A Winter's Wish

by Alice Ross

  For some strange reason, entering the kitchen and spotting her at the table, her mouth curving into a diffident smile as her gaze snagged on his, caused Stan’s previously bad mood to completely evaporate. Out of her hat and coat, in a pale pink polo neck jumper and grey jeans, she looked different to how he’d remembered her. Prettier. And she’d seemed really nice too. So nice, he’d probably told her slightly too much about how he was finding the move from London a bit of a culture shock. In fact, while they’d been having that conversation in the park, it had occurred to him that he’d never really vocalised that fact before. And never would have dreamed of doing so to a complete stranger. Did that make him as bad as Bea? He didn’t think so. His and Amelia’s conversation had remained general. In fact, he’d scarcely mentioned Bea, never mind launched into the minutiae of their marriage.

  Stan had surprised himself during their chat. He normally kept his cards close to his chest, but there’d been something vulnerable about Amelia, an aura of wistfulness that made him suspect she had troubles of her own – outwith the job ones she’d confessed to. He’d felt an instant bond with her. But was that simply because she’d been there when he’d been ready to talk to somebody? Would he have done the same with anyone who’d had the misfortune to encounter him that day? In his hung-over, exhausted and miserable state, he really didn’t know.

  *

  For all it was only a couple of days since Amelia had heard from Doug, it felt like months. Nevertheless, she’d abided by her decision not to call him. Mainly because, whatever he had “going on”, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know about it. She had, however, googled Imogen’s mother and, just as she’d suspected, found numerous posts from celebrity gossip magazines about her breast cancer diagnosis and treatment. A flurry of photos accompanied these reports, several including Doug and, of course, Imogen. She was, Amelia noted with a pang of resentment, just as beautiful as ever with her long blonde hair and startling blue eyes. That aside, though, the reports provided no clue as to what might have happened on the Forster-Browns’ Antigua holiday. The only thing Amelia knew was that whatever it was, it had seriously impacted on Doug.

  In yet another effort to distract her musings, Amelia had accepted Annie’s offer to join her and Jake – and Stan – to discuss Phil’s leaving party. She’d dismissed the accompanying fizzling sensation as nothing more than indigestion. She was at the kitchen table when Stan arrived. He’d already removed his hat and looked totally different to when she’d seen him in the park. His fair hair was receding but it suited him. And his eyes were just as warm and honey-coloured as she remembered – if a little bloodshot. He did, in fact, look completely knackered.

  ‘Grab a pew,’ Jake instructed him, flicking on the kettle on the bench. ‘You know Amelia, Annie’s sister, don’t you?’

  ‘I do,’ said Stan, smiling at her as he loped over to the table. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Great, thanks,’ she lied. Despite being far from great, his arrival had significantly lifted her spirits. ‘How are you?’

  He grimaced as he reached the table, removed his jacket and slid onto the bench opposite her. ‘Bit rough to be honest. Staff Christmas Party last night.’

  She laughed. ‘Right. I take it, it was a good one.’

  He shook his head, but not before she noticed a slight flush touch his cheeks. ‘Let’s just say I’ve been to better. Phil’s should be a good do though. Especially with Annie, the village’s expert party planner, on the case. Will you still be here for it?’

  Amelia sucked in a deep breath. She didn’t have a clue what her plans were. She was still waiting for Doug to sort himself and his “goings on” out. But why? All at once it struck her that she was tired of waiting for Doug. For all the situation with Imogen’s mother wasn’t of his making, he wasn’t being fair not letting her know what was happening. And besides, having got to know Phil a little over the last few days, she’d decided she liked him – as, it seemed, did the rest of the village. Given his popularity, Annie’s expert involvement, and everyone else’s high festive spirits, she had to agree with Stan that it probably would be a great party.

  ‘Yes,’ she subsequently heard herself replying. ‘I’ll still be here.’

  The smile this evoked from across the table caused something warm and pleasant to slither down her spine. But before Stan could utter another word, Annie bustled into the room with Bart Simpson. Sorry everyone,’ she gushed. ‘Just got off the phone. Bit of a crisis up at the manor which Portia would normally have sorted out. But, as she’s still supping Pina Coladas under the Caribbean sun, it’s fallen to yours truly to sort. Right, that’s enough wittering from me. Now, down to business. What are we going to do about this leaving party?’

  *

  Phil’s party all perfectly planned, Stan arrived back at Pear Tree Cottage a couple of hours later, where he discovered a huge fir tree in the lounge, and a small army of people decorating it: Bea with Maddy, and Zara with two small girls whom he assumed must be her daughters.

  Despite the fact that he lived there, his arrival appeared to throw Bea into a state of bewilderment.

  ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, as he hovered in the doorway. ‘You didn’t say what time you’d be back so Zara and I picked up the tree.’

  A bolt of red-hot resentment pierced Stan. If she’d told him she wanted to collect the tree today, he’d have asked her to wait for him. Wasn’t that, after all, the kind of thing you were supposed to do as a family for your child’s first Christmas? Not that he intended pointing that out now. Not with guard dog Zara present. She’d probably rive another strip off him for upsetting Bea again. His thoughts wandered back to a few minutes ago when he’d been surrounded by the fun, relaxed, warm and welcoming atmosphere of The Cedars. Wasn’t the whole point of having kids to add something positive to your life – just like Jake and Annie had done? – rather than make it unbearably miserable like he and Bea seemed to have achieved?

  ‘Would you like to stick the star on top?’ Bea asked, hauling him back to the present.

  Gazing at the sparkly, spiky adornment in Bea’s hand, then at Zara’s rather wide bum as she bent over fiddling with the plug for the fairy lights, Stan could think of one place he’d really like to stick the star. But he doubted that would help matters.

  ‘I’ll do it later,’ he replied, turning on his heel and marching back out of the front door.

  *

  Following the call from the solicitors pressuring him to commit to signing the final sales document, Phil had spent the entire night naval gazing. As silvery-grey daylight had crept around the edges of his bedroom blind, he’d jerked upright. Today was the day. Definitely. He would stop faffing about and sign the paper. Today. Not bothering with breakfast, mainly because he’d felt nauseous, but also because it would have meant more time in the flat, during which he might change his mind. Instead, he’d had a quick shower, pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper, whipped up his jacket, de-iced the car, then jumped into it and headed straight into Harrogate.

  Unable to find a spot anywhere near the solicitor’s office, he’d ended up parking at the opposite side of town. Undeterred, and refusing to consider that, or the gloomy, snow-threatening sky, as miserable omens, he’d marched purposefully towards his destination. The offices of Barr, Brief and Casey occupied the ground floor of what had once been a splendid Georgian residence. Bright fluorescent light streamed out from the tinsel-adorned windows suggesting all the legal people were in place, doing legal things.

  He’d sucked in a fortifying breath, preparing to mount the four steps to the door.

  But he couldn’t.

  His legs wouldn’t move.

  He’d had the terrifying sensation of being paralysed.

  He couldn’t go in.

  So he hadn’t. And rather than stand there like an over-cooked chipolata, attracting enquiring looks from passers-by, he’d whisked around and was heading back to his car when he’d bumped into Annie’s sister, Amelia.

  A
nd, consequently, old Mr Russell.

  Despite Phil’s initial reservations about Amelia – mainly that she’d been a stuck-up, spoilt madam, completely up her own backside – she’d been an absolute star following Mr Russell’s collapse. Amidst all the panic, she’d remained calm and capable, phoning the ambulance and accompanying the patient to the hospital, where she’d also proved invaluable. Phil didn’t normally “do” hospitals. The merest whiff of one brought on a cold sweat. Which was why he’d been so grateful for Amelia’s reassuring presence. It had been good of her to stay, particularly as she hardly knew Mr Russell. Phil had rambled on about all sorts of rubbish, mainly to try and keep her there. But amongst these ramblings, he’d found himself opening up to her. Not something he was prone to do.

  Instead of dismissing his concerns as pathetic, spouting forth the same as everyone else – that he was mad and that anybody would give their right arm for a new life in the sun – Amelia had been empathetic, had understood his reluctance and his concerns. Not that said empathy had done much to aid his decision-making. He still didn’t have a clue – about anything.

  ‘Time is running out, Mr McNally,’ the solicitor had informed him again yesterday.

  A fact of which Phil was acutely aware.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Yay! Ella,’ gushed the astronaut – otherwise known as Thomas – haring into the tearoom and throwing his arms around her legs. ‘Thomas missed Ella.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice to hear,’ chuckled Ella, scooping him up as Annie followed behind, laden down with a box. ‘But what have you done with my favourite little boy, Thomas O’Donnell? Have you left him on the moon?’

  Thomas gurgled with laughter. ‘Me Thomas O’Donnell,’ he said, tugging back the visor on his helmet.

  ‘Ah. Thank goodness for that. We read a story about the moon last week, didn’t we? Can you remember the names of some of the planets?’

  Two deep lines of concentration appeared on Thomas’s brow. ‘Mars Bar and Anus,’ he pronounced proudly.

  Ella snorted with laughter. ‘Just about. Well done.’

  ‘God, Ella. I’m so sorry to barge in like this,’ said Annie, looking, Ella thought, slightly harassed. ‘I just wanted to drop off the bits and pieces for the staff get-together tonight. Honestly, there’s so much going on at the moment, I can’t keep track of it all. You are coming to the get-together later aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Ella, who’d been thinking of nothing else for the last week. ‘It’ll be nice to actually have some time to speak to the staff from the manor for a change. Whenever they pop in here, we’re always too busy to talk.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Portia and I thought,’ said Annie. ‘And despite her being whisked away on holiday since, it’ll still be lovely to have everyone together for a change. Anyway, best get this little tyke out of your hair. I’ll see you at the manor later.’

  ‘You certainly will.’ Then, before she could stop herself, ‘Will, er, Jake be there?’

  Annie nodded as she extracted Thomas from Ella’s arms. ‘He will. But in typical fashion he might be a bit late.’

  Ella couldn’t have cared less if he didn’t show up until the last minute. As long as he did show up.

  ‘Bye,’ called Thomas, waving furiously over Annie’s shoulder as she carried him off.

  ‘Bye, little man,’ said Ella, waving back. ‘See you soon.’

  ‘Wow! You certainly have a fan there,’ said Dan, appearing at Ella’s side. ‘You’re really good with kids, you know.’

  Ella wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s only Thomas. And it’s only because I spoil him rotten when I babysit.’

  Dan shook his head. ‘It isn’t only Thomas. You were great with that kid who refused to eat his carrot cake the other day. By the time you’d finished with him, he’d demolished the lot and asked for another piece.’

  Ella laughed. ‘He was cute.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Dan went on, ‘I’m finished now, so I’ll see you back here this evening for the get-together.’

  ‘Okay,’ mumbled Ella, unable to stop a smile touching her lips as she thought about seeing Jake later.

  Tastefully decked out in cerise and gold, its magnificent fireplace strung with a ribboned garland, its grand piano standing proudly in the corner, and an enormous twinkling Christmas tree in the window, the large drawing room in Buttersley Manor – the venue for the staff get-together – dazzled in all its festive glory. Not that the decorations were Ella’s primary concern. After finishing her shift, she’d dashed home and spent every valuable second preening herself for what Annie had insisted was to be an informal affair. It was the stress placed on “informal” that had made Ella slightly tetchy. Her new burgundy basque was most definitely not informal, but she couldn’t resist wearing it. Not when she knew Jake would be there. After all, she might never have a chance to wear it again in his presence. To tone it down slightly, she’d teamed it with faded jeans, high-heeled ankle boots and, of course, hair straightened to within an inch of its life.

  ‘Wow,’ said Dan, gravitating towards her not long after she’d arrived. ‘You scrub up well.’

  Ella tossed him a fleeting smile. ‘Thanks. Is, er, Annie here yet?’

  He nodded. ‘She’s just popped over to the Stables. You’ll be gutted your favourite man isn’t with her though.’

  Ella’s heart plummeted to her feet and the colour drained from her cheeks. Bummer! After all the effort she’d gone to, Jake wouldn’t be here to see it. If she’d known that, she wouldn’t have bothered coming.

  ‘Don’t look so gutted,’ Dan chuckled. ‘We’ve had a narrow escape from singing the Wheels on the Bus or something.’

  Ella’s heart vaulted back into position. He meant Thomas. Thank God for that. ‘Oh,’ she muttered, silently chiding herself for being so transparent. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know who you were talking about there?’

  Dan cocked an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Why? Got another favourite man, have you?’

  Ella gawped at him. God! What was this? Twenty Questions? She’d had such high hopes for this evening and now Dan, yet again, was spoiling things. She willed herself not to look flustered before saying, in as blithe a tone as she could manage, ‘Don’t be daft. Of course I haven’t. Now come on. You can get me a drink.’

  ‘Okay. What would you like?’

  Agh! Ella had no idea. She’d never been into the whole drinking thing. But one thing she did know was that Dan’s intense questioning had disconcerted her. The way he’d looked at her had implied he knew exactly what she was thinking. As a consequence she felt nervy, on edge. And she suspected alcohol might be just the thing to calm her down.

  ‘I’ll have a, er, glass of Prosecco,’ she said, noting the bottles on the makeshift bar in the corner.

  A glass of Prosecco later, and currently sipping a second, Dan was still making Ella nervous. She had no idea why he insisted on hanging round her. Nor did she care. She wished he’d leave her alone. But, despite her adding scarcely a word to his incessant blathering, he remained resolutely by her side.

  Fortunately, when Jake arrived looking, Ella thought, spectacularly sexy in black jeans and an untucked khaki shirt, Dan had nipped to the loo.

  ‘Hi,’ said Jake, when he eventually weaved his way over to her. ‘You’re looking good.’

  Despite all the Prosecco bubbling in her stomach, Ella’s heart stuttered as she gazed into his twinkling dark eyes. Oh my God! Was that the same glint she’d noticed when he’d met Honor during their shopping trip to Harrogate? It was. She was certain. Ha! She knew her basque would do the trick. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured, gazing back at him. Then in an almost imperceptible whisper, ‘You’re looking good too.’

  Before Jake could reply, Annie bustled over to them. Having the horrible sensation of being caught in the act, Ella flushed to the roots of her hair. An occurrence Annie thankfully seemed oblivious to.

  ‘So sorry to interrupt,’ she gushed. ‘But I need Jake. You couldn’t give me
a hand to bring over more glasses from the Stables, could you, darling? There’s another function on in the dining room and we’re running short.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll go straight away. How many do you need?’

  ‘About a dozen,’ she said, handing him the key. ‘You might need to make two trips. Sorry.’

  ‘Or I could go with him,’ chipped in Ella, courage bolstered by alcohol.

  Annie clapped her hands together. ‘Oh would you? That’d be great. I’d go myself but there’s a mini crisis in the kitchen. I did think I was organised, but evidently not. I’ll leave the glasses in your capable hands.’ And off she scuttled.

  The walk across the manor’s gravelled courtyard to the tearoom was paradoxically heavenly and torturous for Ella. Heavenly because with Jake’s tall, masculine body striding along next to her, she felt a million dollars tottering alongside him in her high heels. And hell on two counts: firstly because she wanted to grab hold of his hand that was so enticingly close to hers. And secondly, because she had no idea what would happen once they reached the tearoom.

  As expected, the place was in darkness when they arrived, the only dim light provided from the wall lanterns outside. Heart racing, Ella watched as Jake slid the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

  ‘After you,’ he said.

  Ella smiled coyly as she slipped past him and stepped inside. She stopped as she heard the door swing shut. Afraid she might pass out if she looked at him, she didn’t turn around, but was acutely aware of his solid warm body behind her. She held her breath. Surely, any minute now, he’d wrap his arms around her, nuzzle his nose into her hair, tell her she was beautiful and confess just how much he’d longed to hold her. Before turning her around and kissing her senseless.