My heart beating faster, I scramble out of bed and grab my childhood box of secrets from the back of the wardrobe. Settling myself back against the pillows, I open the box and pluck out the maroon exercise book containing the diary I wrote that long ago Christmas when I was twelve and life seemed so full of joyful possibilities. Flicking through the pages, one section in particular jumps out at me:
We swam in the lake today and it was freezing but so much fun. Mum refused to put on the wet suit. She just stood there on the shore, watching sternly with her arms folded, presumably worried he might be about to drown me! She said Al was an old friend from university, so I don’t know why she would think that! I don’t know why she didn’t just stay in the B&B lounge. She could have watched us from the window. It’s sad because she hasn’t joined in with anything at all, however much we’ve begged her. I really don’t know why. Martin would have swum today if he’d been here, but he’s had to work in London all of Xmas.
This has been the coolest Xmas of my life and I never want it to end!
There’s a painful lump in my throat. It’s an innocent childhood account of one perfect Christmas. But what makes me emotional is knowing that as she wrote it, that child – the much younger me – had no notion of the heartache that was to follow.
I place the diary back in the box, reflecting that there’s one major difference between Ryan and me. His biological dad told him he was welcome to visit him in France. But Alessandro never really cared.
Chapter 21
Saturday 24 December
Afternoon tea
Italian chocolate panettone
Dinner menu
Caprese salad
(mozzarella, tomatoes and basil)
***
Italian meatballs in a rich, herby tomato sauce, served with spaghetti
***
Panna cotta with berry sauce
As soon as I wake up, the memory of kissing Jed last night by the log fire flies into my head.
Groaning, I bury my face in the pillow. ‘Guilty’ just doesn’t cover it. I really don’t know what came over me but I desperately need to talk to Harrison. Although we’ve sent each other texts, I haven’t spoken to him properly since he got to Spain. I need to hear his voice. Being here alone is clearly getting to me.
But it’s Saturday. Christmas Eve. And I have a special dinner to prepare for tonight. Plus, I’m running really late because I didn’t get to sleep last night until after three. I take a quick shower, put on a little make-up and flee the house with the groceries for the day in a cardboard box. I still have to pick up meat and cheese but I can do that at lunchtime. It’s only when I’m in the car that I look at my phone and realise Harrison sent me a text last night. I quickly read it, feeling terrible that I’ve only just noticed it.
Watched marathon of British soaps last night, dubbed in Spanish with subtitles. Mother wants a party. I want to come home. Wish you were here xx
The last four words bring a lump to my throat. I wish I were there, too. Things would be a whole lot simpler if we’d gone to Spain together. Poor Harrison hates parties and drinking and soaps! Bless him, he sounds like he’s having an awful time, doing all this stuff to please his mother. Whereas I’m having this big adventure, cooking for all these lovely people – and kissing Jed.
Oh, God!
A flush of shame creeps over my entire body.
Quickly, I text him back:
Lots to tell you. I’m cooking for a party of seven over Christmas! Dying to tell you all about it. Could you call me tonight? Love you xxx
*
The atmosphere in the Log Fire Cabin as I make my special Italian chocolate panettone is very far from festive. I’m trying to remain upbeat, but lack of sleep and an emotional hangover the size of Australia is undermining my good intentions. Regret with a capital ‘R’ is adding to my brain fog, colouring my day a dull sort of grey. I shouldn’t have succumbed to reading the diary last night because doing so has released all sorts of repressed emotions that are still flying around inside, making me feel slightly nauseous. And I should definitely not have kissed Jed!
The house guests seem equally morose and unsettled.
Ruby is in a huff because Gloria has gone out for a walk with Bob, taking her phone with her. (She’s been letting Ruby use it from time to time.) So Ruby is roaming around at a loose end, which means she keeps coming into the kitchen to bend my ear about how rotten her life is. My suggestion that we make the flapjack her dad used to bake is met with a dejected sigh, so I abandon the idea.
When I arrived, I glimpsed Ryan in the living room, flicking through a men’s magazine, back hunched against Clemmy and Tom who were over by the window, heads together, being all chummy as usual. I’m starting to think Clemmy might be trying to make Ryan jealous, showering the lovely Tom with lots of attention. Still, at least she seems to be cheering Tom up, bringing him out of his shell and helping to banish his shyness. If nothing else, it’s good practice for him getting up the courage to talk to the girl he fancies.
Bob has just gone off on a lone hike, taking his binoculars in a rucksack and a packed lunch I made up for him, consisting of ham-salad rolls and left-over chocolate brownies. I have an awful feeling it’s just an excuse to escape the house, and who could blame him?
The one person who I desperately wish was out of the building is currently occupying the sofa in the living room, long legs stretched out and tripping everyone up, reading the newspapers and drinking sugarless coffee, which I happen to know he detests.
He was there, making coffee, when I arrived twenty minutes earlier, and my heart missed a beat at the sight of his tumbled mane of chestnut hair and solid physique in washed-out jeans and sweatshirt. I could tell by his sheepish expression that he’d been hoping to get it made before I arrived. We muttered a good morning with an awkward flick of the eyes and stepped around each other carefully as if there was an unexploded bomb buried under the kitchen floor. Then Jed left abruptly with his mug of coffee, forgetting to stir in the two teaspoons of sugar I know he likes. So he’s out there, drinking revolting coffee, because he feels too embarrassed to face me after last night’s clinch.
It’s all so depressing.
Added to which, I feel a weird sort of responsibility for making Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin a success for everyone. I know it’s silly because, of course, I’m simply the hired chef, and the fact that things aren’t going brilliantly is absolutely nothing to do with my food. But for Bob to be inspired to hire me to cook for him once this festive job is over, I kind of feel it’s important he has a good time.
Right on cue, Ruby yells, ‘No, Mum. I’m not going to play “Jingle Bells” on the piano.’ Footsteps thump along the hallway and disappear upstairs.
I grimace to myself. Poor Bob probably wishes he’d never invited Gloria and the obstreperous Ruby to this ill-fated festive gathering. Especially since he could have been sunning himself in blissful peace and solitude at his villa in Barbados instead.
Thankfully, the panettone cheers everyone up. The buttery aroma from the oven starts drifting through the house, working its magic, and Ryan appears in the kitchen saying the general consensus is that it should be eaten immediately, so that it’s still warm and oozing chocolate, which I agree is a mighty fine idea. I’m just disappointed Bob isn’t here to enjoy it.
It’s amazing, the soothing effect delicious food can have. Even Ruby smiles at the huge tray I carry through, although she turns up her nose at coffee and asks – very politely – if I could please make her a hot chocolate instead. I manage to serve a slice of panettone to Jed without once looking him in the eye, and he mutters a gruff compliment, I suspect also without glancing my way. It’s all so unbearably awkward between us now. However hard I try, I can’t stop my mind looping back to that kiss, and thinking how devastated Harrison would be if he knew what I’d done.
I escape the cabin after that, glad to feel the fresh air of freedom against my cheeks. I’ve said I’ll tak
e Mum shopping this lunchtime, and I’d also planned to pop into Mark’s place of work to wish him ‘Merry Christmas’ as a cover for spying on him. But I’ve got all sorts of disjointed thoughts tumbling around in my tired brain – Jed avoiding me, guilt over Harrison, Alessandro, the diary – and all I really want to do now is drive home, crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.
Life is too confusing and I crave oblivion.
When I arrive at Mum’s, she seems even more brittle than usual, so I have to tread carefully. She gets a little freaked out having to leave her house and come to me for Christmas, although once she’s settled in, she’s usually fine.
The trouble is, ever since reading the diary last night, I’ve been plagued with questions about Alessandro. Usually, I try not to think about him. But the diary has opened the floodgates, and suddenly, I need to know more. Driving into Easingwold, I finally break the silence. ‘What’s he like? My real dad, I mean?’
There’s a stunned pause. Then Mum gives a little sigh. ‘I don’t know, Poppy.’
‘What do you mean? Of course you know,’ I say gently.
When she turns to look at me, her eyes are shiny. ‘I haven’t seen Al for nearly twenty years.’ She swallows hard. ‘How would I know what he’s like now?’
‘But what was he like back then? When you met him in Italy for the first time? I bet it was really romantic.’ My heart is racing, knowing I’m straying into forbidden territory. There’s an electric silence and I realise I’m holding my breath.
‘Don’t do this, Poppy,’ she whispers at last, dashing a tear from her eye. She turns angrily away from me and stares out of the passenger window.
‘But why?’ I fight to keep my tone calm and reasonable. ‘I just want to know a little bit about my real dad. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Why did he wait twelve years before coming to see me? If I had a baby, I could never stay away that long. Even out of simple curiosity, you’d think he’d have wanted to see what his own child was like. Are you sure we never met before that Christmas visit?’
‘No, of course you didn’t.’ Her voice sounds strangled and strange. ‘Just let it be, Poppy.’
I drive in silence for a while, recalling my first meeting with Alessandro when I felt sure I recognised him from somewhere. Mum swears I couldn’t possibly have met him before. But then, there’s such a lot she prefers to bury her head in the sand over, rather than have to face up to reality.
‘Mum, don’t you think you should talk to someone about your feelings? A professional who can help?’ I venture after a while. ‘You’ve had no life really since you and Martin went your separate ways. Every time I bump into old friends, they ask how you are and if they can see you. Wouldn’t you like that? Instead of being stuck at home on your own all the time?’
She sniffs, but says nothing. I take that as an encouraging sign and wade on. ‘There’s a really lovely counsellor that Erin knows who’d be perfect for—’
‘Poppy, I do not need psychiatric help!’ There’s a note of real panic in her voice.
I swallow hard and turn into the packed car park. ‘No one’s saying you do, Mum. I just think it would be good for you to talk to someone who’s trained to help people—’
‘I don’t need that sort of help,’ she snaps. ‘Look, there’s a space over there.’
Sighing, I manoeuvre the car into the tight gap. Mum pulls a hanky out of her handbag and dabs her nose. ‘I hope the charity shops aren’t too busy,’ she says with forced jollity.
I grit my teeth. The conversation is over before it even got started.
After we’ve done her shopping, I take Mum and her bags back to the car and leave her reading a magazine while I pop into the nearby delicatessen to pick up meat and cheese for tonight’s dinner, then head over to see Mark. My fingers are firmly crossed that he’ll be there at his office, doing exactly what he told Erin – working at clearing his paperwork backlog. Then I can breathe a sigh of relief and stop fretting about my best friend’s romantic life.
As I’m waiting to cross the road, I spot Mark coming out of the office building and relief floods through me. He was telling the truth. I’m about to turn round and go back to the car, when the lights change and the green man flashes – and some instinct or other makes me cross the road and follow him. His trail leads me along side streets to a rather seedy part of town and the entrance to a salvage yard, of all things. At that point, I’m tempted to turn around. He must be buying something for the flat. But instead of going straight into the yard, he hangs around the entrance, looking back along the road as if he’s waiting for someone. I lurk in a nearby bus shelter, watching, and then I spot the girl I saw him with last time, with the strawberry-blonde hair. She looks at her watch as if she’s late, then she hurries up to Mark at the gate and, laughing, they walk into the yard together.
What on earth’s going on?
Luckily, the bus shelter has a seat because they’re in the yard a good twenty minutes before they finally emerge. They both check their watches and head across the road to a café that’s horribly near my bus stop.
I walk by and glance furtively in the window. They’re standing at the counter, heads together, chatting and laughing, and pointing at cakes beneath the glass. I’m desperate to challenge Mark and find out who she is, but I’d need to get him on his own to do that and it doesn’t look as if the two of them will be parting company any time soon. They look far too cosy.
I frown. Something tells me Mark definitely won’t have told told Erin about this meeting …
*
Finally I drop Mum off, but I don’t really want to leave her alone. Ever since I mentioned Alessandro, she’s been very subdued and I can tell she’s stewing over our conversation. I wish I’d never said anything.
But I can’t stay. I need to get back to prepare the special Christmas Eve dinner. I draw up outside her bungalow and, on an impulse, reach over to hug her. She looks surprised. We’re not usually that demonstrative. She grasps me tightly for a moment and I breathe in the perfume she’s worn for years, feeling suddenly quite teary. Then she gets out without a word.
Back at the lake, I park up and let myself in, just as Ruby storms down the stairs with a determined look on her face. ‘Hi,’ she says, and bolts straight past me, out of the cabin. I just have time to register this, when I become aware of raised voices coming from the living room. Ryan seems to be involved in some kind of shouting match with Tom. Clemmy appears at the living-room door, her pretty face flushed, and yells, ‘It’s a game of Monopoly, for heaven’s sake! You’re acting like kids, the pair of you. And you, Ryan, should know better, since you’re the actual grown-up. Or at least, you’re supposed to be!’
She sees me, gives an agitated shake of her head, and opens her mouth to explain what’s happening, just as Gloria appears on the stairs.
‘Have you seen Ruby?’ She looks anxious.
‘Er, she went that way.’ I point at the open front door.
At that moment, the noise of a car being revved angrily splits the air.
‘What the—’ Gloria bustles down the stairs, flapping the front of her blouse to ward off another hot flush. ‘I didn’t think she’d actually—’
She hares out of the front door, shouting, ‘Ruby! Get back here! Ruby!’
Clemmy and I glance at each other in alarm and rush out after her, just in time to see Bob’s car lurch backwards up the slight slope from the car park area – driven by a scared-looking, but very determined, Ruby.
Chapter 22
‘Oh my God. Stop her!’ yells Clemmy, and we all charge towards the car. Ruby has managed to get the vehicle up onto the track but, thankfully, she’s turned the steering wheel the wrong way and is moving jerkily in the direction of the circular route around the lake, rather than heading towards the main road.
I manage to draw level with the driver’s door and run alongside, banging on the window. Ruby looks at me, wide-eyed, then swings the steering wheel away from me, at which poi
nt the car leaves the track and starts bouncing down the frosted grassy bank towards the lake.
We all stare helplessly after her.
‘Bugger me,’ murmurs Gloria, apparently paralysed with shock. ‘She’s going in the lake.’
‘Oh my God, she’s heading for that wooden post!’ yells Clemmy. ‘Brake, Ruby, brake!’
‘Ruby! Middle pedal!’ I shriek.
There’s a horrible grating sound as Ruby executes an emergency stop by ignoring the clutch and simply slamming her foot hard on the brake. The car slews to a stop – but not before the front-left side slams into the post.
We all hare down the bank and Gloria gets there first, shouting to make sure the handbrake is on tightly and helping a shaking Ruby out of the car.
‘Oh my God. Bob’s going to kill me, isn’t he?’ she wails. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Mum. I just got so fed up not being able to talk to my friends and I thought I was going to literally explode if I didn’t actually do something.’ She breaks away from Gloria, who’s stroking her hair to calm her down. ‘I thought driving would be easy but it’s really not. Look at the dent in the car. God, I’m so stupid!’
‘At least you’re in one piece,’ murmurs Gloria, who appears to be taking it all surprisingly well, considering Bob’s damaged bumper is sure to drive an even bigger wedge between him and Ruby. ‘It’ll be all right, love.’
Ruby looks distraught. ‘No, it won’t,’ she squeaks. ‘I’m such a major pain in the arse, aren’t I? I’m surprised you haven’t had me fostered out by now.’ She buries her face in her mum’s shoulder and sobs genuine tears.
Clemmy and I exchange a sideways glance. Now that we’ve established that Ruby is unscathed, we start to edge indoors, suddenly noticing how cold it is outside.
Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin Page 18