Christmas under a Cranberry Sky Page 2

  The cold wind swirled around them, tiny snowflakes dancing in the air.

  Piper stopped as she noticed movement at the corner of the hotel. She glanced over and was surprised to see a small herd of Shetland ponies staring at her, the freezing wind blowing their manes like something from a shampoo commercial. They were so tiny they were comical, but their cold black eyes were almost sinister.

  ‘Oh they’re so cute. I didn’t realise they would have Shetland ponies here, bit silly really, given their name. Of course they come from here.’

  ‘They roam wild over the island, Miss Chesterfield. They might look cute, but these ones are quite savage.’

  Piper giggled. ‘Savage. They’re tiny ponies.’

  Stephen shook his head. ‘Normally the ponies are very docile, but this gang are quite wild. Leo is their ringleader – he is the gold one at the front. I think he thinks the island is his and he has been known to terrorise the villagers and most of the staff here.’

  ‘Does he bite?’

  ‘Not yet, just don’t give him the chance.’

  With a sinister whinny, Leo gave her an evil glare, tossed his head and turned round and walked away. The other ponies parted to let him through then followed him into the darkness.

  Piper stifled a giggle. It was hard to take the prospect of tiny savage ponies seriously.

  As Stephen opened the reception door, warmth reached out and seemed to pull them in. Stephen placed her bags by the sofa and went to talk to the receptionist. Piper blinked the snow out of her eyes and looked around.

  A log fire was burning away in a giant stone fireplace, warming any visitors who might come in, even though Piper was the only guest. It was reminiscent of a wooden ski lodge inside, with the wooden panelling, leather sofas and bright colourful rugs. The huge Christmas tree twinkled with white fairy lights and red and green tartan bows.

  Stephen returned a moment later with a young pretty blonde and a boy with brown curly hair. Both of them looked to be about seventeen years old.

  ‘This is Iris and Jake. Iris works on reception and Jake is our porter. The owner of the hotel wishes to welcome you to the resort himself so, if you’d like to take a seat, he won’t be a few minutes. And if there is anything you want to eat or drink you can let these guys know and they will get it for you. Would you like a hot chocolate or tea or coffee while you are waiting?’ Stephen asked.

  ‘A hot chocolate would be lovely.’

  Stephen nodded at Jake and he quickly disappeared through a door.

  ‘I hope your stay at Stardust Lake Hotel will be a very happy one,’ Stephen said.

  Piper smiled, excited to see everything and how it had changed. ‘Thank you, I hope so too.’

  Stephen smiled kindly at her, touched his hat and then stepped back outside into the cold and dark.

  It was getting late now and she was looking forward to climbing into a nice clean bed and going to sleep so she could see the full glory of the resort in the daylight. She hoped the owner wouldn’t be too long.

  Jake returned a minute later and handed her a tall glass of hot chocolate with cream on the top then went back behind the reception desk with Iris. They started talking quietly, but as there wasn’t any other noise in the reception, Piper couldn’t help but overhear what they were talking about.

  ‘Everyone is so worried about Thursday with all the journalists who are coming,’ Iris said.

  ‘And we still don’t know which of them is the dreaded Mr Black?’ Jake asked.

  Iris shook her head. ‘I suppose we are lucky enough that we know he’s coming; normally the hotels he visits never know he’s been until the review appears. You should see some of his reviews, so scathing. Hotels have closed after his visit.’

  That was interesting, another mystery guest was coming to the hotel, one who wasn’t as secretive as her and had clearly let slip where he was going next and Stardust Lake Hotel had been forewarned. But this man’s reviews seemed to hold a lot of weight. She couldn’t imagine any of her reviews holding so much significance in the travel industry that hotels would close because of her. There had been nothing positive about her stay at Silver Blossom Hall, and The Tree of Life magazine she worked for had a large readership, but she still couldn’t imagine so many people taking her review that much to heart that it would cause the hotel to close.

  ‘But he writes good reviews too, I’ve seen them,’ Jake said.

  ‘Yes he does, but his opinion is so powerful he can literally make or break a hotel with his reviews. We have to make sure that he leaves here with a good impression, we have to make sure all the journalists leave here having had the time of their lives. We get one chance at this.’

  ‘They will, everyone here will make sure of that. As long as the power comes back on before they all arrive.’

  A flicker of green caught Piper’s attention outside and she stood up. The island was well known for its great views of the Northern Lights, but with the cloudy skies she had witnessed on the drive over, she doubted she would get to see the wonder of it on her first night. With all her worldly travels over the years, she still hadn’t been lucky enough to catch this phenomenon. Hopefully she would see something of it during her stay.

  Another flash of green on the horizon lit up the night sky and as Jake and Iris were still talking, she grabbed her camera, shoved it in her pocket and slipped outside to take a look.

  The cold night air whipped around her, the snow still falling steadily, landing on her face as her feet sunk into the powdery blanket.

  Several large log cabins stood either side of a path that seemed to lead down the hill towards the green light. The cabins were in darkness, as were the lamps either side of the path. A casualty of the power cut no doubt. But although there were no lights, the white glow of the snow on the ground provided enough light for Piper to see where she was going. She looked back into the cosy reception where Jake and Iris had failed to notice she had gone. She pulled her hat tighter on her head and set off down the path to investigate the green glow that was coming through the trees.

  She pulled her camera out as she rounded the corner, wanting to capture some of the lodges almost silhouetted against the snow. But as she raised the camera to her face, she stopped. Dancing in the snow, her hands raised in the air as she tried to catch the snowflakes, was a little girl of about four years old, dressed only in a wispy blue Elsa dress. Her arms were bare, she had no shoes or socks on and she didn’t seem to care. Her black hair cascaded behind her as she twirled and spun around, giggling as the snowflakes landed on her skin. There was something so magical about the girl, so innocent and carefree. Piper fired off a couple of shots of her before realising the girl was completely alone.

  Piper ran forwards, pulling off her coat, and the girl spotted her, stopping her dancing to watch Piper with amusement.

  ‘You’ll get cold,’ the little girl warned.

  ‘I think you’re more at risk than I am,’ Piper said, wrapping the coat around the little girl and zipping her up, trapping her arms inside. She shoved the camera into one of the pockets and fastened it so it wouldn’t fall out. The coat came down to the girl’s ankles.

  The little girl laughed; she struggled for a moment or two and then fed her arms through the armholes, though she laughed again when her hands didn’t reach the end. Piper pulled her red gloves off her hands.

  ‘Here put your feet in these, your little toes will snap off if you don’t wear shoes in the snow.’

  The girl obviously thought the idea of wearing gloves on her feet was hilarious, but she obliged Piper and offered each foot up for Piper to pull on the gloves.

  Piper stood up for a moment to look at her efforts. The little girl looked down at herself too. She burst out laughing again.

  ‘I look like a penguin.’

  She did too – with Piper’s black winter jacket and her red gloves on her feet she looked exactly like a penguin. Piper couldn’t help but laugh too. She pulled her hat off and put that on the
little girl as well.

  She offered out her hand. ‘Let’s get you back indoors, shall we?’

  For the first time the girl seemed unsure. ‘I’m not supposed to talk to strangers or go anywhere with them.’

  ‘That’s very wise. I’m Piper, what’s your name?’

  ‘Wren.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Wren.’ Piper turned her outstretched hand into a handshake and Wren shook it formally. ‘See, now we aren’t strangers any more. Why don’t I take you back home?’

  Wren took her hand and led her along the path, but after a few moments it was quite obvious that Wren was struggling to walk in the thick snow with gloves on her feet and they were making very slow progress.

  ‘Shall I carry you, we might get there a bit quicker?’

  Wren offered her arms in the air and Piper swung her up and settled her on her hip.

  ‘Where’s your mum?’

  ‘Mummy’s dead,’ Wren said, calmly as if she was reporting on the weather.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘She died a very, very, very long time ago.’

  ‘Where’s your dad, then?’ Piper asked, praying he wasn’t also dead.

  ‘He’s busy.’

  ‘Well who’s looking after you?’

  ‘Boris, but he fell asleep.’

  ‘Well, can you point me in the direction of your house?’

  Wren thought for a moment and then pointed off down the hill and Piper followed the path in that direction.

  ‘You have beautiful hair,’ Wren said.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s like Elsa’s hair.’

  ‘I suppose it is a bit.’

  ‘Same colour. I wish I had hair like yours, blonde hair is much more interesting than black.’

  Piper wondered where she had heard that; she was too young to really appreciate the meaning of the saying ‘Blondes have more fun’.

  ‘I love your hair,’ Piper said, honestly. ‘It’s like black silk.’

  A memory jolted Piper but she quickly shoved it aside.

  ‘You have beautiful eyes too.’ Wren studied her carefully. ‘I’ve never seen eyes like that before. Why are they that colour?’

  ‘My mum used to say that maybe my real parents were angels and that’s why my eyes are like gold.’

  Wren looked at her in confusion. ‘What do you mean, your real parents?’

  ‘I was adopted. I never knew my real parents. The lady who raised me was my mum but she didn’t give birth to me. Does that make sense?’

  Wren nodded solemnly. ‘My daddy was dating a girl called Sally a few months ago and Sally told me she was going to be my new mummy, but when I asked Daddy if that was true, Daddy said not on his life, which I think means no as they stopped seeing each other after that. Can someone have more than one mummy? If one dies can they be replaced with a new one? Daddy’s car died a few months ago and he just went and bought a new one, do you think you can buy a new mummy too?’

  Piper smiled at all the questions.

  ‘No one will ever replace your mummy, sweetheart, but one day your daddy might fall in love with a woman and might decide to marry her and then that lady will be your step-mum. She won’t be the same as your mummy, but she will love you and hug you and do nice things with you like your mummy used to.’

  ‘I like the idea of having a step-mum; she sounds wonderful. Maybe Daddy will buy me one for Christmas.’

  Oh crap.

  ‘Oh no honey, it’s not something you can buy and it’s not something Santa can bring. Your daddy has to meet a woman and fall in love with her, and she has to be perfect in every way. She has to love your daddy and love you too. It’s very hard to find the perfect person.’

  Piper looked around, realising that the log cabins had all gone and they were following the path through the empty woods, though the green glow ahead of them was getting stronger.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Piper asked.

  ‘I’d like to know that myself,’ a deep voice said behind them. ‘Just where are you taking my daughter?’

  Piper turned round to explain to Wren’s dad what had happened, but when she saw him her heart stopped beating and her mouth went dry. The angry expression vanished from his face as he stared at her, his mouth falling open.

  ‘Pip?’ he whispered.

  She tried to say something but there were no words at all as she stared at Gabe Whitaker in shock, the only man she had ever loved.

  Memories crashed through her of the last time she had seen him, the worst day of her life.

  Chapter 3

  Twelve Years Ago

  Pip woke up with the weak winter sun shining on her face, but it wasn’t that that had stirred her from her sleep, it was Gabe as he softly stroked her hair. She was lying on his bare chest and she couldn’t help but smile as memories of the night before came flooding back.

  Her friends from school all said that the first time they made love was messy, uncomfortable and over far too soon, but it hadn’t been like that for her. Maybe it had something to do with making love to her best friend or maybe she hadn’t been Gabe’s first and he was just more experienced at it. It wouldn’t surprise her if Gabe had been with many girls; he always had an adoring fan club around school and even more so since they had gone to college.

  At seventeen Pip was one of the last of her friends to lose her virginity, but it couldn’t have been better or nicer. Gabe had made sure of that.

  Her dad had gone down the pub again, where he spent every night, sometimes not returning until later the next day, and Gabe had lit candles everywhere in her room before he led her upstairs and kissed her all over. He had gone so slowly, making sure she was happy at every step. She hadn’t been nervous, it had seemed so perfect, so right between them. And when he had finally made love to her, he had held her so reverentially, whispered how much he loved her and she knew what they had was forever.

  She’d heard her dad come home in the very early hours in the morning, banging into things as he made his way to his room, and Gabe had held her tight and promised her that soon they could get a place together and she could move out of her dad’s house for good.

  Pip hated her dad, but it seemed that the feeling was entirely mutual. He hadn’t always been like this, he had been a good, kind man until the day her mum died. Pip was only seven years old at the time, and her dad had turned to the bottle for comfort and never surfaced again from his grief. He was permanently angry and bad-tempered and, although he had never hit her, the screaming and shouting was often far worse. The only reason they had managed to coexist for so long was because he spent most of his days and nights down the pub, leaving Pip to her own devices.

  Gabe’s family had almost adopted her as their own, and she spent much more time in their happy family home than in her own.

  Gabe kissed her on the head and slid from the bed. ‘I have to go, I said I’d help Dad on the farm today. Will you come over tonight? Mum has asked that you come over for dinner.’

  Pip nodded, stretching her weary limbs. ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘You could stay if you want to, Mum won’t mind and your dad probably won’t even notice.’

  ‘OK.’ She eyed him as he got dressed. At the age of eighteen he was already tall and muscular from helping out on the farm most days. His strong body against hers the night before had been one of the nicest feelings ever.

  He leaned over the bed and kissed her on the lips just briefly. ‘I love you. I’ll see you later.’

  Pip smiled as he quietly left the room and then went over to the window and watched as he cycled up the hill towards the Whitakers’ farm.

  She got dressed and opened the door to go and have breakfast, but her dad was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for her. His eyes were cold.

  ‘Get your shoes on, we’re going into town.’

  The last thing Pip wanted to do was get in a car with her dad. He drank so much that he was probably still over the limit. ‘I have some work
I need to do for college.’

  ‘It wasn’t a request, get your shoes on now.’

  Desperate to avoid another fight, she did as she was told and got in the car with a huge sense of unease. The roads were icy; it wouldn’t take a second for him to lose control.

  They took off up the drive.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Pip asked, noticing that they weren’t taking the usual route into town.

  ‘The train station.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t want you in my house any more.’

  She stared at him. He had threatened to kick her out on many occasions but he had never gone this far before.

  ‘Why, what have I done now? I clean the house, I cook for you. Who will do all of that for you if I’m gone?’

  ‘I saw Gabe leaving your bedroom this morning. I’m not going to wait around until you get pregnant. There is no way I’m having a screaming baby in my house. If you want to be a whore you can do that in London.’

  ‘Are you insane, where would I go in London?’

  The car bumped over the wooden bridge that led over the frozen lake towards the train station.

  ‘That’s not my problem.’

  ‘Fine, if you want me out, I’ll go and stay with the Whitakers.’

  ‘They don’t want you,’ he spat. ‘I went to see them yesterday and asked them to take you and they said no.’

  ‘You’re lying. Lizzie loves me.’

  ‘I spoke to Lizzie Whitaker. Would you believe I offered her five thousand pounds to take you off my hands and she refused? Five thousand pounds and that still wasn’t enough to get her to take you in. Your own parents didn’t want you – that’s why they dumped you in the orchard – the Whitakers don’t want you and neither do I. No one wants you.’

  Pip stared at him in shock. The Whitakers were like family to her, why wouldn’t they want her to stay with them? Had she really been burdening them with her presence all these years and they were just too polite to tell her to go away? She felt sick. Luke, Gabe’s older brother, always rolled his eyes when she turned up for dinner. Did Neve and their parents feel like that too?