White-Hot Christmas

by Serenity Woods

  A while later, when it was completely dark, there was another knock at the door. Neon was dozing and couldn’t be bothered to get up. He only realised he hadn’t locked the door when it swung open.

  “It’s me.” Julia came in, closing the door behind her. She walked over to him and perched on the arm of his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, looked up at her, then looked away.

  “I’m guessing you’ve spoken to Jake.” His voice was croaky and he coughed to clear it.

  “Yes, he rang me.”

  Neon heaved a heavy, ragged sigh. “She’s gone, Mum.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  “Guess I screwed that one up, didn’t I?”

  She laughed. “Kinda.” She studied him, pity in her eyes. “Are you all right, darling? Physically, I mean? That’s quite a large dressing on your neck.”

  “It’s okay. Merle cleaned it for me.” He cleared his throat again, looked at the glass in his hand. It was empty. He put the glass on the table. He didn’t want any more to drink, he’d had enough already.

  He looked up at her. “You’re going to say ‘I told you so’, aren’t you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You should do.” He sighed again. “How did you know? That she was different than all the others, I mean.”

  “It was written all over your face from day one.”

  “What was?”

  “That you love her.”

  He stared at her, startled. “Love?”

  Julia stared back. “Oh no, don’t tell me that’s the reason you didn’t tell her.”

  “I…” He was having difficulty forming thoughts in his head. “I like being with her. I can’t stop thinking about her. I miss her so much it hurts.”

  “Kind of the definition, sweetheart.”

  He loved her. He loved Merle. Oh Christ, he was the village idiot. He deserved to be shot.

  He leaned forward, put his head in his hands. “I was cruel to her, Mum. I…” He let his voice trail off. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he’d said.

  She leaned forward and touched his hair. “We all say things we don’t mean when we’re hurting. She’ll forgive you.”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gone.”

  “So, you’re going to give up, is that it?”

  He glared at her. “Well, what would you have me do? She’s gone back to England.”

  “Neon, she’s not dead. She may be a few miles away, but she’s still in the land of the living. Ever heard of a phone?”

  “What’s the point?” He stood up unsteadily. “She’s got a life there, I’ve got a life here.”

  “So did Bree and Jake,” his mother pointed out quietly. “Sometimes one of you has to give a little more in a relationship. And I know it’s doesn’t come naturally to you, sweetheart, but in this case it might have to be you.” She stood up. “I’m going now. I suggest you get to bed, have a good night’s sleep and in the morning have a think about what you want to do.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, you know that, don’t you? You’re a good boy.”

  He pouted. “I’m not fifteen.”

  “Inside, all men are fifteen,” she said wryly. “Now go to bed before you fall over.”

  Neon locked the door behind her and went to bed as she had suggested. But in spite of all the alcohol, sleep didn’t come immediately.

  Outside there was a morepork sitting somewhere in the jacaranda tree and he could hear it calling clearly, “More pork, more pork!” Merle had loved the sound, saying it was so much more interesting than all the owls she’d heard in England.

  Merle… He thought he’d blown it, ruined his chances. Was it possible there was a way he could win her back? His mother had implied there would be sacrifice involved. He wasn’t great at that. He was an only child—he’d led a very selfish life up until now, with no thought of anything but what he wanted and the quickest way to get it, with little regard for anyone else’s feelings. Was he capable of being any different?

  Maybe it was time to find out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The cold January afternoon was dark and depressing. Merle leaned her head against the window of the train and tried to rest, but it wasn’t easy. The train was packed, and a couple of families played loud games farther along the carriage, trying to keep their children amused. She had a headache and terrible jet lag, but the noise kept her awake.

  Not that she would have been able to sleep much, anyway. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Neon’s face, his eyes cold as he said those terrible, hurtful things. She never wanted to sleep again.

  Across the table, Bree read a book, casting the occasional concerned glance across at Merle. Merle had been glad of the way Bree took over the organisation of their travel, directing Merle to the appropriate terminals, finding them taxis, sorting out their seats. Merle had felt like a lost child, permanently close to tears, wanting to go home, curl into a ball in bed and pull the duvet over her head. But instead she’d had to sit on a plane for twenty-six hours, unable to have any privacy unless she went into the tiny toilet cubicle where she’d stared at herself in the mirror, seeing the dark shadows under her eyes and wondering if her lips would ever curve in a smile again.

  And now she felt scruffy and in dire need of a shower and fresh clothing. The journey was interminably long, and by the time they pulled in at Exeter St David’s, her eyes were scratchy, she had an upset stomach from eating food at all the wrong times, and her irritation level was skyscraper high.

  They caught a taxi home, pulled up and heaved their suitcases out the boot. Bree paid the driver while Merle studied the house nervously. They’d let Susan know they were flying home early before they left, but they’d been unable to reach her on the phone at the airport, and Merle had left her English mobile behind when she left for New Zealand. Had Susan been rushed to hospital? Oh God, were they too late?

  She walked up the path, past her car, which was still sitting on the drive, and dropped her suitcase, fumbled for her key and fitted it in the lock. Behind her, Bree called for her to wait, picking up her own cases, but Merle ignored her and opened the front door. She entered the lounge, seeing it in darkness, and her heart thumped in fear. “Mum?” She walked through the house, calling, but there was no reply. Clearly, there was nobody at home.

  “Merle?” Bree finally appeared behind her in the kitchen.

  “She’s not here.” Panic swept over Merle, making her breathless. “Oh God, Bree, what if she’s been taken ill…”

  “Let’s not get upset until we know what’s happened.” Bree held Merle by her upper arms. “Come on, you’re shivering. Sit down and I’ll get you a brandy.”

  “I don’t want a drink.” But Merle sat anyway, putting her face in her hands. Her stomach was a tangled knot of emotion—guilt, fear, grief, loss. Bree rattled around in the cupboards, and then Merle felt a glass pushed into her hand. She looked blankly at the amber liquid.

  “Drink it,” Bree urged gently. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  Merle sipped it and shuddered. It made her think of Neon, drinking whisky on the night of the accident. “I don’t want it.” She pushed it away.

  “Merle, sweetie.” Bree was white with concern and dropped to her knees to put her arms around her sister as tears welled in Merle’s eyes. “Oh don’t cry, everything will be all right, you’ll see.”

  “I miss him.” Merle burst into tears. “I know it’s terrible and Mum might be ill and dying somewhere alone in a hospital, but all I can think about is how much I miss him.”

  “Oh, Merle.”

  They hugged for a minute or so, Merle’s tears soaking into Bree’s jumper. They were both wearing thick clothing, and Merle suddenly realised she was warm. The central heating was on. Her mother hated to waste money and always turned off the heating when she knew she was going away, even though Merle told her there was a threat of a burst pipe when she
did that. Of course, if she’d been rushed into hospital, she might not have had time to switch it off. Either that, or…

  Bree lifted her head. “There’s someone at the door.”

  The two of them stood. A key turned in the lock, and they heard the front door open. They walked through into the lounge, and there was their mother, shopping bags in her hand, a big smile on her face as she saw her daughters. “I didn’t think you’d be here until this evening!” She came forward and wrapped her arms around a stunned Bree. “Sweetheart, it’s wonderful to see you.” Then she came over and did the same to a frozen Merle. “Darling, lovely to have you home.”

  Merle waited until Susan had pulled back, and then studied her. She wore makeup, and her skin was rosy. She looked healthy and happy. The shopping bags were full of food.

  “Where have you been?” Merle said stupidly.

  “Sainsbury’s.” Susan gave her an odd look, pointing to the named carrier bags. “Obviously.” She took off her coat and went into the hall to hang it up.

  Merle’s eyes met Bree’s. Bree gave a small shake of her head.

  Susan came back in. “I’m going to make Shepherd’s Pie for tea—I know you both love that.” She stopped as she saw them staring at her, and looked from one of them to the other. “What’s the matter?”

  “You…” Merle’s voice was faint. “You said you were going back into hospital.”

  Susan waved a hand breezily. “I had a few headaches, quite bad ones. But the doctor said they’re nothing to worry about.” She looked slightly sheepish. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I was upset when I spoke to you. I…probably got carried away a bit.”

  “Got carried away?” Merle’s voice grew stronger. “You said you were dying!”

  Susan frowned. “I was stressed, I got confused.”

  “Confused?” Merle gave a humourless laugh. She glared at her mother. “You weren’t confused. You knew perfectly well what you were doing, didn’t you?”

  “Merle…” Bree warned, reaching out a hand, but Merle shook her off.

  Susan coloured. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Tears stung Merle’s eyes. “I said he didn’t mean anything to me because I wanted to make you feel better. And he heard me. He thinks I don’t love him.”

  Susan rolled her eyes and carried a couple of the bags into the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, “You’ve known him what, two weeks? You don’t love him, darling, he was just a fling, you said so yourself.”

  “Mum.” Bree’s voice was sharp. She looked helplessly at Merle. “God, Merle, I’m so sorry…”

  Merle bit her lip hard, but she couldn’t hold back the tears that spilled out and down her cheeks. Susan came in for the other bags, glancing at Merle as she passed, slowing and then stopping as she saw the look on Merle’s face.

  “I loved him, Mum,” Merle whispered. “And I threw it all away because of you.”

  Susan opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She went white, and her lip trembled.

  “Don’t you dare cry,” Merle said harshly. “Don’t you dare!”

  “Sweetheart.” Susan dropped the bags and came over. “I know I’m a burden to you, and you’re so wonderful for looking after me…”

  “Don’t touch me.” Merle stepped back. Icy calm settled over her. “I’m done, Mum.”

  “What?” Both Bree and Susan looked shocked.

  “That’s it. I’m not going to do it anymore.” Merle looked around for her handbag and picked it up, putting the strap over her shoulder. “I’m done being the dutiful daughter.”

  “What do you mean?” Susan looked appalled. “I need you.”

  “No, Mum, you really don’t.” Merle picked up her car keys. “And I’ve spent way too many years living your life instead of my own. I’m moving out.” She walked past them to the doorway.

  “You’re leaving me?” Susan looked suddenly hunched and pitiful, but Merle hardened her heart.

  “You’re still my mother, and I’m still your daughter. I can’t change that. But I’m not going to be your slave anymore. I have things I want to do—I want to travel, to work abroad, to get married, Mum, and have children.”

  “Are you going back to him?” Susan asked in a small voice.

  Merle swallowed. She still loved him. But the memory of his cruel words and the hardness in his eyes would not be easily shaken. She shook her head. “No, that relationship’s done. But there are other fish in the sea.” She tried not to think of Neon branding his name into her skin. Every time you make love to another guy, I want you to think of me. She shook her head again. “He’s not the only man in the world. I will find someone else, and I will be happy.”

  She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry again. “And if you ever want to see me again, or Bree, you’re going to have to think long and hard about how you’ve behaved toward us. You’re going to have to change, Mum, if you don’t want to lose us both.”

  She glanced at Bree. “Are you coming?”

  Bree smiled. “No, you go. I’ll stay and make sure…everything’s all right.”

  Merle nodded. Turning, she walked out of the house.

  Nine Days Later

  Merle stood to one side of the huge white screen, looking up at an aerial photograph of a deserted medieval village. It was the first day of the university spring term. This was her third lecture of the day, and she was having trouble concentrating.

  Focus, she told herself. It was semidark in the lecture theatre, and the students fidgeted, cold and restless. The double doors leading into the room had already banged open and shut several times, and although she liked to teach in a relaxed atmosphere, not wanting to treat the students as if they were still children, even she could get irritated with their constant comings and goings.

  As she went to speak, the doors banged again. “Please sit down and stop interrupting my class,” she said out loud, without turning around. There was a pause and then the creak of a seat. She cleared her throat. “So here you can see the remains of a village that died out in the years following the Black Death. As you all know, hopefully, if you did my course last year, after the plague swept through England, killing up to half the population, there was much relocation in the countryside as workers moved around, charging more for their services, and as a result many villages dwindled.”

  Her hands were behind her back, holding the wireless mouse to her laptop, and she now flicked the button with her thumb, changing the picture. “This village in Dorset is a great example, you can see here the grass is lighter in colour, showing stone walls underneath, and here it’s darker, indicating some kind of pit.” She turned and nodded to the student sitting by the lights, who flicked them back on.

  “So, those were a few examples of the ways you can tell from the air that a settlement expanded or contracted.” She returned to the podium where she had placed her notes. She checked her watch quickly—she was about halfway through the lecture. Her head ached, but she knew that was probably due to lack of sleep. Perhaps she should have taken the first week off. She shuffled through her notes. It would have been so easy to ask to extend her leave, but it was unsettling for the students not to have their main lecturer there, and besides, she’d wanted to distract herself from recent events.

  Now, though, she began to wonder if she’d made the right decision. She sighed, putting the sheet on top that had bullet points of ways aerial photography could help trace the development of settlements. She had to keep going, there was nothing else to be done. “We’ve talked about deserted medieval villages. Now let’s think about towns and how we can trace the ways they change.”

  She looked up, glancing around the lecture theatre. Most of the students were engaged, many writing notes, in spite of the fidgeting. A couple were whispering up at the back, but she didn’t mind, as long as they were quiet. She glanced over to the right to see who’d come in late.

  And then her heart stopped completely.

  For a moment she thought she was ima
gining him. How could he possibly be here, in England, in the university, in her lecture? It didn’t make sense. He sat on the end of one of the benches, one arm hooked over the back, watching her. He wore a black, V-necked sweater over a white T-shirt, with dark jeans, and he looked incredibly brown compared to the white teenagers around him. His appearance was completely incongruous in the university setting, like a palm tree suddenly sprouting out of snow. He met her gaze calmly, unsmiling.

  She’d been staring so long her students were glancing at one another, puzzled. Several of them followed her gaze, and they nudged each other, pointing to where he sat. He ignored them, his gaze fixed only on her.

  She returned to her notes. Her mind had gone completely blank. She stared at her writing but couldn’t get her brain to work at all.

  She cleared her throat. “Towns.” Jesus, what had she been saying? Deserted medieval villages, aerial photography, yes, that was it. “We can also trace the growth and decline of towns by looking at aerial photographs of the surrounding landscape…” Her voice trailed off. Her heart pounded, and she felt faint. If she wasn’t careful, she’d pass out right in front of the whole class.

  She made a decision and gathered her notes together. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to cut this class short.” She didn’t dare look up at him. “I’ll see you again tomorrow at two. I’ll continue this lecture then.”

  She turned her back on the class and began to put her notes away and pack up her laptop. There was a moment of silence and then the students started shuffling, gathering their books together and making for the exit.

  The doors banged shut for the final time, and she hesitated. He was going to be there, she knew. She zipped up her laptop case as his footsteps came down the steps, then turned and saw him leaning against the front bench, six feet away, watching her, arms folded.

  “Hi,” he said.

  She stared at him. Her heart thundered. “What do you want?” She made her voice icy.