Season's Meetings

by Amy Dunne

  Catherine had one question left, and she needed to build herself up to asking it. Even as she tried to think of the right words, her face grew warm. With fumbling hands she rolled down the window a few centimetres and silently rejoiced as the icy air cooled her face.

  “Are you okay?” Holly asked.

  “Yeah, just a bit warm,” Catherine said. Bracing herself, she prepared to ask her final question. “So, do you have a partner?”

  Holly raised an eyebrow. “You mean a business partner? No. The business is mine.”

  Catherine struggled to swallow. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. A sudden fear of her stutter returning slammed into her chest, which was ridiculous because she’d not stuttered in a long time. Pushing the thought from the forefront of her mind, she took her time to carefully speak. “Actually, I meant do you live with someone?”

  “A roommate?” Holly asked. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly. “No, I live alone, in the apartment above the shop. Although I’m seriously thinking about renting out the spare bedroom. The apartment is such a huge space for me, and I won’t pretend the extra cash wouldn’t help. Plus it’d be nice to have some company. This year’s been a bit lonely. The early starts mean I’ve barely had a night out.”

  Catherine was growing increasingly frustrated. She wanted to discover if Holly was single but was failing miserably.

  “We’ve made it,” Holly said with relief.

  Catherine looked out her window and saw the neon lights of the upcoming hotel’s sign. Although she was relieved at their safe arrival, she was also disappointed the first part of their journey was over.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Catherine blurted out without thinking.

  “It took you long enough to ask. I was starting to give up hope,” Holly said. She parked the car, put on the handbrake, and with the engine still running turned in her seat to face Catherine. “No, I’m single. Are you attached?”

  Catherine replied in a croak, “No.”

  “Good,” Holly said. She switched off the engine.

  Catherine sat in stupefied silence as Holly climbed out of the car.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Catherine stumbled over the threshold and into the warm hotel lobby. Her arms ached and she bent forward with a groan and lowered the hefty suitcase to the floor. It turned out having a wheelie suitcase was great except when contending with a foot of fresh snow. At least by carrying the bloody thing, she’d ensured the contents remained dry. Glancing out of the glass door, she noted Holly was still hovering around the boot of her car.

  Tapping her feet on the welcome mat loosened the encrusted snow and made a bit of a mess. The woman on reception was quiet but efficient, and within a few minutes Catherine had her room key card and had also booked a table for two in the restaurant for an evening meal.

  The prospect of sharing an intimate meal with Holly, especially after the conversation they’d shared, stirred nervous butterflies in her stomach. She tried to unsuccessfully convince herself the meal would have no romantic connotation whatsoever. It was simply a nice change from eating alone.

  She mentally went through the clothing she’d packed and tried to choose a suitable outfit. Having not considered she’d be in this position, most of her clothes were casual. Perhaps her fitted purple shirt and favourite pair of black trousers would suffice? She wanted to look good without appearing as if she’d tried to look good. Under no circumstances did she want to come across as presumptive or desperate.

  “Shit,” she whispered under her breath. What was she doing? After only a few hours in a car with Holly, she’d presumably lost her mind. She hadn’t stressed about clothing in years. Plus she should surely be trying to instil some sort of barrier between Holly and herself, not thinking up ways to encourage something to happen.

  The main doors opened and Holly appeared. Face flushed, she shrugged off her coat, spraying icy droplets everywhere. She glanced up and gave a dazzling smile, which nearly made Catherine’s knees buckle.

  As Holly checked in at reception, Catherine loitered to one side trying to act casual and failing miserably. Sitting in the car had hidden the shape of Holly’s body. The cream woollen jumper was big and only hinted at the size of her chest. The incredibly tight-fitting jeans, however, left little to the imagination. The jeans were tucked into a pair of scuffed walking boots. The boots had no heel, so Holly was clearly comfortable with her height.

  Try as she might, Catherine couldn’t stop staring. Worse still was her gaze seemed glued to Holly’s pert backside, which made her feel like a complete pervert. Antsy, she turned away and pretended to peruse the nearby display stand showcasing an array of leaflets for local attractions.

  A gentle tap on her shoulder shot tingles across her skin.

  “Ready?” Holly asked. She was brandishing her room key. “We’re on the same corridor.”

  Catherine nodded mutely, her pulse still racing from the innocent touch. She reclaimed her suitcase and obediently followed Holly. Each corridor looked identical to Catherine, but they eventually found the one with their room numbers. As they approached Catherine’s door, she finally managed to speak.

  “I booked us a table in the restaurant for an evening meal,” Catherine said, stumbling over her words.

  Holly stopped abruptly and Catherine nearly walked into the back of her. Holly’s hunching shoulders, the frown creasing her forehead, and the way her gaze shot to the floor made it clear to Catherine they weren’t going to be sharing a meal.

  Perplexed, Catherine instinctively tried to backtrack. “I should’ve checked with you first. Don’t worry about—”

  “It was sweet of you, Catherine,” Holly said. She was hugging herself and looked uncomfortable. “I’m tired. The early start, paired with driving in the snow, has taken it out of me. I’m exhausted. I think maybe it’s best I get an early night.”

  “Of course,” Catherine said, internally chastising herself for being so presumptive. “It’s fine, honestly.”

  “Thanks for understanding.” Holly shuffled her feet, and after a few lingering seconds of awkwardness said, “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Catherine.”

  “Sleep well, too,” Catherine said. She tried to mask her hurt as she watched Holly walk down the corridor. “Holly?” When Holly looked back, Catherine felt a pang of bitter disappointment. “Thank you for today.”

  “It’s been a pleasure,” Holly said. An unreadable expression flickered across her face. She swiped her key and opened the door. With one last fleeting look she said, “Good night.” The door closed behind her.

  Catherine remained rooted to the floor staring at Holly’s closed door. What had happened? Had she said or done something wrong? How had things changed so dramatically from parking the car to finding their rooms?

  Self-conscious, Catherine fumbled in her pocket for the key card, swiped the lock, and rushed into the room. Once inside, she locked the door, placed the key card in the holder to activate the light switch, and wheeled the suitcase over to the bed. Hands on hips, she surveyed her surroundings.

  The room was clean and although the colour scheme and furniture looked a little dated, she was impressed with the overall standard of the room. Eve had booked her reservation, but it was Holly who had mapped out the route and chosen this particular hotel for them. Travelling for work meant Catherine had stayed in many hotels, some of the finest in the UK, and she would previously never have entertained the thought of booking herself into this particular chain, simply because it was renowned for being cheap. In retrospect, she now felt a little ashamed of her snobbery. Although this hotel room was hardly five stars, it was clean, spacious, provided all of the essentials, and was an excellent value for money.

  She called reception from the room phone and cancelled the restaurant reservation. After quickly scanning the menu she ordered a burger, fries, and a large beer. If she fancied some wine later she could always open one of the bottles from her suitcase, but she suspected the beer
would suffice.

  Unpacking took less than five minutes. All she needed were her pyjamas and toiletries. She decided, after she’d eaten, she’d relax in a hot bubble bath. She’d then spend the rest of the evening in bed reading one of the many books she’d been hoarding on her tablet. Hopefully, her mind would be distracted and all thoughts of Holly would be held at bay.

  Twenty minutes later, her meal arrived, and once again she was pleasantly surprised by the quality. It was hot and tasty, and the icy beer accompanying it went down smoothly. It didn’t take long for her to devour everything, and as she sat uncomfortably full, looking down in dismay at the crumb-littered plate, she realised her long-lost appetite was also apparently back. Unable to bring herself to move her podgy backside any farther than climbing on top of the bed, she lazily pointed the remote and flicked the TV on.

  She found a relatively comfortable position, which entailed lying sprawled diagonally across the bed. After dozing for a while, her attention was drawn to the TV screen. The spritely weather forecast presenter was practically jumping up and down, while big red warnings flashed across the screen. Getting to her knees, Catherine edged closer, studying the map. An icy chill crawled down her spine and an overwhelming sense of foreboding settled over her. A horrendous-looking snowstorm was due to hit the UK tomorrow, and Scotland was going to get the brunt of it. The warnings were clear: prepare, stay indoors, and do not attempt to travel.

  Her stomach lurched. The burger and fries had been a mistake.

  What the hell were they going to do? She needed to tell Holly about the potential danger. Frustrated by her lack of driving knowledge, she considered potential alternatives. They could head back to London tomorrow. They could stay in the hotel for another night, although the forecast had said the storm could produce up to two feet of snow, so travelling afterward would be hindered.

  A loud rapping on her door broke her trail of thought. She switched the TV off, discarded the remote, and looked through the peephole. Holly stood outside the door. Catherine wiped her face, ran her hands over her hair to smooth it, and straightened her rumpled clothes before opening the door.

  “Hi,” Catherine said. She was almost rendered speechless by how adorable Holly looked dressed in her matching pyjama top and bottoms. The white material was scattered with glittery pink and purple snowflakes. The top closed at the front with purple buttons. She’d rolled up her sleeves, but the length of the bottoms overhung her slippers. Though the pyjamas weren’t particularly revealing, Holly looked snug and gorgeous.

  “I’m sorry for bothering you, Catherine,” Holly said. She moved half a step forward. “I watched the weather forecast for tomorrow.”

  “So did I,” Catherine said weakly. She was overly aware of the close proximity between their bodies. The same spicy and earthy fragrance that had tantalised her senses in the car radiated off Holly.

  “It’s not looking good.” Holly chewed on her lower lip and began to wring her hands.

  “No, it’s not,” Catherine said, resting her back against the door to keep it ajar. “What are your thoughts?”

  Holly shrugged. “I can only think of two. We could leave early and risk it, or we could turn back and head home.”

  Catherine met Holly’s gaze and became captivated by her eyes. The rings of light blue had flecks of gold surrounding each iris. The blond eyelashes were long and curved, framing her eyes perfectly.

  “Catherine?” Holly asked uncertainly.

  Catherine blinked. “Uh, sorry?”

  The corners of Holly’s mouth twitched. “I was asking whether you want to risk it or go home?”

  Catherine swallowed hard. They should turn back. There was no question. And yet, her heart and mind refused to accept it. Surprising as it was, she didn’t want to go back to her apartment and spend Christmas alone. The thought was depressingly crippling and it wedged a lump in her throat. She wanted to journey with Holly and continue to get to know her better.

  “You’re the one driving,” she said. “Ultimately, it’s your decision.”

  Holly gave a weak nod. “I think I want to try. I know it could be dangerous, but if we leave early enough I think we could make it before the worst of the storm hits. We’re only four hours away, and although there’s bound to be additional time constraints because of the weather, I honestly think it’s doable.”

  A spike of excitement coursed through Catherine’s veins in response to her newfound recklessness. “Let’s do it.”

  Holly’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

  Catherine nodded vehemently, even though her insides were squirming. “Yes. What time do you want to leave?”

  Holly took a few seconds to consider her answer. “I think if we leave at six we’ll make it without any problems. It means you’ll have to skip having breakfast here, though. We can pick something up when we stop for petrol if you like. I’m going to need some strong coffee.”

  The thought of food made Catherine grimace. “That’s fine with me.”

  “Okay. Shall I come and knock for you at six?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Well, I better go return Katie’s calls. I think she and Beth are freaking out,” Holly said. She took a step back and, balancing on the ball of her foot, seemed to hesitate. A moment later she leaned forward on tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on Catherine’s cheek. With a shy smile and blushing cheeks, she pulled away and practically ran back up the corridor. Opening her door, she called back over her shoulder, “See you at six.”

  Catherine stood flabbergasted, gently touching the spot on her cheek where Holly’s lips had touched her skin. On wobbly legs, she pushed backward, opening her door and returning into the room. She engaged the lock and entered the bathroom with a spring in her step. As the bath filled with water and bubbles, she replayed the feel of Holly’s kiss over in her mind. She wiped the condensation from her glasses and glimpsed her reflection in the mirror. She had to laugh at the stupid grin she wore.

  What had originally been planned as a relaxing bath quickly escalated into an unexpected grooming session. Her teeth were brushed, her nails clipped, all types of body hair dealt with, and her skin scrubbed and moisturised within an inch of its life. Feeling chipper, Catherine dressed in her pyjamas and climbed beneath the duvet.

  With a contented smile, she switched on her tablet and automatically went to delete the welcome message from the hotel’s Wi-Fi, but then changed her mind and connected instead. She told herself she was innocently going to check social media. She signed in and perused some of her so-called friends’ status updates, despairing at the dirty laundry they were happy to air in public. What was the world coming to? So much for the season of good will.

  The only reason she had an account at all was because Beth had set it up for her under the false pretence of keeping in touch when they moved. The real reason quickly became apparent when Catherine started getting personal messages from random lesbians who coincidentally happened to be single. She’d been furious, but Beth had, of course, denied everything. After changing the password, the account’s privacy settings, and her profile information, she’d successfully prevented any further contact from strangers and subsequently pissed Beth off at the same time. Success all round.

  Thinking of Beth logically led Catherine to have a nosey at her profile, which was filled with recent photos of Florence. Guilt crashed down over her. She’d grown up. How many of Florence’s important rites of passage had she already missed? Had Florence lost her first tooth yet? Beth had said she could write her name and tie her laces. What else had she missed out on?

  When Florence was born, Catherine had become uncharacteristically smitten and broody. She’d visited Beth and Katie regularly, even though it’d caused even more problems between Paula and her. She’d been genuinely surprised when they’d asked her to be Florence’s godmother, but hadn’t hesitated in accepting, even though she was an atheist. It wasn’t a position she had entered into lightly. She’d secretly sworn to hers
elf and Florence she would do her best to uphold the responsibility bestowed upon her.

  During the first two years, she’d been a constant part of Florence’s life, but then the shit had hit the fan with Paula, and everything had fallen apart. The following year had passed by in a bit of a blur. Heartbroken and betrayed, she’d cut herself off from everyone. Her visits to see Florence became few and far between. Every time she visited, it became harder to act like she was fine, and as much as she loved Florence, her heart ached with grief for the destroyed family plans she’d secretly harboured for Paula and herself. A year later, Katie had been offered a job in the Highlands of Scotland, and they’d moved. Catherine had never made the journey to visit, using one excuse or another, or blatantly ignoring Beth’s outright attempts to invite her. In part, her avoidance was guilt-driven. She’d broken her promise to Florence and was too ashamed to grant herself a reprieve. She’d also thrown herself into work after the split and genuinely hadn’t allowed herself time for a break.

  Determination swelled in her chest. The newly realised epiphany made things crystal clear. She needed to concentrate on the important people in her life. She would make the journey with Holly tomorrow, repair bridges with her friends, and even more importantly, make up for her absence with Florence. She would call them regularly and try to visit every couple of months. Money wasn’t an issue, and she’d saved enough annual leave.

  While looking through Katie’s profile, she happened to accidentally purposely stumble across Holly’s. For the next hour, she did something she genuinely wasn’t proud of. She basically stalked Holly’s profile, photos, timeline, and messages. She had no doubt whatsoever her actions were wrong, and she wasn’t even sure how she’d be able to face Holly the following morning…but none of that provided enough motivation to make her stop.

  Holly had over a hundred friends, unlike Catherine, who only had sixteen. There were over a thousand photos that tagged Holly, although most had been taken by other people at social gatherings. There were three albums Holly had uploaded, and these were particularly interesting.