All I Want For Christmas (11 page)

‘Right then, dinner is served,' he said, putting the plates on the table. ‘Eat up before it all gets cold.'

Later, after Lauren had read Zoe a story and tucked her into bed, she went back to join Matthew for a cup of coffee.

‘Now,' he said, patting the space on the sofa next to him. ‘I want to know what's wrong.
You've
been very quiet all evening.'

Delving into her handbag, she produced the letter and silently handed it to him, watching his expression change as he read.

‘Surely the landlord can't do this?'

‘He can. I rang him this morning. The tenancy was in my grandmother's name. I have no right to it. And he intends to sell the property.' She gave Matthew a despairing look. ‘You know what an old house it is, with a large garden. Well, a developer has already bought the one next door and made him a very substantial offer, so that he can pull them down and build a block of flats on the site.'

‘It's very short notice, Lauren.'

‘And dated from the first of January, if you look. That's a week ago, so I've only three weeks left to clear everything, move out, and find somewhere else in the meantime.'

‘Well, you can use this flat while we're away.'

‘Away?' she repeated bleakly.

‘It's a bit of a last-minute arrangement, but my parents are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary next month. Their ruby anniversary.' He smiled. ‘So my sister—the one who lives in France—has arranged for all the family to meet up. We'll be away for the best part of a month.'

A month! The words filtered into her brain. ‘Where's the celebration?'

‘Oh, not far from Melbourne.'

‘Melbourne?'
she echoed.

‘Yes. Australia. That's where they live. My father is a consultant at a private hospital there. He's always been rather keen for me to join him, so I'll be interested to see where he works.'

Lauren's coffee cup rattled as she put it back onto the saucer. ‘I need to get back home, Matthew. There's so much to do. Can I phone for a taxi?'

‘It's late, Lauren. You're tired. Stay over. It won't take me five minutes to put a clean cover on the duvet, and move my bedding onto the sofa in here.' She shook her head.

‘Then let me drive you back. Clare will come in and keep an eye on Zoe.'

‘That girl has a new baby, Matthew. You can't expect her to be at your beck and call,' Lauren retorted sharply. ‘I'll take a taxi.'

And she tried not to read the hurt in his eyes.

* * *

The next three weeks passed far too quickly. Easily tired after her ordeal in the fire, Lauren found that, having worked all day in the crèche, coming home to clear out the accumulated clutter of her grandmother's life left her emotionally exhausted. Every item she touched—clothes, pictures, books—held a memory.

But
it had to be done—and quickly, too. There wasn't time to linger over treasured possessions. Everything had to go.

In between, she was sifting through estate agents' details and visiting those that sounded a possibility. But it didn't take her long to realise that what was written on paper bore very little resemblance to what she actually found on inspection. Flats she really liked were out of her price range, and those she could afford were dreadful.

Matthew came with her on the rare occasions when he wasn't on duty, and without him she would never have noticed small imperfections like a damp patch under a rusting radiator, sash windows held by frayed cords, or the dark stain of mould hidden behind a wardrobe. But by the end of the month, when she had to move out, she knew she would be homeless. To make things worse, Matthew and Zoe left for Australia the day before then.

While she was in the crèche, Zoe had been drawing or painting complicated pictures of aeroplanes and kangaroos, with an occasional monkey dangling from a tree.

‘There won't be any monkeys, Zoe,' Lauren told her, eyeing the latest work of art.

‘There might be,' the little girl insisted. ‘One could escape from that zoo where Daddy took me, and hop onto a plane when nobody was looking, and hide under someone's seat,
then
hop off when the plane landed.'

‘Yes,' Lauren agreed. ‘It could, but I think someone might notice.'

‘Not if it hid in a buggy. Then everyone would think it was a baby.' Lauren gave in. At times, Zoe's logic defeated her.

The day before they left for Australia, Matthew gave her the keys and moved what remained of her belongings into his flat.

‘Please still be here when we get back, Lauren,' he said, his eyes looking deep into hers.

It was strange being there without him and Zoe, too. So quiet, apart from the occasional wail of Clare's baby next door. In the darkness, sleeping in his bed, Lauren could smell the faint spice of his aftershave, remembering the warmth of his cheek against hers, the slight prickle of stubble on his chin, the brush of his eyelashes over her forehead, and the way he'd kissed her—just that once.

It was a kiss she would never forget, nor the depth of feeling it had aroused in her. Something Rick had never done.

Why do I have to keep remembering him?
she wondered. Matthew could never be like Rick.

* * *

A day or two later, while searching through his bookshelves, trying to find something to read, she pulled out a folder tucked into a book on
the
West Country. Inside was a collection of small paintings, all delicate watercolours of the sea and a sandy beach. Looking more closely, she recognised it as the cove in the painting Matthew had given her for Christmas.

So this must be where he'd spent his holidays as a child,
she thought, her fingertip lightly smoothing the surface of the paper. Each painting was so detailed and beautiful that she could almost imagine herself stepping onto the soft sand, and feeling the warmth of tiny waves caressing her feet.

The book lay open on the floor beside her. Picking it up, she glanced at the page of old black and white photographs. Photographs of the same cove. A place very special to Matthew.

And suddenly, she wanted to be there. See it for herself. Know the peace and tranquillity it held. And the magic that had captivated him so much, that he kept painting it.

* * *

‘There's someone downstairs asking for you, Lauren,' Sarah told her, as she came into the kitchen for a mug of tea, while the children were having their rest after lunch the next day. ‘One of the receptionists just rang.'

‘Did they give a name?'

‘She didn't say.'

‘Okay then, I'll try not to be too long. It's
probably
a prospective parent wanting details of the crèche.'

As the lift doors sighed open on the ground floor, she stepped out, her eyes searching for whoever was waiting.

‘Hullo, darling.'

Her body turning to ice, she spun round to find Rick standing behind her. Then she was caught in his arms as he pulled her towards him, his mouth closing over hers.

Frantically, she twisted her head sideways, trying to pull away, shuddering as his wet lips slid across her cheek, but his grip tightened.

‘What a job I've had to find you,' he murmured into her ear, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. ‘Let's go and sit down over there, shall we, darling?'

‘What are you doing here?' she hissed, sinking onto the edge of a chair, before her trembling legs gave way. ‘How did you know where I was?'

‘It wasn't easy, I can tell you, especially when I saw the Sold sign outside your grandmother's house. One of your neighbours said you worked at the hospital, so here I am.'

‘But why?'

‘I want you back.'

‘What?' Several heads turned as her voice rose.

He laughed, and Lauren noticed a roll of fat that quivered under his chin. marring its perfection. ‘I guessed that would surprise you.'

‘And
what does your new wife have to say about that?'

‘Let's forget about her, shall we, darling? An aggressive little creature she's turned out to be.'

‘You mean, she fights back? Not like me?'

A flush reddened his cheeks. ‘I said, forget about her. It's you I want. Never should have let you go.' He rose unsteadily to his feet. ‘So, what time do you finish here? I'll be waiting.'

Looking at him, Lauren felt a sudden rush of revulsion, and wondered why she'd ever been attracted to him. Was it his looks? Or just that she needed to feel secure? Now she knew the real person, any love she once had for him was long gone. She'd grown up, gained confidence, and met a man so different in every way. Now, she knew what love really meant.

‘There's no way I'm coming back to you, Rick. No way at all.'

His fingers gripped her wrist, nails biting into her skin. ‘I'll be waiting for you, Lauren. Outside. Tonight. Don't forget.”

She refused to let him see her fear, making herself meet his eyes, trying to stop her body from shaking. ‘I have to get back to work,' she said, hardly recognising her own voice, and felt his grip fall away.

Head held high, back straight, she controlled her footsteps as she walked back to the lift, seeing the doors open and a group of
chattering
nurses come out. But once inside, her body shook and tears scalded her cheeks.

* * *

‘Really, Ms Mallory,' Helen chided, later that afternoon. ‘You're putting Charlotte's anorak on Fergus, and they're both wearing someone else's shoes. I do think you've returned to work far too soon. What with the fire, and having to move out of your home, it's obviously been very traumatic for you. Why don't you take some time off?'

‘Yes, Helen, I think I will,' Lauren replied, standing up and handing the anorak to her. ‘You all managed perfectly well without me when I was away, so I'm sure there'll be no problems if I do so again. Here are the keys.'

The amazement on Helen's face was the last thing she saw, as she walked out and closed the door.

Terrified that Rick was already waiting for her, she ran down the back stairs and out through a side exit to reach the car park, constantly glancing behind. Her car was parked next to the main gates and once inside it, she started the engine and drove through them at high speed, narrowly missing a van in the road outside.

Back in Matthew's flat, she finally felt safe again. There was no way Rick would find her there.

Rain
was pattering against the window. Lauren got up and drew the curtains, shutting out the night, then went into the kitchen to open a tin of baked beans and put bread into the toaster.
Matthew might not think so, but it's a really healthy meal,
she thought.

Matthew. Today was the ruby wedding celebration. Zoe would be in her element. Meeting her grandparents and all her aunts and uncles. Being thoroughly spoilt. And why not?

She wondered what Matthew was doing—and whether he was thinking of her. Or, being in the company of his family again, was she completely forgotten? Just someone who worked at the hospital, like he did. Nothing more. Why did that thought hurt so much?

CHAPTER NINE

It was dark when Lauren woke the next morning. Rain still pattered at the windows and she could hear Clare's baby wailing in the flat next door. For a moment or two, she lay, deep in the warmth of Matthew's duvet, wondering how she would fill her day, when the phone by the bed rang.

A surge of delight winged through her. It would be Matthew. Wanting to tell her about the ruby wedding celebrations. Quickly, she
picked
it up, eager to hear his voice.

‘I want you back, Lauren.'

Horrified, she let the phone fall from her hand onto the pillow, questions pulsing through her brain. Who in the crèche had given Rick this number? Did he have the address, too? Was he already on his way? Where could she go that no one else knew about? Where she would be safe from him?

As she pushed back the duvet, the book on the West Country fell to the floor, and lay there, open.

Matthew's cove!

Within ten minutes she'd found a road atlas, packed a small bag, left a note for Matthew, and in a state of panic was driving towards the motorway.

By afternoon she'd reached Bodmin Moor, where thin mist drifted across the road, blotting it out every now and then. Soon it would be dark. But no way could she go back. Not if Rick was there, waiting. She had to find Matthew's cove. There would be hotels or guest houses nearby where she could stay. Pulling into a lay-by, she peered anxiously at the map to see how much further she had to go.

It was nearly four o'clock before she passed Helston, and after the Air Sea Rescue base at Culdrose, the road twisted and turned for several miles, getting narrower, finally turning into a single-track lane.

At
last she could hear, and smell, the sea as the track ended in shingle, but it was far too dark for Lauren to see anything at all. Dank air enveloped her as she stepped stiffly out of the car and began to shiver.

The crunch of footsteps made her swing round, startled. An elderly man, face almost buried in the hood of his thick anorak, stood, staring at her in the darkness, a small dog close by his side.

‘Lost your way, have you, my dear? 'Tis a dead-end here.'

‘Yes,' she said, her voice quivering with tiredness and despair. ‘I've come on such a long journey and now I don't really know where I'm going.'

‘Where be you staying?'

‘Nowhere.'

‘Nowhere?' His voice was quite incredulous. ‘No hotel, nor nothing?'

She shook her head. ‘I just wanted to be here. But now . . . '

‘Then you come along with me, my dear. Rose, my wife, and I will take you in for the night. Young maid, like you. Nowhere to stay.' He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I'll walk on ahead,' he said, pointing a hand. ‘Where those lights are. That be our cottage. ‘ 'Tisn't far.'