Free What Happens At Christmas... by T A Williams

The lid remained firmly closed, in spite of her best efforts. Jack reached down, took the pot from her grasp and twisted it open. As he handed it back to her, their fingers touched and she felt an unexpected thrill.
Funny
, she thought to herself,
and he’s not even my type
. She cleared her throat before replying.
    â€˜I presume you know that he and I weren’t in contact.’ Jack nodded. ‘So, you see, as a result I really know so very little about him. A few people have told me he was a very nice man, but what sort of man was he? Was he into hunting, shooting and fishing? Did he paint pictures, write books?’ As she asked, Holly was tempted to ask Jack about his own background and interests, but for now, she stayed on the original topic. ‘Like I say, just anything about him, really.’
    â€˜Let’s see. Well, you won’t be surprised to know that he was an engineer. But probably you already knew that?’
    Holly sat up in surprise and shook her head. ‘I was only seven when he left. I don’t even know what he did for a living, although I’ve heard that it was something to do with wine.’ She carried on, more for her own benefit than his. ‘And fancy him being an engineer and me being an engineer. I really didn’t know.’ Somehow, the fact that she had followed in her father’s footprints served to bring him even closer to her. ‘That’s weird.’
    â€˜Not really – he was your dad after all, so you’ve probably got it in your genes. But I know he was involved with wine one way or another when he was in Australia. I’m not sure of the details, but he had his own company.’ Holly’s ears pricked up.
    â€˜Was that an engineering company?’
    â€˜No, wine, I’m sure, but whether it was making it or selling it or even importing it, I never found out.’ The toaster spat out two more slices of toast and Jack picked them up and set them on the table. He filled the teapot, brought it across and sat down opposite her. Holly looked up and caught his eye. She had to wait until she had swallowed a mouthful of hot toast, butter and jam before being able to ask her next question.
    â€˜So if he was in Australia, when did he come back here?’
    â€˜About the same time I arrived in Brookford. That would be about six years ago now.’
    â€˜Oh, so he’d only been living in the village for a relatively short period of time?’
    â€˜That’s right, but of course, his family were from Brookford and his house has been in the family for generations. Me, I’m the real newcomer.’
    â€˜So you don’t have any local roots?’
    â€˜No…’ Just then there was a tap on his door and a female voice called through his letter box. ‘Morning, darling, are you going to let me in?’
    Stirling gave a loud woof that made Holly spill her tea, jumped to his feet and trotted over to the door. Jack gave Holly a smile that contained more than a hint of embarrassment and followed the dog. He opened the door and a woman came in. As she saw Holly, she stopped dead, her expression one of surprise and maybe hostility. She was a very beautiful olive-skinned girl, probably in her early thirties like Holly and, clearly, she hadn’t been expecting to find another woman having breakfast with Jack. Now it was Holly’s turn to feel just a bit embarrassed. Jack closed the door and came over to make the introductions.
    â€˜Dolores, this is my new next door neighbour, Holly. Holly, this is Dolores Jefferson. If you think you recognise her, it’s from the telly. She’s one of the news anchors on local TV.’ He turned towards the other girl. ‘Holly’s had a power cut and she’s got no electricity or heat in her house. Cup of tea?’
    â€˜Maybe a small coffee, please darling.’ Dolores was looking reassured. The brief, but measured, forensic examination she then gave