Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin: A heart-warming and feel-good read

There’s a rustle as Harrison pops his head round the newspaper and gives me a ‘who’s that?’ look.

‘Sorry, I’ve got to go,’ I tell Jed. ‘But thanks so much for calling.’

‘No problem. I’m just glad it went well. Have you got a name for the business, by the way?’

‘Well, not really. Although, my friend Erin thinks she’s come up with a corker.’

‘Which is?’

I close my eyes and smile as I say it. ‘Diner Might.’

There’s a brief silence, then the sound of hearty laughter. ‘Diner Might. Dynamite. I like it. Although maybe not quite the sophistication you’re aiming for?’

‘That’s just what I thought. Any suggestions gratefully received.’

‘Right, I’m on it.’

‘Is Clemmy coming for Christmas?’ I ask on impulse, not caring that Harrison is listening.

‘Yes, she is.’ Jed sounds surprised that I should ask. ‘I’m meeting her when I get off the train at Easingwold on the nineteenth.’

‘The two p.m. train?’ I smile, recalling how adamant he was about leaving London promptly for the holidays.

He gives a throaty chuckle. ‘On the dot. She’s cut off her long red hair, apparently, so I’ve told her she has to wear a carnation otherwise I might not recognise the new sophisticated Clemmy.’

I laugh, feeling the tiniest bit deflated, which is strange. Although, on reflection, it’s probably because, while Jed and Clemmy will be enjoying their Christmas together, Harrison will be away in Spain and it’ll just be me and Mum rubbing along together.

‘It sounds like you’re going to have a lovely Christmas.’

‘It’ll certainly be interesting,’ he says dryly. ‘What with Uncle Bob bringing his new woman and her two teenage kids, and my workaholic brother forced to tear himself away from his natural habitat to join us.’

‘Natural habitat?’ I’m intrigued.

‘Ryan’s a financial trader in the City of London. He does nothing but work and date ravishing blondes. And he hates the countryside.’

‘Ooh, yes. Well, anything could happen.’

He groans. ‘Precisely.’

There’s a brief pause. Then he says, ‘Bye then, Poppy. It’s been nice chatting.’

‘Who was that?’ asks Harrison as I sit down at the table and start buttering my toast.

Breezily, I say, ‘Oh, just a friend wanting to know how last night went.’ It comes out a little more snippily than I intended.

Completely oblivious, Harrison smiles and puts his paper down. ‘And how did it go, Puss? You haven’t actually told me.’

I plaster on a smile. ‘It went really well, thanks. Can you pass the marmalade, please?’

He settles back behind his newspaper, then pops his head round again a second later. ‘Dynamite? What was that about?’

I shake my head and smile, thinking about how hilarious Jed found the name. I did tell Harrison about Erin’s daft suggestion, but he’s obviously forgotten all about it.

‘It’s nothing,’ I tell him. ‘Do you want some more toast?’

Chapter 8 (#ulink_d1d106f5-8138-5e10-82c5-d557bf6113a5)

It’s the night before Harrison leaves for Spain, and I’m keen to talk to him about my future plans. Ever since Mimi took over from Mr Hastings as restaurant manager, my morale has been on the floor, and the idea of catering dinner parties is becoming more and more attractive by the day.

I make him his favourite steak pie, and afterwards, we settle down cosily on the sofa.

‘You know how I went on that cookery course with Erin?’ I begin, feeling actually rather nervous. And excited. ‘Well, I haven’t mentioned this, but I was talking to the tutor and he said there was a big demand for companies catering for events and private dinner parties. And he – well, he actually reckoned I’ve got what it takes. To cook for people.’ Even talking about it makes my heart skip along a little bit faster.

Harrison’s eyes widen. ‘I thought you’d given up that idea.’

‘Well, I never really considered it seriously. But after cooking for Mrs Morelli, I’ve realised I can actually do it. So what do you think?’

‘Well, your food is fabulous, there’s no doubt about that.’ He stares at me intently and I can almost hear the cogs whirring as he weighs everything up. ‘Do you know, Poppy,’ he says at last. ‘I think you’re talented and clever enough to achieve anything you set your mind to.’

‘You think so?’ I flush with pleasure. I’m always amazed to hear Harrison say things like this about me. A part of me is even starting to believe that what he says is true.

He kisses my forehead. ‘I certainly do, you clever little Puss.’

‘So do you think I could actually run a successful catering business?’

Harrison stares down at the floor, an intense look on his face. He’s obviously considering the idea very carefully indeed, and my heart lifts. It’s so lovely having Harrison on my side, backing me in everything I do.

‘I honestly think I could do it, you know?’ With Harrison’s support, I really feel I can. ‘I mean, obviously I couldn’t give up work straight away. I’d have to build up the business slowly, then—’

‘There’s a snag in this carpet. Look.’ He points, still staring down, clearly not having heard a word I was saying. ‘I thought I was seeing things for a minute. I think we’ll go for quality over price next time.’ He looks up and smiles. ‘You were saying, Puss?’

‘The catering business,’ I repeat, a touch frostily. ‘Do you think I could do it?’

He pulls me closer and nuzzles my neck. ‘Oh, there’ll be plenty more chances to show off your talent for cooking, don’t you worry about that. Mum’s coming over from Spain at Easter, remember? She’ll be thoroughly impressed. As long as you avoid sprouts and beans of all varieties.’ He shrugs. ‘Flatulence. Cabbage is okay, though. As long as it’s red.’ Absently, he massages my waist while keeping one eye on the TV.

I pull away and arrange myself so that I can look at him in the eye. ‘The thing is, Harrison, that’s not really the point.’ He turns in surprise at the unusual sharpness of my tone, and I smile to show I’m not really cross with him. ‘I don’t want to “show off” my cooking. I want to explore the possibility of turning cooking into a business.’ I’m surprising myself here, never mind Harrison, but it suddenly seems really important that I convince him I’m seriously considering Erin’s idea.

‘The tutor at the course said I could do it, and I think he might be right. I’ve got a little money saved up, so it’s not as if I wouldn’t be able to pay my way …’

He nods slowly, and I wait on tenterhooks, subconsciously preparing myself for the put-down.

She’s far too timid. She’ll never amount to anything.

‘You know what, Puss? It’s time.’

I look at him quizzically.

He smiles. ‘It’s time you gave up your job at the hotel.’