Sealed With a Kiss (21 page)

‘Och now, Finn, she’s not a bad girl at heart. She’s just spoilt.’ Morag gave him a little poke in the ribs. ‘Mind you, the local paper has been a much nicer read
since she gave up as editor,’ she admitted. ‘If I wanted an exposé every week, I’d read the red-tops.’

Kate, by this time halfway down her third mulled wine, was feeling distinctly light-headed. She twirled the cinnamon stick in her drink, watching the dark whirlpool, daydreaming.

‘Kate?’

‘Hmm? Oh. So Fiona left to work for a national paper?’

‘Sandra was over the moon,’ said Finn. ‘Fiona was determined that Roderick would come with her and get someone in to run the estate day-to-day. But he dug in his heels and
refused, so she upped sticks and went to Glasgow without him.’

‘So why is she back now?’

‘Well, I think her plan fell through.’ Morag continued the tale. ‘I think she thought she’d storm off and Roderick would follow her. But she underestimated his love for
this place.’

‘And the fact that he probably thought he had a lucky escape,’ added Finn, in an undertone.

‘There’s that as well,’ Morag laughed. ‘Finn, your glass is empty. Here you go.’ She topped it up.

‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

‘Behave yourself, Finn McArthur.’

‘Can’t blame me for trying. You’re a good-looking woman for your age.’ He winked at her.

‘Bloody hell, Finn,’ laughed Kate, the wine loosening her tongue. ‘I can’t believe I fell for your lines. Talk about cheesy.’

He pulled her into his arms, grinning hugely, and bent her backwards in a parody of a stage kiss, so that she gasped as his laughing mouth was almost on hers. ‘Admit it, you want
me.’

‘Don’t mind me,’ said Fiona crisply. ‘I only came to find out if there was any chance of getting a drink around here. It was Christmas
drinks
that we were
invited to, after all.’

‘Fiona, my dear,’ Morag sloshed some mulled wine into a glass, scooping in some fruit and a cinnamon stick. ‘How thoughtless of Kate.’

Fiona sniffed disapprovingly in Kate’s direction. The humour in Morag’s voice was lost on her. ‘I’ll take a drink for Roddy. Where on earth are Tom and Susan? It’s
supposed to be their party and they’re nowhere to be seen.’

‘Probably sneaked upstairs for a quickie, knowing them,’ whispered Finn as Fiona stalked out of the room, glasses in hand.

‘We can’t hide in the kitchen all night.’ Kate unwillingly put her glass on the worktop. ‘Plus Fiona thinks I’m the hired help.’ Brightening at her own joke,
she pulled a face. ‘I need to get in there and refresh the glasses.’

The sitting room looked beautiful. Susan had strung fairy lights around the windows, and each of her huge, abstract paintings was festooned with swathes of pine, which together with the enormous
tree in the corner filled the room with the smell of Christmas. The log fire was crackling, and an excited Jamie had already hung stockings by the fireplace, complete with strange little offerings.
Kate bent down to look at a letter, held in place by a Playmobil knight, a marble and a small wooden box full of paperclips.

‘Don’t ask,’ laughed Susan, who appeared out of nowhere, crouching down to join Kate by the fireplace. ‘Every night Jamie leaves a little note for Father Christmas, and a
collection of assorted tat. We’re running out of hiding places for all the stuff, and Tom’s on strike and refusing to write any more letters back from Santa.’

Kate stood up. Roderick was sitting in the corner of the sofa, with Fiona perched over him on the arm of the chair. She was flirting hard, playing with her hair, flicking imaginary specks of
dust off his shirt, twirling the cinnamon stick in her drink to show off her beautifully manicured scarlet nails.

‘Poor bugger looks terrified, don’t you think?’ grinned Finn, joining her by the fire.

As they looked over at them, Kate watched Fiona lean across Roderick, whispering something in his ear. His face registered surprise. He caught Kate’s eye, then his glance darted across to
Finn and back again. Fiona sat up, looking at Kate with a satisfied smirk.

‘Right, everyone, the little ones are sleeping – let’s see how long it takes before we wake them up with my fireworks display,’ said Tom, coming in from the hall.

Morag had settled herself by the fire and looked distinctly unexcited at the prospect. She was dragged, mock-grumbling, out of her chair by Ted.

‘I should have gone up to the big house with Jean and the dogs. She’s up there by a roaring fire watching
It’s A Wonderful Life
on DVD,’ she muttered to Kate as
they stood in the field behind the cottages. Kate glanced through the darkness at her friend. Strange to think that the big house, and the land they were standing on, all could have been
Morag’s. Now wasn’t the time, but one day she’d ask how it felt.

‘What about the ponies?’

‘They’re in the far field – they won’t hear a thing. Especially as I’ve stuffed their lugs with cotton wool.’ Morag clinked her glass against Kate’s and
laughed.

Tom’s fireworks weren’t on the same scale as the huge display up at the hotel, but the Christmassy atmosphere and the ever-flowing mulled wine and port kept everyone warm and happy.
Kate couldn’t help noticing that Roderick was keeping his distance from her, and that the vile Fiona was draping herself across him at every opportunity. She was even insinuating her way into
his arms; Kate could see her shivering ostentatiously and cuddling up to him.

‘You’re away in a dream,’ said Morag, taking her arm. ‘Thinking of home?’

‘Yes,’ lied Kate. ‘It’ll be nice to see my mum, and to catch up with Emma and Sam.’

Actually she hadn’t given it much thought, once the tickets had been booked. It had been cheaper to go by train than to drive, and the prospect of a few hours daydreaming against a train
window was far nicer than hurtling down the motorway in her little car. But Cambridge seemed like another planet, not just a city a few hundred miles away. Island life was so far removed from
reality, it was hard to remember that elsewhere life was going on as normal. Mind you, thought Kate, for us island life
is
normal. She turned to Morag, surprised at herself.

‘How long have I been on the island?’

‘Oh, let me think,’ Morag frowned. ‘It seems like forever to me. September, October, November, December – is it really only four months?’

‘And in that time I’ve sorted out the renovation of two cottages, accidentally kissed my boss, got caught with a half-naked man, drunk about a gallon of whisky and seen two firework
displays. Not bad going, really.’ Kate looked up. Fiona was entwined around Roderick in a python-like fashion. If she carried on much longer she’d be inside his clothes. ‘I think
I’ll go back inside. I’m freezing.’

Finn was adding logs to the fire in the sitting room. Ted, predictably, was ‘resting his eyes’ in the big armchair by the fire, legs stretched out on the coffee
table. Kate curled up on the sofa, pulling a cushion over her knees and hugging it. She felt suddenly out of place.

Finn sat down on the sofa and looked at her with a rueful smile. ‘You’re going to sack me as agony uncle, aren’t you?’

‘Well,’ said Kate, ‘you did say give it until Christmas and Roderick would be eating out of my hand.’

‘Ah. Well, I didn’t factor in the return of Fiona.’

‘She is beautiful, isn’t she?’ Kate tried to be magnanimous.

‘No, she is not. She has a face like a slapped arse and a personality to match.’

Kate laughed, despite herself. ‘You can’t say that.’

‘I just did. Admit it, she’s vile. But she’s got her claws into Roddy again, by the looks of it. I don’t know what the attraction is.’

Kate pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure, either. He doesn’t look like he’s happy to be with her, does he?’

‘Maybe she’s a witch, and she’s got a little voodoo doll hidden away somewhere?’

Kate managed a smile. ‘She’s never tried to ensnare you then?’

‘Many a woman has tried and failed. I have no desire to be pinned down.’

‘That’s not what I’ve heard,’ laughed Kate, throwing the cushion at him.

‘Watch it, you. Now come here and give me a hug. I’m starved of affection.’

‘One day some woman will come along and whisk you off your feet, and you won’t know what’s hit you.’ Kate allowed Finn to wrap her in a bear hug, closing her eyes.

With excruciating timing, Roderick, Fiona, Susan and Tom walked back into the room. Kate sprang out of Finn’s arms, making the situation worse.

‘Shall we leave you two lovebirds to it?’ joked Tom.

‘We weren’t doing anything!’ said Kate, embarrassed. Finn, infuriatingly, was looking highly amused and was sitting on the arm of the sofa, unabashed. From Ted’s corner
of the room came a walrus-like snort.

‘Right. Well, I tell you what,’ said Tom archly. ‘We’re away to make some coffee. We’ll leave you to your – er, nothing.’

Roderick looked across at Kate, his expression unreadable. She felt a dull twist in her stomach. She knew then that what Fiona had whispered to him earlier related to the joke kiss she’d
seen in the kitchen, and that being caught in Finn’s arms had confirmed Roderick’s suspicions. There was no way out of this mess, except on the first train back home.

‘Finn, will you walk me home?’ The damage was done now. Roderick was in the clutches of Fiona, who’d convinced him that Kate was having a wild fling with Finn.

‘Of course I will. Let me get our coats.’

Hating goodbyes, Kate slipped away, hand tucked into Finn’s solid arm for balance on the slippery ice.

‘You see, despite what you’ve heard, I can be a gentleman.’ He opened the door for her, holding it as she ducked under his arm.

There was a flicker of a moment when she contemplated taking the easy option. He was gorgeous, he made her laugh, he was good company. It would be so easy to . . . No. She batted away the idea.
It would be pointless.

‘Happy Christmas, Finn,’ said Kate, kissing his cheek.

‘You have to give it to my mother, she’s committed to her charities.’

‘She should be committed to something. I can’t believe she asked you to come home for Christmas, then forgot to mention she was volunteering at the bloody animal shelter.’ Emma
rolled her eyes at Kate and they burst out laughing.

‘Ah well, at least it gets me out of Christmas lunch with assorted relatives.’

Kate had made the long journey home yesterday, and arrived at Cambridge station tired and full of horrible coffee – desperate for a bath, her childhood bed and some mothering.
Unfortunately, her mother had other plans. She’d called Kate as the train rumbled through the damp English countryside.

‘Darling, I am sorry. There was a mix-up at the shelter and they need overnight cover on Christmas Eve. I’ve arranged for Emma and Sam to pick you up – they can’t wait to
see you, and I’ll be with you in time for Christmas dinner.’

‘That’s fine, Mum,’ Kate had said, through gritted teeth.

So rather than being driven the fifteen miles back to the pretty market town of Saffron Walden, she was stuffing her bags into the boot of Emma’s car.

‘Girls . . .’ Emma opened the car door and a blast of high-pitched squealing hit the air. ‘Just give Kate a second to get in, before you start.’

But it was too late.

‘Santa’s coming tomorrow and he’s taken our letter, and Katharine isn’t going to get any presents because she cut the hair off my Barbie doll and—’

‘I did NOT – you did it yourself, and anyway I’m going to tell Kate you scribbled on the wall with Daddy’s special pen . . .’

Kate felt a rush of fondness for Emma’s two girls, strapped into the car seats, but straining to escape. ‘Darlings, I’m sure you’ve been so good that Father Christmas
will be bringing you
lots
of presents. Just give me a moment to talk to Emma, and then I promise I’ll hear all about it.’

Emma, concentrating on the Christmas Eve traffic, shot her a look of relief.

‘I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to a cup of tea and a chance to catch up.’

‘Never mind the tea,’ Kate patted her shoulder bag. ‘I’ve got a twelve-year-old bottle of Auchenmor’s finest here.’

‘Whisky? You really have gone native.’ Emma pulled a face, drawing the car to a halt. ‘I think I’ll stick to a cuppa for now.’

‘You’re getting old, Mrs Lewis.’

Emma’s mouth curved in an almost imperceptible smile. She climbed out of the car before Kate could say another word.

In the window of the pretty Edwardian house a Christmas tree twinkled. Smoke curled from the chimney. The girls ran ahead up the path, released from the tether of their car seats, the door
opening as Sam greeted them all with a wide smile. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kate allowed herself to be embraced by it all.

‘So here we are,’ said Emma, the following morning. It was Christmas Eve, and she was preparing vegetables while Kate sat at the kitchen table and regaled her with
tales from the island. ‘Instead of a relaxing Christmas, chez Mum, you’re stuck with us. The girls will be in tears by midday, Sam will be force-feeding you his famous brandy-soaked
mince pies from breakfast time onwards, and I’ll be throwing up every five minutes.’

Behind the kitchen counter Emma slid her hand over her aproned stomach with a tiny, secret smile.

‘Are you ill? You should have said.’ Kate leapt up from the table to help Emma with the gigantic pile of Brussels sprouts she was peeling.

‘I’m not ill.’ Emma beamed from ear to ear. ‘I’ve never been better.’

‘But I thought you said you were throwing up every five minutes?’

Emma put down the knife, and stood in front of her friend. Speaking very slowly and clearly, she began, ‘I’m not sick. I’m
being
sick. I’m being sick all the
time.’

Kate’s mouth dropped open. She looked at her best friend, not sure whether to hug her or burst into tears. She decided to do both.

‘Ohmygodyou’repregnant!’

‘Give the girl a coconut. I tell you what, for someone who got a first at university, you’re bloody thick sometimes – d’you know that?’

Katharine and Jennifer ran into the room ahead of their father. Their hair was sparkling with rain, their muddy feet leaving footprints all over the wooden floor.