‘Yes, please come and get me,’ she said, biting back the tears. ‘But I’m not at the house anymore.’
‘You’re not?’ Dylan asked, now alert. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing… nothing happened.’
‘Then where are you?’
‘I’m…’ Darcie looked around. How could Dylan come and get her if she didn’t have a clue where she was?
‘Darcie?’
‘I’m… hang on…’ She began to jog, as best as she could on the icy pavements and in her high shoes, to the nearest street corner. ‘I’m on Hardy Street.’
‘I know that. Stay there and I’ll be with you in ten.’
Darcie’s reply was cut short as Dylan hung up. She put her phone away and glanced up and down the street. It was a quiet suburban road much like any other – most of the houses were probably owned by families and couples, not like the street where Nathan’s was. His street felt very much like a student area, almost every window displaying empty bottles, haphazard piles of books or music posters. Here, the gardens were neat and well-tended, Christmas trees twinkling in many of them, the windows dressed with slick blinds or trendy curtains. Coloured fairy lights bordered some, and the glow of televisions flickered from within others. It would be nice to be inside one of them now, loved ones sitting around, perhaps watching a film together, and a casserole in the oven. All Darcie wanted was her happy ending – was that too much to ask for? She didn’t want to be rich or clever or stick thin; she just wanted to be accepted and loved for who she was. Her heart had told her to take a chance on Nathan, and her heart had been very wrong. It seemed as though her heart was wrong about everything lately.
The cold was getting unbearable and Darcie was on the verge of running back to try and find Nathan’s house to get her coat when she saw Dylan’s car turn the corner of the road. Relief flooded through her, and she had the passenger door open almost before it had stopped.
‘What happened?’ Dylan asked, his voice tense.
‘Nothing,’ Darcie replied, trying to stop the shivering.
‘I’m not stupid. Where’s your coat?’
‘I forgot it.’
‘And you couldn’t go back to get it? Why would you leave without it and be afraid to go and get it?’
Darcie bit her lip. ‘Can we just go home, please?’
‘Did he try to force himself on you? Because if he did—’
‘No!’ Darcie squeaked. ‘No, he’s not like that!’
‘Then why are you in this state?’
‘I’m not in a state.’
Darcie stared straight ahead, watching the lights twinkle in the darkened street. It was nearly Christmas, wasn’t everyone supposed to be happy now? What had she done wrong? Silently, she willed Dylan to pull the handbrake off and take her home. But there was a stubborn silence, and she turned to find him watching her intently.
‘I’m not stupid, Darcie.’
‘I didn’t say that!’
‘Then why can’t you tell me what happened?’
‘Please… I just want to forget about it.’
Dylan faced forwards, gripping the steering wheel as he clenched his jaw. ‘We’d better go and get your coat.’
‘No!’ Darcie hugged herself tighter. ‘No,’ she repeated, trying to control the panic in her voice.
‘It won’t take ten minutes,’ Dylan insisted. ‘If you don’t want to go in you can stay in the car and I’ll go and get it—’
‘Please!’ Darcie sobbed, unable to hold it back any longer. ‘I don’t want to think about it and I don’t want to see that house again!’
‘Hey, hey…’ Dylan’s tone was softer now as he turned to her. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’
‘You didn’t make me cry,’ Darcie sniffed. ‘The whole night made me cry. I’m an idiot.’
‘Of course you’re not. Why do you say that?’
‘Because I thought Nathan liked me, but he didn’t at all. He just wanted me at his party to make some girl jealous.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘The girl did.’
‘And was he there at the time?’
‘Yes. He denied it but it’s obvious. Why else would he ask a girl he only met on the bus that day to his party?’
‘Because he liked you?’
Darcie shook her head.
Dylan was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Things aren’t always what they seem. Trust me, I know it better than anyone.’
‘He didn’t like me, he just needed me.’
‘He could have used any girl at the party to do that.’
‘They might have all known about Carly.’ Darcie sighed as she dried her eyes on a ragged bit of tissue from the bottom of her bag. ‘I know what I saw and I just want to forget about it. If I lose a coat, at least I’ll have kept a shred of dignity. It’s about all I have left.’
Dylan nudged her with an encouraging smile. ‘You still have us – me and Millie. Even Oscar is quite partial to you.’
Darcie’s eyes watered again. Why did he have to be so caring and considerate and so… perfect? She had only said yes to Nathan because she wanted to get Dylan out of her head, and now the situation had thrown her right back into his path, but with more pain than ever before. Now she had been hurt by Nathan and Dylan was the man making her feel better, but that wasn’t what she needed at all, because in the end it would only make her love him more.
‘Darcie, it’s no bother for me to go back,’ he said gently. ‘There might be an explanation you want to hear, and if there isn’t, we have the excuse of getting your coat. Or if you want to wait in the car parked around the corner, I can go in and have a word.’
‘I don’t care about the stupid coat!’ she cried. ‘And I don’t care about Nathan!’
‘Right,’ Dylan said quietly as he turned his eyes to the road.
Darcie wished that the seat would swallow her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘It’s ok. I understand you’ve had a stressful night. I’ll take you back now and we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.’
She nodded, the lump in her throat choking her reply. She just wanted this night to be over and she never wanted to think about it again.
Chapter 6
Once the kitchen had closed for the evening, Colleen came out to the bar to help Spencer. She looked fondly at Doug, who was sitting in his wheelchair and laughing with Frank Stephenson. ‘He’s so much better than he’s been for ages,’ she said. ‘It’s done him the world of good to come into the pub for a bit instead of moping in our living quarters. He really misses being at work and he loves this place.’
‘He does look cheerful,’ Spencer agreed, but his gaze, as it had done many times that night, went to the table where his parents and Tori’s were talking. He wanted to be able to say that they looked cheerful too, but as the night progressed he saw hand flapping, frowning and head shaking – a few too many worrying signs that they were disagreeing on a lot of things. His parents had come over for a few drinks, and when he had asked them how things were going they told him not to worry. Tori had come over for coffees and she had told him the same, though her face said a different story. He had gone over as often as he could – though not often enough – and everyone had smiled tensely at him, though he wasn’t fooled.
The room had got louder and hotter, and spirits had been high. It was hard not to be affected by the atmosphere, and Spencer had almost been enjoying it, despite the worries about the table where his parents sat, but that was all wiped out in an instant as he saw Tori march towards him. He could tell by her face she wasn’t happy.
‘How’s it going?’ he asked for the fourth or fifth time that night.
‘You need to talk to your parents,’ she said briskly. ‘Can’t you stop serving them alcohol?’
Spencer’s mouth dropped open. ‘They haven’t had that much!’ And true to their word, though they had ordered a few drinks, compared to what they’d usually have it was practically teetotal.
‘You think?’ Tori’s hands went to her hips. ‘Well, they seem pretty drunk to me. Unless they naturally insult people all the time.’
‘What do you mean? I thought everything was ok.’
‘It was, until they started talking politics.’
‘But you know my mum is a political correspondent.’
‘Yeah, and you know my mom and dad are Republican. So your mom is spouting a lot of stuff that they don’t like and she’s practically telling them that their political beliefs are bullcrap.’
‘She’s entitled to her opinion,’ he replied, suddenly feeling defensive on his mum’s behalf.
‘Not when she’s pissing them off!’
Spencer’s brow furrowed. ‘So you’re saying that my mum and dad can’t have opinions, but yours can? What makes their opinions more valid? My mum happens to know a lot about it.’
‘Yeah, well so does mine and she doesn’t back down in a fight.’
‘So my mum should? How is that fair?’
‘Fair doesn’t come into it!’ Tori hissed. ‘We want them to get along! And it’s not helping that they want to go up to their room now but there’s all this noise down here so they won’t be able to sleep. And you’ve been missing all night when you should have been talking to them to get them to like you!’
‘It’s a pub, for God’s sake! It’s going to be noisy and, in case you missed that part, I’m stuck behind this bar to help out someone in need!’ He paused as Tori scowled at him. ‘You’re saying they’re not getting along? Earlier you said it was fine.’
‘Earlier I was trying to make you feel better. Now I don’t feel like doing that.’
‘How is this my fault?’
‘You should have talked to your parents and told them what not to say.’
‘You could have talked to yours and done the same!’
‘So are you going to go and tell them now?’
‘Tell them what?’ Spencer asked, knowing exactly what she meant. Confrontation didn’t sit well with him, and neither did arguing with Tori, but she was in the wrong. He had been afraid that their parents wouldn’t get along, but he had never expected to get the blame for it.
‘That they need to stop drinking and they need to keep their stupid opinions to themselves.’
‘Their opinions are stupid? Then so are mine, because they made me!’
‘Now you’re being pretty stupid! If your parents love drinking so much, why aren’t they staying in the room above the pub? My parents would be far happier in your house than here.’
‘Oh, would they? In my house, where I live… the man they hate, apparently? That’s a fabulous idea!’ Spencer glared at her. He had never been this angry with her before, and it made him feel odd and sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t help it. He had been all set to suggest to his parents that they swap accommodation with the Dempseys earlier that day, but now it was the last thing he would ever do, simply because Tori’s assumption that he should do it made him want to dig his heels in. ‘That house belonged to my parents, why shouldn’t they stay there when they come to visit?’
‘It doesn’t belong to them now.’
Spencer was suddenly aware of the volume of their argument rising. He glanced around the bar before leaning into Tori and lowering his voice. ‘Exactly right, it belongs to me and I say who stays there. If my life depended on it, I wouldn’t have your stuck-up parents there after this!’
Tori was silent for a moment as she stared him down. ‘Not even if our relationship depended on it?’ she asked quietly, reducing her volume to match his but with no less belligerence in her tone.
Spencer shook his head. ‘That’s below the belt.’
‘Is it?’
‘I can’t and I won’t ask my parents to leave.’
Tori said something, but Spencer didn’t hear what it was. His attention was caught by the door of the pub opening, and a pink-haired figure making her way to the bar with a huge smile on her face. Tori frowned, and then she turned to see Jasmine too. She looked at Spencer, her eyes filling with tears.
‘Ok… I see how it is.’
And as she walked away, Spencer was suddenly engulfed by panic. Was she talking about their argument, or the fact that all his anger had just melted away at the sight of Jasmine? He wanted to call her back, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he watched as Tori’s parents got up from the table, said stiff goodbyes to his own, and left to go to their room, Tori going with them. It seemed pointless to follow them. The mood Tori was in, there was no way she was going to talk this out, and besides, he still had a bar to man.
‘Martini…’ said Jasmine in her best James Bond voice as she approached the bar. ‘Shaken, not stirred.’
‘Hey,’ Spencer said in a dull voice.
Jasmine narrowed her eyes. ‘Everything ok?’
‘Yes, fine…’ Spencer said, forcing a brief smile. ‘I thought you were sitting with Millie tonight while Darcie and Dylan were out.’
‘I was, but they came back early. I don’t think Darcie’s date went well and Dylan went to fetch her, so they’re all going to get an early night. Me, though… Well, I’m not going to throw away a night off by going home early, so I thought I’d come and see what was going on in the hippest nightspot in Honeybourne.’
‘Won’t Rich be missing you?’ Spencer asked.
It was odd that she didn’t want to go home to him, and even odder to find her drinking in here alone… Not that she would be alone for long, but she hadn’t known that when she arrived. She usually loved nights in with Rich.
She shrugged. ‘I’m not in the mood to care tonight. Have you got a nice house red for me? Big glass…’
‘You want to talk about it?’ Spencer asked as he poured her wine.
‘Not really. I’m sure it will all blow over soon enough and it’s not the first row we’ve had.’
So she’d had an argument with Rich? There seemed to be something in the air tonight. Maybe it was the stress of Christmas getting to people.
‘You don’t look much happier,’ she said as he took the money from her and dropped it in the till. ‘What was going on with you and Tori when I came in?’
‘Parent trouble. They don’t seem to be getting on.’
‘Well, you could have seen that coming a mile off,’ Jasmine laughed. Spencer couldn’t help a smile.
‘I did. But I was hoping I’d be proved wrong, or that they could at least keep a lid on it for a few days. Seems it was too much to ask.’
‘Want me to go and talk to Jenny and Lewis? Ask them to cut you a bit of slack?’
Spencer’s expression darkened. ‘I don’t think it’s them who needs talking to. Tori’s parents are so up themselves it’s untrue. They complain constantly about everything, and everybody has to agree with everything they say. It makes me wonder sometimes if Tori won’t turn out like that in the end.’
Jasmine’s eyes widened. ‘You really feel that way?’
He sighed. ‘I don’t suppose so. We’ve just had the most humungous bust-up though, and she’s probably not even going to come back to the house tonight… She’s just disappeared upstairs with the Borgias.’
Jasmine giggled. ‘You can’t call them that!’
‘No? How about Mr and Mrs Hitler?’
‘That’s even worse! They can’t be that bad.’
‘Yeah, they can.’
Lewis ambled over to the bar. ‘Hi, Jasmine,’ he said, giving her a hug. He shot a rueful look at Spencer. ‘Did we blow it?’
‘God no, Dad!’ Spencer said. ‘You and Mum did nothing wrong.’
‘They disappeared pretty sharpish after we got onto your mum’s favourite subject…’
‘They were probably tired – jet-lagged, you know?’
‘Tori too?’
‘She wants to spend time with them. It’s understandable,’ Spencer lied, knowing that his father wasn’t swallowing one bit of it. But Lewis merely smiled amiably. ‘I suppose we’re allowed to have a drink
now?’
‘You could have had one before – in fact, you were having drinks before,’ Spencer said.
‘Yes, but we were… How did you put it earlier? Laying off the sauce…’
Spencer gave him a sheepish grin. ‘Sorry about that. I had no right to tell you what to do.’
‘Love does strange things to us,’ Lewis replied as he turned his attention to the various beers on offer across the bar.
Spencer glanced at Jasmine, and then his thoughts turned to the people in a room above his head. Love really did do strange things to him. He only wished love would give it a rest because he’d had just about enough.
‘Who’s the girl who came in as we left to come back to the room?’ Tori’s mum asked as she handed Tori a crisp cotton handkerchief.
Tori blew her nose and offered her a grateful smile. ‘Which one?’
‘Crazy hair, crazy coat, just a little bit of crazy everywhere – like everything and everyone else in this place.’
‘You mean pink hair?’
Mrs Dempsey nodded.
‘Jasmine.’ Tori almost spat the name out.
‘She looks ridiculous.’
‘Not if you’re Spencer she doesn’t.’
Mrs Dempsey looked sharply at her and Tori wished she hadn’t been quite as keen to share her feelings right at that moment. But she was hurt and she was angry, and it had just slipped out. It wouldn’t take long for her mother to pick it up and run with it though.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Is she an old flame?’
‘No.’
‘Then what did you mean by your comment?’
‘They’re friends.’
Tori’s father came in from the bathroom, massaging lotion into his hands. ‘How’s my little girl?’ he asked. ‘Feeling better now?’
Mrs Dempsey waved him away. ‘Not now, Todd. Go and watch TV or something for a while.’
‘But there’s nothing on I want to see.’
‘Read a book or something then!’
With a grunt, he disappeared into the small bedroom off the main suite. Mrs Dempsey sat next to Tori on the sofa and pulled her into a hug.
Christmas at the Little Village Bakery Page 15