She rushed across the kitchen and into the dining room.
“Camilla? Where’s the fire?’ Rick laughed as she reached the table and gripped the back of her chair.
“No fire. Not yet anyway. No fire. Uh… but… Dawn. Mum has a visitor.”
“Yes, we heard the doorbell. Charity collection is it? Don’t tell me she’s invited them in for dessert.” Dawn picked up the almost empty wine bottle. “Exactly how much of this did Mum drink?”
“NO!” Camilla’s shout made Dawn, Laura and James jump and they all stared at her. “Just listen. There’s not much time.”
Rick pushed back his chair and straightened his shirt.
“Camilla?” He raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”
She sighed. Here goes.
“The visitor. It’s—”
“Me! Your dad!”
Camilla turned quickly to find Laurence Dix filling the doorway.
Dawn gasped. Rick groaned. Laura and James squealed.
“I’m home, darling. I’ve come home for Christmas.”
“I’m so sorry, Dawn. I was trying to warn you.” Camilla shook her head.
Dawn gently pushed back her chair and stood up. She placed her hands on the table to steady herself, and Camilla, overwhelmed by a need to protect her younger sister, went to her side and slid an arm around her waist.
“Girls? Aren’t you pleased to see me? I know it’s been a… a while. But I’m home now so we can make up for lost time.”
“Lost time? A lost lifetime more like.” Camilla muttered through gritted teeth.
And as they stared at the man they hadn’t seen in years, the man that Laura and James hadn’t even met, the Carpenters Close to You filled the room, and Dawn burst into tears.
Camilla curled up on her sofa, pulled the soft fawn blanket over her legs then wrapped her hands around her mug of tea. Her head ached, her eyes burned and her bottom lip was sore from biting it as she’d held back her anger earlier that afternoon. It was only just gone six in the evening, but she felt as if it could easily be gone eleven.
She gazed around her small, cosy lounge and sighed. In the silence, her sigh seemed as loud as a shout. She’d lit the log burner when she got back just after four, and its warmth permeated the room, but she was chilled to the bone. And she knew why.
Her father had turned up after twenty-five years and acted as if he’d just popped out for milk. He’d missed seeing her and Dawn grow up and missed the first years of his grandchildren’s lives. Who the hell did he think he was? It had taken all of Camilla’s strength not to run at him and pound him with her fists. For hurting her mother. For hurting Dawn. And for hurting her.
Because Camilla had been badly hurt by him, by the man who should have adored her, loved her and supported her. He’d left her and Dawn as little girls with a broken mother and a lifetime of doubt ahead of them. For Dawn, finding love and security had been paramount, but for Camilla, she’d barely been able to face a second or third date with a man just in case she fell for him. She’d refused to make herself at all vulnerable. Of course, she knew she couldn’t place all the blame on Laurence now, because she could have fixed herself and moved on. People did move on and it was wrong to languish in self-pity when there was a life to be lived, and for the most part, Camilla did enjoy her life. But as far as relationships were concerned, she steered well clear. So she didn’t hurt anyone and they couldn’t hurt her. It was safer that way.
Yet at times like this, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone to cuddle her and stroke her hair and tell her that it would all be okay, that she would survive whether Laurence chose to stay in Heatherlea or went back to Benidorm.
Her father had been evasive when Camilla had asked him outright what his plans were and she didn’t like that at all. Not long after he’d arrived at their mum’s, Rick had taken Dawn and the children home – with trifle, at the children’s insistence – as he’d been worried about the effect the shock could have on his pregnant wife. Camilla loved him for it; Rick was Dawn’s rock now, whereas once it had been Camilla. That had left Camilla alone with her parents, something that hadn’t happened in decades, and it had not been comfortable at all.
Jackie had pottered around, still slightly inebriated, chattering on about nothing in particular, as if her ex-husband turning up was an everyday occurrence. Laurence had been smiley, made silly jokes and appeared to be carefree, but whenever Camilla had met his eyes, he’d looked away, as if afraid that she would see something there that would betray his intentions. Shifty was the word that had sprung into her head and she’d wanted to drag him into the garden and ask him exactly what he was playing at.
But she hadn’t. Because Camilla was good at suppressing her feelings; she’d had years of practice storing them away in a locked box at the back of her mind. She wasn’t one for emotional displays or outbursts, even when a thirty-kilo bulldog was humping her. Camilla had perfected the art of picking herself up, dusting herself off and walking away with her head held high.
She eyed her small Christmas tree that was tucked neatly in the corner of the room. The lights were dark and the tinsel reflected only the flames from the log burner. She hadn’t had the heart to switch the silver fairy lights on; it hadn’t seemed right to think of Christmas while in her current mood.
After the dinner things had been cleared away and Camilla had realised that Jackie was trying to encourage Camilla to give her and Laurence some space, she’d pulled on her boots and coat then hugged her mother and told her to be careful. Jackie had nodded against Camilla’s shoulder and murmured, ‘I know.’ Then Camilla had swapped mobile numbers with her father and asked him to meet her for a drink the next day. He’d agreed, and told her that he’d text her a time later that evening.
Her mobile sat on the arm of the sofa. It was quiet, just as it had been all evening. Its black screen hadn’t lit up once. And what did she expect? For him to contact her immediately? She evidently wasn’t – and never had been – his priority. Of course, one reason why Camilla wanted to meet Laurence alone, was to speak to him before he went near Dawn again. Although Rick was there to protect her, Camilla still didn’t want him charming Dawn if he had no intention of sticking around. And what if he did? Where would that leave them all?
Just then, her mobile buzzed making her jump. She picked it up and swiped the screen. It was a message from Jackie:
Camilla,
Don’t be mad with me but Dad is staying here for a few days. He was going to see if they had a room at the pub but I told him not to fritter away his money. We’re going to have a big talk now.
Love, Mum X
Just as she put her mobile back down, it buzzed again. This time the message was from her father:
Camilla,
Shall we meet tomorrow at The Red Fox pub at 4? Be great to catch up.
Love you,
Dad
Camilla shook her head. So he’d wheedled his way back into Jackie’s home already and was acting as if he’d done nothing wrong. Well tomorrow, Camilla would have a chance to find out exactly what he was doing back in Heatherlea and to let him know how much he’d hurt them all those years ago. In her usual cool, calm and collected way of course. There was no way she’d show him a glimmer of emotion; he didn’t deserve to know that he mattered to her. Still. In spite of everything. Especially seeing as how she knew that she meant absolutely nothing to him at all.
5
Monday morning, Camilla was up bright and early following a rather restless night. When she had opened her eyes, she had a few seconds of blissful ignorance about the previous day’s events, then suddenly, it came rushing back and gate-crashed her peace of mind. There was no way she was going to be able to get any more sleep after that, so she decided to go for a walk before breakfast. She’d kept today meeting free, as she had some work to catch up with for her existing accountancy clients, so the day was hers to plot out as she wished, which was certainly an advantage of being self-emplo
yed.
She wrapped up in her North Face bomber jacket, scarf, hat and boots then pulled on her gloves and opened the door. The December morning was crisp and fresh and she savoured the air as she stepped into it. She never usually left the house before nine in the morning – as she tended to meet her clients late morning or for lunch – so going out at eight seemed quite adventurous, especially seeing as how it wasn’t yet fully light.
However, a brisk walk around the pretty village would be good for her. Just the thing to clear her head and help her to prepare her for speaking to her father later on. If he was even still in the village, that was.
She set off along her road, passing the pretty cottages with their smoking chimneys and frosty window panes, then took a right and headed past the village green and the small medieval church with its mossy dry stone wall. Light was creeping into the sky now and everything seemed grey in the silvery-amethyst light, reminding her of an old photo of the village that hung on the wall of The Red Fox. She walked briskly, her breath emerging like puffs of smoke and as she inhaled, her throat and lungs felt as if they were being cleansed.
She passed the village shop and post office then froze. There was someone heading towards her with what appeared to be a short lion on a lead.
A lion?
A bulldog more like.
She turned quickly, keen to get out of sight, but there was nowhere to hide, so she scanned the road in both directions. The only thing she could see was the small graveyard in front of the church, so she hopped over the wall and landed on the grass on the other side. She lay there for a minute, holding her breath, then realised that her bottom and thighs were cold and wet where the frost was melting underneath her. So she slowly raised herself onto her haunches then peered over the wall to check if the coast was clear. And let out a screech.
“Hello… Camilla? Are you all right?”
It was Tom Stone and he was standing on the other side of the wall frowning at her.
“Oh… yes… I’m… absolutely fine, thank you.” She stood up slowly then dusted her behind off.
“What were you doing? One minute you were walking towards us then suddenly, you turned and ran in the opposite direction and leapt over the wall into the graveyard. I didn’t know it was you, to be honest, what with the hat, scarf and padded jacket and wondered if it might be a criminal fleeing after committing a crime.”
“I was uh…” She lowered her eyes to find the bulldog, Hairy Pawter, gazing up at her, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth, casting steam out around his squishy face. “I was doing my new exercise routine. It’s a bit like circuits… you know, where you have to run backwards and forwards then jump over things.”
“I see.” His dark eyebrows disappeared beneath the rim of his grey wool hat and she noticed for the first time that he had a faint dimple in his chin. She had an urge to reach out and touch it. “Well just be careful because the ground can be quite slippery and you could hurt yourself jumping over walls like that. Even low ones.”
“Of course.” She pulled her scarf higher to cover her cheeks as heat rushed into them. What an idiot she was. Tom didn’t believe her and she knew he didn’t. He probably knew that she knew and…
“I’ve been hoping we’d bump into you anyway. Not like this, first thing in the morning when I haven’t even shaved or brushed my teeth.” He offered a small smile. “I always get HP out for a walk before breakfast, you see. He’s a bit of a lazy boy, so I promise him food if he walks first.”
Camilla nodded, finding herself unable to tear her eyes away from his. This morning, in the grey light, their brown seemed darker than it had when she’d last seen him and the shadow of stubble over his jaw was quite sexy. An image of it rasping against her cheek as he nibbled her earlobe sprang into her mind and she had to swallow a gasp.
“Anyway… as I said, I was hoping to bump into you but I’ve been so busy since I arrived in Heatherlea, that I haven’t really been out much. And you’re probably really busy with work too, aren’t you? What is it you do again?”
“I’m an accountant. I have my own business.”
“That’s right. Someone in the village told me something along those lines.”
Someone in the village had been talking about her with Tom?
“Look, uh… I wasn’t snooping. I remember now… I went into the café last week and the man who works there… Jordan, is it?” Camilla nodded. “He said something about you doing his mother’s books so I put two and two together.”
“Right.”
“But I haven’t seen you around at all. I suppose I could have come and knocked on your door but to be honest, I was embarrassed.”
“You were embarrassed?”
“After the Halloween Party. I am so sorry for HP’s behaviour.”
“Oh. Uh—”
“It was out of order but he was overexcited anyway, what with the move then all the guests and you just took the brunt of it.”
“You can say that again.”
“I really am so sorry. I’d like to make it up to you, if I could.”
“Make it up to me?”
“Yes. Would you let me?”
Camilla could hardly believe her ears. She’d been mortified after the dog had assaulted her and never thought for a moment that Tom would have been embarrassed by what had happened. In fact, she’d rather suspected that it would be one of those tales to regale his colleagues with at those fancy veterinary dinners that he probably attended. This one time I had a party and a guest dressed as a cat then got humped by my dog. Ha! Ha! Ha!
“Camilla?”
“Yes?”
“You just went all glassy eyed. Is it low blood sugar? Have you had breakfast yet?”
“I’m fine. I just drifted off. Had a bit of a difficult day yesterday.”
“Would you like to talk about it? I’m quite a good listener. To be honest, I have to be in my profession.”
“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing but it’s kind of personal.”
“Okay. No problem. I didn’t mean to pry.” He chewed his bottom lip before meeting her eyes again. “But about making it up to you…”
“Yes?”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“There’s no need. Honestly, it’s all in the past. I’d quite forgotten about it.”
“Well I’m glad to hear that but you’d be doing me a favour if you agreed. See, although I had that party, and some of the villagers came, I’d still like to meet more of the locals. Sitting in the pub alone is a bit… awkward.”
Camilla sighed. What would be the harm in it? He was nice enough and he was living in Heatherlea now, so she’d bump into him from time to time. Therefore, getting to know him a bit better wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“All right then. That would be lovely.”
“Say five-thirty pm? After I’ve closed up the surgery?”
She was meeting her father at four and that could be over quickly or take a while. Then what would she do? Go home alone and stare into a glass of wine? At least if she stayed in the pub to meet Tom, she’d have a distraction after she’d spoke to Laurence.
“See you later.”
She lifted her leg and cocked it over the wall then found herself standing next to Tom. Hairy Pawter immediately pulled on his lead to get closer to her, sniffing hard at her leg. She took a step backwards.
“He means well. He won’t hurt you.”
“After our last encounter, he makes me a bit nervous.”
“He won’t do it again, I promise.”
“I believe you.” She gritted her teeth. “Hello HP.”
The dog’s small stumpy tail wiggled and he huffed at her, seeming to smile.
“He really likes you.”
Camilla smiled. She smoothed the dog’s head and he craned his neck to sniff her gloved hand. He was kind of cute.
“See you later then.” Camilla turned and started to walk away.
“Camilla?”
“Yes?” She
turned on her heel.
“Not that I was looking… more that I couldn’t help noticing… you’ve got a big slug on your bottom.”
“Oh!” She looked over her shoulder and sure enough, there was a large sticky slug clinging to her jeans. She pulled it off then threw it back into the graveyard where it landed on the grass. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
She made her way home, conscious of how her wet jeans were clinging to her bum and thighs and that there might well be a slug slime over them too. But she didn’t really mind, because she was meeting Tom later for a drink. And he’d seemed really nice in a shy, intelligent kind of way. He wasn’t like the men she usually dallied with – they were loud, confident and even brash – but Tom was quiet and even sweet. It was refreshing.
When she reached her front door and let herself in, she realised that she was glad she’d bumped into him, because now she had something to look forward to. Something to take her mind off what she had to do first. Because she knew that speaking frankly to her father after twenty-five years of estrangement was not going to be easy at all. In fact, it was going to be very difficult indeed.
6
Camilla immersed herself in numbers and spreadsheets all day, so when she looked at the clock and saw that it was gone three, she was surprised. The time had passed without her worrying and she patted herself on the back again for her chosen profession. There was nothing like a spreadsheet, or ten, to keep your mind busy. She supposed that her love of numbers might have begun when her father left and she had to try to make her savings stretch to feed her and Dawn, when she didn’t want to worry her mother by asking for money to buy groceries, so she’d eek out her coppers to buy bread and tins of beans. She’d known the price of everything in the local shop as well as how far three tins of beans and a loaf of bread would stretch.
She shook her head. It had been a difficult time but Jackie had emerged from her depression and life had continued, if in a different direction than the one they’d thought it would: without Laurence.
Winter at The Cosy Cottage Cafe_A deliciously festive feel-good Christmas romance Page 3
