‘But you’ll be wrenching Elijah out of school now he’s settled in. I never raised you to be selfish, Jessica, but this past year, it’s like you’re a different person.’
‘Enough, Wendy,’ her dad said, placing his hand on his wife’s knee. ‘We’re here to watch our grandson, not make a scene.’
Grateful for his intervention, Jess leaned closer. ‘The boys adapted very well to the move here, and they’ll adapt again when things change in the new year.’ She was prevented from saying any more when Mrs Winters stepped out of the wings onto the centre of the stage and a hush fell over the audience.
‘Thank you everyone for coming. Just a quick reminder that you are welcome to take photos of your child in their costume on the set at the end of the performance should you wish, but we do ask you not to do so during the show. And now, it gives me great pleasure to transport you back to a certain little town you might have heard of …’ As she exited the stage, the curtain opened and the strains of ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ began and Jess forgot about everything else other than watching Elijah and all the other children.
‘I think he’s finally asleep.’ Jess said as she joined her parents in the little sitting room in the nursery. ‘I still couldn’t get him to take off his costume.’ Though he hadn’t had a speaking part, Elijah had made the most of being cast as one of the sheep; baaing loudly and generally threatening to upstage the shepherds as he gambolled around on all fours in a white hooded top and black tights and gloves, his face covered in white stage makeup apart from a little black nose they’d drawn in with Iggy’s liquid eyeliner. Jess had insisted on scrubbing his face clean but had given up the fight over the rest of his costume, not wanting his last night at home to turn into an argument. Accepting a glass of wine from her dad, she curled her legs up under her and sank into the corner of the sofa opposite him with a sigh. ‘Thank you.’
Leaning forward, he clinked his glass against hers. ‘Cheers, flower. I was just saying to your mum it’s been a lovely day. Almost a shame we have to go home tomorrow and miss the winter festival.’
Though she hadn’t been looking for it, this could be the perfect opening. ‘Well, you never know, there might be other occasions when you can visit and hopefully stay a bit longer.’
‘But your contract runs out in the new year,’ her mum pointed out. ‘So that hardly seems likely. Speaking of which, what are you going to do next?’
‘Well, I’ve been given the opportunity to stay on here for a bit.’ She tried to keep her tone casual, but it was hard over the thundering of her heart. She hated confrontation, always had.
‘Doing what, exactly?’ Wendy sat up in her chair, brow furrowed in a way Jess knew spelled trouble on the horizon.
‘Tristan wants to open an events management company, and he’s giving me the chance to come on board as a partner. If the house party goes well, we’ll be looking at running several more throughout the year, organise some weddings and might even scout around for other clients in the area who might want our help.’
‘There’s a lot of ifs and mights in that statement,’ her dad pointed out in his soft voice.
‘I know.’ Jess agreed. ‘That’s why I haven’t committed myself to anything yet.’
‘And what about us?’ Wendy set her glass down on the coffee table with an angry click. ‘Don’t we get any say in you moving our grandchildren all the way up here on a permanent basis?’
‘It’s not like I’m emigrating to another continent!’ Though she hadn’t wanted to start a row, Jess found it impossible to keep the frustration from her voice. ‘How long did it take you to drive up here? Four hours? It doesn’t take much less than that to get to London from Somerset, for God’s sake. Did I say anything when you decided to move out to the country just after Eli was born, and you know, just maybe I might have needed my mum on hand to help me? No, of course, I didn’t because I wanted what was best for you.’
Her mother stared at her, eyes brimming with hurt. ‘You never said you needed my help.’
God, it was enough to make her want to scream. ‘I’d just had a baby, Mum, of course I needed your help. But you and Isla got it into your head about Somerset, and I was so bloody glad you were selling the Kennington house, I kept my mouth shut and let you get on with it.’ Jess hugged her arms around her knees. ‘Getting stuck on the A303 for hours on end with a screaming baby in the car was still a better prospect than ever having to walk across that threshold again.’ In the years following Marcus’s death, she’d never once been able to enter their childhood home without being transported back to that awful night when her world had fallen apart.
Her dad reached out to grip her hand. ‘We didn’t know you felt that way, flower. You never said anything.’
Jess returned his squeeze. ‘Because no one was allowed to say anything, were they? We all had to act like everything was normal.’ She choked on a sob, wishing like hell she could keep the lid locked firmly on this can of worms, but unable to help the words from spilling out. ‘God, it was like Marcus simply vanished one day, and we had to pretend like nothing bad had happened.’
‘How dare you say that!’ Her mother’s voice was shrill. ‘We had pictures of him everywhere, same as we do in the new house. I think about him every day.’ It was true. Though her mother had cleared out Marcus’s room with an unholy speed, turning it into a guest bedroom with pastel watercolours on walls that used to be smothered in band posters and pin-up girls, the rest of the house had become a shrine to his memory.
‘But those pictures were only your version of the truth, Mum. You plastered the walls in all those happy family scenes of when we were kids, but it was like time stopped in 2007 when Marcus first go into trouble and didn’t start again until the day Steve and I got married. You erased the last five years of his life, and erased a huge part of me in the process too.’
Her mum was crying now, huge theatrical sobs that shook her whole body, but managed to produce very little in the way of tears. Jess’s dad jumped off the sofa and put his arms around her. ‘Shh, love, shh. She doesn’t mean to upset you, do you Jess?’ He sent her an appealing look across the room.
Oh God, he was going to do it again. He was going to let Mum off the hook and allow her to deflect the conversation, just like always. She stared at him for a long moment. ‘No. I didn’t mean to upset you, Mum. Please don’t cry.’ The words were empty, as hollow as the feeling inside her.
Wendy sniffled a few times before managing to pull herself together. Funny how quickly she managed to recover from one of her crying fits. ‘It’s just such a difficult time of year, especially with you not coming home for Christmas,’ she said, shredding the tissue between her fingers.
And just like that, Jess was the one in the wrong. It was exhausting trying to get her mother to face anything she didn’t want to. Not just exhausting, pointless. ‘I am not boarding that guilt train, Mum, so don’t even start. You know why I can’t come back with you, and at least you’re getting to see the boys. I’m doing my best to build a new future for us, and if I decide that means we’re staying here in Derbyshire then you are going to have accept it.’
‘We’ll support you in whatever you choose to do, flower,’ her dad said, walking the tightrope between his wife and his daughter. ‘Won’t we, Wendy?’
The nod she got from her mother was a little begrudging, but Jess accepted it as all the victory she was going to get. ‘Okay, then. Let’s not fight about it, anymore.’
Needing to get away for a few minutes, Jess grabbed their glasses and headed to the kitchen. As she splashed a bit more wine in her glass, she came to the realisation things were never going to change as long as her father continued to shield her mother from the reality of what had happened to Marcus, and why. Jess had two choices: to keep pushing and risk a permanent fracture, or be the grown-up instead of the child and move on. Even if she got Wendy to talk honestly about what had happened, it wouldn’t bring Marcus back. She was holding on to the wrong things
and if she didn’t let go of those old hurts they would poison the future she was starting to give herself permission to dream of.
Chapter 17
By the time Tristan had waved off the last vendor on Sunday night, he was so cold his numb fingers could barely slide the chain through the gates and secure the padlock. Will had offered to stay with him, but he’d sent him inside an hour earlier to check on Iggy who’d been having one of her off-days and was no doubt feeling miserable. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, he forced his aching feet towards the beckoning warmth of the castle. As they had the first time he’d seen them on Friday, the decorations in the great hall took his breath away. The scents of pine, cinnamon and orange filled the air, relieving the aching cold in his bones almost as much as the heat emanating from the fire blazing in the enormous hearth. Kicking off his boots, he tossed his jacket in the general direction of the coat cupboard and padded on stockinged feet across the tiles towards the fire.
Bliss. Closing his eyes, he let the heat soak through him as the dogs milled around his feet, the warmth of their bodies adding to his feeling of well-being. It was over. Six weekends on the trot and the car park had been full to bursting every day. The vendors were already pushing for details of the next event which was a real confidence boost. Now all they had to do was focus on their VIPs arriving tomorrow. He scrubbed a hand through the shaggy hair he’d still not found time to get cut and decided tomorrow morning was soon enough to think about them. He’d grabbed a burger earlier, so he didn’t need to worry about dinner. Hot shower, bed, nothing more.
Moving on autopilot, he climbed the stairs and already had his thick jumper pulled off before he’d reached his bedroom door. He pushed it open and stared at the empty expanse of his bed. Though someone had been in and turned down the quilt – probably Mrs W – he felt no urge to move closer. It looked cold and far too empty. Tossing his jumper on the floor, he closed the door and continued down the corridor towards the nursery stairs.
The door to the playroom stood ajar, and though the main room was dark he could see light spilling in from the direction of Jess’s little suite of rooms. Not quite sure why he was there, he called out her name.
A few moments later the door to her room swung open and Jess stood framed in the light, clad in a pair of pyjama bottoms covered in rainbows and unicorns and a turquoise blue T-shirt. Her bare feet looked tiny, poking out from beneath the long legs of her pjs and her hair had been pulled into a loose plait which hung over one shoulder. ‘Everything all right?’
He nodded, unable to move, just wanting to drink in the sight of her.
‘Tristan?’ She crossed the room towards him. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m tired.’
She took his hand. ‘You’re freezing cold. Have you been outside all day?’
He nodded again, the weight of the day – of the past few weeks bearing down on him.
‘Come on then, let’s get you warm.’
Instead of leading him to her room, she turned the other direction towards the bathroom, urged him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet and fiddled with the taps on the shower to get it running. When she was satisfied with the temperature of the water, she turned to him. ‘Can you manage your clothes, or do I need to give you a hand?’
The idea of her stripping him off was bloody appealing, but not like this when he could barely stand. ‘I can manage, thanks. Sorry to crash in on your evening.’
‘Nonsense.’ Leaning down, she kissed his lips, a fleeting touch that was there and gone almost before he registered it. ‘It’s about time you let me take care of you for a change. There’s a clean towel on the rail. Come through when you’re ready.’
For the first few minutes he couldn’t do anything other than shudder as the warm water from the shower beat down upon his chilled skin, as sharp as pins and needles. It was only once the worst of the shaking subsided that he realised the water temperature was barely much more than tepid, though it had felt almost unbearably hot to his skin. He must’ve been close to at least a mild case of hypothermia – unsurprising when the temperature, even in the sun, had barely squeaked over freezing. He remained in the shower for as long as his legs would hold him up, turning up the heat in tiny increments until eventually the bathroom filled with steam. He managed a quick scrub over with a couple of handfuls of the first bottle of shower gel his hands closed around, not caring in the least that he would smell of cherry blossoms.
When he finally stepped out of the stall, he found a pair of his pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt folded neatly on the seat of the toilet. Jess must’ve gone down to his room to find them, though he’d been oblivious to her coming back in. Drying off seemed like too much effort, so he wrapped the towel around himself and let it blot the worst of the water off while he scrubbed his teeth with the lone pink toothbrush sitting in the holder and hoped Jess would forgive him for it.
Warm and dressed, he followed the light from her room like a wise man following the star and found her curled up on the sofa in her sitting room, a fleecy blanket draped over her knees, e-reader in hand. ‘Feeling better?’ she asked, pushing back the blanket to rise.
He waved her down, feeling awkward and a little embarrassed for invading her space the way he had. ‘I just wanted to say thank you, and I’ll leave you in peace now.’
She tilted her head on one side, the long plait of her hair spilling down. ‘You came up here for a reason.’
‘I needed you,’ he admitted.
‘Good.’ Rising, she took his hand and led him towards her bedroom. ‘Now come to bed.’
He wanted to resist, he was in no fit state to give her anything right now, but then he realised that was okay. Every relationship needed balance, and when you were with the right person, taking was as important as giving. He let her lift the quilt and push him onto the bed. ‘I sleep on the left,’ he mumbled, eyes already closing as the softness of the pillow welcomed his weary head.
‘Not anymore, you don’t,’ she said, tucking the quilt around him. When her little body slid in behind him and curled over his back, he decided that from now on the right side of the bed suited him just fine.
He woke the next morning to the scent of fresh coffee and the disappointing emptiness of the mattress beside him. He’d slept like the dead, for – he checked his watch – ten hours, as it had been barely past eight o’clock when he’d staggered through Jess’s door last night. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so deeply, and he didn’t think it was all down to exhaustion. Though his recollection was hazy, he had the impression of turning over some time in the night and pulling Jess in tight against him, her head pillowing on his chest, one leg thrown over his thigh in a proprietary way that made him smile now as he propped himself up against the headboard and reached for the coffee. It was hot, and strong, and with exactly the right amount of milk he preferred. She knew how he liked his coffee. An absurd thing to be happy about, perhaps, but it filled him with as much hope as her sweetness the night before.
He’d drunk almost two-thirds of the mug and was trying to persuade himself to make a move when Jess entered the bedroom, wrapped in the same big towel he’d used the night before, a smaller, matching towel covering her wet hair. ‘Awake at last,’ she said with a grin as she crossed to the dresser and picked up a wide-toothed comb.
‘Come here,’ He patted the edge of the bed beside him, and though she hesitated, she eventually came to perch next to him. It would be so easy to tease her into dropping her towel and coax her back into the warmth of the bed, but he recalled their night under the stars and his pledge to himself to take the time to explore every level of intimacy with her before they took that final step. Instead of reaching out to tug at the tempting corner of the towel tucked between her breasts, he took the comb from her hand and slowly unwound the towel around her hair.
Taking the first wet skein, he held it close to the root and pulled the comb through the rest of it until it lay flat and smooth against he
r back. He took another handful, repeating over and over until every tangle was loosened, every knot unfurled. By the time he finished, her head was bowed, her limbs pliant and soft. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ He leaned forward and kissed the skin of her shoulder, allowing himself a few moments of indulgence to taste the exquisite softness.
‘Tristan.’
His name on her lips was almost enough to undo all his good intentions, but today was a huge day for them both – Jess, especially – and he was damned if he would derail it. There weren’t enough hours in the day for all the things he wanted to do to her, and a lightning fast morning glory was not going to be the way he took her for the first time. ‘Put some clothes on, Jess, I’m begging you.’
Laughing, she rose from the mattress. ‘At least you’re a bit perkier than you were last night.’
‘I feel amazing,’ he told her. ‘Better than I have in forever.’
She cast him a shy glance over her shoulder. ‘Me too. I was missing the boys so much; it was good not to be alone.’
He climbed from the bed and crossed to her. ‘Would you like to not be alone again tonight?’
Biting her lip, she nodded. ‘But would you mind if we kept this between us? Not because I want to hide you from anyone, but I don’t have the bandwidth to cope with whatever questions it might raise with your family.’
‘That’s fine with me. The only thing I want you to concentrate on this week is delivering on all the hard work you’ve put in. If you want me here, I’m here. If you need space, you can ask for it. Give and take, okay?’
Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a quick hot kiss to his mouth. ‘You’re something special, Tristan Ludworth.’
Sliding his hand beneath the heavy drape of her wet hair, he pulled her close to steal another kiss. Her lips flowered beneath his, opening, accepting, welcoming the deep stroke of his tongue. When he could finally persuade himself to release her mouth, he pressed his forehead to hers. ‘You’re everything I ever dreamed of, Jess. Only the reality of you is ten times sweeter than anything I allowed myself to imagine.’
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