by Anita Notaro
‘No problem, it was easy for me, I was in London AND Paris. I spent lots of time hanging around waiting for interviews so I did all my Christmas shopping. Only thing is, it stays under the tree till tomorrow morning.’
‘No way.’ She had already started on the packaging.
‘That’s the condition on which you get it, so stop acting like a spoilt brat.’
‘OK.’
‘Happy Christmas.’
He suddenly came closer and took her glass and pulled her towards him and kissed her – a long, slow, wet kiss that lasted for hours.
‘I missed you.’ Cue heart thumps.
‘I missed you too.’
‘Good. Now . . .’ He sat on the couch and pulled her down beside him. ‘Tell me your news. How’s the flu?’
They chatted for ages, then he had to leave in order to arrive in Galway for the family celebration. Apparently they always had a big party on Christmas Eve.
‘I’ll call you, give me your number here.’
She did and he gave her his and she walked him to his car and waved him off, happier than she’d been in a long time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE REST OF the day was spent in perfect harmony, relaxing, sipping champagne, bathing and putting her nephews to bed. Her sister Anne looked exhausted but assured them it was just overwork. Anne’s husband David ran his own marketing company and often worked late, leaving Anne to run the house and manage the kids. She also worked part time as a teacher and complained, like most mothers, of being constantly exhausted. Lindsay made her put her feet up and relax with a drink, which she said was the best Christmas present ever.
At ten, mother and daughters walked up to midnight Mass, another Davidson tradition, while David babysat and got the Santa presents ready. They had a light supper of baked ham and crusty bread and cheese and Lindsay was asleep seconds after her head touched the pillow.
As with millions of houses around the world, Christmas morning started ludicrously early. Jake, her youngest nephew, crept into Lindsay’s bedroom on the basis that she was the only one who wouldn’t try to persuade him that Santa was still in Sweden and had to get to all the countries in between before he hit Ireland.
‘Has he come?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s take a look out the window and see if there are any sleigh marks.’
‘Yes, I can see them, there they are and there’s Rudolph’s paws.’
‘Well then, we’d better just listen for a minute at the top of the stairs to make sure he’s not still here.’
‘OK.’
Lindsay crawled out of her haven, wiped away the remnants of sleep and followed the excited little boy.
He was wedged between the banisters, listening intently.
‘Any noise?’
‘No, he must be gone. Will we check the carrot?’
‘Yes, we’d better, because Charlie usually barks when he arrives and I didn’t hear anything.’
‘Is Charlie afraid of Santa?’
‘No, I think he’s a bit jealous cause of the cake and the carrot.’
They padded down the stairway and into the kitchen. Sure enough, the glass of sherry had been demolished and the carrot was a stump.
Jake fell over himself trying to get to the tree and they spent a very happy hour opening all their presents, joined almost immediately by Luke, who of course had heard the commotion that the adults amazingly had not.
Lindsay opened her present from Chris, a pair of gorgeous antique garnet earrings, long and glamorous and exactly right. She was delighted and mentally consigned the pair on her dressing table to charity or Debbie.
Breakfast was prepared – fresh rolls, juice and a big fry-up – and the table set by the time the other adults were tempted out of oblivion.
Afterwards, they all went to visit the usual collection of relations, returning home about three. Everyone helped with dinner, a big formal affair in the dining room with cut glass and good silverware and real napkins and a blazing fire, another Davidson tradition.
They’d all adjourned to fight over the TV when Chris phoned. Her mother greeted him like a long-lost friend and Lindsay knew she was filling the others in as she took the call.
‘Hi, how are you?’
‘Fat as a fool and the proud owner of six new pairs of navy socks and three bottles of Old Spice. You?’
‘I was obviously a much better person all year because Santa brought me the most amazing pair of earrings that suit my colouring perfectly and are dangling in the light as we speak. Thank you.’
‘Pleasure. How did the day go?’
‘It was great. Jake had me awake at five-thirty and we had a ball. Later we visited lots of elderly aunts, then my father’s grave, which is always a bit sad. But we’ve just finished a gorgeous dinner and are fighting over which movie to watch.’
‘Sounds just like us. Our party went on till four so no one got up early and we haven’t eaten yet. Knowing my mother it will be at least nine o’clock although she always plans it for five and we end up tearing the turkey to bits while we wait.’
They swapped more horror stories for a while then Chris was called away as one of his friends had arrived unexpectedly.
‘I’m coming back to Dublin on the twenty-eighth because a friend of mine is getting married the next day. So how about I cook you that famous dinner the night after? Although I can’t promise not to be hungover. Weddings aren’t really my thing.’
‘OK, fine.’
‘What are you doing on New Year’s Eve, by the way?’
‘Debbie’s having a party and I’ve been roped in to help with the food. How about you?’
‘My sister’s doing the same and I’ve been roped in to be a spare male. I think I’d rather be in your shoes.’
‘You haven’t been to one of Debbie’s parties. Lots of pilots who think they’re God’s gift trying to feel you up.’
‘Tell them I said to leave you alone.’
‘Yeah right, that’ll frighten them all right.’ They laughed and chatted easily for a minute or two longer and she felt close to him.
‘OK, gotta go. I’ll talk to you before that anyhow.’
‘Enjoy the madhouse.’
Lindsay came back and knew they’d been discussing her but she also knew her sister would wait to be told.
St Stephen’s Day or Boxing Day, depending on where you lived, meant a long walk and lots of reheated food and too many chocolates so Lindsay was relieved to return home the following day. She wanted to get organized so she called into the office to check her e-mails and take home a few files.
Debbie and Tara were still away and she had a message from her new friend Carrie, wondering when they could meet for a chat. Carrie had been working outside Dublin for the few weeks before Christmas and she refused to tell Lindsay what had happened between her and Dan Pearson ‘until I have a pint in my hand’. Lindsay left her a message begging her to call as soon as she got back to town.
She spent the rest of the day clearing up the debris from her flu – mouldy grapes and mounds of tissues and empty bottles and too many magazines – then flopped on the couch with the remote and Charlie. Not very exciting.
Around nine o’clock she had a sudden urge to ring Chris. She dialled the number he had given her. She felt a bit apprehensive but wasn’t sure why. She needn’t have worried, he wasn’t home. ‘Try his mobile,’ a vague-sounding girl offered, putting paid to her hopes that he’d mentioned to anyone that she might call. She gave up, sent him a text and then regretted it, in case he thought she’d nothing better to do, or was checking up on him. Ridiculous, this constant insecurity. She had a long soak and went to bed.
She didn’t hear from him until the following evening.
ON MY WAY BACK. R U SURVIVING?
BACK HOME SO NEARLY NORMAL. WORKING 2MORO. NJOY THE WEDDING.
STILL ON 4 DINNER FRI?
I’M HUNGRY ALREADY.
WILL U STAY OVER?
I’LL HAVE 2 ASK
CHARLIE.
BRING HIM ALONG.
HE’S FUSSY BOUT WHERE HE STAYS.
TELL HIM I LIVE NEXT DOOR 2 AN ORGANIC BUTCHER.
HE’S PACKING.
C U ABOUT 8?
I’M PACKING 2.
U WON’T NEED ANY CLOTHES.
NOT EVEN FISHNET STOCKINGS AND MY NEW CROTCHLESS KNICKERS?
MAYBE JUST A SMALL BAG THEN.
On and on it went, until he told her he was no longer able to concentrate and she texted good night, still smiling. She felt very much at ease with him although talking to him face to face was somehow less easy. Still, she knew they were becoming closer.
The girls came back the next day and life returned to normal. They spent hours on the phone planning what to wear, drink and cook – in that order – for the famous party. Lindsay and Tara had agreed to do the shopping, on the basis that they were far more organized. Debbie set about cleaning her little house, moving furniture upstairs and removing any delicate objects.
The other two were to be at her house by lunchtime on New Year’s Eve, to start cooking. Charlie was designated official party animal so Lindsay decided to pack all her stuff when going to Chris’s house and head straight for Debbie’s from there the next day. Friday was lurking in the back of her mind and just thinking about it filled her with delicious anticipation. She found the idea of knowing in advance that she would be spending the night with him very erotic and suddenly she began to think of the two of them together at the oddest moments, like when she was washing the car. It hung around her like a sinful, guilty secret, haunting her in a very pleasurable way.
She had already decided what she was going to wear – her gorgeous black Joseph suit, which had cost a fortune, even in the sales in Brown Thomas. It was the softest material, very simple, but cut magnificently and it hung perfectly, the long tapered jacket fitted at the waist and the skirt short. She planned to combine it with sheer black stockings and black suede knee-high boots and wear nothing underneath on top except a gorgeous black, lacy bodice, which would remain hidden until the jacket was unbuttoned and then reveal a very voluptuous cleavage that owed more to padding than nature. Hopefully, by the time he got to the foam filling he’d be sufficiently interested anyway. She would get her hair blow-dried but then tie it back so that the whole look was understated with just a hint of sexiness on the outside, only to reveal a complete slut, vamp, tramp, or sex goddess – she still wasn’t sure which – underneath. She knew she would never be considered a sex goddess, but liked the feelings just thinking about it aroused.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE FLUTTERS HAD already started by the time she rang the doorbell at ten past eight on Friday night. Charlie was hysterical, being out on a ‘midnight’ adventure was a relatively new experience and she had a hard job keeping him – and his hair – off her suit. He just loved the smells that darkness seemed to create and darted about everywhere. She was glad Chris had buzzed her in rather than let her in himself because she sort of fell in the door, complete with thrusting dog, flowers and overnight bag.
He leaned over the banisters and grinned at her and she suddenly felt overdressed and foolish, especially since he was in jeans and a T-shirt.
‘Hi, come on up, my mother just called in for a second.’
‘Oh, right, OK.’
Fabulous. She tugged at her skirt and held the flowers close to her chest.
‘Hi, Charlie.’ As soon as he heard a friendly voice, particularly one that had provided him with the juiciest bone ever, Charlie took off, taking Lindsay with him so that she arrived at his door covered in dog hairs with her own sort of ‘looser’ than she would have liked.
‘Hi.’
‘Come in, you look like you could do with a drink.’
‘Remind me never to bring my dog to dinner again, especially to one that smells as good as this.’
She followed him in to the most fantastic apartment, completely unlike her house. It was all wood and stark walls and gorgeous artwork, with oversized windows and ceilings that reached the sky.
‘This is my mother, Nina. She’s in town for the weekend and just dropped in on her way to dinner.’
‘Hi, I’m Lindsay.’ She shook hands with a tall aristocratic-looking woman with a warm smile who looked at her kindly.
‘Hello, Lindsay, what a gorgeous dog.’
The said gorgeous dog was lying on his back, everything exposed and dangling, waiting to be stroked. Lindsay sort of nudged him – no, kicked him – and he yelped and looked offended. She thrust the ginormous bunch of Casablanca lilies at Chris and folded her arms tightly.
‘Thanks, I don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers before. They’re great.’
She tried desperately to think of some witty reply but just grinned stupidly.
‘I’m very impressed with the smells coming from the kitchen. Lindsay, I’d be careful, he’s obviously very keen.’ Nina winked at her and picked up her bag. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, enjoy your evening. I hope I’ll see you again sometime.’
‘Talk to you over the weekend,’ she told Chris and was gone.
Why can’t all mothers be just that interested, Lindsay thought unkindly.
‘Glass of wine?’
‘Yes, please, white if you have it. Your apartment’s really great, by the way.’
‘Thanks, I’m never quite sure. Sometimes, when I’ve been away I come home and I think, yes, I absolutely love it. Then when I’ve been here for a while I wonder if it’s not a bit cold.’
‘Oh no, on the contrary, I think the wood and the amazing colours of the art really add warmth.’
‘That’s good coming from you. There you go.’ He handed her a glass of wine. ‘You look great, by the way.’
She had perched herself on a high stool in the kitchen, feeling a bit self-conscious when she saw him looking at her. The outfit had definitely been a mistake. He looked relaxed and she looked like a high-class hooker.
‘Thanks. Charlie’s made himself at home anyway.’
The dog was stretched out in front of a very modem stove, lying on the softest creamy-white rug.
‘Good, you do the same.’
‘What, lie on my back with my legs in the air?’ She was sorry as soon as she’d said it. What was wrong with her, she wondered. She seemed to be always making too much of the whole sex thing with him and her attempts at seduction had seriously backfired.
‘Well, yes, if you really want to, but I meant make yourself at home. Want me to take your jacket?’
‘Er, no thanks, I’m fine.’ She felt completely foolish and wondered if she could put a pin in her jacket when she realized he was standing beside her.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing, why?’
‘You look uncomfortable.’
‘Actually . . .’ She made an instant decision. ‘Would you mind if I changed? I brought jeans and a T-shirt in case I . . . erm . . . stayed over and er, I’d be more comfy, I think . . . maybe . . . I might . . .’
‘Sure. I’ll show you the bedroom. Although if you do change, does that mean you keep on whatever that bit of black lace is that I can’t help noticing at the top of your skirt.’
‘Well, I don’t know too many women who wear stay-ups with jeans, but . . .’
‘Come on’. He was laughing at her as he led the way into an oversized room, almost entirely white, dominated by a huge bed with a soft, chocolate leather headboard and base and the most amazing, bright yellow bedclothes. On the wall behind the bed there was an enormous painting in various shades of yellows and oranges. Everything else was hidden behind anonymous white doors.
A long, sleek leather recliner and a TV, video and DVD were the only other items visible. The effect was tranquil and cool, with the yellow providing the sunshine.
She decided to come clean.
‘I think I got it all wrong tonight. You see, the fact that we’ve already had sex made me think I needed to spice it up a bit so I sort of went for the prim
schoolteacher look, you know . . . sexy underneath sort of thing.’ She could feel a slight heat moving up her neck. ‘It all went wrong when Charlie propelled me up the stairs, with my hair falling down and my boobs hanging out. God, what must your mother have thought?’
He was showing her the bathroom and she was behind him when she blurted this out to his back. He turned to look at her and burst out laughing.
‘What are you on about? You’re mad.’ He stopped when he saw that she was embarrassed.
‘Come here.’ He lifted her up onto the counter top at the basin, which was the only available place to sit and stood in front of her and took her hands in his. He tilted her head, forcing her to look at him.
‘First of all, my mother wouldn’t care if you’d been naked, she takes people as she finds them and doesn’t judge. So stop worrying. Secondly, what’s all this about having to spice things up for me? I asked you to stay tonight because I wanted to spend some time with you, after all the running around I’ve been doing lately and then Christmas and everything. Sex between us so far has been fantastic and I’m looking forward to lots more but I want to get to know you as well. OK?’
‘OK.’
He kissed her then, a kiss that started off gentle and barely touching and somehow became much more intense. He moved even closer and she wound her legs around him as he pulled her to him. She arched towards him and her skirt rode up and he ran his hands over her body, feeling the silk of her legs, then the lace, then bare skin.
‘You’re beautiful and funny and smart and mad and I’m mad about you and you don’t have to dress up for me although I love that you did.’
‘I couldn’t take off my jacket, even though I was roasting, cause I didn’t have very much on underneath.’
‘Show me.’
She slowly unbuttoned the garment, looking at him as his eyes followed her fingers. When she’d finished he lightly moved it back so that he could see her breasts, pushed up and not very well hidden, and she sat there with her skirt up around her waist and her legs wrapped around him and they tortured each other with lips, tongues and touches, tugging at clothes. On and on it went until neither wanted to stop, then he entered her and she thrust forward and they made love on top of the wash-hand basin with their clothes half on and it was one of the most erotic experiences – partly because it was so unexpected.
