Winter Wishes by Ruth Saberton

trouble.”
    There was another knock on the door, followed by more furious barking.
    “I’ll go,” said Jules quickly, glad of a pretext for stepping away from the argument. She’d make her excuses and slink off to the vicarage once she’d answered the door, she decided. She could always plead urgent sermon-writing or a prayer meeting. Nobody tended to argue with those.
    Leaving the family deep in discussion, Jules made her way to the front door, pausing only to scoop up the entire bag of mini Mars bars from the hall table. It was a cold and murky night and any child who’d made the effort to climb all the way up to Seaspray deserved a good haul.
    “Coming,” she called cheerily, as she fiddled with the latch and gave the heavy door a good hard shove. “Give me a minute: the door’s stuck! Ah! Here we go!”
    With one more concerted push, cold night air laden with the scent of woodsmoke came rushing inside. The door swung open but, rather than the gaggle of excited costumed children Jules was expecting, there was just one child on the doorstep.
    One child holding the hand of a pale-faced woman who had two suitcases set at her feet. Jules’s mouth fell open.
    “Happy Halloween, Vicar,” said Tara Tremaine.
     

Chapter 4
    The last person Tara had expected to answer Seaspray’s front door was the vicar. For a brief moment she was lost for words. She’d considered all sorts of possibilities – it was hard not to when you were about as popular with your ex’s family as a bout of  diarrhoea – but the chance that Jules Mathieson would be in situ hadn’t featured on her list. Rather than the confrontation she’d been expecting, here was a smiling, if rather surprised, face and a warm welcome. Tara was completely thrown.
    Maybe returning to Polwenna Bay wasn’t going to be quite as dreadful as she’d feared.
    As she’d walked through the dark village, only half listening to Morgan’s endless chatter about pumpkins and fancy dress, Tara had been psyching herself up to face Issie – or, even worse, Morwenna. Neither of them would be thrilled to see her. Issie would probably slam the door in her face, Tara had decided, while Mo was bound to make some biting remark about tricks rather than treats. As she’d lugged the two suitcases up the steep path that led to the elegant whitewashed house, Tara had prayed very hard that Alice or maybe Nick would answer. Alice would be gracious even if she was horrified, and Nick would probably be in such a hurry to get to the pub that he’d scarcely care who was calling.
    The thought that Danny might answer the door was one that Tara hadn’t dared contemplate. She hadn’t seen her estranged husband for months, but this hadn’t stopped her heart from skipping a beat whenever she caught sight of a tall blond man in the street or saw from the corner of her eye somebody she thought for a split second might be him. The inevitable surge of despair when it turned out to be a stranger was overwhelming. Tara wasn’t sure how she would handle the reality of being near Danny again. The last time they’d met, the ice in his voice had almost been enough to give her frostbite. He’d loved her so much once – they’d been everything to each other – and it was painful beyond belief to see this turn to indifference.
    It was even worse to know that she had nobody to blame for this but herself…
    “All right, Jules?” Morgan said as he charged past into the lamp-lit hall. Her son didn’t seem at all surprised to find the vicar at Seaspray, thought Tara. So she was a regular here, then. Interesting. Jules certainly looked at home in the hall in her socked feet and clutching a bag of Mars bars. She’d lost weight since the start of the summer, though. She was still very full-figured – way bigger than Tara’s own slim size-eight frame – but defined cheekbones and killer curves were starting to emerge. Jules had changed her hair too: it was definitely longer, with soft tendrils