Gorgeous Reads for Christmas (Choc Lit)

by Sue Moorcroft

  She made a conscious effort to think of her mother’s features, etched with a grief that had lasted so many years, and she took a deep breath.

  ‘When I first saw your advert, I googled your company and I couldn’t help seeing the obituaries for your brother. I’m so sorry, Max. He was very young to die. And Stephen was very young to lose his father. It must have been terrible for your family.’

  ‘It was,’ he said quietly. ‘Really terrible. I’d never want to live through a time like that again. Peter was eight years older than me, but despite our age difference he was my best friend. I joined the family business very young – I used to help in the office when I was still at school, and I joined the company full-time when I was sixteen. Peter was there for me every step of the way. That probably made us even closer. Stephen was only fourteen when his dad died. I’ve tried to be a stand-in father to him, but I know he still misses Peter. And so do I.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, perhaps you’d rather not talk about him.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. He’ll always be a very important part of my life and I wouldn’t want him to be forgotten, or to be someone who could only be mentioned in hushed tones. I’m not saying he was an angel, mind you – he wasn’t. He made decisions I didn’t agree with and I told him so, but he was a terrific brother and I’m happy to have a chance to talk about him. Anyway, that’s enough about me. What about you? Are your parents artists?’

  ‘I don’t know about my dad, but my mother could have been very good. Unfortunately, though, she could only paint as a hobby.’ She paused, and then quickly went on. ‘She was very young when she had me, and she and my father had a lot of financial worries so there just wasn’t enough time and money for her to take it seriously.’

  ‘What does your father do?’

  For a moment she wondered whether she should end the deception that was beginning to tear her apart, and tell him the truth. But the moment passed: it was just too soon in their friendship. ‘He had his own business. Stephen and I have something in common – my father also died when I was young. Afterwards, my mother lost any desire to paint. She hasn’t picked up a brush since then, and I don’t think she ever will again.’

  ‘I’m sorry for asking you something that led to a sad memory.’ He paused for a moment. ‘But they would have come up at some point – your father and Peter, I mean.’

  A chill ran through her. Had he guessed who she was?

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Her voice seemed to come from far away.

  He stared into her face. ‘Because I want to get to know you better,’ he said quietly. ‘Until today, I’ve only been scratching the surface. I may not have known you for long, Jenny, but it’s been long enough for me to know that I want to learn much more about you.’

  She relaxed again. ‘How funny,’ she said, her voice shaking a little. ‘I feel exactly the same about you.’ She felt herself start to blush.

  ‘Well, if we’re going to delve deep below the surface, perhaps we should anaesthetise ourselves first. How about another white wine? We’ve got the time.’

  ‘I’ll have an Aperol soda this time, please. I’ve still got to have a look at everyone’s work, and I don’t want to be seeing double when I do my rounds.’

  He laughed and stood up. ‘You’re right about that. I’m sure that one of each noble effort will be more than enough. I’ll be back in a minute.’ He disappeared into the dark interior of the restaurant.

  Jenny stared around the piazza, biting her lip. They’d finally got on to the subject of their families, which was a huge leap forward, and he’d even gone as far as to hint about things that his company had got wrong in the past. Perhaps he’d even been thinking about her father. She’d love to know, but she couldn’t ask him yet. No, she couldn’t have asked for the afternoon to have gone better. So why did she feel so flat, she wondered.

  Max returned to the table, closely followed by a waiter who was carrying a tray of drinks.

  He sat down. ‘I’ve asked for some more of the crostini with wild boar pâté,’ he said as the waiter put their drinks in front of them. ‘I’m having the same as you: it looks refreshing.’

  ‘Did you make yourself understood in there?’ she asked with a smile.

  He laughed. ‘We’ll soon find out. I certainly hope so. I know that cinghiale is wild boar, but if they didn’t understand pâté, we could have a problem of enormous dimensions on a tiny bit of toasted bread. Cheers.’ He raised his glass to her.

  ‘Salute,’ she reciprocated, and took a sip of her drink. ‘Are you planning on spending a lot of time in Italy, Max? After all, you seem to be treating your house as more than just a holiday home, putting good paintings on the walls and paying a lot of attention to items like fruit bowls.’

  ‘I hope to come over several times a year, even if I can only stay for a few days at a time on some of the visits. I intend to stay for the whole of every August, though, and I see the art courses as being one of the highlights of the summer.’

  ‘Even with people like Paula on them? She should never have asked to see your paintings or use the internet. She knows your house is off-limits – I told them so at the start of the week.’

  ‘It’s not a problem. I should’ve arranged for the internet to be installed before they got here – not everyone has a smartphone and it’s reasonable for them to want to check their e-mails. I’ll sort that out before next year.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but if you change your mind, I can easily have a word with Howard and Paula.’

  ‘It’s nothing. I really don’t mind.’ He leaned closer to her. ‘But what’s far from nothing is the fact that I promised to take you to a local restaurant to sample their tagliatelle al tartufo. As you can see, I haven’t forgotten.’

  She laughed. ‘Don’t worry – you were just being polite. I won’t hold you to your promise. After all, we were just joking around, weren’t we?’

  ‘Isn’t there a saying, many a true promise is spoken in jest?’

  She laughed again. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do. A promise is a promise and we shall go.’ She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. ‘Stop. I know what you’re going to say. We’ll go, but not while the class is here. It’s pretty obvious that you can’t leave them for the whole evening: you’re the one who’s holding the different elements together and you need to be there. I shall just have to be patient.’

  ‘So when do you suggest we go, then?’ she asked, trying to quell the sense of excitement that was welling up inside her.

  ‘On Saturday evening. The group will be leaving for home throughout the day, but I think I’m right in saying that they’ll all be gone by late afternoon. You’re bound to be feeling a bit lonely when they’ve left, and actually, so will I. Going out to dinner together will be the perfect way to end the week.’

  ‘What about Stephen?’

  ‘There’s enough to keep him amused at the house. If he’s truly desperate, he could make a start on his university work. So, is that agreed?’

  She looked up from her drink and stared at him. In the depths of his eyes, there was unmistakable admiration. But there was something else, too.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, her voice strange to her ears. ‘Thank you. I’m already looking forward to it.’

  And she realised that despite her determination to keep her emotions in check, she really was.

  Chapter Nine

  Jenny stared in satisfaction at the collection of traditional and contemporary watercolours arranged around the perimeters of the terrace. She felt totally shattered, and very relieved that she’d decided to display the work of well-known watercolour artists and not the work they’d done in Assisi that day.

  Showing them work done by others was going to be so much easier than critiquing each other’s efforts, which was anything but relaxing for the group and downright exhausting for her. The only person who probably wouldn’t be worn out that evening was Max, who’d stayed at home. The rest of t
hem had spent most of the day walking around Assisi, and what they needed was a peaceful evening in which to recharge their batteries.

  ‘Aha, here you are,’ Nick said cheerfully, coming out on to the terrace. He stopped and stared at the paintings. ‘So this is the exhibition for Wednesday, is it? The standard’s slightly higher than the other nights, isn’t it? Forget that. It’s much higher than the last few evenings.’

  Summoning up every ounce of energy that she could, she turned to Nick and gave him a broad smile. ‘Hello, Nick. It’s unlike you to be the first here.’

  He grinned at her. ‘I like to be unpredictable. It keeps ’em guessing.’

  She laughed. ‘I see. It’s all part of your allure, is it?’

  ‘I used to think so.’ He gave her a rueful grin. ‘But something tells me that my allure has faded a bit.’

  ‘I won’t pretend that I don’t know what you’re talking about. Cue for alcohol, I’m inclined to think. Why don’t I pour us a drink and you can tell me about it? If you want to, that is.’

  ‘You sit down; I’ll do the pouring.’ He went across to the side table, took a bottle of Prosecco from the bed of ice and started to open it. ‘I bet Stephen would hate it if he caught me making the drinks – he seems to have adopted the role of bartender for the week.’ He filled two glasses, handed one to her, and they sat down at the end of the dinner table, which had been set up under the awning. ‘I guess it’s pretty obvious that the bartender’s job isn’t the only thing that I’d like to take from him.’

  ‘I did notice that he and Clare disappeared as soon as we got to Assisi. It’s a shame for you, Nick, but I’m afraid that one of you had to lose out, if not both. After all, there was no guarantee that Clare would feel anything for either of you.’

  ‘I know that. But to concede defeat to someone younger than I am, who’s still at university – it’s pathetic. Mind you, he’s got a load of dosh behind him. He’s not exactly a student struggling on a pittance.’

  ‘You don’t think that Clare …’

  ‘No. It sounded as if I do, but I don’t; not at all. Clare’s not like that. I’m just enjoying piling on the agony. It’s the masochist in me.’

  ‘It’s a pity there isn’t a second unattached female on the course,’ she said sympathetically.

  ‘You can say that again. Although, come to think of it, there is.’ He grinned at her. ‘There’s you, Jenny.’ She started in surprise. ‘I know you’re a year or two older than I am, but that’d suit me just fine – I’ve always fancied being a toyboy. And you’re very pretty – all big blue eyes and blonde hair. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think you’d be ideal for me. Just imagine it – I could have private art lessons every day.’

  She laughed awkwardly. ‘Slow down, Nick. I’m glad to see that your heart isn’t irredeemably broken, but I’m not looking for a man at the moment. I need to find a job first, decide where to live, all that sort of thing. I’m just here to teach – I’ve no hidden agenda.’

  But she did have a hidden agenda. Her guilt at having to lie to Nick prickled, and she took a hasty sip of her drink.

  ‘But I’d fail there, too, wouldn’t I?’ he said, carrying on as if she hadn’t spoken.

  She looked up from her drink, startled. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You and Max. If you’re not an item now, you soon will be. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you don’t know it. I bet you’re the only reason he’s picked up a paint brush this week.’

  Her heart gave a sudden thud. ‘You’re completely wrong about that. He’s friendly and he likes talking about art, but it’s no more than that.’

  ‘And every instinct tells me that you fancy him like mad. You’re as bad as he is, always watching him when he’s not aware of it.’

  ‘Really, Nick. You’ve got it totally wrong; it’s not like that at all.’ She felt a sudden anxiety, and bit her lip.

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t think so.’ He stared morosely into his glass, and sighed. ‘And I definitely haven’t got it wrong about Clare really liking Stephen. I wish I could hate him for it, but I can’t. He’s a pretty cool guy.’

  ‘But getting a girl this week would have been no more than a bonus, wouldn’t it? That wasn’t the reason you came on the course – or at least, I’d be very surprised if it were. You weren’t to know that you’d meet someone like Clare. If you wanted to find yourself a girlfriend, internet dating would have been a much safer bet, and probably a lot less expensive.’

  He smiled at her. ‘You’re right. I didn’t come looking for love.’

  ‘So why did you decide to do the course, Nick? If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re not the sort of person I would have expected to choose to spend his holiday learning how to use watercolour.’

  ‘I don’t mind you saying so at all – in fact, I consider it a compliment.’ He grinned at her. ‘Sorry and all that, but it is. First of all, it’s not my proper holiday – I’m going with my mates to Cyprus in August. This week’s just an extra. I had some holiday to use up, saw the ad for the classes, and signed up on a whim.’

  ‘Do you have a secret longing to be an artist, then?’

  ‘It’s even cornier than that. You know my surname’s Williams. Well, my mum’s nuts about the watercolours done by that Welsh chap, Kyffin Williams. No relation. Mum’s going to be fifty soon, so I thought I’d do her a watercolour as a birthday present. It’ll be a watercolour from a different Williams.’

  ‘That’s a really lovely idea, Nick.’

  He exaggerated an affronted expression. ‘You don’t have to sound so surprised.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m sorry. And have you enjoyed the week so far, apart from the Clare bit? You can be honest. Every bit of feedback is helpful.’

  ‘Funnily enough, I have enjoyed it on the whole. But I wouldn’t go on another course like this again – it’s not really me. By the end of the week, though, I’ll have a present for Mum, and I’ll have done something different. Yeah, I guess it’s been all right.’ The sound of approaching voices came from within the house. ‘Don’t tell anyone why I came on the course, will you?’ he added quickly. ‘I’d lose all credibility.’

  ‘Of course, I won’t. Your terrible secret’s safe with me,’ she said, glancing towards the patio doors. ‘We’re about to be joined by the honeymoon couple, I suspect.’

  ‘Now they’re something else,’ he said. ‘I can’t see how Howard can put up with that ghastly woman. She always seems to be playing a part, and what’s more, playing it badly. I don’t know about love being blind, but it’s certainly deaf in Howard’s case.’

  ‘Shush, Nick.’ She smiled up at Paula and Howard as they came up to the table. ‘Hello, you two.’

  Nick stood up. ‘I’m on drinks duty this evening. Take a seat and I’ll get you your poison.’

  ‘Ooh, thank you, Nick; that’s very sweet of you.’ Paula sat down next to Jenny. ‘Wasn’t it a simply lovely day today?’

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

  ‘Oh, I did.’

  ‘We both did,’ Howard called as he strolled over to the display of watercolours and began to look at them.

  A few minutes later, Nick returned with the drinks. He gave one to Paula, took the other over to Howard, and then sat down opposite Jenny and Paula. ‘So what did you get up to in Assisi, Paula? I didn’t see you and Howard at all today, and it’s not that big a town.’

  ‘We’ve been to Assisi once before,’ Howard said, leaving the paintings and coming to sit next to Paula. He put his arm around her. ‘We’d just got engaged the last time. We weren’t there for long, but it was long enough to do all the touristy things, like see the Church of St Francis. So today we did the not-so-touristy things.’

  ‘Such as?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Mainly wandering through the narrow medieval streets at the top end of town. There aren’t as many tourists up there. We photographed all the places we thought would make good pictures, pottered around for a
bit, and finally ended up in the main piazza and had coffee. Oh, and Paula bought one or two things.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you’d been to Umbria before,’ Jenny said in surprise. ‘How long were you here?’

  ‘Not long; less than a week,’ Paula replied. ‘We were on a whirlwind coach tour of the highlights of Tuscany and Umbria. It was only a short tour, but it was absolutely wonderful.’

  Howard nodded his agreement. ‘We liked what we saw of Assisi – they did a brilliant job of restoring it after the earthquake. In fact, we thought the whole area beautiful, and marked it down as a place worth spending some time in. And then we saw the art course advertised, and Bob’s your uncle.’

  ‘It’s certainly an unusual sort of honeymoon – not coming to Umbria, but going on a course like this.’ Nick fetched another bottle of Prosecco from the side table and topped up all of their glasses.

  ‘We like being active, don’t we, Howie? It’s boring doing nothing. We’ve got friends who’ve honeymooned in places like the Bahamas, but that’s not for us. This is much more fun, and when we get back to England, we’ll be able to show our friends not only the photos we took, but also the watercolours we’ve done.’

  ‘Riveting stuff,’ Nick muttered under his breath. Jenny sent him a warning frown. He winked at her and returned the bottle of wine to the ice.

  ‘Are you flying back to England at the end of the week or are you going on to somewhere else first?’ Jenny asked, turning back to Paula and Howard.

  ‘We’ve got a flight booked for a week on Saturday,’ Howard told her. ‘We’re going to hire a car for a week and drive from here to the area around Arezzo. When we come across an interesting-looking place, we’ll find an agritourismo and stay the night.’

  ‘Which is why we’re travelling light,’ Paula said. ‘Mind you, it was difficult getting everything into one case. Howie was very strict with me,’ she added with a giggle. ‘But we need to be able to fit everything into the boot of the car so we don’t leave anything on show. Not that I need any more than that – not when I have my Howie with me.’ She gazed adoringly at her husband.