by Fiona Harper
‘Oh, God...’ she whimpered. ‘I think I want to die.’
Will gave her an aren’t you being a tad dramatic kind of look.
Well, maybe she was. But she had good reason!
Those ticks, those thick black ticks? They were all the way down the food preparation pages in Juliet’s notebook. All the way down. That meant Josh had ticked everything and Juliet had ticked nothing.
‘I don’t have any food for Christmas lunch,’ she said quietly. ‘Nothing. Not even a blasted jar of cranberry sauce. And Juliet has invited half of Tunbridge Wells.’
Including Will. She’d seen his name on the guest list, but neither of them had seen fit to mention that yet.
‘You’ve still got one day,’ Will said, but the expression on his face said he thought that wasn’t enough. Gemma was inclined to agree. It took Juliet months to get ready for Christmas. How was she going to do it in just one day? She didn’t even know where to start.
And then she noticed the notebook in her hands.
You might not, but I do, it seemed to whisper. Everything you need is inside me.
She was tempted to throw it across the room, but she didn’t. The darn notebook was her only hope. She shuddered and put it down beside the sofa. She’d look at it later, once she’d calmed down from the evening’s already hectic events.
She looked back at Will, who’d been standing there the whole time watching her, a strange expression on his face. ‘That’s a lot of shopping to do tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Thanks, Einstein. Didn’t realise that.’
Ah, the look on his face now was much more the one she was used to.
‘And you’re never going to fit you, four kids and enough Christmas groceries for half of Tunbridge Wells into that tiny car of yours.’
He had a point there. And Juliet’s car wasn’t much bigger. Even if it had been, she wasn’t insured to drive it. She glared back at Will. ‘Thanks for pointing that out. It was really helpful.’
He gave her an exasperated look. ‘I mentioned it because I was going to offer to drive you. My car’s almost twice the size.’
Gemma thought of the Audi she’d seen sitting in Will’s driveway. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, tipping her chin up. ‘I can manage.’
Will stared at her for a moment, and then he shook his head. ‘You are just like your sister,’ he muttered and picked up the torch he’d left on the mantelpiece and headed down the corridor.
‘No I’m not!’ Gemma shouted after him. ‘And where are you going? The front door’s that way.’
He glanced at her over his shoulder as she trotted along behind him. ‘I’ll go out the way I came in, check the lock on that door. Juliet said something a while ago about it not shutting right.’ They turned the corner into the kitchen and he nodded towards the French doors at the end of the conservatory. ‘You can lock it behind me and I’ll try it from outside.’
Gemma wanted to tell him to get lost, but that was actually a very good idea, especially if what he’d said about burglars was true.
‘And if you want to prove to me you’re nothing like Juliet, you’ll accept my offer of help,’ he added as they reached the doors and he turned to face her.
Gemma didn’t say anything for a few seconds, caught between admitting he was right and her own stubbornness. She folded her arms. ‘Why are you so intent on helping me? What’s in it for you?’
He looked rather offended at her question, but instead of yelling at her—which would have been much more satisfying—he said in a low and even tone, ‘I’m not intent on helping you. I made Juliet a promise and I’m trying to keep it, that’s all. It’s important to her that Christmas Day goes well.’
She found she couldn’t argue with that, either, damn the man! It was an effort to make her lips form the words, but eventually she crossed her arms tighter across her front and said, ‘Fine. Okay. I accept.’
Will nodded, looking just about as pleased as she did. ‘Great. The supermarket opens at six a.m. tomorrow.’ He must have seen the look on her face, because he added, ‘If you want to get everything you need, you’re going to have to get there before the shop is stripped clean. I’ll pick you up at five forty-five.’
His words echoed round her head. Five forty-five...a.m.?
She nodded, not quite able to articulate anything while she was still working out how to get herself and four kids out the house at that ungodly time of day. It didn’t help that she saw the hint of a smirk on his lips as he stepped through the conservatory door and closed it behind him.
Locking him out while staring through the glass into his face was stupidly pleasing. She gave him one of her ‘secret weapon’ smiles, just to show him it didn’t bother her at all, accepting his help...being like Juliet...
Blooming busybody. Well, by tomorrow lunchtime she’d have everything she needed, then he could disappear off, feeling smug that he’d kept his promise to her sister, and she could have a nice family Christmas with the kids. He’d have done his bit and she wouldn’t have to see him again for the rest of the festive period.
From the expression on Will’s face as he turned and walked away, she reckoned she wasn’t the only one who’d be pleased about that.
* * *
WHEN JULIET AND MARCO got to the waterside restaurant, the same girl she’d spoken to earlier was guarding the entrance. She gave Juliet a cursory up-and-down look then turned and smiled warmly at Marco.
‘How can I help you, sir?’ she asked, tilting her head in an appealing manner.
Marco smiled back at her, accepting her adoration. ‘A table for two.’
Instead of dismissing him promptly, as she had done Juliet, the girl made a rueful face. ‘I’m sorry, sir. We’re fully booked.’
Well, Juliet had warned him. She shifted her weight on the back foot and prepared to turn away. Marco leaned in, took the girl’s hand and looked straight into her eyes. ‘I’m sure there must be something you can do for us...’
And Juliet listened as he worked his spell on the woman. As he talked she smiled, she blushed, and then she flipped the page in the book in front of her. She looked around then leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. ‘Well, if you promise me you won’t take too long with your meals, I might be able to squeeze you in before another party arrives.’
And then she summoned a waiter to lead them through the packed restaurant, right out onto a deck overhanging the sea. Most of the area was shaded by a pergola, dripping with tropical creepers, and fat light bulbs were strung in ropes between posts. There were a couple of tables with reserved signs on them, and the waiter sat them at the one squashed into an awkward corner. Marco frowned, and when the waiter left he simply got up and sat at another table, one where tiny white starbursts of jasmine trailed from the pergola above, and put the reserved sign on the table they’d just left.
Juliet looked at him incredulously. ‘Can you do that?’
Marco just shrugged. ‘I think I just did—this table...’.
She couldn’t argue with him about that. It was right on the very edge of the deck, the water lapping musically against the posts underneath them, and if they turned to look out over the water they had an uninterrupted view of what was promising to be a glorious sunset.
Once they’d ordered their starters, Marco handed his menu back to the waiter and looked at Juliet. ‘So...I have one thing to ask you, Giulietta.’
She liked it when he said her name that way, stretching out the first syllable and curling his tongue around the rest. Instead of sounding full of straight and upright letters—i’s dotted, t’s crossed—her name sounded alluring and enticing. Not like her at all.
‘Ask away.’
His eyes crinkled most appealingly as he smiled back at her. ‘What is a beautiful woman doing alone on such a beautiful island?’
At first, Juliet almost turned her head to see which beautiful woman he was talking about, but then she realised he was talking about her. She blushed and reminded herself that he was Italian, and that Italians flirted. He probably couldn’t help himself. It didn’t mean anything. Even so, she had the oddest urge to excuse herself and scurry away, past the other tables, past the restrooms and off into the night.
God, Juliet. When did you become such a coward?
She forced her bottom to stay glued to the very comfy seat. ‘It happened by accident, really.’
He smiled, keeping his lips together, as if he was charmed by what she was saying, and Juliet couldn’t help but smile back as the shaky feeling started to subside.
‘Are you telling me that you didn’t mean to get on a plane to St Lucia, but you ended up here anyway?’
She shook her head, laughing softly. ‘Nothing that exciting, unfortunately. My sister initially booked this holiday...’ She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, realising that she couldn’t tell the whole truth, because that would expose her earlier lie. Maybe just enough of the truth would do. ‘At the last minute she had...family commitments...to attend to and couldn’t come.’ Her family commitments, but she didn’t say that. ‘So she suggested I take the holiday instead.’
Marco stopped smiling he looked genuinely surprised. ‘Then you have a very generous sister! I would not do the same for one of my brothers.’
Juliet grabbed a lifeline he’d thrown her, took the opportunity to change the subject and deflect the attention away from herself. ‘And what about you? Surely a man who spends his whole year travelling wants to be home for Christmas? Why are you here on your own?’
He looked back at her, more serious than she’d ever seen him before. ‘Families,’ he said, sighing slightly, ‘they are complicated, no?’
‘No,’ Juliet said, and then with feeling, ‘yes, definitely. I know mine is, but why is yours?’
He gave a little half-shrug and looked at his wine glass. ‘My father disapproves of my career choice.’
‘I’d have thought your parents would be proud of you. You have the sort of fabulous and exciting job lots of people dream about.’
The edges of his mouth pulled down and he looked back at her. ‘My father does not think so. He wanted me to join the family restaurant business and has not forgiven me for not doing so. According to him, I do not work, I just “drift around”, using it as an excuse to stay away.’
Juliet took a hasty sip of wine. How many times had she accused Gemma of something very similar? She looked across the table at Marco. She’d only known him for a few hours, but already she could sense a restlessness in him. Working in a restaurant, staying put, wasn’t for him. He needed the chance to spread his wings in order to be happy.
Just like Gemma always had. But, unlike Gemma, she found she wasn’t irritated with him for being that way. In fact, she found the hint of unpredictability about him thrilling.
‘Well, I think you have to do what makes you happy,’ she told him, even though she was aware she didn’t follow her own advice. ‘Are you good at what you do?’
He seemed taken aback at her question, and it was a few seconds before he replied, a frown drawing his dark brows together, ‘Very.’
Juliet nodded, and leaned back a little as the waiter delivered her marinated squid. When he had disappeared again Marco asked, ‘What about your family problems? Aren’t you and your generous sister close?’
That wasn’t an easy question to answer. Mostly because she’d stepped into Gemma’s shoes for the evening and was trying to work out who to answer as. She decided that since she’d had a couple of glasses of wine and was a novice at this ‘faking it’ lark, it would probably be better to stick to one story rather than try to mix the two. She was just going to have to keep the lie going and, strangely, she liked the idea of taking a holiday from not just her life but herself for a bit.
‘Gemma is almost five years older than me. By all accounts, she was a bit of a surprise to our parents—they hadn’t planned on having children so young. But they got the hang of it...eventually. So much so, they decided they wanted more, only it took a rather long time for the next baby to come along.’
He picked up his knife and fork and began eating his langoustine. The sun was dipping low now, bathing one side of his face in pinky-golden light. ‘If your parents waited a long time for you, you must have been much loved.’
Juliet pressed her lips together and considered her answer. She remembered how overjoyed her parents had been during her mother’s pregnancy, how excited they’d been to bring Gemma home from the hospital. ‘Yes. Very loved,’ she said quietly. ‘But maybe my parents went a little bit overboard... Maybe they forgot they already had a daughter who needed their attention too.’
Marco nodded. ‘I am also the youngest. I understand. This causes problems with your sister, even now?’
She sighed. ‘More than ever, it seems.’
He gave a knowing nod. ‘She is jealous.’
‘No,’ Juliet said, maybe a little too quickly and a little too loudly. She calmed herself down. ‘No. Not jealous, it’s just...’ She didn’t know what she was. And it was hard to talk about herself this way, as if she was outside looking in. ‘It’s just that I’m the one who always gets all the attention. I’m naturally more outgoing, and she is quiet...sensible. She just gets on with things.’
Ugh, she sounded so boring when she described herself like that.
He put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fist. ‘And do you try to steal all the attention?’
Much to her own surprise, Juliet shook her head. ‘No. It just seems to happen that way. I don’t know why.’ The answer had come deep out of her subconscious, but suddenly she knew it was true. Gemma didn’t try to upstage her; she just always did.
She wasn’t sure if that realisation made her happy or sad. Yes, she was pleased Gemma wasn’t that heartless, but it didn’t feel good to know she could be so effortlessly eclipsed, either.
‘It is the same with me and my brothers,’ he said. ‘But they do not understand that. It makes family gatherings...difficult.’
Juliet nodded, a cold feeling growing in her stomach. ‘And that’s why you’re here at Christmas on your own, isn’t it? Because staying away is easier.’
He sat up straight and laughed, as if shaking the uncomfortable feeling away. Their conversation had got a little too serious. The mischievous glimmer returned to his eyes. ‘And the weather is better and the women are not my sisters, who nag me to help them in the kitchen.’
She laughed. Yes, she could see that. She didn’t think Marco was a very domesticated kind of guy.
‘I’ll bet you were naughty as a child,’ she said, smiling.
He smiled properly then. ‘Just a little. My brothers used to say I stole toys from them when I was little.’
‘And when you were older?’
He smiled at her, no guilt in his expression. ‘They accused me of stealing their girlfriends.’
She laughed, not sure whether to take him seriously or not. After that their conversation returned to more shallow things. Juliet got it now. He was just a little bit lonely, like her. He’d wanted someone easy and non-demanding to talk to. Part of her deflated at that knowledge, yet part of her breathed a sigh of relief.
When they’d finished eating they left the restaurant together and headed back to the main reception building in search of a shuttle. However, there was a bit of a crowd and Juliet changed direction. ‘This way,’ she said, ‘we might be able to wander along the beach if the tide is low enough.’
She led him through the reception building, past the main pool and down the steps onto the beach, kicking her sandals off and hooking them over her fingertips as they reached the sand. Then they moved away from the lights of the bar and hea
ded off across the beach.
It was dark, but not totally black. The lights spilling from the balconies of the villas above them made sure of that. And when they reached the edge of the beach she was pleased to see that although the tide wasn’t at its lowest ebb it was still possible to pass into their cove with a little clambering. Marco led the way, turning to check back on her progress every few steps, but the rocks were large and smooth for the most part and Juliet did just fine.
At least she did until she stood on one that wobbled, one that was balancing on top of two others. Marco’s hand shot out instantly and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. But he didn’t rush in and rescue her, just gave her the support needed so she could find her own equilibrium. When the rock had stilled, she looked across at him. His eyes glinted in the darkness. Neither of them moved.
She could hear her heartbeat above the sound of the waves lapping at the bottom of the rocks. His fingers felt warm against her cool wrist and a tiny static charge travelled up her arm, lifting the hairs as it went. She suddenly felt very young, very unsure of what to do next.
Marco tugged her gently, pulling her towards him, and he moved his hand so their palms touched, skin sliding past skin until his fingers meshed with hers. She breathed in and forgot what came next. Oxygen? Who cared about oxygen?
She felt him move, and expected him to close the distance between them, but he started travelling forwards again, holding her hand loosely, letting her know he was hers to lean on should she need him again.
Don’t be stupid, Juliet. He wasn’t going to kiss you. He doesn’t look at you that way. And if you can’t cope with a little attention from safe, steady, dependable Will, how on earth do you think you’d cope if this man actually was interested in you? You’d be running so fast in the other direction you’d have made Barbados by morning.
