No One Cancels Christmas, page 23
‘So why is she . . .’
She looks at me shrewdly. ‘Well, I guess she’s come back for him now he’s back in one piece?’ She folds her arms. ‘Now, do I get that shot of you two cosying up under the mistletoe?’
‘No.’ As I haven’t a clue where he is, the answer to that one is easy.
‘Well, I guess it’s the heartbroken break-up and make-up ex story then. Any chance of a threesome angle?’ I’m going to hit her. ‘No? Thought not.’
Chapter 25
Will is in his office. He is shredding paper. It looks like he’d actually like to be shredding much more – so I keep my distance.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Tidying up before I go.’
‘Go where?’
‘Who knows? Who bloody cares.’
‘I think I might.’
He sits down with a heavy sigh and thumps his feet up on the desk. Will never puts his feet on the desk. This makes me very uneasy.
‘Oh Sarah.’ That makes me feel even more uneasy. ‘Oh God, this is such a mess, I knew I shouldn’t . . .’ He’s gazing straight into my eyes. ‘You don’t deserve this. I told you I couldn’t . . .’ He rubs his palm over his face and looks knackered. I want to hug him, but it’s not the right time. ‘This is why we can’t . . .’ All his unfinished sentences hang in the air between us. ‘I can’t stay here with this media circus, that’s why I kept my head down after the accident.’
‘You hid. Ran away to a different country, a different life?’
‘Harsh, but fair.’ He rubs at a barely visible mark on his trousers.
‘Everybody has shit in their lives, Will. You can’t just sit back and let it take over – you have to kick its arse, stamp on it: you can’t keep running.’
He shakes his head. ‘I can’t stamp on this, Sarah. It isn’t always that simple.’ His voice is quiet, but more determined than ever.
‘Yes it is. It is simple if you make it that way.’
‘Says who?’
‘Stop being so bloody stubborn.’
‘Sarah, you know it’s not always simple!’
‘Come back to the UK with me, start again.’ I didn’t mean to say it, it just came out. Not only do I now have a five-year plan, it seems I want a boyfriend. A proper boyfriend.
‘I can’t.’
Well, that put a stop to that, which is probably good. I can’t cope with long-term, with commitment. ‘Why not?’ Oops.
‘It will be worse than ever, we’ll both be in the news, everything I’ve ever done, everything you’ve done, will be spread across the papers, tweeted about, bloody Instagrammed to death. Do you want that?’
‘No, but . . .’ I think about Callum and his gladioli, Aunt Lynn, my lovely quiet home.
‘All your secrets.’ He stresses the ‘all’ and gives me his most direct stare. We both know what I’m thinking. Dad.
‘They’ll forget, move on.’
‘Eventually, when they’ve scavenged every last morsel and regurgitated it so often it’s unrecognisable. I need to keep my head down, hide, until it goes quiet. Not stir them up.’
‘I could stay here.’ My voice is small, and we both know why.
‘No, Sarah. You can’t.’
I can’t. Not really, if I stop and think about this. I’ve got great friends, fabulous Lynn. My business. My love of travel, my itchy feet, both partly why I loved the idea of working with Aunt Lynn; and when she said me and Sam needed to get out more, that she’d take on a temp I’d not really thought about what it meant. But now I have.
I’m ready to hit the world, go out to more of our resorts, check new ones, encourage the old ones to pull their socks up and be even better.
‘I could try, for a bit.’ We both know I can’t. But I can’t let this beat me, there has to be a way, a solution. ‘You can’t just run away or go back to hiding and being a bloody misery.’ I probably shouldn’t have said, or rather shouted, the misery bit. But I’m frustrated. He’s frustrating.
‘Stop trying to run my life – why don’t you concentrate on your own.’
‘That is so out of order.’
‘Sorry.’ He slumps down further into the chair. ‘Honestly, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But if you and your friends—’
‘This is all my fault, isn’t it?’
He shrugs.
‘If Jake hadn’t come here, and the reporters hadn’t followed him . . .’
‘You didn’t know, and they’re your friends.’ He pauses. ‘Good friends.’
‘But if I hadn’t come over here, interfering.’
He does a big heartfelt sigh. ‘If Ed hadn’t made such a balls-up with this place, and if I’d done the sensible thing and told him to sell up, then you wouldn’t have had to come here.’
‘True. I wouldn’t.’
He stares at me, those steely blue eyes making my heart beat faster. Then he clears his throat. ‘I’m glad you did, though.’ His voice is low, but I hear every word.
‘So am I.’
‘I guess you’re right, though, I can’t hide for ever.’ He picks at a sticker on the printer, slowly peeling it off. His tone is flat. I don’t like flat. It makes my insides churn.
‘Who are you hiding from, Will? Dominique?’
The smile on his face isn’t humour. It’s got a twist, which means it hurts. She hurts. Now I hurt.
‘Ha ha now that’s a funny one.’ He laughs. But obviously doesn’t find it funny. ‘No hiding from Dom. She couldn’t get away fast enough; playing nurse was not her style.’
‘I can see that.’
He carries on shredding paper and not looking me in the eye. Bad news.
‘You were the golden couple.’
He shrugs. ‘We were good press fodder, and it didn’t do her career any harm.’
‘Which was?’
‘Wannabe star. I met her when I did some promo.’
‘Promo?’
‘Snowboarding gear, clothes, you know.’
‘Modelling?’
His eyes fleetingly lock on to mine, there’s a barely perceptible nod.
‘You were a model?’ Something tells me I shouldn’t pursue this one. He looks even more unhappy. ‘She’s French.’ Who knows why I said that. It was just the first thing that came into my head.
‘How do you know about her?’
‘She’s here. One of the reporters mentioned—’
‘Ah, explains the frenzy on the slope then.’
‘Why hide? What are you frightened of Will? They can’t hurt you, can they?’
‘Failure?’ He gives a harsh, short laugh that makes my insides curl up. ‘They only want to crow. In fact, I’m not really hiding from anybody - they all dumped me. Dom, the press, the advertising companies, the modelling agency, the team . . . I’m a crippled has-been, and nobody likes a failure, do they? I’ve just been trying to outrun my own bloody uselessness. I don’t need to see it reflected back at me by some trash tabloids.’
‘But you’re not useless. You’re just different now.’
‘Sarah.’ He stares at me. ‘I don’t want to be different. I liked who I was.’
‘Sarah, Sarah? Oh, thank God for that; we wondered where you were.’ Sam is smiling at us round the door. ‘Fancy a drink?’
‘Look, go back to your friends, they’ve come a long way to see you.’
‘But you—’
‘I’ve got stuff to do, go. I’ll see you later.’
So I do go, but I’ve got this horrible, hollow feeling in the base of my stomach as I walk away, trying to joke with Sam. I shouldn’t leave him, I really shouldn’t. We need to talk, work something out. But I don’t think he’s giving me any choice.
I can’t help myself. After a drink with Sam I come up with an excuse to nip back to my cabin. I push the door shut. Stand on a chair (I have discovered that an almost passable download speed is available two metres above floor level, just at the side of the front window, if you hold your mouth in a certain way and pray) and google Will, Billy.
Now I realise that I don’t know him at all.
I poured out my heart, and he gave me titbits.
I stretch up to enlarge the photo of two gorgeous people in love.
Then a movement outside catches my eye.
It’s them.
I shuffle round on the chair so that I can see better, and my mobile phone drops down to my side. His hands are on her shoulders, her hands on his chest. Moving slowly up, until her fingers tangle in his hair and she’s leaning in for a ki—
‘Shit!’ I forgot I was on a chair. Now I’m on the floor. My elbow hurts. My knee hurts. But most of all something inside me hurts, but I still need to know what they’re doing. Just how bad this is.
I scramble along the floor like a crab, pop my head up to windowsill height. All I can see is the snow. They’ve gone. Completely disappeared.
I try and peer round the corner, banging my head on the cold glass. I even open the door and shove my head out.
They’ve probably gone somewhere more private.
I hate her. I want to hit him.
It’s Christmas Eve I should be happy and having fun. And I feel crap.
Why didn’t he tell me that as well as a broken body he had a broken heart?
Why is he snogging (or maybe even right now shagging) the wonderful Dominique?
I have been totally stupid. I should never have kissed him, let alone anything else. I can’t say he didn’t warn me. But when he said free, I didn’t realise he meant free to be with somebody else. And I shouldn’t have poured out my heart to him like an overflowing drain. I need to go home.
Except it is Christmas Day tomorrow and I won’t get a flight. And I’ll let Sam and all her family down after they’ve come all this way so that I wouldn’t be on my own. Going home is not an option.
I need to talk to him. Have this out. I can’t not. And as I’m still half out of the cabin, I might as well just get on with it.
Slippers in snow aren’t a good idea – my toes are going to drop off. Along with my boobs, or more precisely, my nipples, which are as rock hard as the ice cubes they’re about to resemble.
One deep breath and I rush into the office before I change my mind.
‘Hey, gorgeous!’ Ed is sitting on the wheelie chair, with Bianca practically on his knee. Christmas spirit does this to people. Well, normally it’s just that whole feel-good happy kind of spirit; this year I think it’s the mulled wine and hot toddies that Ruth keeps demanding and Ed keeps making.
‘Where is he?’
‘Who?’
‘You know damned well who! Tell me! Or don’t if he’s in bed with her, and—’
Ed has a raised eyebrow and big grin. ‘Her who?’
‘Dominique. I don’t want to know if they’re thrashing about, no.’ Eurghh, that’s a horrible image. ‘No, stop. I don’t mean that. Just get him, tell him I need to see him, when he’s finished—’
‘Finished?’
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
‘Well, you are being funny. Slow down, who’s he thrashing?’ He winks at Bianca, who positively purrs in his ear.
‘Mmm I like the sound of that.’
‘Stop. Stop.’ I put my hands over my ears. I now know why Will had a ban on all things festive, and no trace of mistletoe.
‘Her.’
‘If you mean Domi.’ Yuk, Domi. I hate it when people shorten names. It makes them more human and loved, and not horrible people I want to hate.
‘Yes, her.’ I’m not going to say Domi. No. Way.
‘She’s gone.’
‘But she was – they were – her and Will – snogging out there.’ I point outside. ‘In the snow.’
‘I don’t know about snogging, maybe a goodbye peck on the cheek? Though to be honest, I don’t think he’d even do that. She totally shafted him. She’s gone, Sarah. Home. Left.’
‘Home? She’s not with Will?’ He said he was packing; has he gone with her?
‘Nope. He asked Jed to give her a lift back to the airport. Well, told rather than asked. I’ve not seen him like this for ages.’
‘So, where is he?’
‘I’m not his keeper, babe. As you well know. He’s around somewhere, I reckon.’
‘“Somewhere” is quite big round here.’
‘Have you tried the kennels?’
I think he’s trying to get rid of me. ‘Right, fine, kennels.’ It makes sense.
‘Or the log store? He was muttering about burning the place down, so it figures.’ Ed is grinning.
‘It’s not funny!’
Maybe I’m being unfair, and advocaat girl is doing something under the desk to him that I can’t see. Ticking his fancy, Aunt Lynn would call it. ‘Oh, come on, Sarah. You know Will wouldn’t do it – far too much of a goody two-shoes, plus he’d be worried about the health-and-safety implications. Do you want to borrow some boots and a jacket?’
I look at my feet. I am standing in a wet patch that Will would not approve of.
‘Borrow mine, hun.’ Bianca stands up.
‘Er, thanks.’ I am not sure this is a good look, but it probably doesn’t matter. She is about two feet taller than me, and she has boobs. At a guess, they’re surgically enhanced, because I am absolutely positive that gravity would have a firm handle on anything that big. If it can cope with an apple, these wouldn’t stand a chance.
She misreads my doubtful expression. ‘It’s a good one, babe; my Joey got it me, but he won’t mind you lending it.’
I want to correct her to ‘borrowing’ but that would be mean, she’s being nice.
‘Joey?’
‘He’s my fiancé, babe. He’s loaded, only buys me the best.’
‘Right.’
Ed doesn’t look shocked, so I guess he’s heard about Joey before.
My arms are slowly swallowed up by the sleeves, then the rest of me is consumed.
I am the child on the first day of school who is wearing castoffs from her (much) older, (much) bigger sister.
‘Thanks. That’s really kind of you!’
She leans over the desk and buttons me up. Then pats me on the head. ‘No probs. I’ve got Eddie to keep me warm and cosy.’
Eddie looks more than up to the task. He hardly notices as I waddle off like a pregnant penguin, in search of his brother.
Chapter 26
Will is not with Domi. That is good. Will had his heart broken. That is bad. Will snogged her. Bad. Will is not with the dogs. Bad. Will has disappeared. Even more bad.
There seems to be a lot of bad stacking up. I need to find some more good.
Rosie whines and wags her tail. She is staring up the path behind the kennels.
There is no smoke, suggesting he has not started an arson campaign yet. This is good. Though I’m not convinced arson is the brightest idea around here at this time of year. You’d be pretty dense to try it, and he’s not dense.
There are tracks from the log store leading up towards the shed where they keep the equipment; this is good! And in this part of the world it doesn’t take Sherlock to track him down. I reckon that’s why crime is so low round here: how can you kill somebody, hide the body and get away without leaving tracks? Unless there was a blizzard. You’d have to be a meteorologist as well as a deranged murderer. It adds a whole new level of complication, and practically rules out a spontaneous crime of passion. Premeditation and planning is key.
‘All gone then, have they? Come to tell me the coast is clear?’
I gather he means the press. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about Dominique?’
‘It’s history.’
‘Then why were you kissing her face off just then?’ I’m sorry, I can’t help it. See it, say it, think afterwards. My nipples are also burning from the cold, now that they’ve been reheated inside my super-size thermally insulated coat, and it’s moved me one degree closer to exploding point.
‘I wasn’t.’
‘You were! I saw you!’
‘You saw what she wanted you to see. I was trying to politely stop her jumping on me, that’s why I was holding her.’
‘She put her—’
‘Can we stop this?’
I can’t stop this. I’m bubbling up inside (and it isn’t the coat). It’s never been more important to know what came next, after I’d fallen off the chair. ‘She was flashing a diamond engagement ring at the press!’
‘Was she?’
‘How could you not notice? It was massive! I’ve seen smaller icebergs.’
‘Is that counting the bit you can’t see?’
‘What?’
‘The underwater bit.’
‘Maybe I should have said ice cube.’ That raises a glimmer of a smile, and I suddenly wonder what I’m trying to achieve here. I am so insecure that I can’t just accept that Domi has gone. That whatever she used to mean to him, it’s long since over. He’s sent her packing. Ed said he’d sent her home.
‘We were never engaged, or close to engaged.’
‘I’m sorry, I just thought I saw . . . and . . .’
‘She came because she saw the reports, because some newspaper rang to ask what she thought. She came because,’ he takes a deep breath, and his eyes are all set and steely, ‘because she didn’t want to be landed with a cripple, but a rich property owner is another matter. Okay?’
‘You lied to me! How am I supposed to believe you now?’ Even as the words come out of my mouth I know what I’m doing. I’m hitting out, forcing him away the same as I’ve always done, because it will be easier that way.
‘I have never lied to you.’
‘You said you wanted to be free; was that all just bollocks to brush me off? Have some fun, walk away cos it’s all fine, you told me the score so that’s hunky-dory.’ I need to shut up. I’m way out of line. But I can’t seem to.
He stares. Gazes straight into my eyes, and I haven’t a clue what he’s thinking. ‘You haven’t got a clue, have you?’
