruce. Happy New Year’s Eve.’
What the hell was going on?
‘Hello, Molly,’ Bruce said. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s lovely to meet you.’
‘Er. Hi Bruce.’ Molly smiled at him and glanced around at Sarah and Terry who were walking up the path, and just a little way behind her. ‘It’s lovely to meet you too.’
Sarah and Terry looked as confused as she was.
‘Don’t stand out there in the cold,’ Vicky said. ‘Come inside and get warm.’
‘Er. Sorry Vicky. But what on earth is going on? I may be wrong, but I get the feeling there isn’t an emergency.’
‘Actually, there is.’
Molly recognised the voice immediately. It was Chance. He was here. He was in this cottage. Right now. And it was New Year’s Eve.
Holy crap!
Molly screwed up her eyes. Please, please don’t let this be happening.
Had Vicky arranged some sort