Leaning forward, and only just recognising that I don't seem to have a hangover, I pick up the glass. It’s cold, so I’m guessing Edith or Tristan have recently been up here. Feeling very dehydrated, I don't stop drinking until I have finished it all, and then with a defeated sigh, I look out the window and decide that there’s is nothing I can do about the fact that I suggested going shopping, and I don't really want to go back on it, so placing my glass down, I slide out of bed.
And just as I do, I have another weird moment about Tristan going away. Quickly brushing it off, I stomp into the bathroom, quickly wash my face, clean my teeth, and then I throw my winter robe on, so I can go in search of him. Taking the stairs two at a time, I come to a stop as I enter the living area, as Tristan is sat at the breakfast bar, eating – He’s always eating!
“Good morning,” he says, smiling widely at me.
“Hi,” I croak, feeling happy to see him, and head over to the breakfast bar.
“Breakfast?” Tristan asks as I sit next to him.
I shake my head. “No thanks, just coffee,” I quietly say. Ok, maybe I am a little hung over – I feel a bit woozy from running down the stairs.
“How are you feeling?” Tristan asks, as he pours coffee into my mug then adds some cream. He’s using his mind reading skills again!
“Ok,” I say, trying to sound perky. “Eat up, we’re in a hurry,” I tell him.
“We are?” he says.
My face falls, he hasn’t remembered. “Um...yeah, Christmas shopping?” I croak, and take a sip of coffee.
“Coral look,” Tristan says, nodding towards the hallway. I turn and see four huge brown boxes, and three tall white boxes, sat in the hallway.
“What’s that?” I whisper.
“Christmas decorations,” Tristan says.
My head whips back round to him, my mouth gaping open. “Christmas Decorations?” I whisper back.
His face falls. “Have I got it wrong?” he asks. I frown at him, not understanding what he means. He turns to face me, and takes my hand in his.
“Yesterday, when I asked Edith to help me organise dinner for us, we were chatting about the decorating, and she suggested ordering on-line as it’s what her daughter does every year,” he says, ‘what do you think?” he asks.
I gaze back at him, as I’m not really sure how I do feel about it. One the one hand, it’s bloody fantastic that he’s done this, I don't think I’d have done that well with crowds of people today, or the frigging storm, but on the other hand, I thought it would be really magical for us to do this together, I imagined us picking out items we liked, ones we thought would look good in our house, I thought it would be a really fun day out.
“Coral?” Tristan prompts, but I don't answer him as I’m kind of speechless, and have brain fog from too much alcohol last night.
“Coral?” he prompts again, ‘talk to me darling.”
My mouth opens and closes once, and then I think of the other reason we were meant to be shopping. “What about Edith’s present?” I squeak, panicking now as she’s going away tomorrow.
“Sorted,” Tristan says, and my panic is immediately quashed - My mouth pops open again, as I gawp at him. I blink several times, trying to get my brain to fire.
“Ok,’ I whisper, ‘what did you get?” I add, frowning now.
“A new necklace with a cross, some perfume, and a first edition collection of the Brontë sisters,” he casually says, as though he’s just bought her soap. This time my chin hits the floor. Tristan smiles warmly at me, leans forward, and softly brings my chin up so my lips meet again.
“Coral’ – “First edition?” I squeak, it’s the first thing I can think of to say.
Tristan’s serious now. “Yes, she’s a huge Brontë fan.”
I blink several times again, trying to think of the next thing to say or ask. “How much was that?” I whisper, staring back at him with wide eyes.
“Are you concerned about the amount I have spent’ – “No!” I balk, realising what he’s just about to ask. “No Tristan...that’s the sweetest...” I stop as he’s looking at me with big round, puppy dog eyes that are just melting me. So without another word I step up onto his stool and sit on his lap, which he helps me do, then wrap my arms around his neck.
“Tristan Freeman, you are the most thoughtful...sweetest man I have ever known,” I softly tell him then plant my lips on his for a chaste kiss. “But I am intrigued,” I whisper.
“How much first edition’s are?” He asks, reading my mind again.
I nod back at him.
“They were almost three grand,” he tells me.
My eyes widen. “Wow!” I gasp.
“I think she’ll like them,” he says, sounding very proud of himself.
I shake my head in wonder. “Tristan, I...I would have got her such a terrible present compared to that,” I chuckle, ‘I didn’t think you knew her that well,” I add.
He nods once, and squeezes me around the waist.
“And the cross?” I ask.
“Haven’t you noticed Edith’s always out Sunday mornings?” He asks.
I frown, and then think about it. I suppose she is, but I’ve never really thought about why. “What’s that got to do with a cross?” I ask.
Tristan smiles animatedly at me. “She’s a Christian, goes to church every Wednesday and Sunday,” he tells me.
“Oh...” I whisper, the penny finally dropping – That explains the cross. “So why have you got her the necklace?” I ask, presuming she already has one. In fact, I think I have seen her wearing one.
“She always wears one, but she gave hers to Danny, so I wanted to get her another as a gift,” he tells me. My mouth gapes open again.
“She gave it to Danny?” I squeak. I know things like that are very important to religious people.
Tristan chuckles at me, leans in and kisses my cheek. “You are so sweet and funny baby,” he leans in again, and nuzzles my neck, then plants his lips there, on my skin, which send sparks of desire straight down below.
“Tristan,” I whisper, and lean my head back so he can have better access to my neck, but my brain rejects the movement. My head starts throbbing, big slow thuds, so I know it’s only going to get worse as the day goes on. “Ow,” I lean forward and hold my head in my hands.
“Headache?” Tristan softly asks, holding my hands in his.
“Yeah,” I croak, feeling sorry for myself.
“Here baby.” I open my eyes, and watch as Tristan leans forward and picks up the tablets he’s already placed on the breakfast bar, along with my coffee, then hands the cup and the tablets to me.
“Thanks,” I croak again, and swallow the pain killers.
Tristan smiles sympathetically at me. “Eating will help,” he softly says, and I know he’s right. But I do not want to get into another fight about food.
“I know,” I whisper, ‘just let me wake up first,” I add, which makes him chuckle, and then I remember my original question. “So why did Edith give her cross to Danny?” I ask.
Tristan’s serious now. “I guess it’s to help him,” he says, then frowns at those words. “I think it’s because she knows he’s been through so much, and she wanted to help guide him maybe,” he ponders that thought. “Some Christians believe that wearing the cross offers protection from evil, in whatever form that may come in, so maybe it’s about that,” he says, and I know he’s not really sure.
I shake my head in amazement. “That must have been such a big deal for her to do that,” I whisper.
Tristan nods. “Yeah, I think it was,” he says.
“Have you seen Danny wearing it?” I ask, hoping he is.
“I’m not in the habit of looking at what Danny’s wearing,” he replies sarcastically, which makes me laugh.
“You know what I mean,” I chuckle, and then my stomach rumbles, and we look up at one another. Tristan’s face falls, and I know he’s about to say something, so I place my forefinger against his lips.<
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“I’ll have boiled eggs with marmite soldiers,” I whisper, then crack a huge smile.
His wide grin reflects mine. “Coming right up,” he says.
“Wait!” I say, clutching his arms so he can't slide me from his lap. “The decorations,” I add, looking down and frowning at myself. I’m still not quite sure how I feel about it.
“You’re not happy,” Tristan says, his head cocked to the side as he reads me.
“No, it’s not that...” I look up at him then shake my head. He looks hurt, and the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt him.
“Be honest with me,” he whispers, and leans his forehead against mine, ‘we promised that we would be,” he adds, and I know he’s right.
I sigh heavily. “I want to be, but I don't want to hurt your feelings,” I tell him.
Tristan chuckles, and takes my face in his hands so I have no choice but to look up at him. “Tell me,” he orders, but his tone is soft and full of love.
I smile softly at him. “Ok...well, I just thought...it would be nice to do it together. I get to know what you like, and vice versa,’ I shrug once, then I think we have such similar tastes that he’s probably picked the exact items I would have picked. ‘I guess I just thought it would be fun, I’ve never done anything like that before and as it’s our first Christmas – ‘ I stop talking because Tristan is smiling widely at me. “What?” I whisper.
“I bought every Christmas Decoration they had Coral, so we can do exactly that,” he says.
I gawp at him again. “Oh...” And for the second time this morning, my chin hits the floor.
Tristan is chuckling again as he nuzzles my neck once more. He seems very happy and relaxed today.
My brain finally fires a question. “Um...what are we going to do about the ones we don't want?” I ask.
His head comes up. “Give them to a charity?” he suggests, but I suddenly have a better idea, which also reminds me that I haven’t spoken to Tristan about this yet, he doesn’t know.
“I have a better idea,” I say, feeling quite proud of myself.
“You do?” he laughs, his head cocked to the side.
“Yes. We could give them to the charity I donate to every year,” I tell him.
His face suddenly falls, all humour gone, as he gazes back at me with wide eyes.
“What?” I whisper, suddenly feeling self conscious.
“You donate to charity?” he says, he seems utterly shocked.
I sigh inwardly as I think back to what happened when I was sixteen, and the reason I continue to help this particular charity. “Yeah...to The Clock Tower Sanctuary here in Brighton, £250 every Christmas,” I whisper, frowning now.
Tristan’s face softens. “What kind of charity is it baby?” he asks.
I swallow hard, and avert eye contact. “A homeless shelter...for young people...actually it’s more than that, and the name fits it right – it is a sanctuary,” I say, my voice shaking slightly.
Tristan squeezes me tightly around the waist. “There’s more,” he whispers, and gently lifts my chin so I have to look at him.
I nod slightly, remembering it all so clearly.
“Will you share it with me?” he asks. I debate for a moment, not really sure if I want him to know this part of me, the aggressive, angry young girl I once was. “Please...” he whispers.
I nod once, decision made, then I take a breath and begin. “Ok, so you know I was...getting myself into trouble in school and that I ended up expelled and home schooled,” I whisper, and he nods, his face dead serious. “Ok, well...what I didn’t say was that I...” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to get angry about it, because what I did was terrible, unforgivable – although I did get forgiveness, and I didn’t deserve it.
“Hey,” Tristan whispers, ‘don't talk about it if you don't want to baby,” he softly says.
I open my eyes, look up at him and start blurting it all out. “You have to understand Tristan. I was so angry...all of the time, I felt like a freak but I had to constantly hide it, and eventually, that takes its toll. It wasn’t long before exams were due, and I had this huge bust up with Debs. Gladys wasn’t there to calm everything down, so I really let go, and so did Debs. We both said such awful things to one another, and she really hit home with a lot of the things she was saying to me, which just made me angrier,” I take another breath. “And...I...I just lost it...and I attacked her,” I manage to say, tears pricking my eyes as I think back to it all, to how much I hurt Debs, and all the drama that unfolded afterwards.
Tristan wraps his arms around my shoulders and I sink my head onto his shoulder. “Do you hate me for doing that?” I whisper.
“No baby,” he softly says, his arms holding me tightly.
I sniff once and continue, because he needs to know the whole story. “Luckily, Scott came home. He found us in the living room, pulled me off Debs and threw me out the house. I found out later that I’d actually broken her nose,” I say, wincing at the memory.
Tristan hisses at that. “You must have one hell of a right hook,” he says. And I know he’s trying to lighten the moment, but it doesn’t forgive my behaviour that day.
I take a breath, slowly blow it out and continue. “So, I bang on the door several times to try and get back in, because it was pissing down and freezing cold, but Scott wasn’t having any of it, which at the time made me even angrier, but looking back, it was the best thing for me.” I look up at Tristan. “I hadn’t realised what I’d done Tristan, it was like coming out of a trance, and at the time, I just thought I’d thrown a couple of punches like Debs had, but I guess not...” I look down again, feeling ashamed and continue.
“Of course, in my angry state, I debated breaking one of the windows, but I knew Gladys would have gone mad at me for doing that, so I stormed off.” I glance out the window, and see the storm is really kicking up now. “I paced the beach for hours, trying to figure out what to do, but I was getting soaked and colder by the minute. I thought about going to Joyce’s, but I didn’t think she would let me in, because I figured Scott would have called her, told her what I’d done,” I take another deep breath. “I basically came to the conclusion that this was it. I was never going back, because I figured nobody would want me back, and that from now on I was homeless... living on the streets.” Tristan tenses beneath me, but stays silent.
I shake my head at myself. “Survival mode kicked in, like it did as a kid. I figured I needed dry clothes, so I knew I would need to steal some, and then I thought I’d better find somewhere dry to spend the night. I can remember thinking that it was going to be really hard you know, being so cold, so I thought about stealing a sleeping bag too.” I chuckle at that part.
“I can remember being so cold by the time I made the decision to walk into town that my legs wouldn’t work properly, and I was shaking violently, but I made it. And call it divine intervention, or chance, but I bumped into this woman. And I mean literally smashed into her as I wasn’t looking where I was going, she almost fell over, but I grabbed her hand and stopped the fall. She took one look at me and said ‘Honey, you’re soaked through, don't you have anywhere to go?’ And without thinking about it, I just shook my head at her. She told me she volunteered at a place where I could get into dry, clean clothes and have a hot meal. So I did exactly that, I followed her, she signed me in, got me some dry clothes, and sorted a bowl of stew out for me.”
I smile up at Tristan. “It was The Clock Tower Sanctuary. I didn’t know at the time, but they specifically help young people who find themselves with no home to go to, so they end up living on the street. The Sanctuary gives them a place to shower, to eat, to wash their clothes, and eventually off the streets and into accommodation. The volunteers are amazing, and they run all kinds of free classes, alcohol and drugs, sex education, emotional counselling...” I drift off for a moment, remembering how adamantly I said no to that.
“They really helped me Tristan. I stayed that night in emergency ac
commodation, which was a tiny room with a single bed and that’s it, not that I slept. Next day, I went back to the centre as soon as it opened, only to find John and Joyce waiting for me. And at first, I panicked, and I was about to run, but Joyce looked so upset, and started telling me about how frantic Gladys had been, and that they’d been looking for me all night,” I hide my head under Tristan’s chin, just waiting for his disgust, his reprimand, anything that would justify him being upset with me.
“Christ Coral,” he whispers, and squeezes me tight. “I cannot believe you nearly ended up living on the streets,” he softly croaks.
I nod my head once. “It was my own fault Tristan. I attacked Debs. I deserved the punishment.”
“The punishment you decided to dish out on yourself!” he scolds, unhappy now.
“I was disgusted with myself,” I bite back. “Especially when I found out how much I’d hurt her.”
Tristan sighs heavily. “So what happened afterwards?” he asks.
I swallow hard. “Gladys was relieved, but really angry with me for running away and what I did to my sister. Debs and Scott moved in with John and Joyce because they didn’t want to be in the same house as me, which I can understand, but they did come back six months later.”
“Families,” Tristan whispers.
“Debs forgave me, eventually. It took a lot of convincing from Gladys, who reminded Debs that she was as much to blame and that it takes two people to cause a fight.” I can't help smiling as I think about how Gladys handled it all. “Gladys made us both tell her what we’d actually said to each other, and she pointed out to Debs that although I had said some horrible things, that hers were far worse because she was older, and should have known better and that saying I wasn’t wanted, and that she wished I had never been born, and that she thinks I’m a weirdo was enough to push most people over the edge,” I sigh heavily. “So that’s why The Sanctuary gets my hard earned money every year, because it’s very well deserved, and they help young people, they helped me.” I add.
“One hundred thousand,” Tristan pipes up, surprising me.
I sit up so I can see him properly. “For them?” I squeak out in disbelief.
A Christmas Wish--A Contemporary Erotic Feel Good Christmas Romance (Darkest Fears Christmas Special, Book Four) Page 9
