Holly's Christmas Kiss

by Alison May

  ‘You’ll be boarding around a quarter to three. We don’t have a gate yet, but if you go through security and watch the monitors, it’ll come up about thirty minutes before we board.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Michelle took the boarding pass and her passport from the assistant and turned away.

  ‘Thank you, madam. Merry Christmas!’

  Michelle suppressed a grimace. Hopefully, once she got to Grand Cayman, people would be more relaxed and not quite so irritatingly perky.

  The queue for security was more suited to Michelle’s mood. By this stage, people were tired of waiting, and the ritual of removing jewellery, belts and wristwatches was being completed with bored faces and a refreshing lack of festive cheer.

  Michelle stuffed her coat and belt into a plastic tray and put the rucksack she was carrying as hand baggage onto the conveyer. She walked through the bodyscan, only to hear the machine bleep. The security guard stepped forward and gestured her back through the scanner. She emptied her pockets fully, and removed the plain gold studs from her ears before walking back through the contraption.

  The machine bleeped again and the red light flashed above her head. Michelle followed the guard’s instructions to stand with her arms outstretched and legs apart. The woman flicked a handheld device over Michelle’s body. Michelle’s face flushed red. She knew this was a perfectly everyday occurrence, but she couldn’t help but feel that people were staring at her.

  The security guard checked with a colleague and then smiled at Michelle. ‘Ok. No problem. On you go.’

  Michelle dropped her arms. She didn’t want to have to go through all this on the way home. ‘What set it off?’

  The guard shrugged. ‘Sometimes it just goes off. You’re fine.’

  Michelle didn’t consider that a satisfactory answer, but the guard had moved on to wave her detector at some other poor innocent. Michelle started to collect her belongings from the tray.

  ‘You managed to talk your way out of that one then?’

  The distinctive Scottish accent made her stop dead. She turned round slowly to see Sean Munro smirking at her. Her eyes were drawn straight to his mouth, to those inviting lips that … She shook her head and forced her gaze away from his face.

  ‘You’re not wearing your kilt.’ She blurted the words as her glance dropped to his legs.

  ‘No.’

  What was she saying? Of course he wasn’t wearing a kilt. Just because he wore a kilt in her imagination, didn’t mean he always wore a kilt. Not that she’d been imagining Sean. She was tired, she decided, and flustered from the security check. Yes. Flustered. It would pass.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ He obviously had no right to be here. This was her holiday. She was supposed to be getting away from any distractions.

  The smirk extended into a grin, ‘Don’t pretend you’re not pleased to see me.’

  Michelle took a breath. She’d simply run into an acquaintance. They would exchange the time of day and go their separate ways. There was no reason to be getting worked up. His deep green eyes weren’t a reason. The slight crumple to the T-shirt he was wearing wasn’t a reason. The flash of tight muscled torso she glimpsed as Sean rubbed his hand over the back of his neck wasn’t a reason. The warm intoxicating smell as he leant towards her definitely wasn’t a reason to lose her composure. Wait a minute. He was leaning towards her.

  Michelle stepped sideways, away from the heat of Sean’s body. He lifted her rucksack off the table and swung it over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow slightly at her jump to the side.

  ‘But, what are you doing here?’ Michelle spluttered out the question again.

  ‘I’m catching a plane.’

  ‘Yes.’ Well, obviously. ‘A plane to?’

  ‘Home for Christmas.’

  ‘Home?’ Of course home. That’s where people went for Christmas, wasn’t it? They spent it with family. They had traditions, and customs that they shared with their parents and passed on to their children. Was that what Sean’s Christmas would be like? Michelle swallowed the thought.

  Sean was still talking. ‘… near Edinburgh.’

  Michelle nodded, hoping she hadn’t missed anything important.

  ‘Are you heading home too?’

  Michelle shook her head. There wasn’t really a home to head to any more. Her mother had passed away. And her father was … well, her father was not somebody she would choose to spend her holidays with.

  ‘To the Caribbean. On holiday.’

  ‘Who with?’

  ‘Just me.’

  ‘At Christmas?’

  The hint of concern in Sean’s voice made the muscles in Michelle’s neck twitch. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He regrouped quickly. ‘When’s your flight?’

  She paused and took a breath. ‘Three.’

  Sean nodded and started striding away from the security area and into the main departure lounge. Michelle scurried to keep up with his longer legs.

  ‘So, what do you fancy?’

  What do you fancy? Michelle opened and closed her mouth with no sound. What did she fancy? She gave up. The less she said the less likely it was that she’d see the teasing grin reappear at Sean’s lips.

  He gestured towards the large, florescent-lit store in front of them. ‘We could see how many perfumes they’ll let us test before they realise we’re not buying.’

  Michelle shook her head. It was a ridiculous thing for a grown man to suggest.

  Sean glanced around, and pointed at a coffee shop. ‘Hot chocolate? We could get cream and marshmallows and see if we can drink it without getting cream on our noses?’

  Hot chocolate had always been what her dad would bring Michelle if she caught a cold. She had a picture in her head of him sitting on the edge of her bed with a big steaming mug for each of them. If Mum was out he’d buy the synthetic cream in an aerosol can and spray that on top. If Mum was around she would shout at him for daring to bring aerosol cream into her kitchen. Apart from at Christmas. At Christmas, she used to let him have his way. That was a very long time ago, but Michelle could taste the memory of the cheap sugary cream dissolving on her tongue. She smiled.

  Sean returned the smile. ‘So hot chocolate?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ This holiday was about time alone, not about playing like children with a man who was old enough to know better. ‘Can I have my bag please?’

  Sean placed the rucksack strap into her outstretched hand.

  ‘Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather be on my own. I’ll be quite happy reading my book.’

  His eyebrows rose slightly, but the smile didn’t leave his lips. ‘If that’s what you’d prefer.’

  Michelle adopted a light tone. There was no reason not to be cordial. ‘Have a nice Christmas.’

  Sean didn’t move as she walked away. He’d met this woman twice now. This time he’d even made her smile, but both times he’d ended up watching her leave. It wasn’t a situation he was used to. If Sean was honest, in recent years he’d tended to be the one doing the walking away. It was safer that way.

  It seemed a shame, though, Michelle holidaying alone at Christmas. He let the thought settle in his brain. Even during his lowest moments, Sean couldn’t imagine spending Christmas away from his family and friends. That was it. He felt sorry for her being alone. Obviously if she’d told him she was flying out to meet a boyfriend he would have been fine with that. Completely fine.

  Sean wandered without much intent around the departure lounge duty free stores. He remembered the first time he’d flown from Edinburgh to London, back before travelling for work had been part and parcel of his life. He’d been a twenty-year-old farm boy who’d never boarded a plane before. He remembered the shops at Edinburgh’s airport. Aisles and aisles of perfume, scotch whisky, books, scarves, jewellery, and bags, all potential gifts for his hostess. In the end he’d plumped for perfume. A bottle of he didn’t remember what, a tiny bottle, but much bigger than he could aff
ord at the time. The assistant had smirked, and told him it was the perfect scent to get a young girl to fall in love with him. Maybe that had been his mistake all those years ago. He didn’t ask what would be the perfect scent to persuade a girl who’d fallen out of love with him to change her mind.

  His phone pinged in his pocket. He took it out and glanced at the screen. A new text. He rolled his eyes at the name. Speak of the devil and he will appear. That was the saying, wasn’t it? Cora went one better. You only had to think of her and she popped up.

  The text was breezy and flirtatious in tone. What part of no didn’t she understand? Sean paused as he read the end of the message. ‘Hope to see you over Christmas.’ She must think he was staying in London. No chance. He’d be safely in Scotland, and he couldn’t imagine Cora gracing the ancestral home with her presence for the holidays. She would, no doubt, have a much more glamorous option lined up.

  Chapter Four

  Christmas Day, 1996

  Sean

  Mum’s wielding her pudding ladle.

  ‘Who’s for seconds?’

  Bel shakes her head. She never has seconds, because she’s watching her figure. I don’t know what she thinks is going to happen to it. I shake my head too. It’s twenty to three already. There isn’t time for seconds. Nobody else seems to care. The rest of the family dig in. I push my chair back from the table.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Out for a bit.’

  Dad shakes his head. ‘Not until everyone’s finished.’

  It’s not fair. Now I have to sit here and I don’t get any more pudding. And old people eat so slowly. Granddad’s the worst. His teeth don’t fit properly, so he can’t really chew. I have to sit and listen to every gummy mouthful. Eventually he puts down his spoon.

  ‘I’m going out for a bit.’ I dash up to my room and grab the present from my drawer, and then I’m out of the house, across the yard, and through the first field at a run. I scale the gate into the second field and start to slow down. I want to get my breath back before I see her. After Christmas, we’re definitely going to tell people. Then I’ll be able to walk up to her front door like normal. I climb over the far fence, into the next field, and onto the Strachan estate.

  She’s waiting at the edge of the field, arms wrapped across her body, and scarf pulled up to her ears. I stuff my hands in my pockets and drop my head.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Hi.’ She’s got her eyes down to the floor, but she looks up at me through her lashes. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

  ‘Dad made me stay ‘til everyone had finished dinner. I’m probably gonna get bollocked anyway for not helping wash up.’

  She wrinkles her nose, probably at the idea of having to do chores. ‘Did you tell them where you were going?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘They wouldn’t mind. Bel’s boyfriend stays over all the time.’

  ‘She’s older than you.’

  ‘Not much.’

  She shakes her head. ‘Mine’d go mental.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Cause they’re stupid.’

  I’m pissed off now. ‘They think I’m too rough for you.’

  ‘It’s stupid.’ She doesn’t deny it though.

  I look across the fields to Cora’s house. It’s big and it’s modern. My dad calls it a bloody eyesore, but that’s just because he’s not used to buildings that aren’t held together with duct tape.

  Cora takes a step towards me. ‘Don’t be grumpy.’

  She reaches her arms up around my neck. ‘It’s more fun this way anyhow. Sneaking about.’

  She presses her body against mine. ‘It’s sexy.’

  She’s got round me. She always does. I slide my arms around her waist and squeeze her bum through the layers.

  She smiles. ‘So where’s my pressie?’

  Chapter Five

  Two Days before Christmas, 2013

  Michelle found a seat, wedged between a Chinese family and a man fast asleep across two chairs and a table, at one end of the departure lounge and tried to calm her breathing. Resting her hands on her lap, she realised that she was shaking slightly. What was happening to her? She hoped that she wasn’t coming down with some sort of virus that would mean a holiday wasted tucked up in her hotel room.

  A battered pair of Converse at the bottom of a pair of denim-clad legs was heading towards her. She looked up and offered a half smile. The stranger nodded a little uncertainly and carried on. She dropped her head. It wasn’t Sean. Of course, it wasn’t Sean. There were probably thousands of people in the terminal. Not all the men wearing jeans would be Sean. And she wasn’t interested if it was. Sean Munro, so far as Michelle could tell, was an immature little kid trapped in a grown-up body. She’d seen him twirling Jess around the dance floor like a maniac, and he was no better today, talking about getting cream on his nose and suggesting playing pranks in shops.

  She tried to focus on her book, struggling through a couple of unengrossing chapters. She wriggled in the hard angular seat. Time crawled by. She glanced at her watch; it was half past two. Her flight would be boarding soon, and she’d be on her way. She looked up at the departure board. The screen was full of the dreaded word: DELAYED. She scanned down the list for her flight: ‘Wait In Lounge.’ She sighed with relief. The idea of a long delay didn’t appeal one little bit.

  Twenty minutes later, the display was still flashing, ‘Wait In Lounge.’ Michelle closed the book she was hardly reading anyway. Surely, they would be boarding soon. Either way, she needed to stretch her legs. She stuffed the book into the top of her rucksack and picked up her bag. As she stood up, she was taken aback by how stiff she’d got, sitting on the hard seat for so long. She walked slowly across the lounge and turned a corner. In front of her was a full floor to ceiling window with an uninterrupted view of the runway. On a normal day this would be the ideal spot to watch the planes taking off from one of the busiest airports on the planet. Today there was no such view.

  Michelle walked up to the window and placed her hand against the glass. The runway was silent. Nothing was moving apart from the snowflakes which danced and fell in front of her, creating a cover of white across the ground. She turned back towards the departure lounge, looking out for a display board.

  15:10 BA345 Grand Cayman DELAYED.

  It really was just her luck. Her first proper holiday in more than twelve years, and her flight was delayed. She blinked hard. No point getting downhearted about it. The only sensible thing to do was go back to her seat and wait.

  She made her way, more briskly now, back across the main lounge, and saw that her earlier seat had been taken. Searching the departures hall she couldn’t see an available place to sit. She walked in between the rows of chairs, clambering over bags, pushchairs and people’s legs. There wasn’t a single seat free. Eventually she dragged her rucksack back to the window overlooking the runway, dumped it down on the floor and tried to get comfortable sitting on her bag. It was not a dream start to her dream holiday.

  The time passed slowly, too slowly. Michelle shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position on the cold floor. She read for a bit, looked out of the window for a bit, closed her eyes for a bit trying to rest. As the ache in her back grew, she silently cursed her mother for forcing her into this holiday. The money would have been put to far better use invested in her ISA, or topping up her pension pot.

  Outside the snow continued to fall. Michelle shifted and stretched to get a view of an information board. Her flight was still listed as DELAYED. She scanned for details of the Edinburgh flight. It wasn’t on the board. She glanced at her watch. Nearly five o’clock. Sean must be on his way already. An unfamiliar feeling crept into her tummy. Disappointment? Michelle told herself not to be so silly. She settled, as best she could, back onto the floor, trying to use her rucksack as a pillow. She gazed out of the window. A thickening white layer was covering the runway, crying ou
t for a child in wellingtons to jump full-footed into the unspoilt snow. It was a silly thought, and it made Michelle shake her head. Jumping in snow was just the sort of frivolity that she could do without; every bit as foolish in its own way as spending your last few pounds on a present that would hardly get played with, or a turkey that would barely fit in the oven. She remembered her father bringing home a turkey on Christmas Eve and her mother complaining that it was too big, and she remembered eating turkey soup and turkey fritters long into January. At least her mother understood how to plan ahead.

  ‘I bought you a hot chocolate, just in case.’

  The voice interrupted her thoughts, and Michelle tried, unsuccessfully to scramble to her feet. She ended up half kneeling, half squatting, eyes level with Sean’s crotch, her hair halfway out of its ponytail and sticking to her face.

  ‘I thought you’d gone.’ She tilted her head towards his face and decided to carry on as if this was a quite normal position for chit-chat. ‘Your flight’s not on the board.’

  Sean smiled. ‘You noticed.’

  ‘Well, I was, I didn’t particularly …’ Michelle let her voice trail off. She’d noticed, and now he knew she’d noticed. She wished she hadn’t said anything.

  Sean held out his hand and Michelle let him help her to her feet. The touch sent tingles through her body. She dropped his hand and tried to regain her composure. Sean wasn’t her type. She liked men who were put together, not ones who looked like they’d fallen into their clothes by happy accident.

  He held the hot chocolate towards her. ‘It’s got cream and marshmallows, but I suppose you can keep the lid on if you don’t want cream on your nose.’

  She took the drink from him, realising that she’d arrived at the airport nearly five hours ago and not had anything to eat or drink since. She kept her gaze firmly towards the floor, or at best Sean’s shoes. Calm and under control was her new mantra. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’