‘Oh my god.’ Kitty dived at Emily and wrapped her into a huge hug as Oliver pulled off his coat and draped it around her shoulders, then Meg went to hug her too. Tom took in the surroundings. The walls of the barn had been decorated with red, white and yellow knitted bunting with mini Santas, snowmen and stars. Hung in between were glittery baubles – and the room had been finished off with a string of white fairy lights.
‘You’ve been busy.’ Meg put her arm around Agnes. ‘We were only here this afternoon.’
She shrugged. ‘Ach. I just drove around once you’d left and collected up a load of decorations the Jam Club had been working on – everyone contributed, so it didn’t take long to hang them up.’ The reindeer got to his feet slowly and walked up to sniff her fingers, probably looking for food. ‘Fergus thinks I’ve lost my mind.’ Her cheeks coloured as she stroked its head. ‘I’ve started knitting a string of reindeer; I thought that would make the wee thing feel at home. I asked around, but we’ve not had much luck tracking down his herd.’
‘I found something when I got back to the flat earlier today.’ Emily untangled herself from Kitty, and Oliver and Meg stepped back. ‘I was searching the internet.’ She glanced at Tom suddenly with an unreadable expression, making his heart thump. Then she looked away. ‘I saw a couple of posts on Twitter about a herd being spotted close to Morridon.’
Agnes frowned. ‘That’s a fair amount of ground to cover. I’ll ask Fergus if he’s heard anything around his way. We might need to take a drive tomorrow. If the snow holds off.’ She frowned at Emily. ‘I don’t think you should sleep here tonight, lassie, it’s too cold. Besides, reindeer might look cuddly, but they’re not particularly good room-mates.’ She wrinkled her nose.
‘I…’ Emily sighed, eyeing her parents who were now staring at each other. Meg’s dad began to tremble, cold now he’d given her his coat, and Kitty pulled off her scarf and wound it around his neck. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just needed time to digest.’ Emily looked at her hands.
‘It’s okay, love.’ Oliver went over to put his arm around her. ‘We know what you overheard. I’m sorry.’ He shook his head as he glanced at Kitty, his expression sad. ‘I don’t think either of us realised what we’ve been doing to you both. Let’s go back to the flat. I think we need to get some sleep, and your mother and I need to talk.’
Kitty swallowed, then nodded, her eyes filling with tears. When Oliver reached out a hand and offered it to her, she tentatively took it and Tom heard Meg sigh.
He took a small step back as feelings simmered in his chest; an odd sense of discomfort. Because while Meg’s family were finding their way back to each other, perhaps considering facing their problems with truths, he wasn’t ready to face his. And he wasn’t sure exactly where that left him and Meg.
Twenty-Three
Meg stood on the doorstep of her shop and watched Tom drive away in his Land Rover, with Cooper staring at them from the back of the car. He’d been quiet on the journey, and she’d felt like something was off, but there’d been little chance for them to discuss anything with her whole family in the car.
‘Tired?’ her dad asked, looping an arm through hers as they followed Emily and her mother into the shop.
‘Very.’ Meg sighed, rubbing her eyes. ‘It’s been a long night.’
As Kitty ambled down the left-hand aisle, she stopped suddenly so she could look at one of the shelves. It displayed Agnes’s various jams as well as bottles of Scottish whisky, some from Fergus McKenzie’s distillery. She picked one up and held it to the light, and the brown liquid sparkled like liquid magic. Then she glanced at Meg. ‘Can I take this? I’ll pay you tomorrow.’ She looked pensive.
‘It’s on the house: consider it a celebration,’ Meg said, her eyes drifting to Emily. ‘I thought you only drank at Christmas though?’ Kitty rarely indulged because she thought too much alcohol spelled accidents – which meant Meg’s father had almost stopped drinking too. ‘And I’ve never seen you have whisky.’
Her mother shrugged. ‘Your dad always used to like a tipple in the evenings. I thought perhaps he might want to have one now?’ She cleared her throat, her eyes darting around the shop, anywhere but at him. Meg felt something in her stomach stir, something warm and hopeful.
Beside Meg, Oliver let out a little cough of his own and nodded. ‘I’d like that very much,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time…’
Kitty’s gaze darted to his and her lips settled into a familiar worried arch. ‘About fifteen years, if I’m counting correctly.’ He nodded, his smile dimming. ‘Then a drink is overdue,’ she said. ‘I’m making no promises, Ollie, but I think it’s time we finally talked. Meg, I have a feeling we might not make our flight tomorrow.’ She checked her watch and grimaced. ‘It’s been a long night.’
‘You can stay as long as you like. In fact, I’d like it if you did.’ Meg swallowed, realising she meant it.
Then her mother turned and headed for the stairs, and her dad followed. And for the first time in years, Meg detected a little bounce in his step.
After their parents had gone into the kitchen, Emily pulled Meg into the bedroom and shut the door, before leaning against it and frowning. ‘I’m sorry about tonight, I shouldn’t have run off. I must have ruined your evening.’ Meg waved the apology away. ‘I overheard Mum and Dad talking—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Meg interrupted. ‘I just found out about the baby myself – but I thought they wanted to keep it to themselves.’
Emily shrugged. ‘They didn’t mean for me to overhear, but I’m glad I did. It explains a lot. I just needed some space to process the information, it was such a shock. I thought we were leaving tomorrow and suddenly I wasn’t ready to go. But I’ve realised running away doesn’t solve anything.’ She closed her eyes.
‘Perhaps this time it did?’ Meg shrugged, her eyes drifting to the door. This was the first proper conversation she remembered her parents having in years. It was only four days until Christmas and she realised she wasn’t dreading spending it with them. Perhaps because they were finally being honest with each other?
Emily scrubbed a hand over her mouth, looking worried. ‘I’ve got something to show you, Meg. Something you need to know. Something I found’ – she checked her watch and winced – ‘earlier tonight. I tried to call before I left, but you didn’t pick up and I didn’t want to leave a message.’
‘I was at Tom’s,’ Meg explained, as Emily pursed her lips. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay. I suppose I should have guessed when he turned up with the rest of you.’ Emily tugged off her dad’s coat and dumped it onto the chair in the corner of Meg’s room, before grabbing her laptop and jumping on the bed. She pulled a blanket over her knees, shivering a little, and switched it on. ‘It’s going to make what I tell you a bit worse.’
‘It is?’ Meg asked, turning to look at her sister properly.
Emily pulled a face. ‘I was looking through social media, searching the news for anything I could find about reindeer herds in Scotland. I put on some music and this ad popped up – for an album.’ She tapped her fingertips on the laptop. ‘I don’t normally take much notice. But there was something familiar about this band. Like an itch at the edge of my brain I needed to scratch. Something’s been nagging at me since I got to Lockton and met Tom, you know?’
Meg nodded, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realised she’d felt the same. A sense that something wasn’t quite right. She’d ignored it of course, but it hadn’t gone.
‘So I clicked the link, and you know that song, “If Every Day Was Christmas”?’
‘Yes.’ Meg’s voice was rough. ‘Tom hates it.’ She turned, feeling a sudden urge to keep her hands busy, and pulled off her boots and skirt, then grabbed some black pyjama bottoms and tugged them on.
‘I don’t see why – since he wrote it,’ Emily said dramatically, spinning the laptop around on her knee. The screen was filled with a black and white album cover featu
ring two men and a woman. The picture was arty and atmospheric. One man was holding a guitar, his head angled away from the camera, but Meg would have recognised that profile anywhere. Especially since she’d been feathering kisses along it last night.
‘I don’t understand…’ Her heart thumped and she swallowed a lump of emotion as it threatened to burst out of her throat. ‘Is it really him?’
Emily nodded. ‘Tom Riley-Clark – there’s absolutely no doubt. I found more pictures.’ She flicked to another tab and about twenty photos loaded. Full body shots: in one Tom was shirtless; in another he wore jeans, a black shirt and held a guitar; two featured him in a dinner jacket; and in four he stood by a tall, stunning woman with dark hair and laughing eyes. Tom looked disconnected in all of them, apart from the ones where he was playing. In those he looked so alive his face almost glowed. His expression matched the one Meg had seen earlier – when he’d been playing the guitar for her. Her thoughts were jumbled. She’d known Tom was holding himself back but she’d never guessed it was anything like this. She blinked, feeling stupid. Was this about trust, or did she just not matter enough for him to tell the truth?
‘I’m sorry, Meg.’ Emily frowned. ‘The band’s called The Ballad Club, I googled them. They were making a name for themselves, had a few songs in the charts, getting a good following. They made four albums in total. Then the whole thing imploded about three years ago. There’s loads of stuff about them breaking up – Tom’s ex-wife left him on Christmas Day apparently, and there was a death in his family, I can’t remember who.’
‘His grandmother,’ Meg croaked. At least he’d told her that much.
‘Anyway, he just disappeared. Upped and left his whole life. There are a few stories about him being spotted. His ex did a lot of interviews before interest dried up. At least, until the last few weeks. Now that song is back in the charts and the record company have re-released an album, so there’s a lot of media interest. I knew he looked familiar, right from that first moment in his car.’ She paused, reading Meg’s expression. ‘He didn’t tell you, did he?’ Her voice was kind.
‘No,’ Meg said, looking away. ‘He didn’t.’ She pushed away the jolt of hurt, gathering her emotions as she glanced back at the screen – at the man she thought she knew. At the man she’d slept with earlier. ‘I could feel it though. I knew he wasn’t telling me something.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘No wonder he’s so good on that guitar.’
Emily nodded. ‘I thought the same. Maybe he was afraid of how you’d react? I don’t know. People do weird things sometimes for the right reasons. But I don’t understand what he’s doing in Lockton, working behind a bar.’
Meg nodded, letting her shoulders relax, thinking about her mum and dad in the other room drinking the bottle of whisky. Finally talking after all these years, sharing their pain, perhaps even finding a way through it. ‘I think I should give him a chance to explain. Tell him I know? There’s no point in prolonging it. I’ll say I just found out, see what he says.’
Emily nodded. ‘He cares for you, any idiot can see that. If you tell him you know, perhaps he’ll open up.’
Meg nodded as her eyes welled with tears. ‘I’ve got the morning off tomorrow – I’ll go to the pub, see if we can find some time alone.’
She just hoped Tom would tell her before she admitted she knew – but most of all, she hoped he had a very good reason for hiding the truth.
Twenty-Four
The marquee was huge and took up most of Apple Cross Inn’s car park. The gig was in just three days, and preparations were in full swing. As Meg made her way around the side of the pub, she took a moment to stop and listen to the sounds coming from inside. Snow – heavy and dense – fell from dark skies and fluttered around her head, landing on her eyelashes and nose until she brushed it off. Feeling her heart thunder in her chest, she steeled herself to confront Tom. She’d worn her favourite elf outfit this morning – it had a short skirt that floated around her legs and a furry white border that was soft to the touch – hoping it would make her brave. But her boots still slowed as she approached the marquee and her heart still pounded as she ducked through the flap. She could see Tom at the far end, setting up a wooden stage, while Davey darted in and out, running a cable along the floor and plugging in heaters. Music was playing from a speaker somewhere and, despite the fact that it was snowing, the air inside felt warm. Meg swallowed as she approached Tom. Her feet faltered on the black plastic squares that had been laid on the ground. She stood for a moment, watching him screw a metal leg into the stage as Cooper whined and sank onto the floor.
‘There’s a treat for you in the pocket of my coat, if you’ll just let me finish this.’ He grabbed a screwdriver from his toolbox without looking up.
Meg dropped into one of the plastic chairs facing the stage and waited while Tom finished working, trying to figure out what to say first and in no hurry to begin the conversation. She swiped a fingertip across her cheek and watched as a shower of glitter floated onto her tights. Wishing she could get lost in it like she always had. Or head back into her shop so she could pretend everything was okay. But somehow this felt different – these feelings were much harder to ignore. Perhaps they were just too strong?
Cooper spotted her and scampered over just as the music changed, clicking to ‘If Every Day Was Christmas’, as if they were part of some cosmic prank. Meg watched Tom’s shoulders tense but he continued working, oblivious to her presence. She’d googled him after her conversation with Emily last night and found out a little more about his life. The years on the road, the band members who’d gone their separate ways and the Christmas when he’d just disappeared. The pictures with his ex-wife had been interesting. The woman had been stunning, with dark hair and eyes, model-thin with a penchant for dramatic gold jewellery, colourful floaty tops and tight jeans. She’d clearly loved being photographed but they’d rarely been pictured together, and there had been rumours that they’d lived almost separate lives. But one article had mentioned the song he’d written for her, just after their wedding. The song that was playing now.
As if he could sense her, Tom suddenly spun around. The look he gave her was pure happiness and Meg felt a punch in her gut, realising with surprise exactly how far she’d already fallen. She flashed him a dazzling grin in return, tumbling back into her usual pattern of pretending everything was okay. Then Davey returned with another heater from the pub, and Meg saw him hesitate as he heard the music and spotted her. Even from here she could tell Davey knew. There was something about the tension in his neck, the way his eyes lowered, and her blood cooled. Was she the only person in Lockton Tom hadn’t been honest with? What did that say about her – and them? Had she been kidding herself that they might have a future together all along?
‘Meg,’ Davey said quietly, and gave her a quick hug. ‘Come to figure out where to put all your decorations? There’s plenty of space.’ She nodded just as Matilda shouted something about a call on his mobile from inside. ‘No rest for the wicked.’ He gave her a tight smile, putting the new heater onto the floor before heading back towards the bar.
‘It’s good to see you,’ Tom said after a short pause, searching her face, perhaps reading some of the emotions she was trying so hard to hide.
‘You too,’ she replied, meaning it.
‘Your family all right?’ He cocked his head, looking concerned.
‘All good.’ She nodded. ‘Mum and Dad took a walk first thing. I watched them leave and they were holding hands.’ She shut her eyes for a moment, still expecting the image to disappear. ‘Normally they barely touch each other. But they talked for hours when we got home last night, drank half a bottle of whisky and when I got up they were still chatting in the sitting room.’
‘So they missed their flights this morning?’
‘They want to stay.’ She blinked. ‘Looks like I’ll be spending Christmas with them after all.’
His eyes scanned her face. ‘You don’t look very happy about it?�
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Meg looked at her hands, which were sparkling now, and nodded. ‘I am, actually. I just keep expecting the whole thing to implode. There have been so many years of silences and fights, of nothing really being said. It’s… weird. I’m not sure I completely trust it. I suppose I should.’ She offered him a fake smile. ‘It’s much easier if I pretend everything’ll be all right. But there’s a power in honesty. I don’t think either of them have been particularly honest with each other until now. Until they were, I guess their marriage didn’t stand a chance.’ She let the words drift between them, intending for them to burn.
Tom swallowed and nodded as Cooper came to lick his face and whine. ‘He’s bored,’ he said, beginning to rise. He walked over and leaned down so he could give Meg a slow kiss. Despite the tension she melted into it, feeling her whole body liquefy, leaning forwards just as he stepped back. ‘My coat’s somewhere in here.’ His eyes were dark as he studied her, still looking concerned. ‘I’ve got treats in my pocket that Morag gave me a few days ago. If I can find them he’ll probably settle down. It’s either that or a long walk.’ He gave the dog a stern glare, but Cooper just stared back. He probably knew Tom was lying.
She stood, letting her hands fall to her sides. Her heart was thumping now as she tried to find the words, a way to gently tell him she knew. If they had any future together, it was going to have to start now. She’d have to tell him the truth – because he clearly wasn’t going to do it.
If Every Day Was Christmas: A gorgeous and heart-warming Christmas romance Page 18
