by Eve Devon
‘The Clock House was having some sort of function, I think. And before you ask, no they didn’t stand under the chandelier. That chandelier has been safely tucked away in the attics for decades.’
‘Well, I don’t know, Jake,’ Emma said sadly. ‘I mean the way you tell it, it all sounds truly awful. How difficult it must have been to come from the same social standing and have so much in common. And what with them not even being formally introduced at a society gala full of weighty expectation, but meeting instead at a regular community event at The Clock House. And then, for them not even to be forced into marriage, but, it seems, being able to decide of their own free will?’
‘Okay—’
‘But here’s the really despicable part: I mean being forced to create six children together. Presumably only out of duty? Really, it’s incredible to me that you even know what love is.’
‘Okay! Maybe there’s more to my parents’ relationship than Knightley Hall.’
‘You think? Maybe you should ask them sometime?’
He was quiet for a few moments, and then graciously conceded, ‘Maybe I should. So what about your parents?’
Emma put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes to think. ‘I’m not sure they had one thing in common when they met. I suspect it was a case of opposites attract.’
‘But you’re not sure?’
She shrugged. ‘They’re super different. Mum’s very out-going and gregarious. Dad isn’t. Mum’s very “Try everything once, or even all at once”. Dad’s very single-minded and focused. Mum’s very limelight. Dad’s very behind-the-scenes. Mum’s not always very grown up. Dad’s … always … very.’
‘Did either of them remarry?’
‘Mum’s on permanent lookout. Dad remarried several years ago. I’ve spoken to her a few times but not met her.’
‘You didn’t go to their wedding?’
Emma brushed over the surprise in his voice with a casual, ‘Apparently it was very spur of the moment.’
‘That doesn’t sound like how you just described your dad.’
‘I know.’ Emma turned her face to stare back out of the window, determined not to let the shadow of rejection cloud her day.
They rode along in silence for a while. The snowflakes that were drifting down got smaller until only a fine drizzle and the windscreen wipers kept them company.
‘So you’re incredibly nervous, I guess,’ Jake eventually said.
‘Oh, hardly at all.’
‘Shame. I mean, if you’d have said very, I would have suggested stopping for a while to make snow angels but if you’re only hardly at all nervous…’
She grinned. ‘I’m not dressed for snow angels.’
Dressing for her date with Jake had actually been easier than dressing for today. In the end she’d gone with a fitted woollen dress in grey and periwinkle blue, with a cobalt winter wool coat for travelling in.
Not too ‘try hard’ she hoped and definitely not too Cinderella considering she was meeting her step-family for the first time.
‘You need to get some cold-weather gear if you’re staying,’ Jake suggested.
‘And work out how to fix the heating at Wren Cottage,’ she agreed, ignoring the ‘if’ part of his statement.
‘Why didn’t you say? I’ll take a look at it for you when we get back.’
She turned to stare at him. ‘You’re not coming back. You’re going to the wilds of Cornwall. Remember?’
‘Right. Wilds of Cornwall.’ He cleared his throat and settled his hands more firmly against the steering wheel. ‘Get someone to look it over when you get back. You can’t have no heating in weather like this. Ask Daniel or Oscar. Not Seth.’
‘Not Seth?’
‘Of course you could ask Seth. I only meant – well, just make sure you get the heating fixed.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
‘Speaking of whom, what did you end up getting your dad for Christmas? You said you were going to think outside the box?’
‘I’m having three patio roses delivered to his house.’
‘Because two is too few, four too many!’
‘Ha-ha. About the only thing I know about flowers is that you should go for an odd number. I know it’s completely the wrong time to grow them but I figured it would be something they could all enjoy.’ Because there was believing in magic, and there was not knowing your dad’s family.
‘In a hundred yards you will have reached your destination.’
The announcement from the satnav opened the flood-gates on her nerves.
As Jake parked up outside the modern town house, Emma took it all in.
It looked like the house in the photos he’d emailed her over the years, so that was good.
Crumbs, what if he didn’t answer the door but someone she didn’t recognise did? What did she say?
‘You’ll get a sea view,’ Jake murmured.
‘Huh?’ she turned her face towards him, hating knowing her eyes were too large and showing too much.
‘I thought you said you’d be coming back here for Christmas Day?’ Jake asked and then cocked his head to indicate the view from the windscreen. ‘You’ll have a sea view the same as me.’
She looked out the window. Was he saying if she got nervous to look at the sea and think of him? ‘I’m sure Dad won’t mind if you come in for a coffee. You’ve driven all this way and—’
‘Hollywood, you don’t need me for this part. All you have to do is walk up to the front door and press the bell. Pretend you’re in a film.’
‘A film?’
‘You know – where you’re playing an uber-confident career woman who’s flown in to spend the evening with her family.’
‘Right.’ She wasn’t convinced she could put one foot in front of the other, let alone act her way through this situation.
‘Plus, I really want to get to Cornwall before it gets dark.’
Oh. ‘Okay. Thanks ever so much for the lift.’
He leant forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. ‘Merry Christmas, Hollywood.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ she mumbled, her nerves taking an instant back seat to all the other sensations. While they were in the back seat, she figured she’d better see if she could leave them there, and hurriedly got out of the car. ‘See you when you get back,’ she called and hurried up the front path.
If she wasn’t so tipsy, she’d be feeling really angry with herself for allowing herself to get so tipsy.
Obviously she should have thought this visit out way more.
Right now it didn’t feel very polite to leave the TV on in the background while the daughter you hadn’t seen in years visited. Or did her dad and his wife, Teresa, think it was okay because she was family?
It was hard to concentrate when Jeremy Kyle was about to announce paternity results.
She took another sip of sherry.
Sherry.
This was what it had come down to.
She felt like she’d stumbled upon some secret only old people knew about.
How easier life must be for them, sitting in their chairs, quietly sozzled, making it through awkward family visits, one bottle at a time.
She wasn’t going to cry.
She was going to have another drink instead.
Jake was probably only about an hour away from his cosy retreat by now.
She wished she was sitting in the car beside him.
Everyone here was so polite.
Correction.
Her father and Teresa were polite.
Nicolette and Nicholas couldn’t be bothered to meet their step-sister.
Apparently they were both at Christmas parties they’d had booked for ages.
Maybe it was her. She wasn’t trying enough.
‘So, Dad, do you get out into the garden much?’
‘I read the papers out there on a Sunday morning if the weather’s nice, but other than that, I don’t really have the time.’
‘Oh.’ Did he even remem
ber the times he’d used to help her pick the rose petals? ‘My friend Jake has the most amazing gardens.’
‘In LA?’
‘No. Over here. In Whispers Wood.’ Where I just told you I’d moved to. She chewed on her lower lip. How was it going to help if she was rude? Lifting the glass to her mouth, she took another sip and wondered if she should cancel the order of patio roses?
‘Did your father tell you,’ Teresa said, moving to perch on the arm of the chair her father was sitting on, effectively presenting the two of them as a united front, ‘We’re off to Singapore for Christmas?’
‘Singapore?’ Emma’s mouth dropped open so she shoved in some more sherry.
‘Mmm. We have friends over there.’
‘Oh.’ Her heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest as she shifted her gaze to her dad. ‘I assumed we’d be able to have Christmas together.’
‘We’d have got you a ticket if we’d known you were staying rather than visiting. Your news has been quite the surprise,’ her father explained. ‘But perhaps it isn’t too late? I can’t guarantee first-class seats will still be available,’ he paused and looked a little embarrassed. ‘That sounds terribly money oriented, but I wouldn’t want it to come as a shock if you were sitting in another part of the plane to us.’
‘But John,’ Teresa said, placing a hand on his arm, ‘how will we explain to Simon and Jayne that we’re bringing another guest? Do you think they’ll be able to fit Emma in at such short notice?’
The last thing Emma wanted was to be the cause of family stress. ‘Actually I have to work over Christmas,’ she managed to get out, rubbing her thumb up and down the stem of her sherry glass.
Her dad pursed his lips. ‘Panto?’
‘No, Dad. I’m a bar manager.’
‘Bar manager?’ He brought his steepled fingers together to rest against his chin as an aid to understanding. ‘I thought you wanted to be an actress?’
‘I did.’
‘But not anymore?’
‘No.’
‘So how on earth did this bar manager job come about?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with being a bar manager,’ she said defensively.
‘Of course there isn’t, Emma. I simply can’t connect the transferable skills. They sound like chalk and cheese. What does your mother have to say about this?’
Emma couldn’t believe that for the first time in years her parents might actually be in accord over something.
‘I suppose you have to keep going until you find something that sticks,’ he said in the end.
‘Sticks?’
‘Now, John,’ Teresa gave a nervous chuckle as she refilled all their glasses. ‘We have to remember that this new generation doesn’t get to do one job for life anymore.’
Emma pasted on a smile. ‘Well, I stuck at acting for nearly twenty years so I guess you could call that a career.’
‘But one you’ve now given up, it seems.’
Oh, bollocks to all this. Draining her glass of sherry, she picked up her handbag and asked, ‘I wonder if I could use your loo?’
She swayed all the way to the downstairs cloakroom.
And as she stared in the mirror above the sink, shaking her head a little at all the matchy-matchy soap-dish, towels, lightshade, she realised how very drunk she was.
How long could she stay in here?
How long before she went back out there and faced the fact that the dream visit had been just that.
A dream.
How would she tell Kate and Juliet? How would she tell Jake?
Taking out her phone, she suddenly knew exactly how she could pass the time.
Carefully she started composing her thank you text.
Jake, I hope you got to your hideaway safely. I know we’re both busy pretending there’s nothing going on between us, but I wanted you to know that this thing that is definitely going on between us? Well, you can rest assured it has nothing to do with the chandelier. Because of course we didn’t meet under the chandelier. Gertrude introduced us. Don’t you feel better knowing the thing that started between us (the thing we didn’t get around to really talking about) started before we even got to The Clock House and stood underneath the chandelier? Phew! I know I do!
I can’t believe I admitted to thinking about kissing you for hours and you didn’t say one thing about that. Did those kisses really mean nothing?
Or did you dream about me after last night?
I dreamt about you…
Sweet dreams, Jakey.
Hollywood xx
With a discreet hiccup she pressed ‘send’.
Chapter 32
Driving Home for Christmas
Jake
Jake looked up as the front door opened. ‘Mr Danes? Hi, my name is Jake Knightley. I’m a friend of your daughter. Emma?’ he added, when there was no discernible change in expression.
‘You’re the one with the amazing gardens?’
Emma had been talking about him? ‘Yes.’
Relief entered the man’s eyes. ‘You’d better come in. I’m afraid she’s been at the sherry.’
Jake assumed that was some sort of euphemism.
But one look at the spacey eyes that lit-up to the size of saucers when she saw him, along with the way she plastered herself to his side and said, ‘Jakey!’ in a rather more outdoors than indoors volume voice and, holy Gertrude … Hollywood was drunk!
He’d only left her alone for two hours.
What would’ve happened if he’d kept right on driving as planned?
If it hadn’t started to snow again, he wouldn’t have bothered listening to the weather forecast. And he’d only done that because the car had seemed empty without her. But as he’d listened, he’d known immediately Emma wasn’t going to be able to get a train back to West Sussex that night and with The Clock House grand opening party tomorrow night she needed to be able to get home.
She hardly knew her dad. What if he was a really bad driver? Or didn’t drive in snow?
So he’d sworn a bit.
Driven a few more miles.
Sworn a bit more.
Then turned the car around and headed back here, to her dad’s.
She could always tell him thanks, but no thanks, couldn’t she?
And if she’d happen to appreciate a lift back to Whispers Wood, well then the car wouldn’t feel so empty.
And he wouldn’t be forced into thinking about what she’d said on the drive up and how simple she’d made it seem to start a conversation with his parents about their relationship.
‘Jakey,’ she repeated, her hand sliding up his chest, her voice smoky and pleased, ‘you got my text and understood the subtext and now you’re here to take me away to your hideaway.’
‘Um…’ What text? What subtext? Looking at the baffled expression on John and Teresa’s faces he tried a pleasant smile. ‘She might have been a bit nervous so the alcohol’s gone to her head.’
‘Well, of course she was,’ Teresa empathised. ‘So were we. Hence the sherry.’
‘Right,’ he said, thinking what the actual, as his eyes slid to the large, empty bottle on the table. ‘I don’t suppose you could make her a large cup of black coffee?’
‘Of course,’ Teresa said, going straight into hostess mode. ‘And for you?’
‘Same.’ He hadn’t been drinking but he had been driving on not a lot of sleep. ‘Emma? They’re forecasting buckets more of snow.’
‘Yay.’
‘Yay, if I can get you back for the grand opening tomorrow.’
She nodded, already looking more sober. ‘We should leave right away.’
‘I think we have time for that coffee first.’
‘I promise not to be sick in your car.’
‘And that would be a “definitely have time” for that coffee,’ he said aiming another smile at John and Teresa.
‘You should stay for something to eat,’ her father said quietly.
‘No,’ Emma shook her head,
her hand clenching against Jake’s chest. ‘We should be getting back. But thank you for having me, though.’
Thank you for having me?
Ouch.
He watched Emma dutifully gulp down coffee and thought about the way his family just barged in and out of Knightley Hall and realised why she might not have had such a problem with it, if this awkward formality was the alternative.
And then he saw the way her eyes kept darting to the only colour in the white, modern kitchen. A multi-aperture, three-feet-tall photo-frame of the family.
He sat at the table and squinted at the pictures. He couldn’t see Emma in any of the photos and with sudden understanding, started drinking his coffee quicker.
By the time she’d finished her mug, barely fifteen minutes of pleasant small-talk had filled awkward silences.
As Emma got to her feet, everyone else at the table followed her lead.
‘Well now,’ her father began, ‘Emma, you must come back and visit us after—’
‘And you should come to Whispers Wood,’ Emma rushed out, cutting him off.
Jake frowned. ‘Won’t you be coming back for—’
‘Jake, if you could grab my bag?’ Emma asked.
‘Just a moment,’ Mr Danes said, turning to his daughter. ‘Emma, I’d be remiss if I didn’t check you really wanted to go home with this man?’
Emma’s nod was automatic. ‘I really do.’
‘Okay, well,’ Mr Danes turned towards Jake and thrust out his hand, ‘nice to meet you, Jake. Thank you for taking the trouble to come back for Emma.’
‘Of course,’ Jake said, feeling Emma’s nerves as she tried to figure out whether to hug the man she hadn’t seen for years, or shake his hand. Turning to run his hand reassuringly down her arm, and lightly lace their fingers together for a moment, he told her, ‘I’ll pop your bag in the car while you say your goodbyes.’
He’d only had the engine running a minute or so by the time Emma opened the car door, eased herself into the passenger seat and smoothly snapped on her seatbelt.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘Not a problem,’ he told her, easing the car down the drive.
‘It’s really coming down now,’ she said, staring out at the snow.
He waited a minute and then said, ‘If it’s any consolation I’d have been at the sherry too.’
