Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by Carla Burgess

  Chapter Eleven

  I was making my bed up when Anthony arrived home from work that evening. I’d brought my bedding from home, which was mercifully still dry, and was hoping I’d get a decent night’s sleep tonight. I heard the front door shut and his footsteps in the hallway and opened my bedroom door to say hello. My stomach swooped when I saw him standing at the end of the hall. He loosened his tie and looked at me.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Do you want the bad news or the bad news?’

  He came over and leaned on the doorframe. ‘What?’

  ‘Dad reckons it’ll be months before I’ll be able to move back into my house.’

  ‘Well, yeah.’ He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. ‘How long were you thinking?’

  I swallowed and threw my pillow onto the bed. ‘A week or so?’

  Anthony laughed.

  ‘I can’t stay here for that long, can I? I’ll have to find somewhere else.’ I put my hands on my hips and sighed.

  ‘Why? It’s only for a couple of months or so. I don’t mind. I’ll be in Scotland by then so you can have the place to yourself.’

  ‘Scotland? Is that where you’re going?’ I felt like someone had knocked the stuffing out of me.

  ‘If I get the job. It’s looking likely, though, seeing as I was so instrumental in catching Patrick.’ He winked at me.

  I looked at him, dismayed. ‘So, I’ve helped you to get a new job miles away? That’s pretty ironic.’

  ‘Yep.’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled. ‘Shall we celebrate by going to bed?’

  My jaw dropped. ‘Is that your idea of foreplay or something? I will not go to bed with you simply because you ask me to. Who do you think you are?’

  He shrugged. ‘Right, well, I’m going to have my tea then.’ Turning away, he marched off up the hallway, leaving me staring after him, open-mouthed. Maybe he was right. Maybe I wouldn’t fall in love with him after all.

  I stayed in my room for as long as I could, but hunger finally forced me upstairs to the kitchen. I’d brought food from my kitchen at home so I didn’t have to feel guilty about eating Anthony’s food, but when I got upstairs I realised the flat smelt of garlic and coriander and Anthony was at the cooker, stirring a pan of sizzling curry. His suit jacket was flung over the settee, and he looked tired and dishevelled and incredibly sexy. He’d even put his glasses on. Damn it. Why did he have to be that attractive?

  He glanced over as I came in and nodded towards a glass of wine.

  ‘For me?’ I said, taking a glass. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m cooking for you by way of apology. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pressurising you.’

  Taking a sip of wine, I watched him warily for a moment. ‘Okay. Well, let’s forget about it now.’

  ‘I’ve been driving around all day with your sodding Christmas tree in my boot. Most people have a Magic Tree air freshener, but no, I’ve got a five-foot bloody fir tree in my boot. All I could smell all day was that Christmas tree.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I forgot all about it.’

  ‘So did I. I’ll bring it in later. I take it you’ll want to put it up?’

  ‘Not if it will make you uncomfortable.’

  He shrugged. ‘I can just pretend it’s not there.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’

  I hovered next to the breakfast bar for a few minutes before going to the lounge area and looking out of one of the arched windows. Strains of Christmas music floated up from the bar opposite and a group of people danced arm in arm up the road.

  ‘It’s snowing again,’ I called. ‘Just a bit in the air.’

  ‘Yeah, I doubt it will settle, though.’

  I looked down the street. The naked branches of the winter trees were entwined with white Christmas lights. I was looking forward to putting the tree up, but I’d make sure I didn’t turn his living space into some kind of festive grotto if he hated Christmas. Sudden tears filled my eyes as I imagined a young Anthony finding out his dad had been killed. God, I was so tired I couldn’t seem to control my emotions. I needed to get a grip on myself before Anthony saw.

  ‘Come on then, dinner’s ready.’

  He carried two plates over to the table and dropped cutlery in the middle of it with a clatter.

  ‘You didn’t have to cook for me, you know,’ I said, taking my seat opposite him.

  ‘I’m cooking for myself, I may as well cook for you, too.’ He looked exhausted all of a sudden and glanced behind him at the TV. ‘Do you mind if I sit in the lounge to watch the match?’

  ‘Of course not. You don’t need to ask.’

  Taking his plate, he got up and went to sit on the sofa in front of the TV. I stayed at the table until I’d finished eating and then washed up. He certainly knew how to cook. The curry was delicious. I went to collect his plate from the coffee table where he’d left it, and found him asleep on the sofa. I stared at him for a minute or so, fascinated by the lines and contours of his face. I felt something shift in my chest as I looked at him.

  Could I do it? Could I sleep with him and then just let him walk away? It was true, I might be fed-up of him by then, anyway. But I didn’t like the way my heart shifted when I looked at him. Whatever he said, I knew it wouldn’t be casual. I felt a connection to Anthony and I really liked him. I already felt too much and doubted there was much he could do that would put me off him.

  He awoke with a jerk and I stepped backwards in fright. ‘Are you staring at me, Jones?’

  ‘I was just collecting your plate,’ I said, waving it about in my hand. ‘Then I wondered if I should wake you up and send you to bed.’

  ‘Mmmm…’ He sat up with a gravelly groan and switched off the television. ‘I suppose you want this tree out of my car?’

  ‘It can wait until the morning. Don’t worry about it now.’

  ‘Okay then. That’s good of you.’ He got up with a yawn and stretched. ‘Goodnight,’ he said, and planted a kiss on my cheek as he passed.

  ***

  It was a shock to wake up next to Anthony the following morning. The room was dark, but his face was illuminated by the light from his mobile phone as he scrolled through his messages. He was bare-chested, one arm tucked beneath the back of his neck as he lay propped up on pillows. The blue duvet came up to his ribcage and my eyes followed the pale skin upwards, over the pecs and their smattering of fair hair, to the broad, muscular shoulders.

  I must be dreaming.

  I raised my head slowly. I was still wearing the satin rose-print pyjamas I’d gone to bed in, so I knew nothing untoward could have happened. But I also knew that meant it couldn’t be a dream. If I was dreaming, then I would definitely be naked.

  Anthony looked across at me. ‘Oh, hi,’ he said, his voice mild. ‘You didn’t mention that you sleepwalked.’

  I gasped and sat up. ‘No way! I haven’t done that for years!’

  ‘Well, you did it last night.’

  ‘I’m so sorry! Oh my God. Oh my God! Did I say anything?’

  ‘No, you just came into my room and clambered straight into bed.’

  Clambered? That wasn’t a good word. He could have used slipped or hopped or even climbed into bed, but no. He used clambered, which held all the grace and charm of a blundering hippopotamus.

  ‘I didn’t touch you or anything, did I?’

  ‘Unfortunately not. You just got into bed and went to sleep. It was quite surreal.’

  ‘You should have woken me up, sent me back to my own room.’

  ‘I thought it was dangerous to wake someone up if they’re sleepwalking? Can’t you give them heart attacks or something? I didn’t want you dying on me. Anyway, you weren’t doing any harm and there was enough room.’ He turned off his phone and threw it on the bedside table. ‘I’m getting up now, anyway.’

  Flinging back the duvet, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up in his boxers. I took in his long, athle
tic body and nicely rounded backside before turning away and getting out of bed myself.

  ‘I should get ready, too. I need to go to the flower market this morning.’ I hurried from his room and back to my own. I was mortified. I groaned as I stood under the hot shower in my en suite bathroom, hoping it might wash the image of his naked torso from my mind, but every time I closed my eyes it flashed up in my mind.

  My dressing gown had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door when the tank burst and was still soaking wet in a bag, waiting to go to the laundrette, so I was just wrapped in a towel when I opened the bathroom door. I jumped when I saw Anthony standing outside, fist raised ready to knock on the door. He took a step back.

  ‘Oh! Sorry!’ I said in a too-high voice as I readjusted the towel around my boobs. He was obviously just about to leave for work and was dressed in a silver-grey suit with his coat over the top. ‘Your tree’s in the hall,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you.’ A droplet of water trickled down my neck from my hair, making me shiver. Anthony eyed me curiously for a moment.

  ‘I’ve just thought how you can pay me back, Jones.’

  ‘Pay you back?’ I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘For letting you stay.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I have this hideous family thing to attend. You can come with me as my plus one. It’s not a date so there’s no need to climb on your high horse and get all belligerent.’

  ‘Okay then.’

  ‘Good. It’s a posh do so you’ll have to dress accordingly.’

  ‘How posh?’

  ‘Black tie. It’s a ball in some crumbling decrepit old castle that you’ll love.’

  ‘And it’s a family thing? In a castle?’

  ‘We don’t host it. It’s an old friend of my mother’s, actually, but we always go. They don’t mind if I don’t make Christmas Day, but they’d have my balls on a plate if I missed their annual ball.’

  ‘Okay. When is it?’

  ‘Next Saturday.’ He held out an embossed card. ‘Here’s the invitation. See you later.’

  I stared at the card for a moment before opening it. It was thick and heavy with gold scroll-writing. Just looking at it gave me palpitations. What on earth would I wear?

  The thought of a ball in an old castle was exciting. The invite didn’t really say where it was, just an obscure name I’d never heard of before. I didn’t have time to dwell on it either if I was going to get to the flower market and back in time to open up the shop.

  Chapter Twelve

  The happy banter of the stallholders in the market was the ideal antidote to the empty, hollow feeling I’d had for the past few days. Shakin’ Stevens’ ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ was blasting out through the speakers and people were wearing Santa hats and elf costumes and dancing around. It made me laugh to think that most normal folk would be tucked up in bed at this time of morning, while these lot were partying like it was the middle of the night.

  I felt better for seeing everybody. It took my mind off the insurance man who was coming to check out my house this afternoon. Mum was going to come and mind the shop while I met him. I bought the flowers and drove back to the shop to start making up any orders. Mum was unlocking the back door when I pulled up in the car park.

  ‘Oh, you’re here already!’ I said, pleased to see her. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Not very happy. Your dad managed to blow up the kitchen last night. Can you believe it? Two weeks before Christmas and he’s destroyed the place.’

  ‘How has he blown up the kitchen?’ I asked, taking a box of flowers from the back of my car and carrying them into the shop.

  ‘I think he left something in the microwave too long and it caught fire. Stupid man. I’m not talking to him at the moment. What are we going to do for Christmas this year? All the cupboards are black and there’s smoke damage all up the wall. I don’t think it will be fixed in time for Christmas so you’d best brace yourself.’

  ‘Oh no! The cooker’s okay, though, isn’t it? You’ll be able to roast the turkey?’

  ‘I should think so but the place looks a right state.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it. He’s claiming it was an electrical fault, but popcorn really doesn’t need twenty minutes cooking time, does it? He must have misread the instructions.’

  ‘Did you have to call the fire brigade?’

  ‘No, your dad put it out with a mini fire extinguisher.’

  ‘Thank God it wasn’t worse. If he’d been down the garden or asleep your whole house could have been destroyed.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Mum shuddered. ‘Isn’t it cold? They’ve forecast snow.’

  ‘It’s been snowing the past few days on and off.’

  ‘Yes, but we’re expecting a few inches this time. That won’t help your house dry out.’

  I sighed heavily. Every time I thought about my wet house and the time it was going to take to get fixed, I wanted to cry.

  ‘What time’s the insurance guy coming? Your dad wants to be there for that.’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘I’ll let him know so he can meet you there.’ She followed me to the car and helped me carry in more boxes of flowers. ‘It’s great to see you getting on so well with Anthony.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Of course.’ She gave me an odd look. ‘It’s very good of him to put you up like that. Your dad spoke to him and offered to reduce his rent while you’re staying there, and he wouldn’t hear of it. He said it was a pleasure having you around.’

  ‘Really?’ My face creased in disbelief.

  ‘Mmm, I thought there might be something going on between you. Is there?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Not really?’

  ‘No.’ I lied, ignoring her inquisitive look and started unboxing the flowers. ‘He’s invited me to a ball that his family attends, though. It’s in a castle somewhere.’

  ‘Oooh, lovely! When’s that then?’

  ‘The Saturday before Christmas.’

  ‘Don’t we have a wedding on that day?’

  ‘No, it’s on Christmas Eve. The bride’s coming in today, actually, to finalise everything.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right. What will you wear? Debenhams have got some nice dresses.’

  I frowned slightly. Mum was always trying to get me to wear more conventional stuff. Perhaps she had a point this time. Maybe I should pick something modern and nice and safe so that I fitted in. I didn’t want to show Anthony up. Changing the subject, I asked if I had ever sleepwalked as a child.

  ‘Oh yes! You did all sorts of weird things. I’d wake up and you’d just be sitting on my bed, staring at me. It was creepy. Or you’d come down and start hunting around for things and we’d guide you back to bed.’

  ‘I was creepy? Great!’

  She laughed. ‘You know what I mean. It was just a bit strange. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I think I did it last night.’

  ‘Oh no! Poor Anthony. He didn’t see you, did he?’

  ‘No,’ I lied.

  ‘Maybe it’s just because of all the upset. And from being in a strange bed. You’ll probably stop once everything settles down again. Go and see the doctor if you’re worried.’

  ‘I doubt they’ll be able to do anything.’ I dried my hands on a cloth and began refilling the buckets with fresh water.

  The day passed easily enough. Dad and I met the insurance man, who commiserated with me and confirmed I’d be able to make a claim. It was a relief to get it over with. Dad seemed keen to get things moving along. Keener, in fact, than he seemed to be to sort out his own smoke-damaged kitchen. I left him pulling up carpets while I went back to the shop in time for my wedding consultation.

  Emily, the bride who was getting married on Christmas Eve, was coming in today to finalise her flower order. She’d been heavily pregnant when I’d first met her and I was slightly hopeful that she’d bring the baby with her. S
ure enough, Emily and her mum, Pamela, arrived just after lunch with the baby in the buggy. Mum swooped in immediately to coo over the cute little bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

  ‘Oh, isn’t she adorable? What’s her name?’

  ‘Ava.’ Emily smiled, her cheeks pink from the cold air outside, and tucked her hair behind her ears. She had a happy glow about her and a sparkle in her eye.

  ‘Oh, what a beautiful name. Can I hold her if she wakes up?’

  ‘Of course you can. Is there room for the buggy in the back or shall I leave it out here?’

  ‘No, there’s plenty of room. Come on through.’

  I led the way through to the back and Pamela and Emily followed with the buggy. Emily unbuttoned her coat and draped it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

  ‘So,’ I said, taking out her notes from the file, ‘you’re having deep-red roses, white flowers, miniature pine cones and green foliage with red berries in your bouquet, and the same but smaller for your bridesmaid?’

  Emily nodded. I remembered Pamela being the one who did all the talking last time, but she seemed distracted by her beautiful granddaughter this time and was leaving it up to Emily.

  ‘And we’re doing a large display for the church altar, plus the ten table centrepieces for the hotel reception? All in the same colour scheme.’

  ‘Yes, all sounds good.’

  ‘Okay, so your bouquet will look something like this,’ I said, showing her a picture. ‘Are you happy with that shape or would you like it rounder?’

  ‘No, I like that. That’s lovely.’

  ‘Excellent. Do you want corsages for your mother or any other guest?’

  ‘Oh no, I’ll be holding the baby. She might try to eat it.’ Pamela looked alarmed.

  ‘I can do one for your wrist?’

  Pamela shook her head.

  ‘Are you sure, Mum? You can always put Ava in the pram, and loads of people will want to hold her, I’m sure.’

  ‘I know, but I’m her grandma and I’ll be holding her the most. I don’t want the flowers to poke her or anything.’