by Amy Dunne
Catherine smiled. “It’s just music.”
“It’s loud and lacks rhythm and soul. That’s not music. I’d rather wait until Christmas Day when our grandbabies come over to visit to experience the young. At least I’ll be in the comfort of my own home, listening to real music and thoroughly enjoying threatening them that if they’re not careful, I’ll be buying them all clothes and a Bible next Christmas.”
“Jeez. And there was me thinking I’m the only Christmas Grinch around here,” Catherine said. “Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t your shift end hours ago? Why are you still here?”
“What I choose to do is my own business. Now come on, follow me.”
Guilt mixed with tiredness made Catherine grumpier than usual. “I didn’t need you to stay. I’m fine by myself, and your interfering annoys me.”
Eve chose to ignore her comments and headed out of the room. Too tired to argue, Catherine reluctantly hobbled after her, cursing each uncomfortable step.
She was surprised when Eve led her to the management conference room, but as soon as she walked through the door the tantalising smell of spicy food welcomed her. Her body immediately reacted; her mouth began to salivate and her stomach growled in anticipation.
Eve stepped aside and revealed an intimate setting for two. A gap broke up the large interlinked rectangle of tables. A single table had been moved over to the window. Cartons of steaming Mexican food had been placed in the centre of the table, and plates, cutlery, and a plastic cup were positioned at either end. The lights were dimmed, which drew all attention to the magnificent view outside of the window.
The sky was almost a translucent grey. Small snowflakes danced hypnotically on the rhythm set by the evening breeze. A few stray flakes momentarily stuck to the glass, showing their beautiful intricate design before changing into icy droplets. The panoramic view of London’s skyline, which was impressive during daytime and summer, had now transformed into a winter wonderland. A dazzling kaleidoscope of colourful lights twinkled as far as the eye could see and stood out against the pristine whiteness of the snow. As if by magic, everything the snow coated looked clean, fresh, and slightly illuminated. It robbed the night of its usual cloak of darkness. The snow forming on the window ledge glittered with miniscule diamonds. Glistening, jagged icicles hung perilously from the top of the window.
“Come and eat before the food grows as cold as the snow outside,” Eve said. She took a seat at the table and started plating up rice.
The room was warm, but Catherine rubbed a pleasant imaginary chill from her arms. She had to admit looking out on such a stunning view and watching the snow fall made her feel better. The rumbling of her stomach reminded her she was starving, so she rushed around the side of the table to take her place.
Eve presented her with a plate filled with huge portions of colourful rice, spicy grilled chicken, peppers, onions, bean chilli, the biggest tortilla Catherine had ever seen, and lashings of red salsa, sour cream, and bright green guacamole. She graciously accepted. They began to eat, and the silence formed between them was a comfortable one.
“This is the best Mexican takeaway I’ve ever had,” Catherine said before quickly demolishing another mouthful.
Eve smiled. “Can I interest you in something chilled and bubbly to drink?”
Catherine frowned. “I’m only halfway through the reports, and I need a clear head to finish them. I don’t think drinking alcohol would—”
“Who said anything about alcohol?” Eve asked. She held up a bottle of Coke.
Catherine smiled. “In that case, yes, please.”
They continued their meal with light conversation and Catherine was surprised at how pleasant it was. Eve told her about her first experience of snow in 1963, when she and her husband had emigrated to the UK, and how she’d been fascinated by the stuff ever since.
As the meal drew to an end, Catherine wiped her mouth on a napkin and placed it on her plate. She couldn’t put off asking any longer. “What did Beth say? Is she furious with me?”
“Not at all,” Eve said. “She’s worried about you. And disappointed, which is understandable.”
“Maybe I could try and get a flight tomorrow—”
“I’m sorry, Catherine. I tried to book you another flight this afternoon, but every single one is fully booked. And with the horrendous weather forecast over the next few days, it’s unlikely they’ll be taking off anyway.”
Catherine forced a weak smile and tried to swallow around the lump of disappointment stuck in her throat. Guilt weighed heavily on her conscience, but it was the disappointment that bothered her most. She’d actually resigned herself to going to Beth’s. Secretly, she’d even started to look forward to seeing Florence open her presents on Christmas morning. The whole situation left a bitter taste in her mouth. A painful ache flared in her chest, and she tried to convince herself it was only heartburn from the spicy food.
“Beth did suggest alternative travel arrangements for you to consider,” Eve said a little too casually.
“Go on.”
“One of Katie’s cousins is driving up there from London tomorrow evening and then returning after—”
“You can’t be serious! You both expect me to travel by car? With a stranger. In horrendous weather conditions.” Catherine glared vehemently. “Not going to happen. I can’t believe you even suggested—”
“Okay.” Eve shifted in her seat and held up a placating hand. “I told her you wouldn’t go for it. I think she knows it was a long shot. I’ll call her back and tell her as soon as I’ve cleared all this away.”
Catherine’s heart was hammering in her chest. Her mouth was dry and her body was sweaty. How could Beth and Eve even ask that of me? They both knew about her parents.
“Catherine, it was an option, but I apologise for bringing it up. I should’ve told her no straight away—”
“Why didn’t you?” Catherine asked, her tone harsher and more accusing than she’d meant it to be.
“Because I wanted you to go spend Christmas with Beth. I think it would’ve done you a world of good.”
Catherine shook her head trying to ward off the whole host of emotions and thoughts. She wanted to go to Beth’s. It pissed her off to admit it, but it was true. Five minutes ago, she would have considered anything if it meant she wasn’t going to break her promise to Florence. But the thought of taking a car journey at this time of year filled her with full-blown fear.
She couldn’t do it.
Could she?
Gnawing on a fingernail for the first time in years, she forced herself to consider the question. Could she do it? Surely it wasn’t too different from the taxis she got to and from work every day? Plus the person driving obviously felt confident enough with her ability to make the journey regardless of the bad weather forecast. All she’d have to do was sit in a car for a few hours. That wasn’t so hard. If she took music or a book she could probably distract herself.
And even more importantly, if she didn’t face her fear now, she might as well give up on ever trying to. She hated being a victim held to ransom by her fears.
An image of Florence’s smiling face flashed in her mind’s eye, and it answered the question. She would make herself do it.
“Tell Beth I’ll do it. Let me know the details before you leave.” She felt some satisfaction when Eve’s jaw dropped and her mouth gaped. For the first time in their working relationship, Eve was rendered speechless.
Catherine walked back to her office refusing to think about anything other than completing the rest of the reports. There would be plenty of time for freaking out tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOUR
Catherine didn’t make it home until after seven in the morning. Eve left not long after their meal ended, but had first made the arrangements with Beth for the car journey.
Catherine and Katie’s cousin would split the cost of petrol. Arrangements had also been made for them to have an overnight stay in a hotel part way. Why an
overnight stay was needed was never explained. Catherine was simply told to be ready outside her apartment building at five o’clock in the evening, but infuriatingly, the vague details stopped there.
One positive aspect of missing the flight was her suitcase was already packed and in the hallway. She chose to forgo breakfast in the hope of catching up on some much needed sleep. She was emotionally, physically, and mentally drained. However, once in bed, she struggled to succumb to her tiredness. Her mind refused to stop racing and her anxiety about the upcoming journey plagued her. Eventually exhaustion won, but her dreams had been nightmarish.
At three o’clock she got up, showered, and dressed. She then spent the next hour pacing around her apartment trying to think up a reasonable excuse to cancel. By the time she had only fifteen minutes left, her nails were bitten down to their quicks.
She peered out of her window to the street below, her anxiety spiking. A snow shower had begun, and a light dusting covered everything. The clouds hung heavy and menacing. Her stomach squirmed at the prospect of journeying in these conditions.
At five to five, she dressed in her coat, scarf, and gloves. She pulled out the suitcase’s extendable handle and dragged it to the door. In a fleeting moment of hesitation, she ran to the kitchen and grabbed three bottles of wine. Hugging the bottles to her body, she rushed back into the hallway and knelt down. Although it was fairly solidly packed, she managed to fit two of the bottles inside the suitcase. She would have to carry the third.
Unable to procrastinate any longer, she gripped the handle again and dragged the suitcase out onto the communal landing before locking her door. With quickened breaths, she forced herself into the elevator. As each descending floor number lit up, her fear physically manifested itself. Her heart pounded and the sound of blood rushed in her ears. Acid scorched the back of her throat as she fought against the need to be violently sick. She ground her jaws together and braced her legs from buckling when the metal doors opened.
With tentative steps, she walked out into the festively decorated reception area. The rhythmic rolling of her suitcase on the tiled floor was interrupted by an annoyingly high-pitched squeak from one of the wheels.
Catherine counted each laboured step in her head, and at thirty-six, she finally reached the door. The day porter, whom she didn’t know, held the door open and wished her a good evening. The freezing air hit her and the shock caused her breath to catch in her throat. She hunched her shoulders and sought to bury herself deeper into her coat and scarf. The cold was bitter, and any bare flesh quickly began to sting from the nipping of its icy talons. Her ears got the brunt and she regretted not wearing a hat.
She rolled her suitcase down the stone steps, praying the wine bottles inside remained intact. She then stood on the pavement and waited.
She couldn’t be sure if she shivered because of the cold or her fear. She tried to distract herself by breathing through the dense material of her scarf and watching the clouds of steam. Snow continued to fall, and although light, it soon began to gather on her coat and the material of her suitcase. With each car that drove by, she felt her stomach lurch and her pulse quicken.
At quarter past five, her fear was replaced by annoyance. She was freezing and pissed off. Tardiness was something she loathed at the best of times, but in this weather it was plain rude. As soon as this cousin pulled up, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.
Holding the bottle of wine beneath an arm, she rubbed both hands together, cupped them, and blew inside, but the heat was lost almost instantly. Her gaze fell on the latest car to be travelling down the road.
What a death trap! The rusting piece of junk looked like it was going to keel over or break into pieces at any moment. Blotches of hospital green were randomly splattered in its worn forest green paint, brown rust clearly visible, even from this distance.
Appalled someone was out driving such a vehicle in this weather, she looked away, then glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes late.
The crunching of tyres pulling to the curb drew her attention. The death trap car had pulled up in front of her. Figuring the driver probably needed directions, as they clearly didn’t live in this well-to-do area, she cautiously walked up to the passenger window.
Through the misted glass she saw the driver lean over and start to roll down the window by hand. A lively Christmas song was blaring out on full blast, and Catherine groaned in irritation. As the frosted glass lowered a little more with each abrupt movement, Catherine finally laid eyes on the driver.
A young woman peered up at her. Her blond hair fell past her shoulders in tight curls. Blue eyes, rosy cheeks, pale, freckled skin. A glint of silver shone from the bar piercing in her right eyebrow. Dimples formed at the corners of her mouth and her smile was magnificent—full pink lips showcased perfect pearly white teeth. Her left ear was pierced four times, and novelty Christmas pudding earrings dangled from her lobes.
Slightly stunned by the beauty, Catherine felt the warm, unfamiliar feeling of arousal settle in the pit of her stomach. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure and ask uncertainly, “Can I help you?”
“I think it’s the other way around,” the woman said, having to shout over the music. Her smile intensified as she let out a hearty laugh. “I’m Holly Daniels. Katie’s cousin. I’m your designated chauffeur. Catherine, right?”
Catherine almost dropped the bottle of wine as she stumbled backward a step.
This can’t be happening. This has to be a mistake.
Holly turned off the engine, which cut the music. She clambered out of the car and came around to where Catherine was standing. She was wearing a large woollen jumper with penguins on it and a tight-fitting pair of jeans.
“We’ll pop your suitcase on the backseat. The boot is pretty full, sorry,” Holly said. She took hold of Catherine’s suitcase and rolled it over to the car. The dented car door made an unhealthy clattering sound as its hinges were forced open.
Catherine could only watch in horrified silence as Holly put her suitcase in the back.
“Right, shall we go?” Holly asked, her tone incredibly cheery as she turned around.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” Catherine whispered.
Holly tilted her head slightly, her brow creased in what looked like confusion. “I don’t think so. I was told to come here and pick you up at five. I’m sorry we couldn’t leave earlier, but it was the last big day at work before the holidays.”
Catherine gulped down a mouthful of icy air. She was in a worrying state of mind…well, actually two states of mind. Part of her wanted to run away from Holly and hide in her apartment, far away from the death trap car. The other part wanted to pull Holly in close and kiss her and perhaps never stop.
What the hell is going on with me?
Holly swept a stray curly strand of hair behind her ear before huddling into the large jumper. The snow was getting heavier.
“No offence, Catherine, but it’s friggin’ freezing out here. We’ve also got a four-hour journey ahead of us this evening and the weather’s getting worse. Can we leave please?”
Catherine was taken aback by Holly’s assertiveness. Although young in appearance she seemed confidently mature.
“Catherine?”
Catherine quickly weighed up her options. She either got in the car or she didn’t. Everything about this situation went against her better judgment and seemed to be the epitome of everything she hated: death trap car, bad weather, sexy young stranger full of festive cheer who was dressed in a Christmas jumper, Christmas music blaring. And yet she felt inexplicably attracted to Holly and excited at the prospect of travelling with her.
Her fear was still at the forefront of her mind, but the ache of arousal propelled her body into motion. Acting on instinct, which was something that went against her nature, she gave a curt nod and climbed inside.
Holly rushed around the front of the car and got behind the wheel. With another gorgeous smile, she looked at Cath
erine and said, “Buckle up, partner. We’re in for a festive ride.”
Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but with the starting of the engine, the speakers came back to life, and the same Christmas song picked up from where it left off. As the car pulled away from her apartment building, a sudden thought struck Catherine: I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. This is going to be the road trip from hell.
CHAPTER FIVE
Catherine’s heart continued to pound in her chest and her mouth had never felt so dry. She tried to calm down, telling herself she only had to endure a few hours in the car and then she’d be at the hotel. And tomorrow she’d do the same again and then she’d be at Beth’s.
The main problem was the car. The interior left a lot to be desired and was only marginally better than the outside. It was rickety, old, and everything about it screamed to her inner panic that it was unsafe.
Her legs were crammed into an uncomfortably small space. The seat belt was far too lax, as if it had previously had all of its elasticity wrung from it, leaving it pathetically lifeless and limp. The car seat was lumpy and she struggled to find a position where her backside wasn’t prodded by the camouflaged springs seeking escape. It was also uncomfortably hot thanks to the air blasting through the vents. She was also overly aware that the car had been manufactured in a prehistoric age before such safety advances as airbags had even been dreamt up.
As much as she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was sat inside a death trap whose dented shell would offer no protection whatsoever should something happen. Her body rattled up and down with every hurly-burly bump and dip of the road.
The only minuscule positive she could take from the experience so far was the warm, almost spicy fragrance of ginger and cinnamon laced with the earthy sweet aroma of chocolate lingering tantalizingly in the air. Although she’d looked around the car for the source of the smell, she couldn’t spot it. There was no air freshener, and in the end she had to stop searching, as the things she was noticing instead only added to her anxiety.