Holly's Christmas Kiss (7 page)

And then Sean’s face again. Those stupid green eyes glinting at her, challenging her to loosen up, relax, have fun. Those green eyes that clearly didn’t understand anything about losing people that you loved, or about taking responsibility for yourself or anyone else. What Michelle needed wasn’t Sean. It was simplicity, time on her own with no commitments. If she did happen to decide she wanted a relationship in the future, she would use one of those internet dating sites, where she could set criteria
, and control who contacted her. It sounded much more orderly.

Finally, her
mum. She would always think of her at this time of year, even though she’d hated Christmas with a passion. She remembered Christmas dinners after they’d moved out of Barbara’s cramped terrace and into the fla
t–
enchiladas, or homemade pizza, whatever Mum could think up that clashed with the season. She’d even written a cookbook based on the same ide
a–
‘The Anti-Christmas Cook.’ She wasn’t exactly the new Delia but it had sold reasonably well, and given Tanya a career for the first time in her life.

Michelle’s own book dropped onto her lap and her eyes settled closed, lulled by the rhythm of the moving train.

‘Excuse me.’ The voice seemed to be coming from outside. ‘Excuse me!’

It was louder now, and closer.

‘Excuse me!’ Michelle opened her eyes, and looked around. She was still on the train, but Jean had gone. There was an empty seat beside her and a couple standing in the aisle. The man was glaring at her. ‘These are our seats.’

Michelle rubbed her eyes and shook her head. ‘No. This is only reserved from Newcastle.’

‘Yes.’ The man’s tone was increasingly impatient.

‘But we’ve only just left …’ Michelle petered out as she looked around her. The family across the aisle had gone. The teenagers resting on the luggage rack had also vanished. She looked out of the window and saw unfamiliar buildings. She turned back to the couple. ‘Where are we?’

‘Leaving Newcastle, and these are our seats.’

‘Right. Sorry.’ Michelle swung her legs around and slipped past the man into the gangway. She hurried along the aisle, grabbed her case off the luggage rack and dragged it out of the
packed carriage. She paused by the door and read the list of stations. Next stop: Edinburgh. Michelle groaned. Why hadn’t someone woken her up?

Never mind. She’d have to get off
at Edinburgh and then catch another train back to Leeds. Her immediate problem was finding somewhere to sit. Her hand went to the ticket, stuffed in her pocket. She had a reserved seat in first class. Of course, that would mean Sean. It was at least another hour to Edinburgh. She turned and peered back down the train, hoping desperately for a free seat.

Sean stared out of the window as the train moved away from the built-up outskirts of Newcastle and on to cling to the coast towards Berwick. This part of the journey was always when he started to feel as though he was nearing home. Home for Christmas. He smiled to himself.

‘Is this seat still free?’

He was jolted out of his reverie by the voice, but he didn’t turn away from the window. After her reaction to him that morning, he wasn’t minded to throw down the red carpet. ‘I thought you were only going as far as Leeds.’

There was a pause. He glanced up at her.

‘I fell asleep.’

Despite his resolution to be cool with Michelle, Sean’s face cracked into a laugh. ‘I guess you’re stuck with me then.’

Michelle slumped into the seat beside Sean. ‘Only until Edinburgh. I’m getting the first train back to Leeds.’

Sean paused. An idea, only half formed was jumping up and down in his head, demanding his full attention. ‘What if …’

‘What?’

‘Look. I know we’ve only just met, but it’s Christmas. It’s silly to be on your own. Why don’t you come with me?’ The question surprised Sean almost as much as Michelle. He’d seen her reaction to the ticket to Edinburgh. At this point a sensible man would have known that it was time to give up, but he couldn’t let go. He felt like his accelerator pedal had got stuck hard to the floor, and the only option was to hold on and enjoy the ride.

Michelle’s lips pursed. ‘We’ve been through this.’

‘For goodness
’ sake. You’re already halfway there. You’d really rather go back to an empty flat?’

Michelle’s expression shifted slightly. He’d done enough sales pitches to see that she was interested, but she wasn’t on the hook yet. Think Sean. What do you know about her? She’s practical. Sensible. Somehow, he needed to make running away for Christmas with a virtual stranger sound sensible.

‘Do you even have any food in your cupboards?’

Michelle shook her head.

‘Right. Well, it’s Christmas Eve now. What are you planning on eating tomorrow?’

Michelle shrugged. ‘Anything but turkey.’

Sean shifted in his seat to face her.

‘We’re not discussing this any
more,’ he tried.

No response. He was going to need to grovel at least a bit before he laid down the law. ‘I’m sorry I bought the ticket to Edinburgh. It was out of order. I should have asked you first.’

‘You should.’

There was a note of acceptance in her voice that hadn’t been there before. Sean’s stomach jumped. She might actually agree.

‘Ok. What about a deal? It’s Christmas Eve. What if you give me forty-eight hours? Two days. After that I’ll drive you home myself. Forty-eight hours in the warm, with plentiful food and lots of Christmas spirit.’

‘I’m not really a fan of Christmas.’

‘Then I’ve got two days to change your mind. Deal?’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘It’s not silly.’ Two days. She might go for that, and it was only two days. Nobody could get their heart broken in two days. Sean grinned. This was it. This was his pitch. ‘It’s practical. It saves you wasting time and money travelling home. It saves you wasting more money at home on food and heat, and we both get some company.’

He held a hand out for her to shake, and waited. This was the sort thing he used to do so naturally, follow his instincts because something felt right. Well, he’d done it now. No option but to stick with the idea and hope she didn’t notice him trembling.

Eventually she took his hand. ‘But only because it saves me a long trip home.’

Sean exhaled. ‘Ok. Now for the terms and conditions.’

‘What?’

‘I’m a businessman. It’s important that contracts are clear upfront. It saves all sorts of problems later.’

‘But you can’t add things now.’

‘I’m clarifying our agreement. You have to enter into the spirit of things. No refusing to “do Christmas”. No standoffishness. Basically you have to go along with whatever I say.’

‘Whatever you say?’

‘Absolutely. Forty-eight hours. I’m in charge.’

Michelle scowled. ‘You’re not in charge of me.’

‘And you’re pulling a face, which isn’t very festive.’

‘It won’t make any difference. Christmas is for kids. We are not kids.’

Sean shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with being a kid at heart?’

Michelle didn’t reply.

‘So you agree to my terms?’

She nodded.

‘Good.’ Sean turned h
is face back to the window to give himself a moment to regroup. This was fine. It was only two days. Time limited. Just a bit of fun. He glanced back at Michelle settling back into the seat beside him, and felt his stomach lurch again.

Chapter Seven

Christmas Eve, 2012

Michelle

‘This is going to be great.’ Jess is pouring champagne into two glasses.

‘Isn’t it a bit early for that?’

‘Lighten up.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s Christmas.’

‘It’s Christmas Eve, and it’s half past nine in the morning.’

‘It’s exciting.’ She carries her champagne into the living room and I follow her, leaving the second glass on the kitchen counter. ‘Christmas with no family. It’s going to be amazing.’

I ought to reply. I open my mouth but I can’t make any words come out.

She claps her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my God! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean “no family” like … Sorry.’

‘It’s Ok.’ She didn’t mean anything by it, and it’s been two months. Mum wouldn’t be impressed if she thought I was moping. I force myself to smile.

Jess giggles. ‘Is it wrong that I’m happy my parents have gone on a cruise over Christmas?’

I shake my head.

‘So what about a cruise?’

‘What?’

‘With your money.’

‘I don’t think so.’ I can’t really see myself playing quoits with a party of retired librarians from Barnsley.

‘Well you have to book something.’

I know I do. Mum was very clear about me spending the inheritance on a holiday. ‘I don’t even know how much it is.’

Jess’s brow furrows again. ‘I thought you saw to the solicitor yesterday.’

‘Er … no.’ I tried to go to the solicitors. I had an appointment. I got as far as the door. They had a Christmas tree in the reception. I could see it through the glass. It was a real one, like Dad used to bring home. I could remember the smell of the tree. I could remember Christmas with Mum and Dad still together. It wasn’t the right thing to be thinking about. I’m supposed to be thinking about Mum. I didn’t go in. I put a smile on for Jess. ‘I’ll phone them after Christmas.’

She takes another sip of champagne. ‘So have you got everything we need?’

‘What for?’

‘For Christmas!’

I gesture towards her glass. ‘Well we did have champagne.’

‘You know what I mean. Turkey, little tiny sausages wrapped in bacon, Christmas pudding.’

‘I don’t like Christmas pudding.’

‘Neither do I, but that’s not the point. It’s Christmassy.’

I close my eyes for a second. I was hoping for a quiet Christmas. ‘Me and Mum never really bothered with Christmas food and stuff.’

Jess doesn’t answer, but I can see her nose start to wrinkle and a furrow appears between her eyebrows. ‘I thought it would be nice, after everything.’

I’m being ungrateful. She’s right of course. It will be nice to make an effort, and at least doing the traditional Christmas dinner will be different from all the years with Mum. ‘Ok. What do we need?’

‘Can we get a Christmas tree?’

I shake my head. ‘No.’

I find a pen and paper and start to make a list. Jess, it turns out, has very firm ideas about what constitutes a proper Christmas. I put my foot down over the tree and insist that for two of us we only need a chicken rather than turkey, but apart from that it’s Jess’s perfect Christmas all the way.

The thought of braving the supermarket to get all this stuff on Christmas Eve doesn’t appeal, but we can go together, and we’ve got all day. ‘Do you want to drive to the shops?’

She wrinkles her nose again. ‘Actually, I’m meeting Patrick for lunch.’

‘Oh.’

‘I mean, he’s going down to London this evening, and I’m not going to see him until Boxing Day.’

Two whole days.

‘You don’t mind going to the shop, do you?’

‘Course not.’ Well someone has to go, and I’m not doing anything else, so I might as well make myself useful.

Jess skips off to make herself beautiful for the sainted Patrick. I collect my bag from the kitchen and get in the car. As soon as I sit down in the driver’s seat I have one of the moments. I’ve never had anything like this before, but since Mum went they come every couple of days. It’s not an upset feeling or anger or even anything you could recognise as grief. It’s just the absolute certainty that everything in the world is just too vast and too empty and too pointless to contemplate. I sit in the car, staring straight ahead, and wait for it to pass.

Chapter Eight

Christmas Eve, 2013

At Edinburgh station, Sean swung Michelle’s case from the luggage rack and hopped from the train onto the platform. He set off towards Left Luggage and had checked in his rucksack and Michelle’s suitcase before she had time to object. He strode out of the station towards the city.

‘Aren’t we going straight to your house?’

‘Not yet. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re in the middle of the best city on the planet.’

Michelle opened her mouth.

‘Don’t argue. The best city on the planet, with a beautiful woman who says she doesn’t like Christmas. This is part one of persuading you otherwise.’

Michelle made a face. ‘It’ll be really busy.’

Sean grinned. ‘Full of potential new friends.’

‘And cold …’

‘Cold is Christmassy.’ Sean leant towards her, the now familiar scent of his skin filling Michelle’s senses. ‘We had an agreement. You said you’d go along with me for forty-eight hours. You’re barely out of hour one.’

Pulling her duffle coat tight around her, Michelle followed Sean out into the city. There was snow on the ground, turning to slush as last-minute shoppers charged through it, rushing to get everything done in time for Christmas.

Michelle stopped as the cold air hit her. Sean paused alongside her, reached down, and took her gloved hand in his.

‘What are you doing?’ She pulled her hand away.

‘Come on!’ Sean leant towards her and retook her hand. ‘You’ve got to hold hands on a first date.’

‘This is not
a—
’

‘Go along with it.’

‘No.’ Michelle stood still in the station entrance. ‘I said I’d go along with Christmas. Holding hands is romantic not Christmassy.’

Sean sighed and let go of her hand. ‘Ok. Come on then.’

Michelle was caught off guard as he strode away from the station and made his way over the bridge, away from the bustle of the Princes Street shops. She ran after him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘This way!’

She followed him along the road which twisted to climb steeply up the side of a long hill. Partway up, Sean turned and continued to climb up a narrow staircase between the buildings. Eventually they came out at the top of the hill and Sean settled leaning against a railing, looking out across the park and city in front of him.

‘What have we come up here for?’ Michelle came to a stop next to Sean, panting for breath after the steep, quick climb.

‘Just look.’ Sean placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around to face the view.

The park below them was full of light and movement. She could make out the gleaming white of a skating rink, and a Ferris wheel towering above the ant-like people on the ground. Next to the wheel there was a maze of tiny market stalls, all framed with sparkling lights. Beyond the market and the fairground, she could see trees across the park lit up with thousands of white lights, and beyond that Princes Street, still bustling in the last few hours of shopping time. It was only four o
’clock but darkness had already descended, making the lights below sparkle even more brightly. Michelle gasped.

‘You like?’

‘It’s very pretty.’ The scene below her was like a piece of moving artwork.

‘Excellent. Let’s get down there then!’

Michelle sighed. ‘It’ll be really busy, and everything’s always very overpriced at these sorts of things.’

Sean stopped dead in front of her. ‘Forty-eight hours. You promised. Come on.’

And they were off again, racing back down the hill. Michelle had to skip and jog to keep up with Sean’s irrepressible bounds, and was out of breath all over again by the time they got down into the market. She watched Sean weaving his way between the stalls, bumping into other shoppers, and shouting random apologies and excuse me’s in every direction. Michelle followed more cautiously, squeezing herself between bodies, trying to blend in with the crowd.

And then she was alone. She looked around, and saw only strangers, unknown bodies jostling her, shopping bags bashing against her legs. She stood on tiptoes and craned her neck to see where he’d gone, but Sean had rushed too far ahead of her and was out of sight. She told herself to breathe. She forced her way through the crowd, and stopped at the end of a row of stalls. Behind her, a group of buskers were singing
God Rest You Merry Gentleman
but Michelle was deaf to their instructions to ‘Let nothing you dismay.’

Sean had vanished. She was cold. She’d been shoved and buffeted through the crowd from every direction. She hadn’t had
a chance to catch her breath from the run up and back down the hill. She was stuck in an unfamiliar city hundreds of miles away from home, and thousands of miles from the beach she was supposed to be lying on. And everywhere she looked there was bloody Christmas.

She walked a few metres in each direction, scanning the crowd. No Sean. She was absolutely, resolutely alone. She would have to go back to the station. Her case was there. Her only chance of getting back to Leeds was there. Of course she didn’t have the ticket for the left luggage, and she had no idea whether she was too late to catch a train, but at the moment it was her only option. She stuffed her hands deep into her pockets and started to walk.

‘Michelle!’ At first the voice didn’t seep into her brain.

‘Michelle!’

‘Hey! You in the red hat. Get that woman for me! Her! There! With the ginger hair!’

A hand touched Michelle’s arm. ‘Er, I think that man wants your attention.’

She turned to look where the stranger was pointing. Sean. Of course Sean. He appeared to be levitating above the crowd a few feet in front of her. He waved. ‘I thought I’d lost you. Wait there!’

She watched as he clambered back down into the crowd, seeing that he had actually been standing on a high table in front of one of the glühwein stalls. He climbed down leaning on strangers, who seemed perfectly happy to assist, and lolloped through the throng to her side. ‘Where did you go?’

‘You were in front.’ Michelle didn’t smile. ‘You went away from me.’

‘I thought you were just behind me.’ He beamed as a new thought entered his head. ‘I told you it would be better if we held hands.’

Seeing that he was not, in any sense, forgiven, Sean changed track. ‘Look. This was supposed to be about going with the flow. Trying to experience the joy of Christmas. You have to trust me.’

‘I don’t see how I can trust someone who runs off like a child the moment my back’s turned.’

‘I didn’t run off. I went to see what was going on. You don’t dive in.’

‘Well, I’m sorry to be such a disappointment. If you give me the luggage ticket, I’ll get my things and be on my way home.’

He could let her go. She’d probably still be able to get a train home. His brain was telling him to let her walk away. That would be safer. There was still a chance he wasn’t in so deep that he couldn’t swim back to shore.

He ran after her. ‘Wait!’

He caught up within a few paces, and fell into step beside her. ‘Now of course, you could go back to Leeds. You could. But, I can’t help but wonder if that’s really what you want.’

She shot him a look that left little doubt.

‘Ok, so you do really want to do that, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s truly for the best. You’re pissed off with me. I get that, although to be fair to me, if we’d held hands like I suggested we’d never have got separated.’

Another look.

‘Anyway, you’re here now. We’re almost home, well my home anyway. There’s a warm bed there.’

A further look.

‘More than one warm bed. You’ll be quite safe. Come on. If you go home now, you’ll arrive back too late to go to the shops. You’ll have no food in, and you won’t be able to get anything until Boxing Day. It makes more sense to stay.’

‘You think staying with you is sensible?’

Of course he didn’t. Staying with him was clearly insane. ‘Yeah. Dead sensible.’

Sean had played more than a few hands of pub poker in his time, but those guys had nothing on Michelle. He had no idea which way she was going to jump.

‘All right.’

‘Really?’

She nodded.

‘Come on then.’ This time he grabbed hold of her hand and she made no attempt to wriggle free. He pulled her through the crowd to the foot of the Ferris
wheel and into the queue.

Michelle pulled a face.

‘What?’

‘We’ve already seen the view for nothing from the top of the hill.’

‘Well I’m going on it. You can stay down here if you want.’

Michelle looked up at the wheel turning slowly above their heads.

‘No. I’ll come on. I assume you’re paying.’

Sean laughed. ‘If it gets you to do something festive I’m more than happy to pay.’

They moved to the front of the queue and climbed into a gondola, sitting opposite each other, knees touching in the middle of the car.

Sean’s eyes never moved from Michelle. As the gondola climbed into the sky and paused at the top of the wheel, her whole face changed. The closed, guarded expression gave way to something else. Something joyful. She was smiling as she watched the people on the ground below. Finally, he seemed to have found something she liked.

The wheel turned them back to the ground and then they started to rise again. Michelle turned to face him.

‘You’re enjoying this?’ He couldn’t keep the hint of accusation out of his voice.

‘Maybe. I haven’t been on one of these things for years.’

‘When was the last time?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Liar.’ The dig was friendly. ‘Look, it’s forty-eight hours and then you never have to see me again. What’s to lose by telling me all your dark secrets?’

She laughed, quietly, tentatively. ‘I don’t know if I have any dark secrets.’

His responding laugh was generous and uncontrolled. ‘Shame. Just tell me about the Ferris
wheel then.’

‘It was with my
dad. We used to go to the fair near where we lived on Bonfire Night. We went every year, until they split up.’

‘He didn’t take you after that?’

‘A couple of times. It wasn’t the same. Mum would ask all these questions when I got home. And he used to bring The Elf with him.’

‘The Elf?’

Michelle shook her head. ‘Too long a story.’

‘I wish I could say, “Well it’s a long ride,” but sadly it’s not.’

They were coming towards the bottom of their third spin and the ride was slowing. Sean stepped off, and turned to help Michelle down, holding out his hand like a footman helping a grand lady from her carriage.

‘What now?’ Michelle was still smiling from the Ferris
wheel.

‘Food?’ Sean suggested. ‘And then I suppose we should probably head for home.’

‘Ok. Where can we eat?’

Sean gestured towards a row of stalls. ‘Hot pork rolls?’

Michelle nodded.

‘And because it is Christmas, and the Ferris
wheel was fun, but it’s not technically Christmassy, you have to have glühwein.’

Michelle didn’t argue, and they ate their rolls, crunching on crackling and giggling as the fat and apple sauce dripped onto their chins. The ride on the Ferris wheel and the comforting salty taste in her mouth were combining into a fun evening.

‘Tell me something about you then.’

‘Like what?’ Sean glanced at her.

‘I don’t know.’ She looked down at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t see how awkward talking about herself still made her. ‘I told you about my mum and the Bonfire Night thing. It’s only fair.’

‘Ok. What do you want to know?’

Michelle thought for a moment. ‘Why do you love Christmas so much?’

She looked at his face while he thought about the question. His expression was almost wistful. ‘It’s because nothing can break Christmas. You can have the worst things happen one year, but then next year it’s Christmas again and it’s still exciting and brilliant. It’s like Christmas is too special for real life to spoil it.’

‘That’s easy to say if you’ve never had a really bad Christmas.’

Sean shook his head. ‘Oh, I’ve had lousy Christmases.’

‘What happened?’ Michelle didn’t believe him for a second. If you had a really bad experience, you learnt from it. You learnt not to get your hopes up the next time.

‘I once got dumped at Christmas.’

‘Really? When?’

He waved his hand as if to dismiss the memory. ‘A long time ago.’

Michelle sensed that she’d reached the end of Sean’s willingness to talk. She’d almost drained her glühwein, and opened her mouth to ask if Sean wanted another. She realised Sean wasn’t drinking. ‘You’re not having any.’

‘I have to drive.’

The information didn’t make it through the glühwein fuzz in her brain until they were back at the railway station, collecting their bags. ‘What do you mean drive? You said you lived in Edinburgh.’