The Last Day of Winter

by Shari Low

  Now, she just had to go find Cammy and break his heart.

  Sixteen

  Seb

  He was going to go straight to the next stop on his list for the day, but the need for a coffee convinced Seb otherwise. He checked his watch. Two o’clock. The check-in time at the hotel was three o’clock, but it would probably be worth chancing his arm in case the room was ready and they would let him in early. He could ditch his case, grab a coffee and then head back out again.

  As he approached the hotel, the memories consumed him. He’d chosen it for this trip because it was across the road from the Kibble Palace. That’s where Pearl had told him her niece was getting married. He had no idea how he was going to manage it, but at some point the plan was to go there and catch a glimpse of the bride. Of course, that wouldn’t prove anything, but something inside him felt the need to do it anyway. He hadn’t thought any further forward than that.

  The other reason he’d chosen this hotel was because it was Juliet’s favourite place to stay in Glasgow. They’d been here on all their previous visits, whether they were cosying up on wintery days or crossing the road to wander in the Botanic Gardens on summer afternoons. It was special to them. The fact that the wedding ceremony at the Kibble Palace, the glorious structure inside those gardens, felt significant to him. Almost like Juliet was leading him there. But why would she, after what he’d done to her?

  He gingerly twisted his car up the ramps of the multi-storey car park, then descended the stairs and crossed the side road to the hotel, dodging the shopping trolleys left by shoppers at the supermarket next door. He knew there was a rear entrance, but he chose to walk round the corner to the main doors, which opened directly into the lobby. The assault of emotions as he faced the festive beauty of it all nearly slayed him. The gorgeous tree that almost reached the ceiling and sparkled with thousands of fairy lights. Gold and green tinsel garlands draped along the top of every surface. An orchestral version of ‘We Three Kings’ coming from the sound system. Bowls of ginger cookies on the reception desk for the arriving guests. Juliet would have loved this. She’d have giggled, and put her arm through his, and snuggled into his shoulder with the biggest grin on her face. The thought took his breath away for a moment, and only the arrival of a huge family behind him forced him to put one foot in front of the other and make his way forward to reception.

  The girl behind the desk greeted him with a smile. Her badge identified her as Gemma, her Santa hat identified her as being in the festive spirit. ‘Good afternoon, welcome to the West End Grand.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Seb replied automatically. Sometimes it was hard to appear normal. Would they speak to him with such warmth if they knew he was a killer? He pushed the thought away and tried to focus on the moment. ‘I’m checking in today and I wondered if my room was ready? Seb Lloyd,’ he added, putting his leather bag on the countertop and resting his hand on it. He needed to know it was safe.

  Gemma typed on the keyboard for a few seconds, before looking back up. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m afraid it won’t be ready until 3 p.m. We can keep your luggage here though, if you’d like to have a drink in the bar while you’re waiting.’

  ‘No worries,’ Seb answered, going for casual and friendly again. He’d known getting in early would be a long shot on the busiest week of the hotel’s year. He wheeled his small trolley case forward. ‘I’ll just leave this with you and head back out.’

  ‘Of course,’ Gemma said, signalling a red-liveried concierge, who checked in Seb’s case and gave him a ticket in return.

  Okay, perhaps a quick coffee in the lounge and then he would go on to his next destination and revisit the memories that were waiting for him there.

  He hadn’t even reached the stairs to the lounge area when he heard a voice he recognised.

  ‘Seb! Oh my goodness, isn’t this a small world!’

  Shit. He should have thought this through and realised that there was a possibility that Pearl would be staying here, given the close proximity to the wedding venue. He’d just assumed that she’d be staying with family in the city, but perhaps – other than her niece – she didn’t have any other relatives in Glasgow.

  ‘Pearl! It is indeed a small world,’ he said, trying, as had become a habit over the last few months, to keep his voice as normal as possible.

  Pearl, festive in a red sequined jumper and black trousers, leaned in to greet him with mutual kisses on both cheeks. ‘You didn’t say you were coming to Glasgow for Christmas,’ she said, eyes wide with surprise.

  ‘Last minute decision,’ he explained. ‘An invitation to meet up with some old friends.’ A lie. But what else could he say? I wanted to come and check out if the niece you told me about could be my daughter. Oh, and I’m on a mission to visit all the places that were special to my wife, the one I killed, before I finally fulfil my promise to scatter her ashes in the city she loved more than any other.

  She’d back away slowly and call security.

  No, he had to bluff his way out of this one.

  ‘What are you doing right now? You must come and meet my family! We’re all in the restaurant having lunch with the lovely young man who is marrying our Caro.’

  Right then, at that moment, if Seb had a choice between following Pearl and meeting the happy family or going into a war zone without protective armour, he’d choose the latter. He didn’t do family gatherings. Especially happy ones that reminded him of everything he’d lost. God, he needed a drink. If it weren’t for the fact that he needed a clear head for the things he had planned for today, he’d be on his way to the bar right now for a large Scotch.

  Seb made a show of checking his watch. ‘Ah, I’d have loved to, but I’m afraid I’m late to meet my friends. I’m just rushing out now.’

  ‘That’s such a shame!’ Pearl wailed, and for a moment he felt a pang of guilt. She was a lovely woman and he was blatantly lying to her. He told himself it was for her own good. The last thing she needed was a maudlin widower in the mix of her happy family celebration. Still, it didn’t seem to be dissuading her from her mission to get them all together. ‘Listen, we’re staying here and no doubt we’ll all end up in the residents’ bar after the wedding. Did I tell you it’s just across the road at the Kibble Palace?’ She went on without waiting for an answer. ‘Anyway, it’s at 7 p.m. so we’ll probably be back here in the bar around midnight. Do stop by and join us.’

  Seb let that thought run around his mind. Perhaps that would be the best way to meet the bride? But there was no guarantee that she’d be with the rest of the family. The newly-weds might head off on their honeymoon straight from the reception and then his chance would be gone. No, best to try to get a glimpse of her earlier in the evening. Seven o’clock. Across at the venue. If he went there earlier, he might catch sight of her as she arrived.

  ‘I’ll see you in the bar later then,’ he answered, knowing that he had absolutely no intention of doing so. ‘Anyway, I’d better be off. It was lovely to bump into you again, Pearl.’

  ‘You too,’ she said, giving him a warm hug. ‘And see you again later!’ she added.

  He watched as she went off in the direction of the Ladies’, and he made a split-second decision. He couldn’t go to the lounge for a coffee now, in case she saw him there. Best to just head straight out, perhaps pop into one of the cafés on Byres Road, then do what he had to do before going across to the gardens later.

  He crossed the lobby, opened the outside door and then paused to let a young woman with dark blonde hair, wearing a red duffle coat, rush in past him. She looked harassed, searching, breathing heavily as if she’d been running, perhaps to get out of the rain.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully.

  He doubted she even heard his, ‘No problem,’ as she ran on past him, across the lobby in the direction of the restaurant. Probably late meeting someone for a lovely Christmas lunch. Another pang, this time of longing. Would he ever stop wishing that he’d see Juliet rushing towards him again? He cl
osed his eyes for a moment, then shook the thought away and stepped outside. He had to keep going. Couldn’t let himself crumble. Not yet.

  The rain had subsided to a grey drizzle as he stepped out on to Byres Road. The street was packed now, many of the pedestrians sporting the harassed expressions of shoppers desperately trying to pick up the last essentials on the Friday before Christmas. It would be a dismal scene if it wasn’t for the white twinkling Christmas lights, already illuminated, stretched high in the air across the street, and for the band of classical buskers, surrounded by a small crowd, playing East 17’s ‘Stay Another Day’ on a selection of brass and string instruments. He assumed they were music students from one of the nearby colleges or universities. For a moment, he considered stopping to listen, but instead, he ducked into a coffee shop and ordered a cappuccino to go.

  With the steaming cup in his hand, he walked a little further down Byres Road, turned right and went along Louden Terrace until he reached Kelvinside Hillhead Parish Church. Juliet had told him everything he knew about this building. Built in the late 1800s, it had a glorious curved frontage, and was modelled on the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris. As a child, she would walk past it every day and marvel at its grandeur. It was her first and only choice of venue for their wedding, despite neither of them being particularly religious. It was special, she’d said. She felt a connection there.

  Walking up the steps to the entrance, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that one of the doors lay open. He walked inside, immediately feeling small and insignificant under the grand curved wooden ceiling and the stunning stained glass windows that formed the top two thirds of every wall. It was as magnificent as he remembered.

  There were a few people dotted around the church, and Seb took care to avoid them, slipping into an empty pew halfway up the aisle on the left-hand side. He wanted to rewind his mind to the day he declared that he would love her for eternity. In sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, he vowed to honour and protect her. On that day, he had no idea that he would break that promise so spectacularly.

  He closed his eyes, trying desperately to form a vision of Juliet on that day, in her stunning but simple white floor length dress, under a Spanish-style veil that trailed to the floor. But he could only hold that image momentarily before it was pushed away, again and again, by another memory.

  The morning Juliet died. She’d been wearing a white shift dress, her hair lightened at the front by the sun, so that tendrils of dark gold flowed between the chestnut waves. He’d been irritable, his mind consumed by the fact he was late for a meeting at work. It was rumoured that the management were going to announce that the club had a new owner, who, it was said, would undoubtedly clear out the existing team and bring in his own people. The prospect of having to find a new job, and move on yet again at the age of fifty-five, was filling him with anxiety. They were happy there. Settled. He was getting too old, he decided, to keep rebuilding their lives every few years in a new course, new city, new country.

  ‘Are you ready yet?’ he’d snapped, and Juliet had stared him down. He’d always loved that she was no pushover, but right at that moment, her glare irritated him even more. They rarely argued, but when they did, they were both as fiery as each other, so their clashes tended to flare quickly, then subside and be over with in minutes.

  She only broke off the glare to pick up her bag, then she smiled at him with mock sweetness. ‘I’m ready, your highness,’ she’d quipped.

  Seb had no time for the sarcasm. He reached out to lift the car keys from the worktop, when she swooped in and grabbed them first.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he’d said sharply.

  ‘I’ll drive,’ she’d answered. ‘You’re way too wound up. I’ll drive as far as the college, then when I get out, you can take over. It’ll give you time to calm down.’

  Refusing to go along with her plan, he’d sighed and took the keys from her hand. He didn’t have time for this. Not today. He was driving. And they had to get going right now. ‘Nonsense, I’m fine. Look, please, just get in the car and let’s get going.’

  ‘Seb Lloyd, don’t you dare speak to me like that. I’m only going along with this because I need to get to work, otherwise I’d tell you where you could shove your bloody car keys.’

  Even more wound up now, he’d stormed off, yanked the car door open and climbed in, tapping on the wheel in irritation while he waited for her to get in.

  When she did, he’d immediately slammed the gearstick into first, put his foot on the accelerator and pressed.

  She’d had no time to catch her breath. No time to fasten her seatbelt. And no time to scream as a van he hadn’t even seen came hurtling towards them.

  Seventeen

  Josie

  ‘Oh my word, you two are going to be the death of me!’ Josie exclaimed. ‘You can’t spring surprises like this on a woman of my vintage. You’ll give me a heart attack!’

  Michael, her gorgeous son, chuckled and Josie knew that every woman within viewing distance would be swooning. Aye, she was biased, but he was a handsome big devil of a man. Well over six feet tall, he was fast approaching fifty, his dark hair now flecked with grey, but with his broad shoulders and chiselled jawline, he still looked like he’d just walked off the front of a knitting pattern.

  Avril, her delightfully gobby daughter – a woman after her own heart – was the first to answer. ‘I don’t think so, Mother. We know you’re indestructible and you’ll outlive us all.’

  The words almost took Josie’s breath away. Until a few hours ago, she’d been pretty convinced of the same, would brush off the very thought of her own mortality with a defiant profanity and a rude gesture. Not now.

  Thankfully, Avril was too busy hugging her to notice that Josie’s legs wobbled slightly as a wave of reality sucked the life out of her. It took every ounce of strength left in her to force herself back to some show of normality.

  ‘I absolutely will, and don’t you be forgetting it,’ she quipped, as they’d expect her to. ‘Anyway, what are you two doing here? And, dear God, Avril, have you come as a Smurf, love?’

  Avril rolled her eyes and flicked her bright blue hair off her shoulder. As a make-up artist who worked on TV and film sets, she never failed to make an impact, either with rainbow-shaded hair or dramatic cosmetics, or – as per her current look – both. A mass of cobalt waves fell to her shoulder blades and her blue and gold eyeshadow sparkled like glitter above the dramatic shading on the cheekbones of her porcelain face. Josie thought she was, as always, utterly spectacular. But she was an old-school West of Scotland mother, so she relayed this opinion in the form of teasing and entertaining barbs. And, as always, Avril, who was every bit as quick and sharp as her mother, responded in kind. ‘I did, Ma. And good to see you’re still dressing up as Andy Warhol,’ she said, grinning, noting Josie’s black polo neck, black trousers and short, chaotic white hair.

  The two of them cackled as they resumed their hug, Josie swelling with emotion that she knew could overflow into tears at any moment. She wasn’t having that; everyone would immediately know something was wrong. All their lives she’d been the strong, indomitable, flippant one and she couldn’t let that change now.

  ‘Right, you lot, much as I adore you all, I have duties today.’

  That was rewarded with a group cheer, and for the first time Josie took in the rest of the assembled crowd. Cammy’s parents, down from Perth. Caro’s Aunt Pearl and her Uncle Bob. Their son Todd and his husband Jared. No Caro. Josie didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. If she wasn’t here, then where the hell was she? And was this the time to pull Cammy aside and ask him if he knew why his bride was bailing out of the wedding that was supposed to be happening in less than five hours? Probably not.

  Okay, new plan. Where else would Caro go? Maybe she was back at the flat by now. Perhaps she’d had a walk, sorted her head out and all panic had been averted by her return. Her hopes rose for a second before plummeting again. No. If Caro
had returned home, Val would have been straight on the phone to let Josie know.

  A thought – maybe she’d gone to the wedding venue? Perhaps she was over there right now, checking everything out and calming her nerves? Yes! That made absolute sense. Or about as much sense as anything else that had happened today.

  ‘Hang on, you can’t just run out on us. Stay for lunch. Isn’t that why you’re here?’ Cammy said, hugging her. ‘I’ll get them to set another place.’

  ‘No!’ Josie blurted, then saw by their expressions of surprise that she may have said that a little more forcefully than she intended. Bugger. She had to think on her feet. She had categorically told Cammy that she wouldn’t be joining them for lunch because she’d be with Caro. What could she say that would explain why she was now standing in the middle of the flipping restaurant? ‘I’m only… erm… here because all is going great over at Caro’s. Yep, we’re bang on schedule. So I decided to do my rounds and check that everything was okay with the booking I made for you lot here at the hotel. Next, I’m heading over to the Kibble Palace to check that’s all set up and perfect too.’

  Michael’s low throaty laugh melted her soul. ‘Ma, I think you’ve found your new vocation in life. Josie’s Wedding Planning Service. It’s not too late to start a whole new career.’

  Oh, it is, son. Way, way too late. She didn’t say that out loud, preferring to add it to all the other thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on today.

  Something, maybe the stress that was twisting her larynx, triggered a violent coughing bout that made Josie’s eyes water as she bent forward in the hope of preventing it from cracking her ribs.

  ‘Mother, you have to give up the fags,’ Avril groaned, a familiar demand that she’d been churning out to Josie since she was about ten and learned about the evils of cigarettes in school. Every time, Josie answered with a glib comment, just as she did now.