by Alice Ross
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ Amelia had lied.
‘Hmm. Well, don’t feel you have to come to this kids’ thing if you’re not up to it. A load of hollering rug rats haring about is the last thing you need if you’re not one hundred per cent.’
Amelia estimated herself to be currently running at around thirty-four per cent but the idea of a load of screaming kids still appealed more than sitting in an empty house. She needed to keep busy, keep her mind occupied.
‘Santa’s going to party,’ Thomas informed her at breakfast, as Amelia dived in and rescued the packet of Rice Krispies he was in the process of emptying. ‘If you been good he brings you things off your Chwistmas list.’
Amelia sighed. If only. Her Christmas wish list would have had Doug right at the top. Instead, he’d be with his new wife on Christmas Day. The new Mrs Imogen Carver. At that thought, she rushed to the loo and threw up again.
The party, just as Annie had predicted, was complete bedlam. Amelia’s head pounded with all the racket, but she was determined not to give in and go back to the house. She helped out as much as she could – emptying the dishwasher and clearing tables. She was just mopping up the third cup of juice that had been spilled on the floor when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
‘Hi there.’
She jerked up her head to find Stan Suffolk looking down at her. Executing a manoeuvre that surprised even her, her stomach flipped.
‘Hi,’ she said, noticing how his honey-coloured eyes twinkled. ‘Are you having a good time?’
Before he could reply, an attractive dark-haired woman holding the baby Amelia recognised from the park, appeared at his side.
‘Stan, Maddy needs changing. Could you do it?’ she asked, without so much as glancing at Amelia.
‘Oh. Yes. Of course,’ said Stan, taking the child from her. ‘Amelia, this is my wife, Bea. Bea this is Annie’s sister, Amelia. She’s come up from London to stay with Annie and Jake for a while.’
The woman’s mouth curved into a smile as she turned her dark eyes to Amelia. ‘Oh. Pleased to meet you,’ she said, extending a hand. ‘What do you think of Buttersley so far?’
Amelia gave a polite laugh. ‘It’s certainly different to London, but I’m enjoying it.’
Bea nodded. ‘It’s very different from London. We moved up from there almost two years ago now and we totally love it; don’t we, Stan?’
Amelia’s gaze slid to Stan. ‘Er, yes. We, er, do,’ he agreed, somewhat unconvincingly in Amelia’s opinion. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and sort this little one out. A man’s work is never done.’
‘If only,’ muttered Bea, shaking her head as she and Amelia watched him thread his way across the floor. ‘Men! They haven’t a clue. So are you staying for Christmas?’ she asked. ‘It’ll be great fun at The Cedars.’
‘I’m, er, not sure yet,’ replied Amelia. ‘Possibly.’
‘Well you must pop over and see us if you do. It’s going to be a special one for us with it being Maddy’s first.’
‘Of course. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.’
Bea beamed at her. ‘Well, hope to see you again soon, then. Enjoy your time in the village.’
‘Thanks,’ said Amelia, not sure she’d ever enjoy anything ever again.
Bea then scuttled over to rejoin her friend and her two children. When Stan returned with Maddy shortly afterwards, Amelia found herself discreetly observing the group as they munched on Annie’s Christmas biscuits, and amused the children. For some reason, the scenario made her incredibly sad. Which was ridiculous, she chided herself. Stan was a really nice, decent guy. She should be pleased he was happily married to his beautiful wife and had an adorable daughter. Perhaps Buttersley weaved some kind of magical spell over its married couples. Her sister and Jake being a perfect example.
Amelia switched her attention to Annie and her husband at the serving counter. Annie had just swirled a dollop of fresh cream onto a cup of hot chocolate. Jake knocked the top off it with his finger, and swiped it onto her nose. Annie gave him a playful punch before he took her in his arms and kissed away the cream. At the relaxed, intimate scene, a pang of red-hot jealousy pierced Amelia. How wonderful it must be to be part of such a loving relationship. Given Doug’s imminent marriage to Imogen, she doubted it was something she would ever experience.
Chapter Fifteen
Following the most humiliating moment of her life, Ella went about her duties on autopilot, one eye on Jake all the while. She observed how brilliant he was with the children – none more so than his own. And she also noted just how close he and Annie were: the loving looks they exchanged, the playful banter, the small shows of affection.
Jake O’Donnell was, she suddenly realised, an extremely happily married man, head over heels in love with his wife. It was as obvious as Rudolph’s glowing red nose on one of the visitor’s garish Christmas jumpers. But Ella hadn’t wanted to see it. All this time, she’d been kidding herself: looking for stuff that wasn’t there, reading things into perfectly ordinary acts of kindness, imagining Jake was interested in her. Because, given the distinct lack of interest from everyone else, that was what she’d wanted to believe.
*
By the time the party was over, Amelia’s head throbbed. She helped Jake and Annie clear up, before they all headed home, collecting an Indian takeaway en route for dinner. Back at the house, Amelia could force down no more than a couple of mouthfuls of food, before giving in to her headache and retiring to her room. There, burrowed under the duvet, she checked her mobile for the first time since that morning. Fifty-six missed calls – all from Doug. And twenty text messages. She read the last one:
This isn’t easy for me either.
She deleted it. Flicked off the phone and flung it across the room. What, frankly, was the point in even thinking about him? Imogen, just as she always did, had got her own way. And despite her mother’s illness, Doug obviously wasn’t man enough to stand up to her. Which said it all about his feelings for Amelia. If he really loved her, then he’d find a way to tell Imogen he didn’t want to marry her.
Several hours later, after some serious tossing and turning, Amelia glanced at the bedside clock. Ten past eleven. And still, despite her headache easing, courtesy of the couple of painkillers she’d popped earlier, she didn’t feel remotely sleepy. Remembering the pills made her think of old Mr Russell in hospital. Which subsequently led her thoughts to Phil. And his offer of a friendly shoulder to cry on. At that moment she wanted nothing more.
‘Hi,’ she said, twenty minutes later, when Phil opened the pub door to her, looking more than a little surprised. ‘Just say if this is a bad time.’
‘Er, no. No, of course it isn’t.’ He gestured for her to enter. ‘I’m just tidying up. Come on in.’
‘Thanks,’ said Amelia, stepping inside. A few minutes ago, in the privacy of her room, taking Phil up on his offer to talk had seemed like a good idea. Now she was here, though, it suddenly didn’t seem quite so great. She felt awkward, self-conscious and embarrassed. Oh God! What if he’d merely being muttering platitudes? What if he’d just been polite, saying the right thing, when he’d really rather scrub out the pub’s ovens than listen to her whingeing on? ‘Look, you’re obviously busy. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just—’
‘Stop wittering,’ he chided, his playful manner immediately banishing her doubts as he closed the door behind her. ‘I’ll throw you a cloth and you can help dry the glasses. I could do with a nice chat after the day I’ve had. Actually, not after the day I’ve had. More like the last few weeks I’ve had. And while we’re at it, we’ll have a drink. What do you say to a nice glass of Chardonnay?’
‘I’d say,’ said Amelia, as he marched over to the bar and pulled out a bottle of said beverage, ‘that sounds great. Thanks.’
It didn’t take long to sort out the glasses, after which they sat in the conservatory, in complete darkness except for the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Resisting the burn
ing urge to launch straight into a soliloquy on her own sorry state of affairs, Amelia deemed it polite to enquire about Phil’s first. To her amazement, he confessed just how reticent he was about the move Down Under. So much so, that he hadn’t yet signed the final paper to complete the sale of the pub.
‘But why haven’t you told Rachel any of this?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘You haven’t met her. If you had, you’d know why. She’s a woman on a mission is Rachel. Knows exactly what she wants and goes all out to achieve it. Which is one of the things I initially found so attractive. Now, though—’ He broke off, staring forlornly at his wine glass. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘that’s enough about me. What’s going on in your life to make you so miserable?’
Amelia met his gaze. ‘How long have you got?’
‘All night,’ he replied, the lights from the Christmas tree adding, she noticed, to the twinkle in his incredibly blue eyes.
As she began relating her tale, it occurred to Amelia that she’d never before spoken about Doug. Not even to her parents that first summer when she’d been at Cambridge. But, thanks to a combination of the wine, the intimate atmosphere, and Phil’s encouragement, the words flowed.
‘Bloody hell,’ puffed Phil when she’d finished. ‘So this Doug guy is getting married at Buttersley Manor next week?’
Amelia nodded. ‘On Christmas Eve.’
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Well, it looks like we’re both in a bit of a pickle, doesn’t it? What are you going to do?’
Amelia shrugged. ‘No idea. You?’
‘Not a bloody clue.’
She gave a snort of ironic laughter. ‘Fine pair, we are.’
‘Aren’t we?’ chuckled Phil.
Just as suddenly, he stopped chuckling and stared at her intently.
Amelia’s smile slid from her face and her pulse began to race.
And it raced further still as Phil pulled her to him and she snaked her arms around his neck.
*
Christmas was coming. And didn’t Ella know it. Her family were all as high as the proverbial kites. Even her dad had been overheard singing Hark the Herald Angels in the shower that morning. And her dad, thankfully, rarely sang. Ella’s spirit, though, leaned more towards the forlorn than the festive. Since plunging into the harsh world of reality at the Children’s Christmas Party, she’d spent a huge amount of time reassessing her life. She’d even ripped up the fledgling chapters of her “book”. Who was she kidding? Like she’d ever be a writer.
No, she might as well face it – her destiny included a crappy admin job and not much else. She hadn’t even enjoyed her last few shifts at the tearoom. Not only did a wave of guilt crash over her every time she looked at Annie, but she also, she realised, missed Dan, who’d taken a few days off. And she was going to miss him a lot more when he flitted off to Japan.
Wishing she could just slide off the planet and disappear into the ether, Ella finished her shift and had just stepped outside when a car horn beeped. Tossing a disapproving look at the offending vehicle, her heart skipped a beat. It was Dan.
‘Fancy a lift home?’
‘Not if you’re only here to show off your driving again.’
‘I am. But don’t tell anyone.’
She laughed.
‘I have heating. And music. And a packet of Rolos. But you can’t have one unless you get in the car. And yes, that is blackmail.’
Ella pressed a gloved finger against her chin as if contemplating the matter. ‘Oh, all right then,’ she eventually conceded. ‘But as I’ve been at work all day, and you’ve probably been swanning around, I think I deserve at least two Rolos.’
She climbed into the car and fastened her seat belt. Dan started up the engine and released the handbrake.
‘I’ve been a bit worried about you since the kids’ party,’ he said, as he drove down the manor’s drive. ‘I thought maybe something had happened.’
Ella flushed to the roots of her hair. ‘Of course not,’ she lied, pulling off her hat in an effort to dilute the awkward moment. ‘I just had a bit of a, er, headache, that’s all.’
Upon reaching the junction, Dan stopped the car and turned to look at her. ‘Good. Because I’d hate to think you were in any trouble.’
Ella attempted a laugh, which she suspected sounded more like a squirrel being strangled. ‘Er, I have enough brothers to protect me, thank you very much. I don’t need another one.’
Dan’s laugh sounded much more genuine. ‘Ah, yes. Your brothers. They have a lot to answer for, you know.’
Ella started slightly. ‘Like what?’
‘Like no one at school daring to ask you out because of them. We were all well and truly warned off.’
Ella’s jaw dropped. Firstly at that revelation. Then a shade further at the use of one particular word. ‘We?’ she repeated.
Colour now swept over Dan’s cheeks. ‘Afraid so. I once asked Robert if he’d mind if I invited you to the end of term ball, and he told me that if I did, he’d break my arm.’
Ella clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Seriously?’
‘Very seriously.’
She began giggling. ‘I’m gobsmacked. And a bit relieved. I thought nobody asked me out because I didn’t look like Honor.’
Dan shook his head. ‘Honor’s all right, but she doesn’t have your smile. Or your curls.’
‘My curls?’
‘Ah ha. I love them.’
Ella leaned back in her seat, a warm glow suffusing her.
‘Oh, and I’ve had an idea,’ said Dan, turning into the high street. ‘You know what you really should think about doing? Becoming a teacher. You’re amazing with kids. You’d be brilliant.’
‘A teacher?’ she echoed. ‘I’ve never thought about that before.’
‘Well, think about it now. Because you’d make a superb one.’
*
‘Have you forgotten?’
Evidently, given Stan didn’t have a clue what Bea was talking about, he had.
‘St Hild’s! We have an appointment to view the school today. It’s our only chance before they close for the holidays. And as there’ll be another scramble to put down names in the New Year, we really have to go.’
Stan raked a hand through what remained of his hair. Which wasn’t much. He seemed to be losing it at a rate of knots lately. Not surprising perhaps, given the humongous burden of stress weighing him down. To which this latest revelation had just dumped another few ton. Of all the things he really really didn’t want to do today, traipsing round a poncey school, having a load of supposedly impressive statistics rammed down his throat about SATs, sporting achievements and clarinet exams, ranked way up there.
‘Oh. And Zara’s coming too,’ Bea added, her tone suggesting it would have been strange if Zara hadn’t been coming.
Stan wrinkled his nose. Zara seemed to be popping up everywhere lately. And nowhere more so than up his nose. ‘Zara? What on earth for?’
Bea tutted. ‘Because she’s considering sending her girls there, too, of course.’
‘Of course,’ muttered Stan, mentally relegating the viewing of the school to the second-off-last thing he’d rather be doing. Spending the morning with Zara had rocketed effortlessly into first place.
Stan had been around long enough to know that very often, when you’d been dreading something, it didn’t turn out to be half as bad as you’d imagined. Unfortunately, that did not apply to their viewing of St Hild’s.
While he lugged around a doleful-looking Maddy, Bea and Zara, and the sanctimonious female head teacher conducting the tour, spent the entire time giggling conspiratorially. Three hours later, which had seemed more like three days to Stan, they bid their goodbyes to the head amidst much effusive shaking of hands, a barrage of compliments, numerous exclamations of impressiveness, and promises to return forms during the first week of January. Stan, still holding Maddy, had offered their host a limp handshake and a cursory “thanks very much”.
> ‘Wow, isn’t it amazing?’ gushed Bea as they clambered back into the car, Zara having already shot off in her Mini. ‘I can’t wait to see Maddy in the uniform. She’ll look adorable.’
‘I hardly think that’s a major concern,’ Stan tutted, starting up the engine. ‘We need to discuss the whole idea in more detail first, before we even think about the uniform.’
In the passenger seat, Bea pursed her lips.
An uneasy silence settled over them, before she announced, ‘Zara’s picking up her girls and coming over for a bite to eat.’
‘Right,’ retorted Stan, aware that if he had to spend another minute in Zara’s company, he’d require a large lump of Blu-Tack and a pair of scissors. But a better idea occurred to him. ‘Well, in that case, you won’t mind if I go to the pub for a couple of hours, will you?’
The look Bea tossed him implied she did mind. Quite a bit. Which permitted Stan a tiny prick of satisfaction.
*
‘Oh, Amelia, I’m so sorry to ask but you couldn’t be a complete sweetheart and run down to the pub to pick up Thomas’s toy Gruffalo, could you?’ pleaded Annie, features twisting into the imploring expression Amelia had witnessed much of lately. ‘Jake left it there when they popped in earlier. I hate to ask but Thomas is refusing to have his nap without it.’
Oh God! Amelia’s heart skipped a beat. She really really really didn’t want to go to the pub. Really really really didn’t want to see Phil again. The kiss they’d shared the night before should never have happened. Indeed, she had no idea how it had happened. She could only attribute it to the combination of alcohol and the floundering situations they both languished in. And she very much hoped Phil was of the same mind. God forbid he should think she’d gone there with the intention of snogging him – or worse! Because she most definitely hadn’t. All she’d wanted was a friendly shoulder to cry on. Thank heaven things hadn’t progressed further. Phil’s mobile had rung just as tongues had become involved.
‘Shit! It’s Rachel,’ he’d exclaimed, swiping up the phone from the table and gaping – horrified – at the screen.
At precisely the same moment, the sensation of being dunked in a very large vat of ice had jolted Amelia to her senses.
