The Mistletoe Pact: A totally perfect Christmas romantic comedy

by Lovett, Jo

  Evie eventually nodded at them all and did a circular clap before moving closer to Dan.

  ‘This is the hustle,’ she yelled in his ear. Dan nodded. He had no idea what she was talking about, but, if he was honest, he was enjoying this and he was getting more into it. There was always something quite joyous about strutting your stuff with huge gusto.

  ‘Mamma Mia’ was up next, followed by ‘Take a Chance on Me’. Evie just kept on laughing and dancing away, and Dan just kept on boogying with her. Evie was right; ABBA was great. You just needed to suspend all music snobbery and take things as they came.

  Evie was really going for it and Dan was pretty sure that he wasn’t far behind. A group of equally enthusiastic dancers had formed around them and Evie was smiling away at people and exchanging the odd word here and there.

  During a breather between songs, as they all waited, some people panting slightly, a man in a very bold electric-blue velvet flared suit and kipper tie said to them, ‘So how do you two know Dom and Clara? I see you didn’t get the memo about the dress code.’

  Evie frowned. She opened her mouth and Dan knew she was about to argue. He swivelled his eyes at her and nodded his head slightly in the direction of the doors.

  ‘Fine,’ she said to him.

  ‘Friends. Recent ones,’ she said to the velvet-suited man.

  ‘I think we need some air,’ Dan said.

  Evie bent down and picked up her very high-heeled shoes, which she’d kicked off midway through the first song, and Dan grabbed her hand and started walking.

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ Evie called over her shoulder.

  ‘Honestly,’ she said to Dan. ‘He was far too unappreciative of the effort we’ve made. You’re wearing tails.’ Lucie had nagged every man at the wedding she had any influence over into wearing them. ‘And this dress is from LK Bennett and it cost a fortune even in the sale.’

  ‘You’re right. That’s a very nice dress, as I think I mentioned earlier in the evening.’ Evie looked stunning. The dress was a bright green and quite fitted on the top half and then swirled out into a knee-length skirt that swished a lot when she walked or danced. ‘And I did have to visit two separate Moss Bros shops to hire this suit.’

  ‘Exactly. The only thing wrong with our outfits is that they’re a few decades too modern.’

  They closed the ABBA wedding function room doors behind them and Dan said, ‘We just bloody gatecrashed a wedding – I mean, who does that?’

  ‘I know,’ Evie said, and giggled. Really giggled. Dan started laughing too.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Evie said eventually. ‘What were we thinking? Okay, it was me. What was I thinking? Although it isn’t like we ate or drank anything. And we got the dancing going really well. I mean, some of those guests really weren’t putting their heart and soul into it before I showed them the hustle. And, if anyone mentions us, it’ll be an interesting talking point for the bride and groom afterwards.’

  ‘You mean when they’re bored on their honeymoon?’

  ‘Exactly. Who were those very elegantly dressed and enthusiastic dancers?’

  ‘I actually think they will see us. Did you see those people going round with the disposable cameras taking pictures of everyone dancing?’

  ‘Really? No, I didn’t. Oh well. I think they’ll be pleased. I’m pretty sure everyone would like a mystery wedding guest as long as they only stayed for three dances.’

  ‘Yep, you’re right.’ Dan nodded. ‘We were doing them a favour. And now we should probably go and show them how it’s done at the wedding we’re actually supposed to be at.’

  They were both still sniggering slightly when they got back inside Lucie’s function room.

  ‘“Grease”!’ Evie said, pointing at the dance floor.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Dan said. ‘Up there with ABBA?’

  ‘Well, duh.’

  Sasha danced her way over to them while Evie was squealing that her chills were multiplying. ‘Where have you been? You just missed “I Gotta Feeling”.’

  ‘How do you know all the words?’ Dan asked five minutes later.

  ‘Er, from our musicals phase?’ Sasha said, like he was stupid.

  ‘And, also, you’ve literally just sung every single word to “Summer Nights” correctly?’ Evie pointed out.

  ‘Yeah, well, you know, you hear them,’ Dan said.

  Half an hour later, he was still dancing with Evie and Sasha, and more because he was having fun than because he wanted to be sure to avoid his father. He twirled a laughing Evie under his arm and looked down – quite a long way down, because she was dancing shoeless again – and, as the twirl finished, their gazes caught. And suddenly it was only the two of them. He was still holding her hand. He could draw her in. It would be so easy, so natural now to kiss her. Her eyes were on his. She smiled a little and there was that dimple again. So beautiful. He moved his head slightly closer to hers. He couldn’t look away from her. He knew how good it felt to hold her, taste her. Memories.

  And she was engaged to another man.

  He let go of her hand and started a bit of half-hearted clapping with everyone else.

  Fourteen

  Then – October 2016

  Evie

  Even having to share a taxi home with her mum and the man she’d met at the wedding – Grant, a newly divorced friend of Lucie’s new father-in-law and the landlord of the pub in Little Bishop, a neighbouring village – didn’t dent Evie’s mood.

  ‘My other daughter’s staying with my sister for the night and not due back until ten tomorrow.’ Evie’s mum ran her hand up Grant’s thigh while Evie tried not to gag and wished that her mum had stopped drinking a lot earlier in the evening. And then she thought about her own evening and started smiling again. She’d had fun; her mum had had fun. It looked like her mum’s night was likely to end with sex, and Evie’s clearly was not, but it would have done if Euan hadn’t got injured. Although then, if she was honest, she’d have had a lot less fun at the wedding.

  That was something to think about.

  It was actually something she didn’t want to think about.

  Another thing she did and didn’t want to think about was what had happened at the end of that dance with Dan. They’d had a definite moment. Engaged people weren’t supposed to have moments with third parties. They weren’t supposed to adore dancing for hours with another man.

  Her mum and Grant were looking into each other’s eyes. Evie really didn’t want them to kiss until she wasn’t there.

  She needed somewhere to look that wasn’t at them or their reflection in the windows backed by the dark country night. Her phone. She pulled it out of her bag and discovered that Euan had finally replied to her last text asking how he was doing. He’d said Fine. Okay, well, good. You couldn’t expect him to send a long text. He’d had a bad day.

  When the taxi finally arrived at their house – thank goodness; Evie’s mum and Grant were now way beyond the limit as to how much canoodling you could happily be around – Grant hopped out first and opened the door wide for Evie and her mum.

  ‘Hang on a minute, mate,’ he said to the taxi driver. ‘I’d love to get your number,’ he told Evie’s open-mouthed mum, getting his phone out.

  Wow. So he wasn’t coming in.

  Evie started letting herself into the house to get out of their way and as she went in heard Grant say, ‘I’d love to take you out for dinner.’ Wow. This was unusual.

  Her mum came in very soon afterwards, definitely within under a minute, and said, ‘So that was weird. I thought he really liked me.’

  ‘Well, maybe he does. Maybe he just wants to take things slowly.’ Maybe Grant was interested in more than just sex, unlike the vast majority of men her mum was attracted to.

  ‘Hmm. I’m not sure.’

  * * *

  Evie went round to see Euan a couple of days later, after work. When she arrived, he opened the front door, wrapped in a blanket, led her into his sitting room and sat himself do
wn on the sofa. The contents of his side table – three remote controls, two books (on Financial Management and Getting Ahead in Business), an empty coffee mug and a plate with two empty fruit compote tubs and a spoon placed neatly in the middle, the biggest mess Evie had ever seen in his house – indicated that he’d been on the sofa for a while.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Evie asked.

  ‘A little bit delicate,’ he said. He touched his mouth very lightly and moaned a little.

  Evie nodded. ‘I’m really sorry. Can I get you something to eat?’

  ‘Thank you. Maybe some soup. Or perhaps an omelette for some strength. Could you go and buy me some eggs? And I think perhaps some tomatoes and a little shredded ham. Perhaps some cheese. Stilton. All in the omelette, not on the side. Chopped and well-cooked so that I can manage them. Maybe with some chives. Fresh, obviously, not dried.’

  ‘Of course.’ Evie wasn’t as particular about her herbs as Euan was. ‘So shall I buy all of that for both of us? And then we can eat together?’

  ‘If you like.’ Euan leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  Not that romantic for people who were supposedly engaged, but it was understandable that he’d be feeling rough with all that tooth pain.

  A couple of hours later, when they’d finished their omelettes, plus some chocolate mousses Evie had bought for a treat, Euan said, ‘Thank you. That was very nice.’ He reached out and held Evie’s hand for a moment. ‘We should go engagement ring shopping together when I’m better.’

  ‘That would be lovely.’ Evie smiled at him and tried to push a tiny feeling of doubt out of her mind. Euan was perfect. She looked round his lovely, tidy, tasteful pale-grey sitting room. He’d be a wonderful husband.

  By Saturday, he was well enough to go for a walk, which was very nice, but not well enough for ring shopping, he said.

  Midway through their walk in a nearby wood, he put his arm round Evie’s shoulders and pulled her close to him.

  ‘I’m lucky to have you,’ he said. He leaned his head down towards Evie’s upturned face and then pulled back, saying, ‘No, I don’t think my mouth’s sufficiently recovered to kiss yet.’ He pulled a little mirror out of the pocket of his – very well-ironed – chinos and inspected his face while Evie waited.

  Euan was tired after their walk, so Evie went home after agreeing a shopping trip and lunch in two weeks’ time – when Euan thought he’d definitely be better – to buy the ring. Which was very exciting. Quite exciting, anyway. Well, a bit exciting.

  Maybe it should feel more exciting than it actually did.

  * * *

  ‘I’m going for the bullseye,’ Sasha said the following Thursday evening, holding her third dart horizontally ahead of her between her forefinger and thumb.

  ‘You look like an actual darts player,’ Evie said, nodding encouragingly.

  They were in The Crown, Grant’s pub in Little Bishop. He’d just set up a darts league and had invited Evie’s mum to get a team of four together for it. She’d been a little bit upset that he didn’t seem interested in her romantically – Evie suspected he was interested but was maybe keen to take things slowly after his nasty divorce – and had then decided it sounded like fun and had asked Evie and Sasha and Sasha’s mum Fiona to join her. Grant had provided them with large, pale-blue men’s team t-shirts to wear, so both Evie and Sasha’s mothers were looking very different from their usual respective low-cut dressy-topped and twin-setted selves, which was still making Evie giggle slightly every time she focused on one of them. The four of them were also wearing matching little pale-blue hats, knocked up in two evenings by Evie’s mum, which were lovely but, frankly, weird-looking with the t-shirts.

  ‘I am an actual darts player.’ Sasha let fly, with a lot of force, and her dart hit the board’s wooden surround, ricocheted off and just missed an elderly man nursing a pint at the bar.

  ‘Good try, darling,’ Fiona said as the man clutched his heart.

  Grant hurried out from behind the bar, saying, ‘Great enthusiasm, Sasha,’ and helped the man to a bar stool further away.

  Evie’s mum turned and glared at their (orange-t-shirted) opponents, who had clapped. She turned back to her team, frowning. ‘So unsporting. Right. I think we need to take this more seriously. I’m thinking we need to get some practice in before our next fixture. If you’re going to do something, do it properly. Could you all do next Wednesday evening?’

  Fiona and Sasha both said they could, while Evie thought. She was supposed to be seeing Euan. But she’d so much rather play darts with her mum, her best friend and her best friend’s mum. What did that say about her relationship with Euan?

  ‘I’m free too,’ she said. She and Euan could go to the cinema another evening.

  They stayed for another drink after they’d finished losing their match, and finally spilled out of the pub at about eleven, escorted to the door by Grant.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ Fiona said, when he’d finally kissed all their cheeks and gone back inside.

  ‘Just a friend,’ Evie’s mum said. ‘Blatantly not interested in sleeping with me. But, yes, a very nice man.’

  ‘I’ve just got a text from Millie asking about Dan,’ Sasha said, scrolling through her phone. ‘She’s so obvious about liking him.’

  Evie could see where Millie was coming from. Her heart had literally just leapt at the mention of Dan’s name. She took her own phone out. And there was a message from Euan replying to hers about postponing their cinema date. And the sight of his name caused her no heart leap at all; in fact, it made her feel vaguely flat, like her mood was suffering from a slow puncture. If she was honest, she didn’t want to postpone the cinema trip; she wanted to cancel it forever. And she even more didn’t want to go engagement ring shopping with him.

  Because, if she was honest, she really didn’t want to marry him.

  She’d better tell him tomorrow. Shortest engagement ever. Just under two weeks. Like her mother, she made some rubbish choices when it came to men. Although in a different way.

  Fifteen

  Now – March 2022

  Dan

  ‘Happy St Patrick’s.’ Dan adjusted his leprechaun hat, handed a packet of chocolate buttons to Minnie, the little girl in the bed next to the window, and smiled at her. ‘Your special challenge is to not eat all your chocolate at once.’ The paediatric ward had had a big donation of chocolates, and they’d decided to use any excuse to cheer the kids and their families up by dressing up and doling treats out.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Leprechaun.’ Minnie’s mother smiled a bit tearily at him. ‘It’s so nice that you can visit all the children.’

  ‘I’ll tell you a secret, Minnie,’ Dan said. ‘Soon my friend the Easter bunny will be visiting too.’ Minnie had a chronic condition, which meant that she’d be in hospital for a while.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Minnie’s mum said.

  ‘It’s our pleasure,’ Dan told her. It was true. It wasn’t great for anyone at the best of times if a child had to visit A&E or be admitted to the paediatric ward, and it seemed even worse over holiday periods, especially if it meant that a family was separated.

  Of course, he was separated from his own family pretty much every holiday season, by choice. He wasn’t six years old, though, and since he was that age he’d learned that his father was a total arse.

  ‘You make a superb leprechaun,’ Zubin told him fifteen minutes later as he peeled the costume off.

  ‘Thank you.’ Dan bowed. ‘Couldn’t do it without my magical carrot helper.’

  Zubin, who’d squeezed himself into a random carrot costume that he’d found in the store cupboard – and that was meant for someone a lot smaller – and followed Dan round with the bag of chocolates, grinned. ‘I’ll take any excuse to wear a pair of orange tights. Time for a quick pint later?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  * * *

  Twenty-four hours later, Dan was in a place far removed from the convivial fish-and-chips and beer
s evening he and Zubin had ended up having last night with another couple of friends at the pub along the road from the hospital.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he felt bile reach his throat and his palms grow clammy.

  He needed to rise above this.

  Zachy, the boy on the other side of the door Dan had just closed, needed him. Zachy’s family needed him. Dan needed to shove all memories of Max’s accident back in the compartment they normally rested in and focus on the here and now.

  God, though.

  Zachy was about five years younger than Max had been when he’d had his accident, but the backstory was hideously similar – he’d been rugby tackling his cousin on a pavement and had fallen into the road. His main injury appeared to be a very badly fractured leg, as Max’s had been. And his mother had mentioned several times that he was a talented footballer – training with a top club – as Max had been at Zachy’s age. And there was every chance that his future in football would now be in doubt. Or possibly ended, as Max’s athletics career had been.

  God, the memories. The screeching of brakes. The screaming. The terror that Max might be dead. The terror that Max’s brain might have been injured. The terror that Max would never walk again. The realisation that he would walk again but he’d never go back to the exact way he had been physically.

  And the knowledge that it was all Dan’s fault and the realisation that their mother couldn’t deal with the fact that one of her sons had maimed the other, so she was going to pretend for the rest of time that it hadn’t happened the way it did.

  He took a glance at the clock on the other side of the paediatric emergency waiting area. It was nearly the end of his shift. He could hand Zachy over to someone else and turn round and walk out. Grab a beer with a friend and re-bury those memories.