so well with it. But Cat did wonder if it was a good idea for Mel to keep her two lives secret.
The phone rang, reminding her that she was supposed to be working today as well as looking after Lou Lou. She’d been waiting for a call from her agent, Anna, re her proposed new Christmas book and series. She’d been a bit distracted with babysitting of late, and hadn’t been as assiduous about chasing it up as she’d intended.
‘Catherine, honey, how are you?’ Anna was the only person who ever called Cat, Catherine.
‘Fine,’ she said, propping the phone in one hand, while tickling Lou Lou with the other. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit tied up today, I’ve got Lou Lou.’
‘I’m very sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ said Anna, who tended to be blunter than Cat’s original agent, Jenny, who’d retired some years back, ‘but they’re not interested in the new series. They feel A Shropshire Christmas is a bit too retro.’
‘What?’ Cat was staggered. ‘But it was their idea.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Anna, ‘but you know what these TV companies are like. They want to freshen things up a bit, bring in a different cook. They’re talking about Sienna Woodall, she’s the latest thing, apparently.’
And ten years younger. The words lay unspoken between them. Cat should have seen this coming. She’d had a lot of jokey comments from the crew during her last series about fading to grey, and needing to botox, now she’d passed 45, and there had been several nasty swipes in the press about middle-aged spread – ‘A greying corpulent whale’ as one reviewer had not so kindly put it. It was true, she couldn’t shift the weight as easily as she once had, but she was hardly obese. It was so unfair. No one complained about Jamie Oliver putting on weight.
‘I’m sure something else will turn up,’ continued Anna, in a not terribly convincing manner. ‘You’re still in great demand.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Cat, with an optimism she didn’t feel. ‘I always knew it would happen one day.’
And it was true she had always known it deep down. Faces went out of fashion all the time, why had she thought she would be any different? She’d been lucky to get the gig at all, and TV was a fickle world. She was no more special than anyone else.
Pippa was baking, partly to relax, partly to supply the community café and shop in the village run by Vera and Albert Campion. Several years ago when the post office Vera had singlehandedly run was under threat, the whole of Hope Christmas had come together to save it and the shop and café was the result. Pippa baked for them most weeks but more frequently when she was under stress. Today was definitely such a day.
Dan had swiftly acted on his Christmas decision, and the first week of January had seen a letter arrive from his lawyer, which Pippa had promptly shoved in a drawer in the dresser. She had been ignoring it ever since, pleading busyness, when Dan mentioned it. So far he hadn’t been nagging, but Richard had started to – stupidly, she’d opened the drawer and he’d asked what it was.
Pippa had considered not telling him. Part of her wanted to say ‘It’s none of your business.’ But she had to recognise it was his business. Gradually, over the last few months, Richard had become a necessary part of her life. If she was to have a future with him, then divorcing Dan was the next logical step. So why was she delaying?
Richard had proved himself kind, thoughtful and supportive; understanding that Lucy in particular was struggling with the new situation and not pushing himself forward. He had been tact itself on Christmas Day, so that the day had gone off with no dramatics. Pippa owed it to Richard to make a clean break with Dan.
She kept telling herself that Dan had made his intentions perfectly clear, so she was free to move on. And, on that basis, when Richard asked where they stood, she’d promised to give it a go with him, ‘But slowly, Richard,’ she said, ‘I need time to sort myself out.’
‘You’re worth waiting for, Pippa,’ Richard had said simply, which made her want to hug him, and yet at the same time she felt terribly guilty.
For the truth was, Pippa had always secretly hoped Dan would change his mind. She fretted she might be leading Richard on. Perhaps it was too soon for a new relationship. But when was too soon? And Dan clearly didn’t want her. As she explained to Marianne, ‘I just need time to process that. It’s such a huge change in my life.’
Dan was the love of her life. Pippa had never imagined she would have another. And now here was Richard, attractive, charming Richard, whose company she enjoyed, and who liked her too. Dan was giving her an opt out and she needed to make a decision towards her future, rather than hanging onto her past, but equally she wasn’t quite ready to let Dan go (will you ever be? the voice said. It really was annoyingly persistent), or get serious with anyone else.
And Richard was nothing if not determined.
‘It’s private,’ Pippa had said, snatching the letter from him, feeling absurdly defensive.
‘Ooh, touchy,’ joked Richard, then seeing the look on her face, he stopped immediately. ‘What’s wrong?’
Instant empathy was something Richard was very good at. It was one of the reasons it had been so easy to let him into her life. His ready understanding of the situation she was in meant she didn’t feel the need to explain.
Pippa sighed and sat down, feeling a little wobbly.
‘You may as well know,’ she said, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. ‘It’s from Dan’s solicitor. He wants a divorce.’
‘Oh Pippa.’ Richard sat down too and took her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry, truly I am. But you knew this would happen one day.’
She squeezed his hand and looked out of the window, at the hills bordering the farm. She’d always sat here at this table looking at those hills with Dan. No longer. She blinked away her tears. Richard didn’t need to see them.
‘I know it seems final,’ Richard said. ‘Don’t forget, I’ve been there too. But it’s been over a year, Pippa. Perhaps it is time for a fresh start.’
Pippa knew he was right, and she knew what he was saying, but she couldn’t bring herself to say that this was what she wanted. What she really wanted was to wipe out the past two years; for Dan never to have fallen out of a tree, for him not to have suffered brain damage; for her to still be sitting here with him. Which of course wasn’t going to happen. She should take the opportunity Dan was giving her to make a clean break. She’d been immensely lucky to have hit the jackpot first time around. Some people never got that. And she had the chance of happiness again. If only she’d let it in. So why did it feel like second best?
‘You’re right,’ said Pippa. ‘I’ll sign it and post it tomorrow. I should have done it straight away.’
‘You’ll feel better when you do,’ said Richard. ‘I know I did when my divorce finally came through. Time to get the ball rolling.’
They’d talked no more about it, but Pippa had gone to bed with a heavy heart and hardly slept a wink. She’d been up early to feed the cows in the barn, and sent the kids off to school. Walking back down the frost sharpened lane, to wave Lucy’s bus off, she’d bumped into Dan, which hadn’t helped. Her heart lurched. His six foot frame towered over her, and she wanted to throw her arms around his strong lean torso. But he gave her a sad smile and she felt paralysed. Never had he seemed more desirable to her, nor more distant. She felt guilty about Richard, but she couldn’t help herself. Dan still made her heart leap.
‘I’m just sending this to your lawyer,’ the words had been on her lips, but she found she couldn’t say them. Instead she told him that the cows were fed, and he asked how Lucy had been that morning, idle meaningless chitchat, to put off the big things hovering over them. They said goodbye at the front gate, while Dan went off to milk the cows and Pippa shoved the letter back in her pocket and went home to bake out her misery.
She’d post the letter