‘Ah, yes. She did mention it.’ He grins. ‘More than once. Do you want some company?’
‘Um … yes.’ I smile up at him, thinking what an unusual green his eyes are. Emerald with little flecks of amber. ‘That would be great.’
Chapter 17
We head outside and set off, skirting the lake along a well-trodden path set back from the water, along the tree line. It takes us a good half hour, walking fairly briskly. Jessica will no doubt be furiously awaiting her caffeine fix but I really don’t care.
As we approach the cottage, my stomach is churning like a cement mixer. I want to see inside it. But at the same time, I’m torn in two. On the one hand, I’m experiencing a self-preserving urge to run as fast as I can away from the place. But on the other, I desperately want to go in and see if it’s the way I remember it.
Jed tries the door and finds it open. He must sense my hesitation because he turns to me and says, ‘You don’t have to go in. I’ll find Ruby. If she’s here.’
I paste on a smile. ‘No, no. It’s fine. I’ll come with you.’
He pushes open the door, and instantly my knees turn to water at the sight before me.
Wooden stairs lead up to the first floor, still covered in the same wine-coloured-cord carpet I remember, and there’s a closed door on either side of me. If I remember rightly, the one on my right leads to a little breakfast room with four small tables and prettily mismatched chairs. The white tablecloths bore an embroidered pattern of tiny blue forget-me-nots and the tantalising aroma of frying bacon drifted through the hatch from the kitchen. The door on my left opened into a little lounge where guests sat to read the daily newspapers. Both rooms commanded lovely views over the lake.
Jed calls for Ruby, then pushes open the doors on the ground floor to look inside, before heading up the stairs. He pauses halfway up and looks back at me. ‘Stay there if you like. I’ll see if she’s up here.’
I take a deep breath. ‘I’ll come up.’ As I pass them, I glance into the rooms, but they’re empty. All the furniture I remembered has gone.
We find Ruby in one of the front bedrooms, the one with the window seat. I catch my breath as I walk in. This is the room I slept in with Mum. Alessandro had the room across the landing.
‘Ah, there you are, Ruby. Your mum was wondering where you’d got to,’ says Jed matter-of-factly. He glances around. ‘Nice place to escape to. Although if I were you, I wouldn’t lean against that window. All the frames in this house look rotten.’
‘Oh, okay,’ says Ruby. ‘I like this window seat, though. I wish I had one in my room at home.’
Jed grins at her. ‘Have you explored the other rooms?’ He nods at the landing. ‘This place dates back to the nineteenth century, although it was obviously modernised when it became a B&B. It’s in a great spot.’ He moves near the window and peers out. ‘Be a shame if no one stepped in to rescue it.’
I frown. ‘Is it safe to walk around?’
Heading for the door, he grins back at me. ‘If you hear me shout, you’ll know I’ve landed in the room below.’ He disappears off to explore and we hear the floorboards creaking ominously on the landing.
‘It would be funny if he did fall through a hole in the floor,’ says Ruby, looking anything but amused by the idea.
‘Are you okay, Ruby?’ I ask. ‘Why didn’t you want to go on the walk with your mum and Bob?’
‘I don’t know.’ She looks down at her hands then starts gnawing at one of her nails. ‘I just keep thinking Dad should be here. He’d have sorted out my phone by now and we’d be doing fun things.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Just not this shit.’ She shrugs petulantly. ‘No one talks about Dad any more. Especially Mum. It’s all “Bob does this” and “Bob does that” and “Bob has the bloody sun shining out of his—’ She stops and flicks me a sheepish glance.
‘Bob does seem really nice,’ I say carefully, going over and perching on the other end of the window seat. ‘Maybe you should give him a chance. If he makes your mum happy.’
She’s on the verge of tears and my heart goes out to her.
‘I know what it’s like,’ I say softly. ‘Not to have your dad in your life. It hurts.’
She looks up, surprised. ‘Is your dad dead?’
I shake my head. ‘No. But I don’t see him. It’s complicated.’
She nods, thinking about this. Then she groans. ‘Plus I haven’t got a phone. It would be so much better here if I could talk to my friends. Mum took me to the phone shop and I wanted a blue one as a replacement but they didn’t have any in stock, so they had to order one for me. Which means I won’t get it till after Christmas.’ She sighs. ‘They had grey phones in stock. I should have just taken one of those. But Mum says it’s too late and I’ll just have to wait and be patient.’
I smile in sympathy. Gloria’s got a point, though. Kids tend to need everything right now but I suppose they have to learn that they can’t always have their heart’s desire immediately. ‘What’s your favourite cake?’
‘Chocolate brownies.’
‘Good choice. How do you fancy baking chocolate brownies for everyone tomorrow? I could get the ingredients for you.’
‘Me? Make cake for everyone? Are you nuts?’
‘You could come shopping with me tomorrow morning for the ingredients if you like.’ I remember Jed saying Ruby loves her fast food. ‘We might even pass a McDonald’s on our way back.’
‘Really? God, that would be nice. No offence but I’m not really into different-coloured food.’
I grin. ‘You mean vegetables?’
‘Hey, they’ve got a wine cellar!’ Jed calls from downstairs. ‘With wine!’
Ruby raises her eyebrows at me in amusement and gets up, clearly bored with staring out at the view. As she goes downstairs, I linger where I am for a moment, staring over the lake towards the Log Fire Cabin on the opposite shore. Last time I sat on this window seat, all those years ago, there were trees on the far bank, but no buildings at all.
*
I hear Jed calling my name and my heart does an odd little flip. I get up from the window seat and walk slowly down the stairs. They’re both in the musty cellar. I can hear the clank of bottles and Jed’s voice exclaiming over the vintage.
‘Right, I’ll see you two back at the house,’ says Ruby, climbing the steep, grimy staircase and joining me at the top. She marches off outside, then Jed appears, shaking his head in amazement over the wine, abandoned by the owners when they left.
He closes the cellar door and we collide in the small space. His hands touch my waist briefly and when I trip slightly on a warped floorboard as we make our way out of the cottage, he steadies me from behind.
‘Oops.’ I laugh in confusion at the feel of his hands pressed against my sides, and turn to make a joke of it. He’s still holding me and there’s barely an inch separating us. His thick winter jacket is open and I’m transfixed by the pale grey sweatshirt he’s wearing underneath, which subtly moulds to the contours of his broad, muscular chest. I have an urge to smooth my hand over the material to explore its softness and feel the contrasting hardness of Jed’s body beneath. The musky scent of him makes my head spin.
My gaze travels shyly upwards and my heart leaps in my chest as his eyes lock onto mine. For a second, an intensity flares in their burnished-gold depths that makes the breath catch in my throat. His smile fades and so does mine.
The space between us vanishes as I lean in to him and feel his body hard against me. My head swims and my lips part. I’m melting against him …
Then, through a dazed rush of feeling, I’m suddenly aware of Jed’s hands gripping my upper arms, as he gently but firmly moves me away from him.
He lets go of me and fixes his eyes ahead, out of the open door. ‘These rickety floorboards need replacing,’ he mutters, his voice sounding strained. Then he strides out of the cottage and stands, hands in pockets, scuffing the grass and staring out over the lak
e.
‘They do,’ I agree, pulling the door behind me, wondering why my legs feel so shaky.
We walk at a brisk pace back to the house, Jed slightly ahead of me, whereas on the way to the cottage, we walked side by side. My legs still aren’t working properly and I’m struggling to keep up with his long strides. I’m almost glad when the path narrows, requiring us to walk in single file.
My head is still spinning. But I tell myself it was nothing and that I probably imagined the jolt of attraction between us. It probably happened because I’m missing Harrison so much and temporarily deprived of cuddles.
And Jed? I watch him covering the ground at speed, clearly wanting to put as much distance between us as possible. Eyes closed briefly, I relive the shameful part where I leaned in close, and the gallant way he gently dissuaded me from snogging his face off.
I feel so embarrassed …
Chapter 18
Back at the cabin, Jed tends to the log fire, marching straight out to the wood store and slamming the back door, while I scuttle to the safety of the cake-scented kitchen.
My heart is still beating frantically, probably because of the speed with which we made our way back along the lake. I stand in a daze and look at the cake I baked earlier, trying to focus on the plan for this evening, but failing completely. My brain has turned to mush.
What is wrong with me?
I feel suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Am I missing Harrison so much that I fling myself at the first reasonably attractive man I find myself alone with? It’s not like me at all. But I suppose Christmas is an emotional time for everyone – it’s the season, more than any other, when we draw closer to family and friends, and think about loved ones who are missing from our lives. Being here at the lake at Christmas-time is sure to make me feel a little wobbly, thinking about the past. It has nothing to do with Jed Turner. Nothing at all.
I walk to the patio doors and stare out at the lake. It looks as pretty as a Christmas card, with the glitter of frost on the trees. What must it be like to have a normal, hectic but happy, family Christmas? The sort that most people take for granted?
A pang of loneliness hits. It’s like a real, physical ache deep inside.
I should have gone to Spain with Harrison.
But next minute, I realise that would have been impossible. I need to be near Mum over the festive season. She always says she’d cope perfectly well on her own, and maybe she could – but I certainly couldn’t. She’s all the family I’ve got, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not being with her. Especially on Christmas Day.
Often, I feel like I’m the mum in the relationship. It’s as if I’m caring for my grown-up teenager, who’s flown the nest but isn’t quite mature enough to cope alone and is likely to forget bin day and eat beans straight out of the can for dinner. Going round to check up on her every day certainly takes some planning, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. In between my catering duties at the Log Fire Cabin, I’m going to make sure we have the best Christmas we can, just her and me.
The thing with Jed earlier, which has sent me into a tailspin, was just a symptom of my confused feelings about everything. Ever since meeting Harrison, my life has trundled along a well-worn track, and now, all of a sudden, things are starting to change and, naturally, it’s a little unsettling.
Feeling in need of fresh air, I open the patio door a fraction and take some cautious deep breaths, telling myself not to be so silly about earlier. It was a fleeting moment with Jed, soon to be forgotten. And later on this evening, I’ll be able to talk to Harrison and everything will feel perfectly normal again.
The air is so icy cold out there, tears spring to my eyes. A few snowflakes drift down from a sky that’s promising more. Quickly, I retreat inside, shutting the door and locking it.
*
With Mum on my mind, I decide to call in at hers and take some sandwiches for lunch. I ring the bell then let myself in, to save her the complicated manoeuvre to the front door.
‘I’ve got a catering job over Christmas,’ I call, as I wade through a sea of debris and boxes to reach Mum, who’s standing in the living room waiting for me. It’s always an effort to get anywhere in this place, like when you’re in a traffic snarl-up and it takes the longest time to travel a few yards. ‘But don’t worry, we’ll still be able to spend most of Christmas Day together.’
She smiles. ‘Good for you, love. I’ve always thought you should use those marvellous cooking skills of yours. Where’s the job?’
‘Oh, it’s a holiday chalet place – about ten miles out of Easingwold.’ I hold up a cuddly hippo. ‘Any reason you’re keeping this?’ I ask, lightly. ‘Harrison and I aren’t planning on giving you grandchildren any day soon, you know.’
She gives me her slightly stiff smile. The one she gives me any time I dare to question an item in her mountain of junk. ‘You never know. So where exactly is this chalet?’
I shrug. ‘Hard to explain. It’s right in the middle of nowhere. You’d never find it unless you already knew where it was.’
She nods.
‘Sandwich?’ I make it through to the living room and we sit down on the two-seater sofa. I chat about the job and what it entails, adding that I’m hoping Uncle Bob might give me my big break and hire me to cook for him occasionally.
‘He’s requested an Italian-style dinner on Christmas Eve, so I’ll have to pull out all the stops to make it really special.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly had plenty of practise over the years,’ she says. ‘Cooking Italian food, that is.’
I nod. ‘I guess it runs in the family. I must have got the taste for pasta from my dad. My real dad.’ I glance at her but her expression remains neutral.
The words hang in the air between us. It would be the perfect opportunity for her to start a dialogue. But, as usual, she chooses silence instead. Looking away, she reaches for a gingham-patterned cushion that’s lying on the floor. She sets it on her lap and smoothes her hand over the fabric, and for the millionth time, I wonder why she finds it so hard to talk to me about him.
We eat our sandwiches and chat about something safe instead – our arrangements for Christmas Day. I’ll be collecting her in the morning and bringing her over to mine to open gifts. Then I’ll leave after our lunch, around four, to head over to the cabin to cook dinner.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Mum says, rubbing her hands together, and for once looking genuinely happy.
I smile at her. ‘Me too, Mum. We’ll have a good day, I promise.’
She comes to the door to wave me off, back to the cabin.
‘It’s come round so quickly, Christmas.’ She gives a little sigh. ‘Remember when your dad used to bring in a real tree two weeks before the big day? I just adored the scent of it.’
My heart turns over at the wistful look on her face. She’s obviously forgotten that the fallen needles would end up annoying Martin so much that there’d inevitably be a huge row even before Christmas Day arrived. She must miss him still, even after everything that happened – all the arguments and the bitterness and the silences. It’s amazing how the mind can erase the stuff you’d rather not remember. And I suppose she did love him once.
‘I could get a real tree if you like,’ I offer. ‘We could have it at mine for Christmas Day.’
She shakes her head. ‘Don’t worry, love. You sound as if you have enough to do. You’d better get back.’ We hug and I find there are tears in my eyes. ‘Has this cabin place you’re working at got a real tree?’
‘Yeah. It has, actually. They’ve got quite a bit of land and there’s a little copse of fir trees by the lake. It came from there.’
Mum narrows her eyes. ‘The lake?’
My heart misses a beat.
‘Yes. The – um – cabin sits on a small stretch of water. It’s hardly a lake at all, really,’ I add, trying to backtrack.
‘The Cottage on the Lake B&B?’ She studies me intently, and I know there’s little point denying i
t. She’s very sharp, my mum. There’s not a great deal that gets by her – not even now, when her head seems so full of trivialities.
I nod. ‘Near there, yes.’
We stare at each other, thinking of that long-ago time when we stayed there one night. Out of nowhere, a big lump appears in my throat. I know I shouldn’t say what’s on my mind but I’m powerless to stop it. I’ve suppressed the question for so long that when it falls out of my mouth, the strangled tone doesn’t even sound like me.
‘Why did he never come back, Mum?’
The expression on her face is anguished and when she opens her mouth, I really think she’s going to tell me at last. But instead she gives her head a little shake and turns away.
*
Later, I collect Erin to help me out serving dinner.
She’s in a cheerful mood today, chatting away about the film she and Mark saw the night before.
‘Not in the same class as Pretty Woman. Obvs,’ she says, beaming at the mention of her all-time favourite movie. ‘But good nonetheless.’
‘You actually are Julia Roberts, aren’t you? Or should I say Vivian.’
‘Oh, yes.’ She grins. ‘Big mistake. Huge,’ she adds, holding up imaginary bags and quoting her favourite line from the famous Rodeo Drive shopping scene.
‘How is Mark?’ I ask.
‘He’s mighty fine, thank you.’ Erin swings back her hair. ‘Actually, I’m lucky he was actually talking to me last night. I was such a bloody idiot.’
‘Really? How?’
She sighs. ‘Well, I found a lipstick in the bathroom by the basin. A frosted pale pink, which I would never use. And honestly, I swear my heart actually stopped.’
An image of a girl with stunning pale-red hair sweeps into my mind. I glance anxiously at Erin, but she’s smiling away, looking perfectly relaxed.
‘So was it yours after all?’ I ask her, my heart drumming faster.
‘Well, I definitely didn’t recognise it and I went a bit silent on Mark.’ She grimaces. ‘Bless him, he looked horrified. Like he couldn’t believe I would suspect him of entertaining another woman in our flat.’
Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin Page 15
