Today he was taking her to his daughter’s house in Kent to join the family for Christmas lunch. Although she was quite nervous about meeting them, she’d readily accepted his invitation as she had nowhere else to go, and no one should spend Christmas Day alone.
Yesterday afternoon she’d taken the decision not to return to America after all and had torn her e-ticket in half, throwing it into the waste bin. Now that she was on the verge of leaving, she realised how much she liked England. So much so that she thought she’d settle here permanently. A lot depended on Lance. She hoped he wouldn’t be difficult with her divorce settlement and they could sort out their financial affairs without too much argument. She felt she’d put as much as he had into Fossil Oil over the years and deserved a decent payout, but he could be stubborn when he wanted to. She thought he would have rung her again by now, tried to persuade her to come home. Especially as it was Christmas morning. But she’d heard nothing from him.
She hoped that meant he’d accepted her decision. She also hoped he wasn’t getting roaring drunk, but that was probably asking too much. The tears threatened again. Perhaps she should call him, see how he was faring. Thirty years together was a long time and Lance would no doubt be hurting. It had been a bad time to leave him, a terrible time. Yet if she hadn’t gone yesterday, she might never have left at all. She toyed with her phone, fingers hovering over Lance’s number. What would she say? ‘Sorry’ hardly seemed adequate.
The other person she wanted to call was Kirsten Benson. She wanted to confess to her about her affair with Tyler and apologise for all the hurt she’d caused. She felt sorry for Kirsten and that she should have been a friend to her. If only she’d reached out to Kirsten instead of Tyler, it could have saved them both a world of pain. However, that wasn’t the kind of call you could make on Christmas Day. Perhaps she and Tyler could mend their marriage. Or maybe Kirsten too would find the strength to leave her destructive relationship. Whichever way the cookie crumbled, she hoped they’d find a way to enjoy Christmas together. With a bit of festive magic you never could tell what would happen. Melissa would let the dust settle and then she’d contact her in the new year and try to make amends somehow. For now, she put her phone away.
Moments later, Martin came into the gallery. He was dressed in the same smart light-grey suit that he’d worn last night and she thought again how very dapper he looked.
‘Ready, Melissa? It’ll take us about an hour to drive to Maidstone.’
‘Are you absolutely sure your daughter doesn’t mind me being foisted on her and her family?’
‘Nonsense. She’s looking forward to meeting you.’
‘I don’t have gifts for them.’
‘That’s not what matters,’ he assured her.
‘I hate to turn up empty-handed. I’ll be sure to buy them a thank-you gift in the new year.’
Martin studied his shoes for a moment. ‘You’re still going to stay in England? I’m not going to have to rush to a plane later?’
She laughed. ‘No. I’m definitely staying here.’
He smiled. ‘That’s good to know.’
‘Though I did just promise Drew that I’d visit him out in Nepal. Maybe give him a hand for a couple of months at the orphanage he runs.’
‘That sounds like an excellent idea,’ he said with an approving nod. ‘Wouldn’t mind doing something like that myself.’
Taking her arm, Martin led her out of the Ritz and towards his car. It was a lovely car, a family saloon, not as ostentatious as the Bentley, which suited her just fine.
As he settled her in the front, fussing with her seatbelt, her phone rang. Lance. It must be. Her mouth went slightly dry as she fumbled her phone out of her handbag. She looked at the caller display. Tyler Benson. What could he possibly want?
She toyed with the idea of answering it, then changed her mind. Whatever Tyler was calling about, it wouldn’t be to wish her a happy Christmas. Maybe Lance had challenged him after reading the note she’d left. Well, she didn’t want Tyler to spoil her day now. He’d marred her happiness for long enough. She put her phone back in her handbag unanswered.
‘Nothing important?’ Martin asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing at all. Everything’s fine.’
He climbed into the car and pulled away from the hotel. She hoped Lance didn’t cancel her credit card, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to pay the bill for her stay. Still, that was the least of her worries.
Martin was such a sure-footed driver, and always had been, that she relaxed back in her seat and stared out at the pretty snowy landscape.
An hour later they pulled up outside a modest semi-detached home on a housing estate. Christmas lights blinked on and off on the front of it even though it was daylight.
‘Well,’ Martin said. ‘We’re here.’
‘I’m a little anxious.’
He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘No need. They’ll love you.’
They’d only just emerged from the car when the front door was flung open and two small children raced out.
‘Grandad!’
As they barrelled into him, Martin scooped them into his arms and spun them round.
‘Santa’s been,’ they told him breathlessly as he put them down again.
‘Let’s get inside and see what you’ve got then.’ He ushered Melissa forward. ‘This is my friend Melissa. She’s come to see how good you are.’
‘We’ve been told off already,’ the little girl admitted as she slipped her hand in his.
‘Come on in,’ Martin said.
Inside the door, his daughter was waiting to greet them. She threw her arms around him. ‘Happy Christmas, Dad.’
‘And to you, love.’ He turned to Melissa, who was hanging back. ‘This is Mrs Harvey – Melissa.’
‘I’m Julie,’ she said. ‘Happy Christmas, Melissa. It’s lovely that you could come.’
And Melissa, who wasn’t used to being hugged, relaxed into a warm embrace.
‘Let’s get you settled in and introduced to the rest of the gang,’ Julie said, and led the way into the living room.
Before they followed her, Martin turned to Melissa. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said.
She kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘Merry Christmas, Martin.’
Chapter Sixty-four
‘Christmas in St Lucia,’ Kirsten sighed. She turned on her bar stool to look at Simon. ‘Who’d have thought?’
‘We didn’t quite make it to the Seychelles, but at least we hit the same letter of the alphabet.’
‘I’m liking this new spontaneous lifestyle.’ One that isn’t dictated by Fossil Oil, she added silently.
‘We are only one day into it.’
‘I know, but I like to think that, now we’ve broken free from the shackles of corporate slavery, we can do it.’
Simon laughed at her. ‘We’ll do whatever you want. I promise you that.’
She sipped her Dirty Banana cocktail – a drink of ripe banana, crushed ice, coffee liqueur and rum, all smooshed up with icecream. It was creamy and sweet, like a banana milkshake but loaded with alcohol. It was the perfect drink for Christmas Day.
The small hut – Crazy Larry’s Lazy Bar – was open-air, thatched with palm leaves and facing on to a magnificent stretch of white sand. The Caribbean sky was cloudless, the turquoise sea sparkled invitingly. The bar was decked with fairly lights and there was a blow-up Santa hanging from the centre of the ceiling fan. Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ chimed out from tinny speakers. The temperature was way past eighty degrees.
‘It doesn’t feel much like Christmas at all,’ she said.
‘True.’ Simon sighed. ‘But it’s great to be here.’
She thought of the sleet and snow they’d escaped from in London and felt as if that was another world. A world that she had no inclination to return to.
‘I can’t believe we’ve left our old lives behind so easily.’ It had felt amazing to just turn up at Heathrow Airport and buy tickets for th
e first available flight to somewhere hot. As Simon had paid for the tickets, she’d felt reckless, free and liberated. She’d even left her suitcase behind – what was the point of lugging winter clothing with her? – and decanted all she’d need for a few days into a WH Smith carrier bag. As they’d raced laughing and breathless through the concourse to the departure gate, clutching each other tightly, scant luggage in hand, she’d felt loved for the first time in many years.
This was how she wanted to live her life now, according to her own wishes. Not bogged down by the demands of corporate life, by a husband whose deceit was becoming the stuff of legend, by insecurity and loneliness.
‘I wonder where we’ll end up?’ she mused.
‘Cornwall,’ he said decisively.
Kirsten laughed. ‘Sounds like you’ve been giving it some thought.’
‘I have. When I woke up this morning it suddenly occurred to me: why don’t we return to the place where we were at our happiest? We always loved it, and there’s a lot we could do there.’
‘Cornwall.’ She nodded slowly, letting it sink in.
‘We could buy one of those fabulous houses we used to look at. Have the kids. The dogs.’
‘Dexter and Bounce?’
‘Everything we once planned.’ He took her hand and held it tightly. ‘You could be the bride that you were destined to be.’
Tears rushed to her eyes. ‘That sounds like a proposal.’
Simon smiled. ‘I think it is.’
‘Then, yes. I’d like that. I’d like that very much.’
Simon kissed her and she knew that she was where she should be. She was here, in the moment, with the man she’d always loved.
When they broke apart, he said, ‘I don’t want to rush you, though. For now, we can just rest, enjoy the sun and take time to get to know each other all over again.’ Simon stroked her thigh. ‘We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
She was very much enjoying the ‘catching up’ part. They’d arrived late last night, ragged, dishevelled and tired. But after a relaxing night’s sleep and a lazy morning, she was beginning to feel human again. They’d booked into the hotel for two weeks and, after that, who knew? Perhaps they’d do what Simon suggested and head to Cornwall to settle. It sounded idyllic, and with Simon by her side she was sure it would be. Wherever she ended up, she wanted to do something fulfilling with her life, and this break would give her time to think what that might be.
Her phone rang and she reached into her beach bag. They’d bought a few essentials at the hotel shop this morning, since all she’d arrived with was underwear and toiletries. Now she had shorts, a bikini and suntan oil. As soon as Christmas was over they’d have to replenish their wardrobes a little, yet Kirsten didn’t think she’d be needing her heavy coat and boots for a while. Perhaps never again.
She looked at the display on the phone. Tyler. She turned the screen and showed it to Simon.
‘Take it if you need to,’ he said.
‘I have nothing to say to him.’ She couldn’t bear to hear his sob story. If he was alone for Christmas, then he had no one to blame but himself. Perhaps the lovely Louise would offer him some festive comfort. Kirsten couldn’t care less. She was done with Tyler and her heart felt lighter for it.
She cut off the call and instead of returning the phone to her bag she dropped it into the rubbish bin at the end of the bar. Another thing she wouldn’t miss.
Simon stroked her hair. ‘I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ she teased.
She felt as if they had a bright future ahead of them, and could only hope she was right. This time there would be no three-strikes-and-you’re-out, this time she’d have a zerotolerance policy on infidelity. She looked at Simon and knew in her soul that he was a very different man from Tyler. He wouldn’t cheat on her, he wouldn’t let her down. Her only regret was that they’d wasted a decade without each other.
‘Merry Christmas, Kirsten.’
The breeze lifted her hair, the sun warmed her skin and the man she loved kissed her softly on the lips.
Chapter Sixty-five
There are wonderful smells of roasting turkey and pigs-in-blankets coming from the kitchen. Dad, already wearing his Christmas paper hat, is setting the table. That should be my job, but I’ve been given leave to play with Mia, who is in a state of hyper-excitement after being lavished with toys by that generous old soul, Father Christmas.
I encouraged my parents to think modestly when it came to gifts this year, but they clearly haven’t been able to stop themselves from spoiling their one and only granddaughter. As a result she’s trying to play with every single one of her toys all at once. She has on her Disney Princess Sleeping Beauty Glitter Dress over her new Christmas outfit.
She got most of the things on her dreaded Christmas list. Except the trampoline. The trampoline was definitely a banned substance. I’ve been up with her since four o’clock this morning, when I gave up the battle to contain her in bed any longer. Mum and Dad, bleary-eyed and in their dressing-gowns, followed shortly afterwards. I bet you a pound that they’ll both be fast asleep on the sofa by the time the Queen comes on the telly.
‘What time is that young man of yours coming, Lou-Lou?’ Dad asks.
‘Dad,’ I say shyly. ‘He’s not my “young man”.’
‘You know what I mean, love,’ he says. ‘He seems a nice sort.’
‘He is.’
The doorbell rings. ‘That’ll be him,’ I say. ‘Whatever you do, don’t smother him.’
Dad looks affronted. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Don’t start asking what his intentions towards me are before we get to the Christmas pudding.’
‘Can I ask after that?’ Dad teases.
‘It might be the season of goodwill, but I will kill you with my bare hands if you do,’ I counter.
‘I hope he makes you happy, Lou-Lou.’ Dad touches my arm, embarrassed. ‘You deserve it. To see you settled is the best Christmas present I could have.’
‘Will someone get that!’ Mum shouts tetchily from the kitchen. She will be red-faced and flustered as she always is when she does Christmas dinner. That’s mainly because she cooks for about twenty-five of us when there are in fact usually only four. An extra mouth to feed today will have sent her over the edge. ‘
I’ll go.’ I leave Mia, who pounces on her Gramps and tries to educate him in the dubious joys of My Little Pony. I smile as I see her place a tiny pink comb into his big, gnarled hands. Hands that have been treated to pink nail varnish more than once by said granddaughter.
When I open the door, Josh is standing there, almost hidden by a pile of beautifully wrapped presents.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘When on earth did you manage to go shopping for those? Did you do a ram raid?’
‘The minute I left you last night, I raced round the shopping centre. Now I know why some of the shops stay open until midnight.’
‘Thank goodness they do.’
‘I couldn’t come empty-handed,’ Josh says. ‘Not after you’ve been kind enough to invite me.’
‘I just hope you’ve put some money in your patience meter,’ I whisper. ‘You’re going to need it. I warn you, my parents are your biggest fans. They already have us married off.’
‘Is that such a bad thing?’
Both of us flush.
Me and my big gob. To get us back on an even keel, I ask, ‘How’s Fossil Oil’s new sales director feeling this morning?’
‘Weird,’ he says. ‘Very weird. I still can’t believe it’s true.’
‘Don’t leave him standing at the door!’ Mum again. ‘You’re letting all my heat out.’
‘Come in.’ I stand aside, letting Josh pass through into the living room. When he’s there, I take the presents from him and pile them on the sofa.
My dad instantly abandons his little pony and stands up. ‘Merry Christmas, son,’ he says. ‘Merry Christmas.’
Son. God, they are so embarrassing. I raise an eyebrow at that, but Dad is unabashed. He takes Josh’s hand and shakes it until I think it might detach from his arm.
‘Dad. Leave him alone.’
When Josh finally gets his hand back, he turns to Mia. ‘Hey, you,’ he says. ‘What did Santa bring?’
‘All this,’ she says, wide-eyed. ‘We can play with my It’s Teatime tea set.’ Another victim for her to monopolise.
‘Let me take him through to Granny to say hello,’ I tell Mia. ‘Then you can have him.’
This boy is going to have to man up if he’s going to be part of this family. Then I realise what I’ve said, if only in my mind, and feel a warm little squirming in my tummy. And it’s not just because I’ve been on the Marks & Spencer Buck’s Fizz since dawn.
I take Josh into the kitchen. There’s a cloud of steam over the cooker and the windows are running with condensation. It’s as hot as Hades as the turkey has already been in for hours. My mother likes everything Well Done. Dad has to restrain her from putting the sprouts on in November. My pink-cheeked mum is taking her apron off to greet him.
‘Mum, you don’t have to take your pinny off to say hello.’
‘Of course I do.’ She pats her hair. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony here.’
I don’t point out that that’s exactly what she’s doing. ‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Young.’
‘Oh, do call me Audrey.’
At least she didn’t say ‘Call me Mum.’ I should be thankful for small mercies.
‘Lunch won’t be long,’ she says.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Oh, no, no, no, no, no,’ Mum says. ‘Bernard will do it all. He’s a very good sous-chef.’
Good luck with that, Dad.
‘Louise, make sure your young man has a drink.’
‘Orange juice?’ I ask.
He nods.
‘Get him something proper, Louise. We’ve got M&S Buck’s Fizz.’
‘I don’t drink, Audrey,’ he says. ‘Have to keep my driving licence.’
‘Sensible,’ Mum says. ‘Very sensible.’