Holly’s First Noel

by Faye Robertson

  “Has he gone?”

  “For good,” she confirmed.

  He hesitated. “Are you terribly upset?”

  “No. That’s why I’m upset, see?”

  He frowned. “Um...”

  “I’m upset because I’m not upset he isn’t coming back. Before he came around, I kind of hoped he’d say he wanted to stay. And then when he turned up, all I could think was that I wanted him to go. And it made me sad, because we’ve been together for five years, so you’d think I’d be a bit more broken up about him leaving, but I’m actually glad he’s gone. Which is totally wrong, even though I’ve known it was over for a while, but now I really know, you know?”

  “Absolutely,” he said with confidence, clinging onto the conversation by his fingertips.

  “He took them all,” she said.

  Noel struggled to think to what she was referring. Had there been a clue in the conversation? “His clothes?” he offered.

  “Sorry, no... Well, yes, he took his clothes, but I was referring to the mince pies. The bastard took them all! He wouldn’t take the bloody brussels sprouts or the cranberry sauce, but he took the mince pies. All of them! He knows that’s my favorite Christmas food. Now I’m convinced he doesn’t love me.”

  In spite of himself, and the fact that he felt incredibly sorry for her, Noel smiled. “The bastard. So, you’re still coming?”

  “Absolutely.” She hesitated. “I don’t want to spend Christmas alone, Noel. I’m not saying I’ll be glued to your side or that you’ll see me at all if you don’t want to—just that I don’t want to stay here, in this house, with my life being less than it was, you know?”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “So. I’ll get the alcohol. What do you want for Christmas dinner?”

  She thought about it. “I hate turkey.”

  “Hallelujah. Me, too. What do you really want for Christmas dinner?”

  She sighed. “Beans on toast sounds terrific.”

  He laughed. “Beans on toast it is, then.”

  “Can I bring chocolate?”

  “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

  …

  Holly waited nervously on the morning of the twenty-third for Noel to show up. Was he going to change his mind at the last minute? Realize what a ridiculous idea it was to invite someone else to his private retreat? She sat on the edge of her sofa, fingers interlaced, and prayed he’d still come.

  This little adventure was the only thing keeping her going this Christmas. Noel would be there, but he’d already told her he was planning to drink himself to oblivion, so she was prepared to entertain herself with books and music and puzzles, and hopefully nice long walks in snow-filled valleys. She was excited and nervous. If he backed out now, she’d be horrendously disappointed.

  But at seven o’clock, just as he said he would, Noel pulled up outside in a large, sleek car. That surprised her. For some reason, she’d thought he’d be driving some clapped-out old banger.

  Peeking through the curtains, she watched him get out and walk toward her front door. “Oh my God.” She stared at him. He looked completely different than how he normally looked at school. Gone were the corduroy trousers, the crumpled white shirt and drab tie, and the dull tweed jacket with the patches. Instead, he wore tight, dark blue jeans and a sky-blue sweater over a casual shirt. He looked... phenomenally gorgeous.

  She answered the door with a hammering heart and gave him a bright smile. “You came!”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You thought I’d abandon a damsel in distress?”

  “Noel the Brave, saving the day,” she said happily. “Come in.”

  Giving her a wry smile, he walked past her, leaving behind a warm smell of sandalwood and freshly washed clothes. She closed the door behind him, trying to ignore the way her heart knocked rapidly on her ribs as if trying to attract her attention. Stop it, she scolded. The poor man’s still grieving, and you’re coming out of a breakup. For God’s sake, don’t start getting all mushy just because someone’s being nice to you.

  Noel walked into her living room and stopped abruptly. Holly slipped in behind him and followed his gaze to the pile of luggage on the floor. “What?”

  “You said a couple of instruments.” He looked at her, then pointedly at the luggage. “I didn’t realize you meant the whole of the Philharmonic Orchestra.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “You said you liked music.”

  “I thought you were talking about a recorder and a triangle, not the whole brass section.” He looked at her over the top of his glasses. “You can take two pieces. Make your choice.”

  He was talking to her like she was one of his students. She’d have argued with him, but his bright blue eyes somehow dismantled the speech center of her brain, so she sighed and studied the instruments. “I’ll take the tenor sax and the Gretsch.”

  “You really play all these?” he asked as he helped her carry her gear to the car.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a music teacher if I couldn’t.”

  “Well, I’m a science teacher, but I can’t split the atom.”

  “Good point. Yes, Mr. Brave, I can play them all. And I’d have shown you, if you’d have let me bring them all.”

  “I drive a Ford, not a Tardis. I could leave you behind if you want—then I’d be able to fit everything in.”

  Bickering companionably, they stacked up his car and she locked the house. He held the car door open for her.

  She smiled at him. “You really are right out of the Dark Ages, aren’t you?”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  She thought of the way Jackson would let her struggle with the shopping while he talked on his mobile or walk through a door and let it swing shut on her. “No.” She met Noel’s gaze for a moment. There was something so calm about him, so relaxed and easy. Perhaps it was because he was a teacher, but even though she didn’t know him very well, she trusted him. That was a good thing, she thought, considering they were about to drive into the middle of Nowheresville, probably with no phone reception and hemmed in by ten feet of snow.

  He tipped his head. “Having second thoughts?”

  She realized he was waiting for her to get in so he could shut the door for her. “No, no. I just…” Before she could talk herself out of it, she raised on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Noel, for inviting me. I’m sure you’ve regretted it all week, but I do really appreciate it.”

  Her cheeks warm, she slid into the passenger seat, and he closed the door. She watched him walk around to the driver’s side, get in, and slot the key in the ignition. Then he turned to look at her.

  They surveyed each other for a moment. His glasses had spots of rain on them, and he took them off and cleaned them, glancing across at her as he did so. His bright turquoise eyes made her catch her breath. The guy was melt-in-your-mouth good-looking. His blue sweater emphasized his impressive chest and upper arms, and his jeans stretched tight over well-muscled thighs. Who would have known such a hunk was hiding under all that tweed?

  He slid his glasses back on and gave her a smile that was both mischievous and playful. “You ready?”

  “Yes,” she said, breathless.

  He started the engine. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter Three

  Noel had been worried that the long journey to Scotland was going to be excruciating with someone else in the car—especially someone he didn’t know very well. He’d been concerned that she’d expect him to make small talk all the way, which he didn’t enjoy, or maybe want to play music he didn’t like or talk inanely about stuff he wasn’t interested in, like clothes and celebrity TV shows. But she didn’t.

  For a while, they talked about school, comparing their various experiences at previous institutions as well as their current one, and discussing problem classes and students they had trouble with. To his surprise, she spoke knowledgeably about learning issues, sharing ideas with him of techniques she’d used in cla
ss that had worked. For some reason he’d expected her to be ditzy in her teaching as well as in general, but he realized he’d underestimated her on both accounts. He should have guessed—his students often talked about her being their favorite teacher, but he’d assumed that was only because they got to play around with instruments most of the time.

  After that, she asked if he’d like to listen to some music, and he agreed reluctantly, not wanting to seem impolite. She asked what he was interested in, and he gave her the names of some bands he liked, wondering whether she’d mock him for his middle-of-the-road tastes. But she just nodded and selected songs on her iPod, and soon they were listening to some of his favorite stuff, as well as bands he hadn’t heard of but were similar in style to those he liked.

  After a few hours, they passed Manchester and stopped for a cup of coffee and a midmorning snack, during which she told him a bit more about Jackson, and he told her a little about Ella, the first time he’d really talked about his wife in a long time. He talked hesitantly, afraid of getting emotional, but it was surprisingly easy to talk about her to Holly, who sat listening with her head propped on her hand, her kind eyes compassionate as he told her how difficult the last few years had been.

  They got back in the car and drove for another couple of hours. She read her book for a while, saying she wanted to give him some peace, but when he saw her chuckling to herself, he asked her to read it aloud. Soon she was making him laugh with the travel anecdotes that she told using various voices, and before he knew it, it was lunchtime, and they stopped again just past Carlisle to stretch their legs and grab something to eat.

  They spent the rest of the day in much the same way. Although he hadn’t expected Holly to drive, she offered, so he let her take the wheel for a while, laying his chair back and dozing as she sang to some bluesy guitar player on the iPod in her attractive, husky voice. She drove through Glasgow onto the quieter A-roads, and then he took over for the last leg as it started to get dark.

  The scenery had become more mountainous and forested the more they traveled north, the towns farther apart. He could almost imagine the Celts and Picts with their painted faces and spears hassling the Romans along the Antonine Wall.

  “Where are we going, exactly?” She hadn’t spoken for a while, lost in thought he assumed, and he looked across at her now, realizing he hadn’t told her anything about their destination.

  “Fort Augustus.”

  She turned to look at him. “You’re kidding me? Loch Ness?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that a problem?”

  “It depends. Am I going to be eaten alive in my sleep?”

  He glanced at her, and they both started laughing.

  “That didn’t come out quite as I meant.”

  He carefully steered his mind away from the thought of Holly Jones lying naked in bed. Honest to God, he said to Ella in his head, I’m not interested. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I think we can safely say it’s unlikely a dinosaur’s going to exit the lake and attack you in the house.”

  “If it does, I’m expecting Noel the Brave to rescue me.”

  “Noel the Brave will be running at top speed in the opposite direction if anything comes out of the loch, I assure you,” he said, making her laugh.

  Within an hour, they were shadowing the edge of the loch, which looked black and mysterious in the moonlight. It was growing colder outside, although they were cozy in the car with the heater on and the Thermos of hot tea Holly had made that morning.

  She looked up at the cloudless sky where the moon hung like a silver Christmas bauble, then back to the loch. “I wonder if it will snow over Christmas?”

  “They’ve forecast it.”

  “Six hundred feet deep,” she murmured.

  “I doubt it’ll be quite that heavy a fall,” he said, deliberately misinterpreting her. She’d spoken cryptically at regular intervals along the journey, and he was beginning to understand how her brain worked. It was more fun to pretend he didn’t, though.

  She gave him a wry look. “I meant the loch. It’s over six hundred feet deep.”

  “Oh? Are you an expert on the loch?”

  “That’s about the limit of my knowledge, I’m afraid.”

  He laughed and turned onto the winding road to Fort Augustus. Paul’s house was in a secluded spot a few miles south of town, and they finally pulled up around seven o’clock. By then it was difficult to separate the loch from the sky, the moon and stars scattering across the surface of the water, making an endless panorama of black night.

  …

  Holly stared out the car window as Noel drew the car up and turned off the engine. Steps led up a grass bank to a sheltered portico in front of a huge whitewashed house that overlooked the loch. “Jeez. Noel!”

  “What?”

  “I thought you said it was a cottage?”

  “It is a cottage.” He got out of the car and stretched, groaning.

  Holly followed, shivering in the icy evening air, her limbs aching from being in the same position for so long. “This is not a cottage. Cottages are tiny with beams you hit your head on. This is like something Macbeth would have stayed in!”

  He laughed, getting out their bags and handing her the guitar and saxophone cases. “Paul calls it a cottage. I suppose it is a bit of an understatement.”

  She followed him up the steps to the front door, turning to look over the loch as he dropped their bags and fumbled with the key. The moon was high in the sky now, and the loch looked like a plate of black glass. She swallowed nervously. Of course, the stories of a monster in its depths were all nonsense, but even so… If a prehistoric monster was going to live anywhere, she could see why it might choose Loch Ness.

  Noel opened the door and went inside, and she followed him. He turned right into a living room, and she lowered her cases onto the sofa, walking around and exploring the place with wide eyes. It was a beautiful house, large and richly decorated, but homely at the same time. He hadn’t lied to her, she realized—there were two living rooms, one slightly larger and cozier with plush cream leather sofas, but the other was just as nice, the drapes and suite a deep red color, with a real stuffed deer’s head on the wall. There was a bathroom downstairs, and a kitchen and dining room with polished wooden floors and every amenity a person could want.

  Upstairs, there were four bedrooms and a large bathroom with a huge bath that she looked at longingly, her flat only possessing a shower.

  “Nice, eh?” Noel said, making her jump as he walked up behind her.

  “It’s lovely. I haven’t had a bath in months.”

  “I thought there was a funny smell around here.”

  “Ha ha. I shower every day, smart arse. I don’t own a bath.” This one was wide and deep and sat on iron feet, making her feel yet again like she’d gone through a time warp to medieval Scotland. “You could fit two people in that,” she said absently.

  “Don’t get any ideas.”

  She blushed. “I didn’t mean…” Shit. She had to stop thinking out loud. “Honestly, I wasn’t implying…”

  His lips curved. “I know. Anyway, I don’t plan to wash at all for three days. It’s part of my Christmas funk. Alcohol, junk food, the same clothes, and loud action movies.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad I came.”

  He laughed. “So am I.”

  She watched him walk along to the bedrooms. For the first time, he’d sounded like he meant it. That made her smile.

  “Which one do you want?” he asked, picking up her bag from the landing.

  She followed him down. “Can I have the blue one?”

  “Of course.” He went in and put her bag on the bed. “I’ll have the green one at the end. There’ll be two whole rooms between us. So I can’t hear you snore.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “More like the other way around. You dozed off in the car, remember?”

  “I didn’t snore.”

  “Like hell you didn’t. I t
ell you, we’ll have no worries about Nessie coming calling—one snore from you and she’ll get right back in the water.”

  He laughed. “I’m going to get changed and then make myself a sandwich. Feel free to join me if you want.”

  “Okay.”

  He went into his room, then stuck his head back out. “I meant for the sandwich, by the way.”

  She smiled. “Yeah. I know.”

  He nodded and disappeared.

  She went into her room and lay on the bed for a moment. It was large and soft, and the room smelled faintly of lavender. She supposed she should be feeling homesick and upset at being alone this Christmas, but she didn’t. She felt strangely excited about the next few days. It was going to snow—she could almost smell it in the air, and even though it wasn’t going to be like any Christmas she’d had before, she felt exhilarated about the fact that she didn’t have to please anyone except herself.

  She wasn’t expecting to see much of Noel. Although he’d been relatively cheerful up until now, she didn’t want to intrude on his grief. Almost certainly, he’d want to be alone in his sorrow, and she didn’t want him to regret asking her to accompany him to Scotland. She’d keep to herself and use this time to rejuvenate, to think about the future, and to rediscover the real Holly, the one who had sunk deep inside herself over the last few years as she compromised to fit Jackson’s view of what his partner should be like.

  She changed into a comfy pair of sweatpants and an oversize stripy sweater and went downstairs. Noel was in the process of unpacking some of the food they’d brought with them, dressed like her in a pair of soft navy sweatpants, although he still wore the light blue sweater. He looked up as she walked in and raised an eyebrow, holding up a jar. “Chocolate spread? What are you, twelve?”

  “I brought food that I like. Not food that Jackson likes, or that my parents like, or that my sister’s kids like. Food that I want to eat.”

  “Fair enough.” He put the milk and cold meat in the fridge, stacked some tins in the cupboard, and began buttering bread.