A Mistletoe Kiss (19 page)

A little reassured, Hetty told herself that all would be well. It was a wretched nuisance that she had missed the coach upon which Mrs Preece was travelling, but no doubt Mrs Preece would wait for her at the Pier
Head. She settled back in her seat, and began to think what a lot she would have to tell Miss Preece – and Aunt Phoebe – when she reached Liverpool once more. It was warm in the coach, and presently Hetty's head began to nod. She told herself sternly that she should not fall asleep, that she must remain alert so that she might explain to Mrs Preece how she had managed to temporarily lose touch with her.

Next to her, the fat woman began a conversation with the woman on the seat in front, but since she spoke in Welsh Hetty let the words flow over her and soon, despite her resolve, slept. The coach rumbled on, the women chattered and laughed, the driver threw in an occasional remark and Hetty, in her sleep, told herself that as soon as they reached the Pier Head she would dash from her present coach to the one which contained Mrs Preece.

When at last the vehicle stopped, Hetty awoke. The coach was rapidly emptying and the fat woman was struggling to her feet so Hetty followed suit and hurried along the aisle and down the steps, looking blearily about, then frowning in puzzlement. Where were the familiar jostling crowds, the taxi cab rank, the tall buildings? There were no street lamps, though light gleamed from a number of windows, and trees crowded close to the road … and all around her people were hurrying away, calling out in a foreign language … Welsh, of course.

Oh my God, Hetty thought, horrified. I've got off the coach too soon; this must be simply a drop-off stop. I'd best get back aboard …

Too late; the coach was already rumbling off, the people dispersing. Desperately, Hetty grabbed the arm of the nearest woman. ‘Please, where is this?' she asked. ‘It's not Liverpool, that's for sure.'

The woman chuckled. ‘No, not much like Liverpool this,' she remarked. ‘You'll be looking for Mrs Llewellyn's place I dare say; I heard her tellin' someone on the coach she'd got her nieces from Liverpool staying for a few days.' She detached Hetty's hand from her arm and pointed down the road. ‘See the house with the red curtains? That's the place you'll be wanting.' And with that, she hurried off.

Hetty went to follow her, then realised that the woman had disappeared into one of the nearby cottages. She ran towards the roadway, looking rather wildly for someone – anyone – who might help her, but the village street was deserted. Hetty had never felt so alone in her whole life. She had no idea where she was, save that this was a long way from Liverpool. She knew it was late at night; was it too late to approach one of the cottages and explain her predicament? Above her she could see through the branches with their burden of turning leaves that the sky was clear and that myriad stars twinkled in the darkness. The moon, a delicate crescent, floated on high, seeming to taunt her, for surely it was the same moon which shone down on Liverpool. Oh, if only she had not allowed herself to fall asleep! If only she had remembered that this was not just a pleasure trip, that she had promised Miss Preece, who had been so good to her, that she
would take care of her mother, see her to her very door when they reached the city once more.

Hetty groped her way to a low stone wall, sank down upon it and burst into tears.

She was still sobbing helplessly when a voice spoke, giving her such a fright that she uttered a small shriek. The voice was not one she had heard on the coach, and to her relief it spoke in English. ‘What's the matter, lass?' he asked, for though Hetty could not see his face through the darkness under the trees, she could tell that the speaker was a man; a young one, she thought.

She peered up at her questioner. She could see very little save that he was tall and seemed to have upon his head a strange contraption, which she thought for one startled moment to be a pair of enormous spectacles, for though the frail crescent moon was casting its beams on the scene, the silvery light was interspersed by deep shadows from the leafy branches. However, she was in no position to refuse help from whatever quarter. She scrubbed desperately at her eyes and spoke with all the calm she could muster. ‘I'm sorry I shrieked, but you startled me. The fact is, I must have got off the coach too soon because I'm heading for Liverpool and wherever this is, it's certainly not the Pier Head! Oh, if only I could have got the driver's attention! But he didn't realise I was trying to get back on board.'

The man shook his head. ‘No, lass, you've got
hold of the wrong end of the stick, so you have. The coach you've just climbed down from isn't going to Liverpool, it's going back to Llandudno. I'd arranged to meet it and take a young lady, who should have been aboard, to her home in the next valley. But when I asked one of the passengers what had happened to Cerys, she told me the girl had changed her mind and not gone on the trip after all.' He chuckled suddenly. ‘So we're both here under what you might call false pretences.'

Hetty heaved a deep, tremulous sigh. ‘What'll I do?' she asked. She could feel another sob rising in her throat and tried to conquer it. ‘It's not just for myself that I'm worried. I only came on the trip to look after my friend's mother, who is a very old lady. We got separated when the coach she was on left without me. I got on the next one to leave, thinking it was also bound for Liverpool, and didn't discover it wasn't until – well, until just now. Oh, whatever am I to do? I dare say it's too far for me to walk?'

The young man chuckled again. ‘I doubt you'd make it by breakfast time if you had to walk,' he said.

‘Is there a taxi?' Hetty asked eagerly. ‘I haven't any money, but my friend would pay when we reached her home. If the taxi driver could take me to the Pier Head, then we could pick up Mrs Preece and no one need know that I've let them down.'

‘There's no taxi,' the stranger said promptly, ‘but just for tonight I'm St George, ready to slay any number of dragons to rescue a fair maiden. Would you care to mount my fiery steed, Miss Liverpool? I reckon I can
get you to the Pier Head before the coach has even begun to disgorge its passengers.'

‘Could you … would you …?' Hetty breathed. ‘Do you have a car, then? I did look up and down the street but I couldn't see a car anywhere.'

The man grinned; she could see the flash of his teeth, white against his dark face. ‘No, not a car.' He moved forward into a shaft of moonlight, so that she could see him more clearly. ‘Guess again, cariad.'

Hetty stared and saw he was actually wearing a helmet, and what she had taken to be spectacles were … goggles! ‘You've got a motorcycle,' she said triumphantly. ‘Oh, mister, would you really take me all the way back to Liverpool? I'd pay for your petrol if you'd come with me to my friend's house.'

The young man shook his helmeted head at her and then held out a large, leather-gauntleted hand and took hers. ‘St George wouldn't dream of taking money to slay such a tiny dragon,' he said reprovingly. ‘But I may ask for payment in kind, however. And now we'd best be on our way if you want to reach the Pier Head before the coaches arrive there.'

Hetty had no idea what he meant by payment in kind but followed as he led her to where his motorcycle was propped against a wall. He lifted her on to the pillion and then settled himself in the saddle, instructing her to put both arms round his waist and hold on tight, but promising that he would keep his speed down since she had never ridden pillion before. He revved the engine and shouted over his shoulder that she was to give him a pinch if she wanted him
to stop. Then he turned on his headlight and the machine nosed out on to the village street and they were off.

It was a magical ride. The road dipped and swayed through the mountains for a short way and then purred along the wider main roads, and all the time the silver moonlight shone down on them and the perfumes of the night teased Hetty's nostrils. Conversation was impossible, for though he had promised to keep his speed down, as soon as he realised that his passenger was enjoying the ride he speeded up, and it did not seem a very long time before he shouted over his shoulder that the lights ahead were the lights of Liverpool.

And then they were in the tunnel and roaring out into the city streets which Hetty knew so well. True to his promise, they arrived at the Pier Head just as the coaches began to arrive. The young man got off his bike, kicked the stand and lifted Hetty down, and whilst he held her in his arms, smiling mockingly down at her, he suddenly bent his head and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Hetty gasped and thought for one awful moment that her legs were going to refuse to bear her weight, but she managed to stand unaided, and thanked him from the heart for his kindness. ‘And if giving me a kiss was what you meant by payment in kind, you're welcome,' she said frankly. ‘If you'll wait a moment, I'll fetch Mrs Preece and put her into a taxi, then you can come back with us to Everton Terrace and at least let me pay for your petrol and make you a hot drink
before you ride back to Wales. I can't accept such kindness from a stranger, honest to God I can't.'

But the young man was shaking his head and grinning again as he climbed aboard his motorbike. ‘You've not recognised me, have you, chuck?' he said softly. ‘Ah well, it's always the same. Tell your grandpa I were asking for him …'

Hetty darted forward, a hand out to grab his arm and a question on her lips; who could he possibly be? Someone who knew Gramps, obviously … but who? She opened her mouth to ask him, but he was away, with a mocking wave, leaving her staring after him.

The coach carrying Mrs Preece arrived a bare two minutes after Hetty herself, so she had to put her rescuer out of her mind and concentrate on looking after Mrs Preece. The old lady was tired and consequently crotchety, wanting to blame someone for the late arrival of the charabanc on which she had journeyed. She complained that the big bag she carried was too heavy for her old arthritic arms, but when Hetty settled her into a taxi and reminded her that the weight was due to the number of prizes she had collected, the old lady gave a grudging smile and presently, discussing her various hands of whist and the tricks she had taken, she began to smile and look forward to her arrival home where, Hetty guessed, she would boast of her prowess and expect her daughter to appreciate the excellence of her play.

‘I dare say the girl enjoyed her day away as much as I did mine,' she confided as the taxi rumbled through the lamplit streets. ‘Agatha doesn't complain, I'll give
her that, but a whole day without me tagging along will have given her as much pleasure as my day in Llandudno has given me.'

‘I'm sure you're right,' Hetty said. ‘And thanks to you, Mrs Preece, I had a wonderful day as well. We went up to the top of the Orme and watched the sunset. We walked the full length of the pier and played the machines, and we had really good meals as well. I don't think I've ever enjoyed a day more and though the opening of a new section of the museum would bore you and me to tears, I'm sure Miss Preece will have loved every moment.'

Miss Preece's day began as soon as she had waved her mother and Hetty off in their coach. It looked as though it would be a lovely day, and though Miss Preece knew that she herself would be within indoors it was nice to know that her mother and Hetty were unlikely to find themselves battling high winds or rain. Not that bad weather would bother her mother much, Agatha reminded herself with an inward chuckle, remembering one occasion when it had rained cats and dogs and she herself had spent the entire day sheltering beneath a huge umbrella, feet and fingers like ice. Her mother, however, had entered the Wintergardens before the rain had started and had left it, burdened with prizes, after the rain had ceased. She had raised her eyebrows at her daughter's sodden shoes and damp coat and told her quite briskly that ‘A girl of your age ought to have sufficient sense to stay under cover, even if it meant spending the afternoon at the cinema; there's
the Odeon or the Palladium, both handy for the Wintergardens.' She had smiled suddenly, impishly. ‘Or you could have come into the hall and watched us playing whist,' she had ended.

That had been two or three years ago, however, and since then they had been lucky with the weather. But today, Miss Preece reminded herself as she hurried back to Everton Terrace, today is a day for me and I intend to make the most of it.

Back at the house, she dressed with extra care. She had known that to be invited to the opening was quite an honour when Mr Gower had expressed both surprise and a degree of envy. ‘I don't see why you've been singled out,' he had said, somewhat peevishly, when she had shown him her invitation. ‘But I suppose it's because you specialised in illuminated manuscripts at university. Someone told me that you not only repaired manuscripts which were as much as four hundred years old, but you copied with great accuracy some which were too fragile to be shown to the public.' He had given her his thin, wintry smile. ‘You must tell me all about the exhibition on Monday morning, before the library gets busy.'

‘I don't suppose there will be much to tell,' Miss Preece had murmured. ‘And anyway, the British Museum is lending the exhibits for a whole month, so you will be able to see them for yourself.'

‘I should prefer to do so in the company of an expert,' Mr Gower had said archly, causing Miss Preece to go red as a beetroot. She had mumbled that no doubt each exhibit would have its own history printed in the
catalogue and had hurried away, embarrassed not only by her blushes, but by Mr Gower's reproachful look.

When she had first realised that Mr Gower would not be attending the event, however, she had feared she would be lonely, for though she had questioned other members of the library service, it appeared that none of them had received an invitation. She had relied upon Mr Gower's companionship, but as the days passed she came to realise that the event would be far more of a treat without his constricting presence.