Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2)

by Holly Martin

  ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. So, George, what is it you do?’

  He straightened in his chair, finding a smile spreading across his face as it always did when he spoke about his job. ‘I write radio adverts, scripts. The companies come to me with a rough guide to what they want their advert to say and I write a script for them. I love it; allows me to be really creative…’ He watched her posture change as he spoke; she leaned forward in her chair, staring deep into his eyes and she smiled hugely as he talked. She knew how much he loved his job but she seemed really interested, like she was hanging off his every word. He wanted to carry on talking, wanted to talk forever if it meant that she would continue to look at him like that, but he trailed off, thrown by the intensity of her gaze.

  ‘Lib, you OK?’ he swallowed.

  ‘I’m being interested, that’s one of my top tips: leaning forward, eye contact, smiling. It’s the body language that shows you how keen I am on you.’

  ‘Oh.’ He was momentarily disappointed that it was just for show. ‘Well, it worked, I felt like I was the most important person in your world right then.’

  ‘That’s because you are, plus I genuinely do love listening to you talk about your work, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch for me to look like that.’

  Just then a man appeared between them; he must have been the head waiter or manager judging by the different coloured shirt he was wearing.

  ‘We are very pleased you’ve come to us tonight. I am Kamal, the manager. You are a beautiful couple, very much in love, you’ve even dressed to match,’ Kamal gestured.

  He and Libby looked down at themselves and then at each other.

  She laughed. ‘We’re both wearing the same shade of green, I didn’t even realise.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ he said, aware that he had bought the shirt a few months before, because the colour reminded him of her eyes.

  ‘How long have you two been together?’ Kamal went on.

  ‘Six months,’ Libby said at exactly the same time as George offered, ‘It’s our first date.’

  Kamal looked confused.

  ‘We’ve been best friends for six months, this is our first date as a couple,’ she tried to explain.

  ‘Oh, that’s beautiful,’ Kamal said, looking a little watery around the eyes. ‘A relationship built on such strong friendship, those are the ones that last. I can see how much you mean to each other, how much love is between you. Would you like some music for this special occasion?’

  ‘Ooh yes, that’ll be lovely.’

  George saw her expectant expression change as Kamal waved theatrically and one of the waiters suddenly appeared at his side with a violin.

  ‘Oh, you meant live music?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Mani is very talented.’

  As soon as Mani put his bow to the violin it was evident that Mani either wasn’t that talented or the violin badly needed tuning. George winced a bit as Mani squeaked his way through the opening bars of what sounded like ‘Jerusalem’ and eyed Libby to see what her reaction was. She was looking at Mani as if he was playing a masterpiece, like she was enthralled by the music. Either she was completely tone deaf, or she was a really good actress. He tried to catch her eye but she seemed to be deliberately not looking at him. Then he saw the tiniest twitch of her mouth and he realised she was doing her absolute best not to laugh. He had to keep a really tight rein on himself, knowing that if he smiled he’d soon be laughing. ‘Jerusalem’ had been one of his favourite hymns at school, but he had never realised how long the song was before, unless Mani, encouraged by Libby’s reaction, had repeated it several times. After what seemed like an eternity, by which time tears were forming in Libby’s eyes with the suppressed laughter, Mani finished with a final tuneless flourish to his bow.

  She clapped enthusiastically, wiping the tears away. ‘That was beautiful, Mani. Do you play anything else – maybe something a bit more modern or Christmassy perhaps?’

  George stared at her, incredulous. Why was she asking for more? His ears were still ringing from the last piece of music, if in fact you could call it that.

  Mani nodded and launched into what could only be ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams. Kamal pulled on Libby’s chair, gesturing for her to stand up, which she did, looking bemused, until Kamal turfed George out of his seat too and he realised with some dismay, as Kamal pushed them both together, that he wanted them to dance.

  ‘I don’t think…’ he protested, knowing he was blushing furiously.

  ‘That’s a lovely idea, thank you,’ Libby said.

  George caught her little grin and then she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he found he’d put his around her waist. In an attempt to dance, he started swaying from side to side. He heard her snort into his shoulder.

  ‘You’ll pay for this, Miss Joseph,’ he muttered into her ear, ‘you know how much I hate dancing.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ she said, as Mani attempted to hit the high notes of the chorus, ‘admit that there’s a tiny part of you that’s having fun right now.’

  ‘I can’t dance,’ he said with some feeling.

  ‘Rubbish. You’re not doing as bad as you think. Just relax, just imagine you’re dancing with a beautiful woman. Imagine you’re dancing with Giselle.’

  He smiled. He wouldn’t imagine he was with Giselle, he would just enjoy the fact that his lovely Libby was in his arms. He moved his arms round her back, hugging her tightly to him.

  ‘You see,’ she said as Mani’s strangling a cat impression reached a crescendo, ‘a little bit of imagination and you’ve loosened right up.’

  ‘I don’t need imagination, Lib,’ he said, ‘I’ve got my best friend in my arms, that’s all I need.’

  She smiled up at him, looking right into his eyes. ‘Well, just to give you a heads-up, if this was really Giselle in your arms right now, this would be the perfect time for your first kiss.’

  ‘Well, Lib, you are my guinea pig.’ He bent forward until his lips were moving to enclose hers. Which was when Mani moved seamlessly, or rather unseamlessly, from ‘Angels’ into ‘Agadoo’ by Black Lace. Libby’s laugh broke the moment and he jerked his head back up.

  ‘I really can’t dance to this,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, sure you can, the dance moves are in the lyrics: “Jump to the right, jump to the left, jump up in the air and touch your knees,”’ she sang.

  ‘I don’t think those are the lyrics.’

  ‘Close enough. But you’re right, it’s definitely not one of the most romantic songs though, shall we sit back down?’

  He should have felt relieved that his dancing torment was over, but he was too busy fighting off the disappointment that his beautiful best friend was no longer wrapped in his arms. He gave Mani a scowl as they returned to their seats; after all, it was his fault he’d missed out on his chance to kiss her.

  ‘I really don’t dance,’ he said, trying to explain away his awkwardness.

  ‘It’s not your fault – mating rituals have changed a bit over the years. Time was, men used to have dance lessons. A man was expected to know the waltz or some other romantic dance, and they would swing their women around the dance floor, in order to impress them. Nowadays, in nightclubs up and down the country, the men linger at the bar, and the women dance to impress the men. It’s no longer in your genes to be able to dance. Luckily there is only really one time that you’d be expected to dance and that’s on your wedding day. But you don’t need to worry. You’re actually a really lovely dancer. I’m sure Giselle would love to dance with you.’

  George was sure that she was only being polite. Besides, if his dancing had been lovely, it was only because he was with his best friend. If he’d had another woman in his arms he’d be a gibbering wreck.

  Mani thankfully finished ‘Agadoo’ just as the food arrived, and Libby attacked it with enthusiasm.

  ‘Oh George, this is wonderful, you should try some.’ She held a forkful of food up to his lips and he obediently let her feed him.<
br />
  ‘Mmm,’ he said, savouring the spices, ‘that is really good. Here, have some of mine.’ He tried not to stare at her lips as he fed her a forkful of his beef handi.

  ‘Ooh, I really like that,’ she said, ‘and that was number two of my top tips: sharing food is quite intimate.’

  ‘Oh. I like it.’ Suddenly he saw her lean across the table and felt her wipe his lip and chin gently with her thumb. Her touch sent fireworks through his body and he swallowed the lump of beef that had been in his mouth before properly chewing it. He took a long swig of his drink to help the food go down.

  ‘And that was number three,’ she said with a wink, ‘body contact. Normally my characters might go for the hand, or a nudge of the knees under the table, but as you had sauce on your chin that was the perfect moment.’

  He nodded weakly. He was supposed to be falling out of love with her, not falling more deeply in love.

  ‘The food here is amazing.’ Libby was oblivious to the emotions now swirling around in him along with his curry and beer. ‘Why do you think it’s empty?’

  ‘I guess we might find that out later tonight – the food might not be as amazing as it tastes.’ He devoured his curry with equal enthusiasm.

  ‘Doesn’t that put you off? Doesn’t that scare you? This could literally be our last meal, and tomorrow we’ll both be dead from food poisoning.’

  ‘It’s nice to live life on the edge.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Still, I might give them the number of that advertising agency in Port Cardinal, the one that uses me all the time. A little bit of marketing might be just what this place needs.’

  She wiped up some of her sauce with the naan bread and for a while they didn’t talk. But as he finished off his meal, he realised that a first date was supposed to be about talking, getting to know each other, and if he was with any other woman other than Libby right now, the last few minutes of silence would have been awkward.

  ‘So anyway I’m supposed to be wooing you, aren’t I?’

  ‘You’re doing fine – the view, the dance. We would have already had our first kiss, and all before we started to eat. It’s going well so far.’

  ‘What about the conversation?’ He found he was playing with the last few bits of rice on his plate.

  ‘I love talking to you, George, you’re funny, intelligent and you’re so easy to talk to. I could talk to you about anything for hours, and you listen, properly listen too. That’s a great quality. Don’t overthink what you should say to Giselle, just be yourself. And if you get stuck, just keep asking her lots of questions about herself, let her do all the talking. She will think you’re interested and it doesn’t leave room for awkward silences.’

  ‘But why do silences mean something different when we’re with different people? With you it’s never awkward, is it? It’s just silence. But with other people I feel the need to fill it with inane ramblings. What’s wrong with silence?’

  He was waiting for her to say something when Kamal appeared.

  ‘Dessert?’ he asked, beaming proudly at their empty plates.

  She shook her head, patting her stomach. ‘Sorry, I’m way too full. George?’

  He shook his head too.

  ‘Just the bill then please,’ she said.

  He fished his wallet out of his pocket. ‘Now what does the first-date etiquette say about payment?’

  She pulled a face. ‘It is still kind of expected that the man will pay, or at least offer to pay. It shows generosity, old-fashioned chivalry, and a lot of women like that. It shows you want to care for her. I would just put your card down on the bill and not make a big deal out of it. She really doesn’t need to think you are counting the pennies. If I was on a first date, I would offer to pay my half. In this day and age the woman really should offer to pay half, but I wouldn’t count on it, and actually you should probably insist on paying unless she throws some kind of feminist tantrum. If she does, by all means let her pay.’

  He nodded.

  She smiled. ‘You don’t need to worry, you are incredibly generous. You should just do what feels natural. But you want to watch out for the gold diggers: if you are on your fifth date and she has never shown any sign of reaching for her purse, then I’d start to get a bit worried.’

  Her phone suddenly rang in her bag, the A-Team theme tune, which always made him smile. But instead of retrieving it, she ignored it.

  ‘Are you not going to get that?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m on a date – you need to know there is no one that is more important than you right now. Really I should have left it at home or turned it off, but I forgot.’

  ‘What if it’s important?’

  ‘If you’re worried then check on it surreptitiously, preferably when you pop to the loo.’

  The phone stopped ringing, just as he was wondering whether he should be taking notes.

  * * *

  Judith sat in one of the booths in the Bubble, stroking Jack’s ears and surreptitiously watching Amy and Seb. Amy was working down one end of the bar, chatting animatedly to Polly and Matt and the other customers. Though Seb was serving behind the bar, she had barely given him a single look all night. To the untrained observer, he held no interest for Amy whatsoever, or if you had some curiosity about the situation you might think the two of them had had a row. But Judith recognised the signs of someone in love, but not wanting to admit it. Deliberately not looking at him was much more obvious than just not looking at him. What upset Judith most though, was that she was pretty sure that Seb was in love with Amy too.

  Judith remembered when she first met Seb. When her own husband had died eleven years before, she had moved to White Cliff Bay to be close to her sister, who had then promptly died the year later. Marie had been at university at the time in London and when she finished her course it was natural for her to stay there with her friends, but she visited often and on one of her many visits she’d bumped into Seb.

  When Marie was younger and she’d started dating, Judith had in her mind the worst possible person that Marie could bring home. Seb pretty much fitted the bill. His shaved head and tattoos made him look mean and violent. He was a landlord in a pub – hardly the doctor or lawyer that she had hoped for her bright, beautiful daughter – and quite a bit older, twenty-seven to Marie’s young, innocent twenty-two.

  At first Judith had disapproved but it hadn’t taken Seb long to win her round. He adored Marie and anyone could see that they were made for each other. Judith soon loved him like the son she’d never had.

  Seb and Marie were married very quickly, just a year after they’d first met, but four years later Marie was dead. A horrible car accident had robbed Judith of her only child and Seb of his loving wife. Marie hadn’t died straight away though, and for a few hours, it seemed like she would pull through. Then complications set in and she deteriorated very quickly.

  The grief had brought Judith and Seb both closer together. They now saw each other two or three times a week; she would do the odd shift for him in the pub and every Thursday night, his night off, he’d be round her house for dinner. They had become very close over the last five years; she adored him and wanted more than anything for him to find happiness again.

  But not with Amy, anyone but Amy. Judith couldn’t think of anyone worse than Amy for Seb to fall in love with. She was loud, crude and truly one of the vilest people she knew.

  She had to get Amy out of his life and fast.

  * * *

  Seb couldn’t concentrate on anything tonight. He had messed up several orders already, though thankfully it was mostly the locals and they all took it with good humour. Amy was infuriating. She hadn’t so much as looked at or spoken to him all night and it was driving him mad.

  The more she ignored him the more he wanted to talk to her, wanted her to notice him. She looked fantastic tonight, sexy in a gorgeous black dress and her favourite red high heels, her dark hair long and gleaming down her back. He wanted to kiss her … he h
ad to kiss her.

  She occupied every single waking and sleeping thought and it scared him. He had never felt this way before and although, for the last few months, he had put it down to lust and a need for sex, he knew it was so much more than that. But he couldn’t get involved with anyone again. The pain he’d felt when Marie died had been unbearable and he couldn’t go through that again, especially not with someone like Amy who he had such strong feelings for. If his heart had broken so painfully when Marie died, what would it feel like to lose Amy when his feelings for her were so much more?

  He looked at Judith and realised she had been watching him. He smiled over at her as he moved to serve another customer.

  And that was another reason. Guilt. How could he ever explain his feelings for Amy? He’d loved Marie, he knew that, but somehow the intensity of his feelings for Amy was greater and he never wanted to belittle what he’d had with Marie. He couldn’t hurt Judith, he owed her so much, and falling in love with another woman would break her heart. Minutes after Marie had died, Judith sobbing, near hysterical in her grief, had made him promise that there would never be anyone else. At the time he had promised without hesitation – he could never have imagined loving anyone as much as he had loved Marie – and he had kept the promise ever since.

  But now he had to find the courage to break that promise – and the thought of opening himself up to all that hurt again was one that was utterly terrifying.

  Chapter Five

  ‘George, I have a question. At what point do you introduce your partner as your girlfriend?’

  ‘I don’t know, that is a very good question.’

  ‘OK, say this was really our first date and we bumped into your friends, how would you introduce me?’

  ‘I think I would just say “This is Libby”, and then if it was a good friend I might waggle my eyebrows a bit to indicate that I was sleeping with you, or at least hoping to.’

  ‘Oh, the eyebrow waggle, very clever, subtle.’

  ‘And then two or three dates down the road, you might become “my good friend Libby”. But I think, to avoid all confusion or awkwardness of introducing you as my girlfriend, if you didn’t want to be introduced as such, I’d probably just introduce you as “my lovely Libby”.’