by Suzy K Quinn
But Mum made everyone snowballs with her secret ingredient (two shots of vodka) and suddenly I didn’t care about Nick so much.
As usual, Dad did the Christmas dinner (Mum always gets too stressed and starts screeching at everyone to get out of her fucking kitchen).
At first he was humming ‘Joy to the World’, checking all his kitchen timers and sharpening his knives.
Then he realised Laura had bought organic vegetables from the farm down the road and they were covered in mud and rotten bits.
He stopped humming ‘Joy to the World’ and started trying to de-mud the veg with his electric sander.
Then Daisy pulled the tree over and Callum jumped on it.
Brandi and Mum had to serve in the pub between 12pm and 2pm, and got drunk on port and Red Bull.
But it was all okay in the end.
Christmas lunch, as usual, was out of Dad’s 1970s cookbook ‘Frugal Meals’ – bronzed turkey, little sausages in bacon, roast potatoes, parsnips and Brussels sprouts.
Dad hates ‘all this Jamie Oliver splash of this and that nonsense’, and measured everything so our plates looked identical.
Two slices of turkey breast, three potatoes, two parsnips, six Brussels sprouts and 200ml of gravy each.
As usual, Mum moaned about ‘pathetic portion sizes’ and ‘why not just serve me a big plateful and then I won’t have to get up?’
Dad smiled at her adoringly and made his usual Christmas speech about how he loved Mum more every year.
Ate lots. Drank lots. Nice day.
Saturday December 26th
Boxing Day
Blurrg.
Lovely fizzy Christmas feeling all gone. Just tidying up wrapping paper and feeling fat.
Zachary’s back from Africa today.
He and Laura are taking a woodland walk. Meaning I have no one sensible to talk to.
Althea is still with her mum in the Caribbean. They go every year and have a barbeque on the beach.
She’s sent me a postcard of a Rasta man drinking Red Stripe. It says, ‘Enjoy bronchitis suckers!’
Sunday December 27th
Dad is forcing us to eat Christmas leftovers.
So far today we have eaten:
Turkey and Brussels sprouts omelette
Turkey and Brussels sprouts sandwiches
Turkey and sliced Brussels sprouts on crisp breads with mayonnaise.
By teatime, Mum said she was ‘sick of bloody turkey’ and wanted to throw all the leftovers out. But Dad gave her a lecture about wasting food and starving children.
He boiled the turkey carcass and made a disgusting soup.
When the soup was ready, the whole kitchen smelt like dead animal. Dad finally admitted he was ‘sick of bloody turkey too’, so we ended up getting fish and chips.
Monday December 28th
Althea got back today. She called wanting to know if I needed moral support for the Dalton New Year’s Eve Ball.
I hadn’t even thought about the ball. I suppose I’d just decided I wasn’t going. It’s just all too humiliating. I don’t want to look like I’m chasing around after Alex. And of course there’ll be the bloody charity auction. No fun if you’re single.
Nick and Sadie might be there too.
Althea said, ‘You’ve lost a fuck-load of weight and you’re looking fabulous. To the ball, Cinderella. To the ball!’
I have to admit I am looking extremely slim – even after a Christmas of mince pies and Mum’s constant Iceland buffet food (SO un-Christmassy this year. Spring rolls?? Spicy samosas??)
I gave in and told Althea I’d go.
Which turned out to be the right choice. Because she’d already bought our tickets.
Wednesday December 30th
Dalton New Year’s Eve Ball tomorrow.
Maybe I won’t go after all. I’ll only have my burning hopes about Alex stamped on. And I’ve had enough disappointments this year.
I can just stay at home with Daisy. She’s making all these lovely little babbling noises now. Ba ba ba! So cute. What better way to spend time than with my little girl? Who needs a fancy party when you have all the love you need at home?
Thursday December 31st
Brandi woke me at 7am this morning – ‘IT’S THE FUCKING NEW YEAR’S EVE BALL TODAY!!! WE NEED TO START GETTING READY!’
I told Brandi I didn’t want to go, but she said, ‘Don’t be fucking stupid. You’re a single mum. You need to find a boyfriend.’
She dragged me into her bedroom and gave me a face mask that burned my cheeks. Then she tried to paint my toenails neon pink. I asked if she had any grey nail polish (very fashionable right now). She said, ‘Why’d you want to look like a corpse?’
We settled on a French manicure.
It did look pretty nice.
Maybe I will go …
Oh sod it. I’ll go.
5pm
Nervous about the ball.
Does everyone know Alex and I have slept together? Has he told anyone?
Strange to think we could have a night like that and it just go nowhere.
But I’ve learned this year that life rarely goes the way you want it to.
6.30pm
Have been buffed and preened to within an inch of my life.
Didn’t let Brandi do my make-up, so I don’t look like a drag queen. In fact, I look pretty nice. Even Mum said so. Although she kept wanting to ‘add more sparkle and bling’.
Mum said Brandi looked a ‘knockout’ and asked me why I couldn’t show off a bit more of what God gave me.
We’re meeting Laura there. She’s already in London with Zach.
Okay, okay, time to go.
Right. Chewing gum. One last cuddle with Daisy. Has she left any snot trails?
Check, check, check.
Friday January 1st
Oh. My. God.
The Dalton’s New Year’s Eve Ball.
WHAT a night.
Nick was there. Without Sadie.
After five minutes of puppy-dog eyes from across the room, he came over and asked to talk to me ‘alone’.
Brandi stopped yelling, ‘SHOTS! SHOTS! WE WANT SHOTS!’ and said to Nick, ‘What the fuck do you want, you headache?’
Nick said, ‘To speak with Jules alone. If you don’t mind.’
Brandi barked, ‘I do fucking mind actually. You big shithead.’
Nick whispered to me, ‘I miss you.’
I said, ‘Perhaps you should let Sadie know.’
Nick said there was ‘no sense upsetting a pregnant actress’.
Then he said he wanted me back. He even had the nerve to try and kiss me.
I saw Alex, then. Glaring through the crowd.
I knew what it must have looked like – Nick trying to kiss me. Like maybe I was giving him a chance or something. But then again, Alex had his chance too.
I told Nick to stay away and sort his life out.
Then the charity auction began.
A few people groaned. A lot of people actually.
I tried to hide behind a fat man, but Doug was too quick for me.
‘JULIETTE!’ he yelled. ‘Juliette Duffy – let’s see if we can do any better for you this time, love. We certainly can’t do any worse.’
Very funny, Doug.
He did this big, embarrassing speech about me having a hard year, but looking ‘pretty damn fine tonight’ and ‘scrubbing up well’.
Then he encouraged Brandi, Laura and a load of other girls to come on stage.
Doug tried to get Althea to join in, but she wasn’t having any of it. She barked that it was all ‘fucking sexist bullshit’ and she’d never be part of ‘some poncey capitalist cattle market’ unless the men got bid on too. Then she said she’d like to see Doug getting bid on.
Doug looked a bit frightened and started the auction pretty quickly after that. He did his usual boring speech about ‘lovely ladies’, and then reminded everyone it was a cash-only auction. ‘So no loot, no lady!’
; Ugh.
I was first one up.
Bloody Nick stuck his hand up and bid ten pounds.
Doug shouted, ‘Well, there’s a happy turnaround! Juliette and Nick back together for the New Year. Hear, hear!’
Althea yelled, ‘Twenty pounds!’
Doug said, ‘A lady bidding. Well, all in a good cause I suppose. Nick? Care to raise your bid?’
Nick said, ‘Twenty-one pounds.’
The wanker.
Then Brandi shouted, ‘Fifty pounds!’
Doug looked a bit confused then. He said, ‘I’m not sure the girls should …’ But then he took one look at Brandi’s face and said, ‘Um … yes, well I suppose. Ah … all in a good cause. Nick?’
Nick said, ‘Sixty pounds then.’
Doug said, ‘Nick Spencer bids sixty pounds for his lovely Juliette!’
I saw Brandi feeling around in her silver skinny jeans and heard Althea muttering about the ‘ludicrous’ price of drinks.
Then Laura shouted, ‘I have sixty-three pounds and twenty pence.’
Everyone laughed.
Nick said, ‘Oh okay, fine. A hundred pounds. I bid one hundred pounds.’
Doug said, ‘Well ladies and gentlemen, Juliette and Nick have a baby together. So this is a lovely turnaround. I have one hundred pounds for Juliette. Going once.’
My cheeks were getting redder and redder.
‘Going twice.’
Then Alex’s voice boomed across the room, ‘I bid my car.’
There was a stunned silence.
Doug said, ‘Mr Dalton? Did you … are you making a bid? Could you say that again?’
Alex said, ‘My car. My 1960s MG. I bid my car for Juliette.’
The room was totally still.
Doug said, ‘Alex Dalton is offering his very beautiful vintage MG for Juliette Duffy. Are you quite sure about this sir? You’re not having us on?’
Alex said, ‘I’m not having you on.’
Doug said, ‘Nick? Uh … can you match that bid?’
Alex said, ‘No he can’t.’
There was laughter.
Doug said, ‘Well then. I suppose … so … Juliette Duffy. Sold to Alex Dalton. For one mint condition 1960s MG.’
Doug banged his hammer.
I stood with a silly smile on my face.
Alex strode up on stage. He threw his car keys at Doug, took my hand and said, ‘You know I hate these auctions, don’t you? Only for you would I do this. Only for you.’
Then he led me down the stage and through the crowd.
My sisters and Althea were clapping. Nick looked totally confused. As I passed, he said, ‘Julesy. Come on. We have a baby together.’
I said, ‘Sorry about all this, Nick. I just go with my heart.’
As we reached the doorway, I felt a thousand eyes on my back.
I whispered to Alex, ‘The village won’t shut up about this. We’ll be gossiped about for the next year.’
Alex said, ‘So let’s give them something to gossip about.’
He kissed me in the doorway under the mistletoe. Right in front of everyone.
Then I was laughing so much we had to break apart.
Alex said, ‘Right. Let’s go.’
I said, ‘Where?’
He said, ‘Back to Great Oakley.’
‘You do realise you just gave your car away,’ I reminded him.
Alex said, ‘You’re the public transport expert. What do you recommend?’
We took a hotel limo in the end. Back to Alex’s house. And by house, I mean the Dalton country estate.
Usually I would have been dizzy just being inside a big mansion house with marble floors, but everything was so unreal I just took it in my stride.
I do remember asking if high heels would mark the marble. And if a chandelier that size was really safe hanging from the ceiling.
I asked Alex why he hadn’t called for so long. And why he’d had the sudden change of heart.
Alex said, ‘Your sister spoke to me. At the auction. About Nicholas Spencer.’
I said, ‘Which sister?’
He said, ‘Brandi. She explained about Nick. In a way only she could.’ That little half-smile of his. ‘I’ve been jealous. Ridiculously jealous. I couldn’t stand the pain of getting too close and having you snatched away.’
Somehow we ended up in Alex’s bedroom.
I said something like ‘Am I dreaming?’ or something tacky like that.
I remember Alex saying, ‘You’re not. Maybe I am.’
I just could not BELIEVE this was really happening.
Alex SO knew what he was doing.
And it wasn’t only physical stuff (although there was a LOT of that). We talked and talked and talked.
About growing up in Great Oakley. About Alex’s family. About mine. Stuff we liked, stuff we didn’t …
I wanted to know everything about him. Every detail. And he wanted to know everything about me too.
It was five in the morning before we fell asleep. And then Alex woke me at six.
He said, ‘I’m taking you home to see Daisy.’ He looked at me for a moment, then he said, ‘Juliette? I’ve loved you for a long time. Do you know that?’
I suddenly got very awake and said, ‘You love me?’
Propped up on his elbow, looking all first-thing-in-the-morning ruggedly handsome, Alex said, ‘There’s never been anyone else. This candle I hold for you – it’s been burning my hand for so long. I can’t believe you’re here. It’s surreal.’
I glanced at Alex’s twisted, scarred arm and said, ‘Don’t burn anymore candles.’
He laughed.
I said, ‘Alex. Have you really loved me a long time?’
Alex looked at his arm and said, ‘Do you know how this happened?’
I shook my head.
He said, ‘On the night of the fire, half the house was alight before anyone woke up. The stone walls didn’t burn, but the wooden extension where Zach and I slept was a tinder box.
‘My father literally walked through a wall of flames to get Zach and I out. I remember he had a wet towel on his head and looked like a ghost. He was even decent enough to wake my mother up, although she was rather irritated at being disturbed.
‘When he pulled us out of the building, we all sat on the lawn, watching the east wing burn. But I realised I’d left something inside – a four-leaf clover, pressed inside a bible on my bedside table. I couldn’t be without that four-leaf clover. So I went back into the house.
‘A burning door fell on my arm, and after that I don’t remember – firemen pulled me free.
‘I’m not perfect. There’s no such thing as perfect. But maybe, just maybe, you and I could be perfect for each other.’
I smiled and said, ‘Could be?’
Alex said, ‘I’m not letting you go now. We’ll make it work. You take care of Daisy and I’ll take care of the rest.’
YOU FINISHED MY BOOK!
PLEASE review – especially if you got this book as a free gift.
Reviews are my lifeblood (good and bad – although the bad ones make me cry). Without them, I can’t work as a writer. I work unpaid for six months to a year writing each book, and then I just have to pray readers review so I can carry on writing.
Reviews don’t have to be fancy. They can be just one word (although I’m praying that one word isn’t ‘shit’).
xxx
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I read ALL my Amazon reviews. Yes – even the bad ones (and yes, they do break my fragile little heart).
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Suzy K Quinn xx
