by Jill Mansell
“Er, excuse me, I am hilarious.” Dan deftly snatched the open bag of fruit drops from her left hand and removed the top one, holding it between his finger and thumb as if it were a priceless diamond. “Ooh, my favorite…”
“Not that one! Give it back. You can take a green one, but you’re not having the red!”
And that was it. They were off, Lily chasing Dan across the road and along the sidewalk on the other side as he darted around her, staying just out of reach. Lily’s blond curls bounced around her shoulders as she took an almighty swing at him with her heavy school backpack and finally managed to grab the fruit pastilles back.
“Help, dial 999, call the police.” Dan was doubled over with laughter. “I’m being attacked by a lunatic…”
“They’re like that all the time.” Patsy rolled her eyes fondly. “It never stops.”
When Lily and Dan had disappeared through the gates of Goldstone House, she said, “What are you going to do now? Wait for the next bus?”
“I have to. Just one more. Honestly, Aunt Ethel does my head in.” Kevin paused, his smile rueful. “Although on the bright side, I’ve met you.”
They gazed at each other for several seconds as the snow gathered strength and began to fall harder around them. The streetlamps were coming on now, the sky was growing darker by the minute, and someone inside the Star Inn had just switched on the strings of colored fairy lights that decorated the front of the pub.
“I think I’ve had enough coffee for one day,” Kevin said. “I might try that place, just for a change of scenery. It looks nice.”
Patsy nodded, her cold hands shoved deep inside the pockets of her red wool coat. “It is nice.”
“And do you have to be anywhere? I mean, things to do, people to see?”
She had nothing to do, nowhere else she needed to be. Other than Tenerife, obviously. She shook her head. “No.”
Snowflakes were landing on the lenses of Kevin’s spectacles and sliding down the glass. She added, “You can take those off again now.”
He smiled, did as he was told, then said, “Come on, let’s go.”
As they crossed the rapidly whitening road, a blue Fiesta drove by with festive music booming out of it. Stealing a glance at Kevin’s profile, Patsy wondered how prophetic it was that the song playing was Mariah Carey’s jaunty classic “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
* * *
By nine o’clock in the evening, Patsy’s edges were pleasantly blurred. She wasn’t drunk, just happily relaxed. Tucked into a cozy corner of the pub, she and Kevin had shared a bottle of red wine, eaten chicken casserole, and talked nonstop for hours. And although neither of them had referred to it, the mutual attraction between them was growing rapidly. The body language was there, the not-very-accidental physical contact inescapable. Patsy’s cheeks ached from smiling, her foot beneath the old oak table was resting against Kevin’s, and she’d long since decided that the age gap between them wasn’t too great after all.
Because when you scrolled through her past experiences with boys her own age…well, look how they’d turned out. Maybe an older man was just what she needed. And it wasn’t as if Kevin was ancient. He was thirty-six, she was twenty-three…and the words of the Mariah Carey song were still playing on a loop in her brain.
All she wanted for Christmas could be sitting in front of her right now.
Needless to say, Aunt Ethel hadn’t been on the five o’clock bus.
Thank goodness.
Because if she had been, Kevin would have spent the last few hours with his mad aunt instead of with her.
They ordered another bottle of delicious Barolo, and Patsy said, “You’re not going to be able to drive home tonight.”
Kevin shrugged. “I’ll just have to sleep in my car.”
He was probably joking, but Patsy said, “You can’t do that. You’ll freeze to death.”
“This is true.” He peered out through the window at the snow still falling steadily outside. “Would you happen to have a sofa I could spend the night on?”
Patsy hesitated. She did, but she also had a nosy mother. Not to mention a smart-aleck fifteen-year-old brother. Furthermore, she suspected Kevin was hoping for more than a sofa.
“That could be awkward. What with family…”
“Oh, I see. Right.”
“There’s a hotel down the road. The Valentine.”
“Hmm, is that the four-star one I drove past on my way here? It might cost a bit more than I can afford. Is there a cheap B and B anywhere nearby?”
There was a cheap B and B, at the other end of the main street. It was run by the scariest person in the Cotswolds—a bossy, judgmental woman in her sixties named Beatrice who disapproved enormously of sex before marriage.
And Kevin’s index finger was now idly stroking the inside of Patsy’s wrist, sending mini electrical zings shooting all the way up her arm.
“What are you thinking?” His voice was low, his gaze fixed on hers.
“There’s a B and B, but it’s not very nice,” Patsy fibbed. God, Beatrice would go ballistic if she knew Patsy had said that. “And the landlady is quite”—she made a face—“strict.”
“You mean she wouldn’t approve of visitors?”
“She definitely wouldn’t approve of visitors.”
They were in a quiet corner of the pub. No one was watching them. Kevin leaned across the table, gently pulled her forward to meet him halfway, and kissed her on the mouth.
Oh wow, more zings, mega zings. All I want for Christmas is yooou.
Sitting back but keeping hold of her hand, Kevin said, “That isn’t ideal, then. Maybe I should splurge on the hotel.” He smiled slowly and rubbed his fingers across the back of her knuckles. “You could stay with me, if you’d like to. What do you think, hmm?”
Patsy’s mouth was dry. Who knew? Maybe meeting Kevin today had been fate, designed to alter the course of her life. What if, twenty years from now, telling people the story of how they’d first gotten together became their well-honed party piece?
She could almost hear the older version of Kevin saying the words now: “And to think, if she hadn’t said yes, we might never have seen each other again after that night. Imagine that!”
Seize the moment. Go on, do it. You can’t let this chance slip by.
Patsy took a deep breath. “OK. I’d like that.”
Kevin broke into a smile. “That’s good news. Because I don’t much like staying in strange hotel rooms on my own.”
Using the pay phone out in the corridor, they looked up the number of the Valentine in the Yellow Pages. Kevin called the hotel and booked a double room.
Next, Patsy phoned home and told her mother she’d be staying with a friend that night. Well, it wasn’t a lie, was it?
Then they recorked the still almost-full bottle of red wine, slid it into Patsy’s oversize shoulder bag, and left the pub.
The walk along the main street was cold but completely magical. Snow tumbled out of the ink-black sky, and multicolored lights and decorated Christmas trees glittered in the windows of the shops and houses they passed. Their breath formed opaque clouds of condensation, and crisp, dry snow squeaked beneath their feet. Kevin was keeping his arm around her to make sure she didn’t slip and fall. He was such a gentleman, and he had such a nice smile. It felt like being in a movie.
“Just so you know.” Patsy felt the need to say it as they passed the newsagent’s where she’d bought her copy of Cosmo. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, not on the first night. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“I know.” Kevin paused to kiss her briefly, his nose cold against her cheek. “I can tell. But this is different. This is special.”
He could feel it too; it wasn’t just her. Patsy’s heart soared as she whispered, “I think you’re right.”
* * *
/>
At two o’clock in the morning, the sound of a toilet being flushed in the next room woke Patsy from sleep. For a split second she wondered where she was. Then, remembering, she smiled and snuggled closer to Kevin, who was lying on his side facing away from her.
They’d had such a wonderful evening. Any worries that she’d been making a mistake had been swept away. They’d had another glass of wine each, made love, then talked some more, sharing the rest of the bottle of Barolo before making love again. He was such a genuinely nice person. He no longer seemed several years older than her; he was just…Kevin.
Kevin Lester.
Patsy Lester.
It sounded so right. Far better than Alex’s surname. Much as she’d liked Alex, if they had ended up getting married she’d have been Patsy Bacon. Which, let’s face it, wasn’t ideal. So many puns, so little time…
Ah, but Patsy Lester was fine; it was a good name. And OK, maybe this was jumping the gun, but it wasn’t as if anyone would ever know she’d been thinking it.
She ran her hand lightly over Kevin’s back, not enough to wake him, just to feel the warmth of his skin. Here they were, naked together on the first night of their relationship. She was never going to forget—
A door slammed on the next floor, and Kevin’s arm twitched. He lifted his head for a moment, then let it fall back onto the pillow. “Go back to bed,” he mumbled.
Patsy grinned in the darkness. People who talked in their sleep were always entertaining. When a few seconds had passed, she reached up behind her and knocked the wooden headboard with her knuckles.
Kevin let out a groan. “Tan, she’s trying to get in… You sort it out… Put her back to bed.”
Patsy stopped grinning. What?
Kevin shifted in his sleep and began to snore.
Seriously, what?
Because people sometimes talked rubbish when they were asleep, muttering about catching potatoes and flying with dragons, but Kevin’s words were rather more prosaic than that.
Who was Tan?
And who did she need to put back to bed?
Oblivious to the snoring, Patsy lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. OK, Tan could be his ex-girlfriend, someone with a small daughter. That was completely feasible.
Of course it was.
Wasn’t it?
Her toes were so tense that they were in danger of seizing up with cramps. No way could she get back to sleep now she’d heard him say those things. At least not until she’d found out the meaning behind them.
She eased herself away from Kevin’s sleeping form and slid silently out of bed. She wrapped herself in one of the white toweling robes hanging behind the door, then, finding Kevin’s trousers thrown over the armchair by the window, she stealthily removed his wallet from the back pocket.
Everything’s going to be OK, everything’s going to be OK. Just breathe…
Locking herself in the bathroom, Patsy glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Tousled bed hair, slightly smudged makeup, and anxious eyebrows.
Don’t be anxious. There has to be a perfectly simple explanation for what you heard him say.
She perched on the edge of the bathtub, gazed at the brown leather wallet in her lap, then took a deep breath and opened it.
* * *
“Wake up.”
“Hurgh…”
“Wake up.” Patsy was trembling with fury. She gave the double bed a kick and almost broke her toe.
“Eh?” Opening his eyes and rolling over onto his back, Kevin blinked in sleepy confusion.
Except his name wasn’t Kevin.
“Wake up and answer the phone,” said Patsy. “Your wife wants to know why you haven’t come home tonight.”
“What?” That did the trick. He sat up, searched the room for the phone, and saw it sitting silently on the bedside table with the receiver in place.
“You seem to have stolen someone else’s wallet.” Patsy held it up, still shaking. “Someone by the name of Keir.” She took out the Visa debit card and spun it across the bed at him. “Keir Bourne.” The MasterCard followed it, bouncing off his chest. “And guess what? He even looks like you.” She aimed a driver’s license at his head, followed by a small color photograph of him with a pretty red-haired woman and a girl with pigtails who looked to be about three or four years old. “And he has a wife and a child, imagine that! You bastard…”
“OK, stop it. You had no right to go through my wallet.”
“You had no right to tell me your name was Kevin Lester.” It was warm in the room, but Patsy’s teeth were chattering violently. “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me from the word go.”
“Look, I’m married, but it’s a disaster. We’re only staying together until Sasha’s a bit older. As soon as she’s settled at school, we’ll make the break—”
“You don’t live in Slough,” Patsy pointed out. “You live in Milton Keynes. It says so on your driver’s license.”
“Look, I’m sorry.”
“Who’s Kevin Lester?”
He sighed. “Just someone I was friends with at school.”
“Does mad Aunt Ethel even exist?” Patsy paused. “No, of course she doesn’t. You made her up.”
Silence. Keir Bourne looked away.
“And in case you’re wondering, I do know who you are,” said Patsy. “Which means I know why you came here to Stanton Langley.”
More silence, broken only by the sound of her own uneven breathing.
“And now I hate myself. I feel so stupid.” Tears filled her eyes, then slid down her cheeks and dripped onto her bare feet. “I feel grubby and gullible and used.”
“Well, you shouldn’t,” said Keir, “because I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Not this between you and me. I came here for one reason—a completely different reason—and I didn’t expect to meet you, but I did. All of this, the way I feel about you and the way you felt about me… It was real.” He swallowed, as if on the brink of tears himself. “It is real.”
Patsy’s voice broke. “You’re Lily’s father.”
“Yes.”
“You dumped Jo. She was all alone and pregnant, and you abandoned her.”
Keir shook his head sorrowfully. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. It wasn’t my fault.”
“You’re lying again.” Sobbing now, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the white robe.
“I’m not, I swear. Please listen to me,” Keir said with anguish in his eyes. “Just let me explain.”
Chapter 33
Twelve years on from that night, the very, very worst of her life, Patsy wondered if this one was about to eclipse it.
All around her, at the table in the garden of Goldstone House, the rest of them were discussing the situation with varying degrees of outrage and disgust. The Sunday edition of the newspaper had yet to appear online; they were waiting for it to be uploaded within the next hour or so. And who could say what might be revealed when it did?
Patsy felt sick. For all this time, she’d guarded her deepest, darkest, and most shameful secret. At first, she’d lived in perpetual fear that one way or another the truth would come out. Then, as the years had rolled by, the terror had lessened to a low-level rumbling anxiety. Lily had continued to be completely uninterested in meeting her biological father, and that had been the best news of all.
But now…oh, but now Keir was wanting to make contact with his daughter, and instead of simply writing to her, he’d chosen to do it via the medium of a national newspaper. God alone knew what he might be about to say.
“Are you OK?” Coral was looking at her with concern.
“I’m afraid… Well, not really. I’m feeling a bit…ill.” Patsy’s hand shook as she took a sip of water, and the rim of the tumbler clattered against her teeth.
“You do look pa
le,” Eddie said.
“Don’t try to blame my barbecuing skills,” Dan announced. “It’s too soon for food poisoning.”
Coral said, “It might be one of those bugs.”
“I think it could be that.” Hating herself even more, Patsy nodded weakly. “I’ve been feeling a bit yuck for a few hours, but it’s getting worse.”
“Poor you,” Lily exclaimed. “And you’ve been trying so hard to pretend nothing’s wrong. If you feel sick, I bet you’re dying to go home.”
“I am feeling sick.” Patsy put the tumbler down. “I think I probably should go. Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault! Would you like me to walk you home?”
Patsy said, “It’s fine. Don’t worry, you stay here.” Lily’s compassion was only making her feel worse. “I’d rather be on my own.” She made stay-sitting gestures, but it was too late. Lily was already out of her chair.
“You mustn’t…” Patsy protested as Lily hugged her. “You don’t want to catch whatever I’ve got.”
“I won’t. I never do. Poor you,” Lily said again. “I hope you feel better soon.”
Patsy had never felt more like Judas. Her throat tight with shame and self-loathing, she murmured, “Me too. I’m sorry.”
Lily smiled. “Will you stop saying that? You didn’t do it on purpose!”
The shameful words echoed through Patsy’s brain: Oh, but I kind of did.
* * *
The piece appeared on the newspaper’s website at just after midnight. As soon as Dan looked up from his phone and said, “It’s there,” Lily nodded and pushed back her chair.
“I’ll read it inside. Won’t be long.”
“Oh, darling, are you sure you don’t want anyone with you?” Coral was looking concerned.
Lily gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
In the kitchen, Lily sat down at the scrubbed oak table and opened the page on her iPad. It wasn’t a case of being worried she might cry; she simply wanted to be able to concentrate and take it all in without being aware that everyone was watching her.