“Look, I’ll talk to Jules. I think Lucy really likes Will. And I can’t remember the last time she really liked someone.”
“She was going out with that Edward for a while, last year, remember?”
“Oh, right. Him.” Chloe had never met Edward, but she’d seen photos of him on Facebook—nothing special—and she’d heard the stories from Lucy—again, nothing special. Just a normal boring guy, who for some reason thought he was too good for her—for beautiful, brilliant, lovely Lucy—and had dumped her during her work party. The dick. Chloe had hated him from across the globe.
“Exactly. It does strike me, sometimes, that Lucy has absolutely no idea.”
Chloe laughed, glad she’d just swallowed her mouthful of bubbles. “Do you mean about men in general, or that she’s an absolute goddess?”
“Both, really. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times we tell her how proud of her we are, or how clever she is, even how beautiful, it never seems to sink in. Is she the same with you girls?”
“Yeah. And there’s nothing put on about it, you know? She’s not, like, pretending to be humble; she just is. I think that’s part of her appeal. There are a lot of good-looking people out there who think they’re all that and a bag of chips and treat people like crap. I see a lot of that in my job.”
“Well, do let me know about this Will fellow … if she lets on any more than you already know.”
“For sure.”
“Shall we toast her, our Lucy? I miss her terribly today.”
Chloe held her glass aloft. “To our Lucy, the goddess who hasn’t got a clue.”
Susan smiled wistfully and they clinked glasses.
*
The Queen’s speech was actually quite moving, even though the Queen was as stoic as ever and completely dry-eyed. But it was her message about unity and humanity that resonated with Chloe, and yes, maybe it was the half-bottle of bubbles, but listening attentively, she felt a wave of overwhelming love for her fellow humans—especially the ones sitting with her in the front room.
At the sound of a knock at 3:27pm, Chloe jumped out of her chair, throwing, “I’ll get it,” over her shoulder. For the second time in a few days, she opened the door to the world’s biggest film star. This time, however, it wasn’t a giant shock.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello.”
“Happy Christmas again.” He smiled shyly and she waved him inside.
“Happy Christmas,” she replied. Wonderful, she thought, we’ve gone from casual and easy to completely frigging awkward and weird.
“I brought this for the Capels.” Archer retrieved a bottle of red wine from the carry bag slung over his shoulder.
“That’s so lovely.”
“Thank you again for inviting me to come with you. I was a little surprised to hear from you so soon after, well, you know.” He seems a little nervous, thought Chloe.
“No, of course you should come with us. There’s no question,” she reassured.
A smile broke out across his face. “Actually, Chloe,” he lowered his voice, “when we get back from theirs, I’ve something I want to ask you about. Something else, I mean. It’s not the mess with the papp—”
“Hello, Alan love,” said Susan, appearing behind Chloe.
“Hello again, Mrs Browning.” He replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “And Happy Christmas. Again.”
“Happy Christmas, love. Right, we’re all set, I think. Just come through here.” Susan led them into the kitchen. “I’ve served up into some ovenproof dishes and I think Richard will be able to manage reheating them if need be.” She wrapped up the dishes in tea towels and tucked them into a wide basket with a cane handle. “Hmm, Alan love, I think I’ll need you to carry this.”
“No problem at all.”
Susan called out a goodbye to Max and the three of them embarked on their Christmas Samaritan journey—out the door, down the very short front path, along the road to the fifth house on the left, and up to the Capels’s front door. The entire journey took less than a minute.
As Archer knocked on the door, all Chloe’s worry about the Archer situation fell away, and she felt a rush of excitement. When she had proposed the Christmas swap back in July, all Chloe had wanted was a traditional English Christmas. She had no way of knowing then how much the hamlet of Penham would come to mean to her in just a few short days, or how much an English Christmas would feed her soul.
The door opened and a beaming Richard Capel welcomed them inside.
*
“I’ve got a crush,” said Chloe. They were back inside the Browning’s entry, just her and Archer, Susan having excused herself to get Christmas lunch on the table. Susan had invited Archer to stay, but he would be sitting down to lunch with his parents soon. Chloe thought again how odd it was to call it Christmas lunch when it was practically dinner time. It was almost dark outside.
“So, your crush? Is it on me?” Archer was playing; it was in the tug of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he felt emboldened by their visit to the Capels, which had gone unbelievably well. Mrs Capel had been cognisant of their arrival and had clasped her hands together in almost childlike glee as they helped unpack the Christmas dinner.
“You? No, definitely not.” Chloe could play too. “On the Capels. Like, a serious crush. As in, I want to have a love like—” She stopped herself; she’d given away too much.
“I know just what you mean.” They shared a smile and there was a moment when Chloe wondered if he was going to kiss her. What was the protocol with the Brownings in the next room? And even more pressing, would a kiss resolve the multitude of questions that still hung between them? Chloe doubted that very much.
He didn’t kiss her—Chloe was both relieved and disappointed—but instead, took her hands in his. “So, that thing I wanted to ask you about. I’ve just found out
