Her mother arrived in the doorway of the kitchen, wiping her hands dry on a tea towel, and smiled at Javier. ‘Oh I won’t, won’t I?’
‘You knew?’
‘Of course I did, darling. We all did, that’s why I’ve just warmed up some mince pies. Come along in, Javier, and tell me all about what’s changed in Barcelona. I’m sure the Sagrada Familia is twice the height it was when we were last there.’
Chapter 26 – Flo. Promises to keep
It had, Flo decided, been the strangest Christmas Day she’d ever had – but undeniably nice. She’d headed back to England for snow and mince pies, but instead ended up with the big family Christmas she’d always dreamed about. The one with a crowd, with laughter and giggles over the worst Christmas-cracker jokes ever. One where everybody wore their party hats (even Hugo) and sat in front of a roaring fire feeling too hot, but too stuffed to move.
Listening to the Queen’s speech, with Daisy’s mum concentrating on her every word, her father snoring and Hugo making funny comments had brought a lump to her throat. She’d glanced over at her friends Daisy and Javier more than once, and wondered why it had never occurred to her before that they’d make such a wonderful couple – comfortable in each other’s company, and she’d sneaked as many looks as she could at Hugo’s proud profile, with the slightly big, slightly crooked, nose that she’d got so used to seeing.
‘Have you had a good day?’ Hugo squeezed her hand and she glanced up at him.
‘The best.’ It had to be said that was partly down to being with the most attractive man she’d ever met, but she wasn’t going to give him a swollen head by mentioning it. Even now, tramping across a field of snow, in the kind of silent air of expectancy you only get on a winter’s evening, it felt special. ‘As long as you don’t make me climb over any more stiles.’
‘None this way.’ He grinned, looking slightly naughty, which could have been down to the way the light was dancing in his eyes or just that disreputable air he carried effortlessly.
In a past life he must have been some kind of scoundrel or lord with a scandalous background. Or she was just light-headed with all the fresh air, and the copious amounts of alcohol that Daisy’s parents had plied them with.
‘Thank heavens for that.’ Hugo and Javier had thought it hilarious when she’d got stuck astride one on the way over. Well, nobody had said a skirt wasn’t a good idea, had they? In fact, they’d been laughing so much that when they took an arm each to try and help her down, they ended up trying to head in different directions and threatened to split her as well as her skirt. In the end, once Hugo had stopped staggering about in stitches, he’d thrown her over his shoulder and hiked her off, saying she weighed more than a bale of hay. Hilarious.
Then he’d promptly tripped up over his own foot and landed in a heap with her on top. Which had actually been quite funny as it was about time he was the one with the damp bum, not her. She had, of course, offered to help him strip his trousers off so he could dry – it had seemed the helpful thing to do. Now, though, they were heading home in a slightly different direction.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Not so nice in the morning when I’m breaking ice on water buckets.’
‘Oh stop being boring.’ She thumped him playfully, her hand against hard muscle. ‘Philistine.’
He chuckled. ‘He gives his harness bells a shake, To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep, Of easy wind and downy flake.’
She grinned, hanging on to each word, loving the flow of his deep voice. ‘Frost, how appropriate.’
‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep.’ He paused then, and looked at her. ‘So you’ve covered some of those miles, kept some of those promises?’
‘I have.’ Some. ‘What about you, Hugo?’ His dark-lashed eyes were close to hers.
‘Oh I’ve still got a way to go, but I’m planning on covering a few more before the morning.’
She looped her hand through his arm and decided not to comment on that, although her stomach had already started to twist and tumble in anticipation. Talking would take her mind off it.
‘Even when we lived here, Christmas was never like this. We had an artificial Christmas tree, so all it smelled of was weird-scented spray, which was nothing like pine needles, and it went up the weekend before Christmas. Then Dad had it packed away in the loft well before the end of the week because he hated the place looking untidy. I always told myself that when I grew up it would be different.’
‘And what about when you went to Spain?’
‘Well Mum was more fun, she did love to party, but it was mainly just the two of us.’ She shrugged. ‘Then it was just me and Oli.’ She glanced up sideways under her lashes, sorry that she’d mentioned his name. ‘I always had a full agenda but an empty heart.’ She was even sorrier that thought had slipped out, but it had just tumbled into her consciousness as she spoke. It had never been about passion, just about doing things.
‘That’s an incredibly sad thing to say.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’
‘I can’t imagine you like that.’ His gaze was so intent she blushed. ‘Empty-hearted.’
‘It’s an exaggeration, it was fine, but not like today’s been. All huggy and warm.’
He laughed and wrapped an arm around her. ‘Huggy.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Well my home wasn’t exactly huggy, but I guess I do.’
‘Maybe you should do something about that?’
‘Don’t spoil things, Flo.’
‘I can’t help it, I just,’ she leaned in against the warmth of his body and glanced up, ‘I know what it’s like to have regrets, Hugo, to get things wrong.’ She paused, letting the thoughts straighten out in her head. ‘I was too proud to admit I’d made a massive mistake with Oli, that things weren’t right. It’s just, well, if this is more about pride than ideals …’ She shrugged, not sure how much she should say. ‘Put it this way, if something happened to them, your parents, would you regret not at least trying?’
‘Oh Flo.’ He shook his head. ‘This isn’t just about me.’
‘But it is about somebody making the first move.’
‘Holding out the olive branch? I wish it was that easy.’ His voice was so soft, but so edgy, she wished she’d never said the words. Hugo was all bravado, hiding behind a front that she was actually quite fond of, but she loved the real, warm-hearted Hugo that occasionally emerged from behind the barrier of self-protection far more. She opened her mouth, about to say that maybe it was, but he gave her a warning look and she knew now was not the time.
‘Come on, I’ll race you back. I recognise where I am now.’ Wriggling free of his grasp, Flo started to run. Her wellington boots slipping and sliding in the snow. As the ground dipped down she squealed as she started to slither through the deeper drifts of snow.
‘Oh my God.’ She lost her footing altogether and, waving her arms like a windmill, ended up on her bottom, sliding a few yards, then rolling. She could hear Hugo’s laughter behind her, and then he came whizzing by, rolling over and over until he reached the bottom of the slope and she careered into him. Out of breath.
‘Oh my God, we used to do that down the slope at school, on the grass.’ Staggering to her feet, she looked down at Hugo, whose eyes were glinting. She really did feel like a kid again: exhilarated, free.
He wrapped an arm round the back of her knees and brought her down onto his lap. ‘You’re all snowy.’
‘So are you.’
Her face was cold, but the moment his lips touched hers she forgot all about it, all about her soggy gloves and damp clothes.
‘Have I ever told you how adorable you look when you’ve been rolling in the snow?’
‘Never.’
‘Have I ever told you how attractive I find your shiny red nose?’
She shook her head.
‘My nose is not dripping.’
‘Or how I love your wonderfully warm body?’
She realised too late that he had an ulterior motive, should have known that it was the grin not the smooth talking that was the thing to look out for. Before she could stop him he’d slipped his freezing cold hands up the inside of her jacket, under her jumper. She screamed and went to hit out, but he was too fast. He’d swung her to one side, rolled them both over, and was poised above her. ‘I know it’s not saying much, but you do know you’re the sexiest woman in Tippermere, don’t you?’
‘And you are the biggest…’ She was going to say ‘jerk’, but he kissed her. Then, while she was still catching her breath, he started to tickle her, and roll them both over and over until they were soaking wet and worn out.
‘Oh Flo, what am I going to do with you?’ He pulled her to her feet and took her hand in his. Looked at her as though he wanted to say something, then just as abruptly dismissed it. ‘Come on, you’ll freeze to death. Let’s get home.’
Flo looked at the crooked nose she’d grown so fond of, the perfect dimples, the still- grey eyes that she’d at first thought were judging and distant, and now thought were kind. She wanted to ask him why his upbringing hadn’t been huggy, why he loved his horses more than life itself, why he insisted on keep saving her. She wanted to hear the promises he wanted to keep. She wanted to know if he was coming to Barcelona for New Year’s Eve, and she wanted to know, more than anything, if one more week was all they had together.
She bit her lip and reached out to brush his floppy fringe away. She couldn’t ask, not right now and risk spoiling things, because she really didn’t know what the answer would be. And she had a feeling that nor did Hugo.
***
By the time Flo had stripped her sodden clothes off, had a shower to warm up, then put pyjamas on, Hugo had got a fire going and was opening a bottle of wine.
‘How did you do it that quickly?’
‘Corkscrew?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a modern invention, even reached Tippermere.’
‘The fire, you idiot. It takes me ages.’
‘It would if you use damp timber.’
‘You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?’
‘Never. I have to have the upper hand occasionally. It’s my male ego. True caveman stuff.’
She settled cross-legged on the sofa, and rested her chin on her hands. ‘You’re a real hunter-gatherer, aren’t you, Hugo?’
‘I am. Now budge up and let me pour you a glass of wine, which I, incidentally, hunted down and gathered especially for you.’
‘From Majestic?’
‘The very same. I had to risk life and limb.’
‘I bet you had it delivered.’
‘Okay, you’re right. Don’t I get any small victories? Can’t you pretend?’
‘I’m sure you very carefully selected it online.’ She looked at him over the rim of her glass. ‘You are quite the provider, though, aren’t you?’ She wasn’t kidding; he’d done nothing but look after her since she’d arrived. Once he’d stopped laughing at her that was.
‘I was brought up to be a gentleman.’
The drawl had strengthened; it was strange how that happened, almost like a defence mechanism when he thought they were straying into territory he’d rather not explore. It could be sexy, beguiling, or it could verge towards arrogant and pompous. God, the man was complicated. The version she liked best was the coaxing, teasing Hugo, the one with a gentle sense of humour who loved his animals and encouraged her to follow her heart.
‘But you weren’t brought up to do cuddles and hugs?’
‘Are you saying I’m lacking in that department?’ He raised an eyebrow in a very upper-class way.
‘No.’ The way he put his hands on her was nothing to complain about, but she wasn’t about to let him wriggle away that easily. ‘Your mother must have cuddled you, hugged you?’
‘Not that you’d notice.’
‘But she spent a lot of time reading to you? My mum did, at bedtime, and it was a special, well huggy, time.’
He laughed. ‘My mother preferred books to hugs. She gave me them, not read them to me. They were a challenge, a solution.’ Flo frowned. ‘My mother was an intellectual, darling, and she had my father to contend with.’
‘Meaning?’
‘He wouldn’t have approved of affection, he said it made boys soppy.’
‘But she was your mum.’
‘And he was a barrister.’ He said it as though it explained everything.
‘Yeah, so you said.’
‘I was enough of a disappointment without my being a mummy’s boy.’
‘Shagging his boss’s wife?’
‘Chasing women and messing with horses instead of fighting immoral intellectual battles in dusty courtrooms.’ He shrugged. ‘That woman was probably the straw that broke the camel’s back though. There was no turning back after that. I’m sure he had his eye on her and she’d spurned him.’ His eyes had narrowed. ‘It was a battle of testosterone as well as wills.’
‘And that’s why you developed a reputation as a womaniser?’ She was, she realised, only half-teasing.
‘No, that was because I like women. Although, it must be said, his disapproval probably spurred me on at the start.’ The short laugh was humorous rather than bitter, and his eyes were shining in a very naughty way, which she was trying to ignore. ‘He did me quite a favour.’
‘You prefer horses to people, don’t you?’
‘A lot of the time. Although right now, I’m rather keen on getting closer to a certain person, if she’d only stop asking so many bloody questions.’ He pinged the waistband of her pyjamas, and the drawl, so close to her ear, warmed up a part of her that the wine and fire hadn’t yet reached. She nestled in closer and his hand settled on her waist, leaving her smiling stupidly to herself.
How had she ever, ever imagined that life with Oli was as good as it got? She’d been living a half-life of handbags and high heels.
They fell into a companionable silence, both thinking their own thoughts as they stared at the flickering flames.
Mabel was stretched out in front of the fire, with Hugo’s terrier curled up between her legs. Her paws kept twitching, and her lips fluttered as she wuffled in her sleep – no doubt chasing imaginary rabbits.
‘They’re sweet together, aren’t they?’
‘They are. I never thought Rags would be a fan of a great dollop like Mabel, but you never know where you’re going to find the perfect place to settle, do you?’
‘You don’t.’
‘I’d quite like to be curled up between your legs.’
‘God, you are so rude. You’re doing it again. Don’t you ever stop?’
‘Not with you around.’
‘Can I ask you one more question?’
‘I don’t suppose it will stop you for one moment if I say no.’
‘You miss your mum, don’t you?’
‘I do.’
‘Why don’t you get in touch, go and see her?’
‘That’s two questions.’ The drawl deepened, but she had to battle on.
‘They’re all part of the same one.’
‘Very strange logic. Well, dear Flo, I do talk to her occasionally, but it’s rather awkward.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier for both of you if you tried to, you know, make up a bit with your father?’
He sighed. ‘You’re like a bloody terrier. You just don’t give up, do you?’
‘He might miss you too, you know.’ And she was damned sure his mother did – they had obviously been close.
‘Who said I miss him? I couldn’t give a toss.’
‘You wouldn’t be so angry if you didn’t care, Hugo. Maybe he thought you were messing about with horses just to annoy him. Has he ever seen this place, seen what you’ve achieved?’
He shrugged, which she took as a no.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he paused, ‘if it stops you asking questions.’
‘Promise?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Promise.’
‘Can I ask another? Just one?’ He raised his eyebrow. ‘Have you ever really wanted to be with somebody?’ It was a daft question; one she wouldn’t have dared asked if she hadn’t feel so relaxed, so at home.
‘I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I hadn’t.’
Chapter 27 – Daisy. New Year’s Eve in Cheshire
‘I’ve put a list up in the tack room. Don’t put that chesnut gelding out if it’s icy – he tends to go a bit loopy. Monty needs lunging every day unless the surface of the school is rock hard or he’ll seize up, the—’
Daisy rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘Okay, Hugo, we get it, and there’s a list.’
He carried on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘You need to keep an eye on the old lad. If he shows any signs of colic at all call the vet, and make sure you get Matt, not just anybody.’
‘It’ll be fine, honest, you’re only going for a few days. Honestly, you’re like an old woman.’
‘They like routine.’
‘So do I. Now push off or you’ll miss your plane.’
He gave her a piercing look. ‘I’m sure you weren’t this bossy before you went away, Daisy.’
The Holiday Swap Page 29