A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

Riding into the Sunset

Part 2 of the final double chapter!

Or... would you like an epilogue, maybe? ;)

Love,

K. xx

***

Billie muttered and bleated, and repeated Dair's various names; while frantically praying to Seshat, Tir, Quetzalcoatl, and Wenchang Wang, swearing that she'd get an Italian textbook as soon as this torturous phone conversation was over.

As much as she despised all the modern 'gizmoculture,' she might even get an app! The man might just be worth it!

After receiving a long, no doubt scathing tirade, Billie whined, "I'm so sorry;" and the unknown Italian male barked something most definitely insulting, and hung up.

Billie threw the phone aside, like a dead rat, and made a series of small distressed noises. Her cheeks burned from humiliation.

Gaskell once said, 'There is always a pleasure in unravelling a mystery, in catching at the gossamer clue which will guide to certainty.' Billie wouldn't say she'd call this experience pleasurable, and she had no certainty at what exactly had gone wrong here - but at least she could safely assume now that Dair wasn't ignoring her text.

She glanced at the reproduction of Sidney Paget's 1904 original ink-and-wash portrait of her first love, hung on her wall since she was seven.

"So, Mr. Holmes, what do we think is happening here?"

***

Since Billie couldn't pensively smoke a pipe like her idol, she went down to the kitchen in search of a healthier substitution, one of her Aunt Sophia's scones, perhaps.

She'd just put the kettle on, when Delia and Aunt Hazel walked in, each carrying a box of soaps.

"Oh, hiya," Billie said bleakly.

Her two relations exchanged silent looks, in the classic Harewicke non-verbal communication, from which Billie was naturally excluded.

"How are you feeling, Syb?" Aunt Hazel asked cautiously. "Better?

"It's the Fashion Show tonight," Delia reminded Billie, without waiting for her to answer their Aunt's question. "You might want to freshen up. We'll be leaving shortly but you can come later, of course, with the rest of the audience," Delia dismissed.

Billie sighed. She much preferred to stay in her room and ponder the Mystery of a Misdialled Italian, as she called it in her head; but then, she had the most unexpected thought. If the Monte Cristo project succeeded, she'd need all the connections and the community spirit she could muster; and attending this sort of an event was exactly what generated them in Fleckney. She would never learn to enjoy it; but there were aspects of her beloved library studies that she didn't fancy either - looking at you, Digital Surrogates in Institutional Repository - but she'd still done her best and got a 95% mark on that course.

"I'll be there," she said and smiled at Delia sunnily. "Break a leg."

Aunt Hazel emitted a shocked noise; Delia squinted suspiciously.

"By the way, one of the film crew was here last night," Aunt Hazel said. "Getting their Tarot reading. And they mentioned that there had been some sort of drama. Either between the star and the director. Or with Federico. Someone shagged someone they shouldn't have, or something of the sort. And–" She paused. "And apparently, Federico had to leave, and they don't know if– when he's coming back," Aunt Hazel corrected herself.