The Christmas Promise

by Sue Moorcroft

  After some lip gnawing Ava added ‘thank you’, in the interests of not provoking unnecessary antagonism. With the fingers of one hand crossed, she pressed send with the thumb of the other.

  ‘If that doesn’t do the trick, you don’t have to cope with it by yourself.’ Wendy yawned and settled deeper into the sofa. ‘There are people who won’t require any convincing that you need support – including me. It’s OK to acknowledge that you’re being targeted and take action. You’ve done nothing wrong and you don’t have to put up with your ex being obnoxious.’ Her smile was regretful. ‘It’s the powerlessness, isn’t it? That’s what people like him play on. They like the feeling it gives them to toy with you. Whether they understand the lasting nature of the damage they do …’ She shrugged.

  Ava kicked off her shoes and curled her legs up, almost swallowed by Sam’s big armchair. ‘Like what?’

  ‘The victims of harassment are frequently left with trust issues – they might find that occasionally they’re too quick to treat even those closest to them with unwarranted suspicion.’

  Ava looked struck. ‘I suppose so.’ Her eyes flickered guiltily to Sam and away.

  Sam froze in his seat.

  ‘Definitely.’ Wendy yawned behind her hand. ‘Trust issues affect future relationships. The new boyfriend suffers for the sins of the old boyfriend when the woman’s quick to imagine him capable of unacceptable behaviour. You need the new boyfriend to be a special man.’ She sent Sam a fond smile. ‘A man who can empathise and make allowances, who won’t be the fall guy but will be able to point out, without drama or confrontation, when you’re making him one.’

  Dismay ran its cold finger down his spine.

  Ava’s cheeks were glowing pink as she gazed at Wendy. ‘Thanks for all your advice. I’m so glad you like both of your hats.’

  Wendy looked surprised. ‘You’re welcome. About the advice, I mean. I probably shouldn’t say this but I’m hoping that you’ve found that special man already.’ This time she winked at Sam. ‘The one who knows what you’ve been through and doesn’t underestimate it.’

  Ava examined her hands. ‘If you like the scarlet hat, I could make another for you in another colour.’

  ‘I love it, but I thought you were going to be very busy?’ Wendy glanced between Ava and Sam with a tiny frown.

  ‘But not too busy for that.’

  Sweat broke out on Sam’s forehead. The cold finger of dismay jabbed him in the heart. Ava was protecting him. Her weak changes of subject were prompted by her not wanting Wendy to know that Sam hadn’t performed in the special department.

  The first time she’d had a trust issue he’d flung her away from him.

  What had happened to his protective instinct? His empathy? He’d talked the talk so far as understanding women in jeopardy was concerned – until it had actually affected him. Then he’d made his hurt more important than her hurt.

  He’d failed to acknowledge the effect that panic was having on her actions and, although he’d appeared to be the only suspect, had expected blind trust from her without ever earning it. He hadn’t thought what it must feel like to be her. Worse, he’d let everybody in the meeting room at Jermyn’s see how pissed he was with her and watched her withdraw into miserable despondency. Then Sam had done what her parents had done. Left her to sort things out for herself while he attended to his own self-important life.

  Suddenly, he didn’t want her to tell his mother either. Wendy had brought him up to be aware that situations like Ava’s were prevalent and abhorrent but, as he had with Mariah, he’d let his ego get in the way of what was right.

  Ava’s phone chirped again and she made a face as she picked it up. ‘Harvey says: “I’m really hurt that you feel like that. Wasn’t setting your dad on me at work enough? What’s up with you, Ava?”’ She grimaced. ‘I’ll send the first text again.’

  In fact, she had to send it twice more before Harvey’s texts paused.

  And all the time, Sam didn’t think he could feel any worse.

  Vanessa returned with Snickers and Mars galumphing around and greeting everybody with pinned-back ears and madly wagging tails, bringing with them the scent of frost. Shucking off her coat, Vanessa looked at Wendy keenly and was obviously reassured. ‘Neale’s just rung and we wondered—’ She gave a comical double take, her attention on the foot of the Christmas tree. ‘Sam! You haven’t given Ava her presents.’

  Sam swung to look at the parcels still on the floor where he’d left them when Wendy had broken down.

  ‘Oh, Sam,’ reproached Wendy.

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ Ava’s voice was light.

  And Sam discovered it was possible to feel worse.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Christmas spirit and black roses

  Ava wished that she didn’t blush so easily. Now her face and neck were on fire and it was probably making her seem unconvincing when she protested that it didn’t matter that Sam hadn’t given her a Christmas gift. But it honestly couldn’t matter less. They were faux gifts for a faux date and she expected to discreetly return them when Wendy was back in Cambridgeshire.

  It was the fact that the gifts drew attention to the Sam and Ava Christmas Lie that was making her colour up.

  That, and Sam looking remorseful and guilty as he gathered up several parcels, prettily wrapped, and presented them to her with an awkward kiss.

  Both Wendy and Vanessa clucked about Sam’s outrageous memory lapse but that didn’t stop them craning to watch as Ava unwrapped the first gift, a Molton Brown hair care set. ‘Lovely!’ She smiled brightly. It would have been a fantastic present if it had actually been for her, she thought with a pang. She’d never had hair care that ritzy.

  Next came a hangover remedy, which defused the tension by making everybody laugh, and the cutest possible phone case made of interlocked silver daisies. ‘That’s incredibly cool,’ she marvelled, taking her phone out to try the lovely bit of bling. If it wasn’t too expensive, she’d give him the money for the phone case rather than let him arrange for a refund.

  ‘One more parcel,’ Wendy pointed out.

  The wrapping came off to reveal a small jeweller’s box. Flipping it open, Ava couldn’t restrain a ‘Wow!’ of admiration. Gold earrings with black jade roses nestled in white silk, crying out to her, ‘Wear us! We’re gorgeous and you’ll look stunning.’ But while her heart was falling in love with those sultry blooms her head was pointing out that earrings were the wrong present. No shop would take earrings back unless they were faulty. What was Sam thinking? Maybe he could keep them for Ms Girlfriend Future. She stifled the urge to sigh.

  Of course she had to thank Sam, following his earlier lead and kissing him briefly on the lips. ‘They’re amazing. I love them, thank you.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ urged Wendy. ‘Put them on.’

  ‘Oh but—’ Ava sent Sam a wild look. If she put them on then he couldn’t even give them to Ms Girlfriend Future.

  Sam just smiled easily. ‘They’re meant to be worn.’

  So Ava had little choice but to go to the hall mirror with the tiny box in her hand, remove the plain hoops she’d been wearing, take out the black roses, shining dully in the light, and hook the earrings through her ears. They looked expensive and maybe a little gothic. She adored them.

  ‘Show us! Show us!’ cried Wendy and she and Vanessa cooed over the earrings for so long that Ava felt she’d been ungracious in her level of thanks and gave Sam a hug and said, ‘Thank you, again.’ For a few seconds he held the embrace. His body seemed to flow around hers in the same way the gold of her earrings held itself around the black jade to keep it secure.

  A flash went off as Wendy took a phone photo. ‘Christmas kisses!’

  They jumped apart, and that marked the end of the Christmas business.

  Wendy wanted to watch some Christmas television and Vanessa spent half an hour prettying herself then slipped off to meet Neale, a bag of presents on her arm and what Sam described as a dopey
smile on her face. She winked at Sam. ‘I’ll be back in an hour to be with your mum so you won’t have to hurry back when you take Ava home.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said neutrally.

  Ava just smiled politely. Sam had gone the traditional peace and goodwill route for Christmas Day but she didn’t kid herself that they were living a Christmas fairytale. Or, if they were, it was the one where Prince Charming had quickly got over his enchantment.

  In Vanessa’s absence, Wendy divided her time between napping and declaring herself to have had the best Christmas ever. Ava kept catching Sam frowning over at the sofa as Wendy nodded off.

  At nine o’clock, when Vanessa reappeared with Neale, Wendy waited only until Christmas greetings had been exchanged and then gave in to her yawns. ‘I’m going to bed. But it’s been a fantastic Christmas Day.’ Wrapping herself up in the blue throw like a toga, she shuffled over to kiss Ava. ‘Are we seeing you tomorrow? Boxing Day?’

  ‘I’ve got work piling up,’ temporised Ava, feeling slightly sick that all she ever gave this warm and genuine woman were half-truths and lies and that even those were coming to an end. She might never see Wendy again. The thought made her give Wendy an extra tight hug.

  ‘Oh.’ Wendy looked disappointed. ‘Let’s hope that Sam can change your mind.’

  While Sam was seeing that Wendy had everything she needed, and Vanessa and Neale were staking their claim on the sofa with the TV remote, Ava gathered up her possessions. Her heart gave a peculiar skip as she realised that it wasn’t only Wendy and Vanessa that Ava might not see after tonight. There would no longer be a real reason for her to see Sam. She could return his gifts via Tod. Ava picked up her coat and waited, gazing absently around the lovely apartment with its living art of the east London nightscape through the glass wall. Her mind wandered to the idea of making a hat in the same colours. Black, embroidered with shiny beads in silver and gold and the occasional red or green. Velvet would work.

  ‘You’re ready to go?’ Sam was standing in the doorway, expression inscrutable.

  Ava turned. There didn’t seem much to say but ‘Yes’ as she was standing there with her things. Wendy had gone to bed. The charade was over, wasn’t it? Except for this last thing – her faux boyfriend seeing his faux girlfriend safely home.

  Slowly, he nodded. ‘OK. I’ll get my keys.’

  Soon they were cruising along in the comfort of his BMW, frost sparkling on the pavements and people hurrying in hats and scarves. There were a few more cars on the road than this morning.

  Sam was silent as he drove.

  Ava glanced at the set lines of his profile. ‘I’m sorry about the earrings.’

  His frown deepened as he changed down for some traffic lights. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I mean me putting them on. But earrings for pierced ears are usually not returnable, anyway, and it would have seemed odd if I’d insisted on leaving them in the box.’

  The car idled and he glanced at her, one side of his face red from the traffic signal. ‘Did you want to return them?’

  ‘I thought you would.’

  The lights turned green but he didn’t drive off. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ His frown deepened. A car hooted from behind and he turned his attention back to the road, accelerating quickly as if to make up for having dallied.

  ‘I sort of assumed we’d return the stuff we bought each other.’ She began to stumble over her words. ‘Because of the charade. Because we’re not really … Well, I can see that it would have looked strange not to buy me s-something substantial but it doesn’t seem fair …’ She tailed off uncertainly.

  ‘I’ll return to you what you bought for me, if you wish,’ he said, with icy politeness. ‘But I’ll be offended if you try and refuse what I gave you.’

  ‘Oh. I’d never actually thought of it that way round … I suppose … It’s just that those earrings must have carried a huge price tag—’ Her voice strangled as she felt a monumental herd of the stupids lumbering into the conversation. In a second she was going to say, ‘You can keep your gifts, too, then,’ like some bumbling child needing to make sure that the scales of giving and receiving were balanced.

  He gave a single sharp shake of his head. ‘You really don’t have the Christmas spirit thing, do you?’

  ‘Probably not,’ she admitted, sadly. ‘But perhaps at least I recognise it when I see it. Your family are loving and giving and want nothing more than to share the day with each other, even when they have to adapt because things aren’t going well. Christmas is a time you use to express your family affection and celebrate the fact that you have each other. Have I adequately understood?’ She kept her gaze fixed to the passing buildings that were lit from the inside like huge lanterns.

  After several moments he spoke again. ‘Sorry. I’m angry but I shouldn’t have said that. It was aggressive and stupid. I understand what you were saying about the presents and I appreciate the thought behind it. You weren’t being ungracious, you were trying to do the right thing.’

  ‘No problem.’ Ava so wished the journey over. The first stabs of a headache began and she closed her eyes against the strings of shimmering Christmas lights. Once home she could change into her oldest jeans, surround herself with wine and chocolate and switch on the TV. Maybe Dolce & Gabbana Christmas Man would come on.

  There would be no Izz there to share him with. Which gave her heartache to go with the headache.

  But not as much as the bleak realisation that all day Sam must have been acting his big heart out, maintaining a thin veneer of teasing affection between them for the benefit of Wendy and Vanessa. The black jade roses were probably meant to symbolise the death of what had been between them. He was still so furious with her that now they were alone he couldn’t even be bothered to hide it.

  That sucked.

  That seriously sucked.

  When they finally drew up in School Street the atmosphere in the car was as frosty as the trees that lined the street.

  Ava had her bags ready in one hand and the door handle in the other. ‘Thank you for the lift and for the gifts. Sorry that you’ve had to come out to bring me home. Enjoy the rest of Christmas.’

  He didn’t reply.

  She couldn’t even give him one last kiss, however chaste, unless she wanted to begin to blub like a baby. She shoved open the door and swung her feet onto the kerb, shivering as the crackling evening air swept in to cling meanly to her skin. Closing the car door, she halted as the sound was echoed. She blinked. Sam was out of the car and stalking around the back of it to join her on the pavement.

  ‘Can I come in for a minute?’

  His expression didn’t tell her much. She fished for her door key. ‘Do you need the loo or something?’

  ‘Um … no.’ He sounded bemused. Waiting for her to unlock the house, he followed her into the hall. ‘I want to say something to you.’

  Oh great. More remonstrations. She heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘Fine.’

  She sent him into the sitting room while she dawdled over hanging up her coat, dumping her bags on the stairs and reading a note from a neighbour apologising in advance for the party they were throwing on Boxing Day. Marvellous.

  Finally, she followed Sam into the sitting room, unplaiting her hair in the hopes that it would ease the tension in her scalp. She decided not to offer him a drink. No point drawing out the conversation.

  She found him standing in the centre of the room. He’d hung his jacket over the door and it reminded her of that first evening, when he’d followed her home in the rain in case Harvey was lurking around to cause trouble.

  His eyes were very dark. ‘You could have gone to France for Christmas.’

  She halted, wrong footed by this opening gambit. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Your dad told me he’d tried to persuade you to go with him but you’d refused.’

  ‘Oh.’ She eased off her shoes, not caring that it made her shrink several inches. ‘But you said yourself that I don’t understan
d the Christmas spirit. And Wendy … well, you know.’ Poor Wendy. She couldn’t have had the nicest of Christmases, regardless of her protestations to the contrary. She manufactured a smile.

  ‘You turned down Christmas with your parents for the sake of my mum? That demonstrates a lot of Christmas spirit – and we’ve already established that it was stupid of me to say that.’

  ‘Well … other reasons. Work, money, plans. You know.’ Her face began to heat up. She was so not going to admit to him that in some dark and shameful place in her mind a teeny tiny hope had lingered that he would calm down. That he would realise she was sorry for her accusations and somehow everything would come right again.

  ‘That was nice of you.’

  ‘I can be nice, occasionally.’

  ‘More than occasionally.’ His smile was twisted. ‘You’ve spent all today being nice to me, even though I proved not to deserve it.’ His eyes were sombre. ‘I wasn’t the special man Mum talked about. I let you down.’

  She stared at him. ‘You let me down?’ she repeated, idiotically.

  Slowly closing the distance between them, he lifted his hand and took over her abandoned mission to smooth out her hair, unravelling the plait, making her scalp tingle. ‘I really did. I reacted badly. All I saw was my own hurt that you could say those things. After the night we’d spent in your bed.’

  She was heating up again, but it wasn’t out of embarrassment. It was the memory of his nakedness against her, the down of his body hair electrifying her nerve endings. Everything seemed to speed up, her breathing, her pulse, her heartbeat.

  ‘It was me who reacted badly,’ she croaked. A hot tear escaped the corner of her eye. ‘I can’t even promise that it wouldn’t happen again. If Harvey hasn’t really gone away I’ve got to learn to cope—’

  He stilled her words by tracing her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Reflexively, her tongue tip came out to taste the salt of his skin. He expelled a sharp breath. ‘If Harvey tries to give you grief in the future, we’ll sort him out together. Even if the Man in the Moon comes down to watch us through your skylight, his camera phone at the ready, we’ll get whatever help’s needed from a victim support group or the law or our families. I’ll try and remember the trust issues and you’ll try and trust me enough to remind me if I don’t quite make it. In the end, the trust issues will go away. We’ll make them disappear, together.’