It Must Have Been the Mistletoe

by Judy Astley

‘And take the children to the pantomime,’ she finished for him.

  ‘Ha – yes. But not in Paul’s case. It’s his own children.’

  Thea was silent for a moment. ‘He has children? Are you sure?’

  Sean laughed. ‘Of course I’m sure! He and Sarah have three of them. Aged between about seven and twelve, give or take.’

  ‘Sarah?’ Thea felt she was being spectacularly dim.

  ‘His wife. Has he not mentioned her? He never stops going on about her. They’re still like love’s young dream, those two.’

  ‘But I assumed …’

  ‘Oh, you thought he was a bit on the camp side, did you?’ Sean said. ‘Most people do. Not at all. He’s just a metrosexual sort who got used to putting on a bit of an act back in the advertising business days. He said it gave clients confidence in his arty side. He once told me that nobody trusts someone who sounds like a golf-playing lawyer to choose wallpaper and the right sofa for a set. So there you go. Another drink?’

  ‘Er, yes, please. A small white wine would be lovely.’

  While Sean was at the bar, Thea collected her thoughts and came to some heartening conclusions. But it was a bit late now, wasn’t it? She was going home tomorrow. And he’d let go of her hand and apologized.

  For a while she listened to the music in the background, the last of Charlotte’s Sad Old Bastards singing the Rolling Stones’ ‘Wild Horses’ in a voice that managed to make it sound – appropriately enough – as if he were actually neighing.

  When Sean came back with the drinks, Thea took a deep breath and said, ‘I’ve been such an idiot.’

  ‘Aw, have you? What have you done?’

  ‘I made … assumptions.’

  ‘You said. About Paul.’

  ‘Yes. And about – er, you.’

  ‘Me? What assumptions?’

  ‘That you and Paul were a couple.’

  Sean spluttered into his beer. ‘Ha! I can’t wait to tell him – that is so funny!’

  ‘No, it isn’t!’ She clouted him hard on his arm. ‘All the signs were there. You said he was your partner.’

  ‘Only businesswise! Jeez! Even if I were gay, I wouldn’t fancy Paul. I’d go for someone more in the Johnny Depp line. Paul’s a bit George Clooney for me, sorry to disappoint him and all that.’ He couldn’t seem to stop laughing. ‘Oh, Thea, you are so funny. I’ve been coming on to you since the minute you arrived and you obviously didn’t even notice.’

  ‘But then you thought I was gay,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Paul knew I liked you. But then yesterday morning, when he was having a go at matchmaking, he told me that you said that in other circumstances you’d maybe quite like me. He thought you were hinting that you weren’t playing on the usual team, so …’

  ‘We’re both idiots then.’

  He turned and looked at her. ‘Seems as if we are. What shall we do about it?’

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘So – have you all had a Merry Christmas then?’ Maria had done an hour or two already, helping Emily and Rosie to dismantle their Christmas decorations and pack them away, and helping Mike and Jimi to clear out the fridge and deal with leftover food. There was no turkey left and Charlotte had suggested they put the carcase out in a hedge for a passing fox to take.

  ‘An unusual Christmas, yes, thank you. A good one, I think so. Definitely mostly merry,’ Anna told Maria.

  Charlotte and Alec had gone. Charlotte’s friend had turned up early in his Mini and was going to drop both of them off at Truro station so they could travel back to London together on the train. Outside was now mostly clear of snow, apart from where it had piled up in drifts, and the snowman in the garden was reduced to a lopsided heap of slush.

  ‘You didn’t need all the rooms after all then?’ Maria said.

  ‘Oh, we did – we were definitely a full house,’ Anna told her.

  ‘Well, one of them hadn’t been slept in,’ Maria said. ‘I’ve just been in to do the beds in the two who’ve gone and only one has even been touched.’

  Mike and Anna looked at each other. ‘Bloody hell,’ Anna said, ‘and there was me feeling sorry for Alec.’

  ‘And me for Charlotte. I’ve been feeling guilty about her.’

  ‘She doesn’t surprise me.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Mike admitted, ‘but I’m surprised at yours. He seemed far too wet for instant shenanigans.’

  ‘Clearly not,’ Anna said. ‘The influence of Christmas mistletoe, I expect.’ Then: ‘We didn’t do the fireworks, did we?’ she asked suddenly.

  Mike looked at her. ‘I rather thought we did.’ He looked sad. ‘And I didn’t think it was just me.’

  ‘No, literally fireworks. They’re still in the car.’

  ‘Save them for New Year’s Eve then, at home?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  They’d all gone home and no one (apart from Charlotte) had seen Thea coming in through the back door in the blue dress she’d worn to the pub. She had tried to whiz up the stairs to shower and change without anyone seeing her, but Charlotte was on the first-floor landing, dragging her case on wheels out of her room.

  ‘Ah – the stop-out! So you got Sean then,’ she said with a naughty grin. ‘I knew you would in the end. Had to be done.’ She hugged her. ‘Bye, Thea, and good luck. And thanks for not being a cow to me. I might have been, in the circs, if it had been me.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t. It is Christmas, after all – season of goodwill and all that.’

  ‘Season of good men,’ Charlotte said with a wink as Alec, trailing his own case, came out of the room after her.

  ‘You saw us, didn’t you?’ Charlotte went on. ‘Under the mistletoe that night.’

  ‘I did,’ Thea admitted. ‘But not everything I see has to be broadcast to the wider world.’

  ‘That’s a freakin’ good philosophy for life, that.’ Charlotte gave her deep, throaty laugh. ‘But probably a bit late for me to take to.’

  ‘I’m so glad you could stay on.’ Sean put the cushions on the terrace bench and pulled Thea down beside him. It was really warm with the sun shining directly on them, and the sea was twinkly beneath the hillside. The snow had melted and exposed the daffodils, some of them almost in flower. The Siamese was sniffing at the plants as if he’d forgotten – with the snow – that they’d ever existed.

  ‘I have to be back at school on the fifth,’ Thea told him, snuggling close, ‘but I’m free till then.’

  ‘And I have to be in London for a week or two after that, so …’

  ‘We’ve got a while then. Good.’ Sean would be coming back with her in her car, staying at her house, and he’d bring Woody as well. What would Mr and Mrs Over-the-Road make of Sean, she wondered. His surfer-dude look was a long way from the neat and buttoned-up appearance of Rich. They’d liked Rich – thought he was a dependable sort, although Mrs OTR had once said she wasn’t sure about the poodle and why didn’t he get a nice Labrador. Now they’d have something to tut about. Thea going off for a nice innocent family Christmas and coming back with a luscious man? That was quite some Christmas present. And Mrs OTR could sleep easy too, knowing Thea wasn’t about to waltz back and make a play for her precious Robbie.

  The much-reduced mistletoe (it seemed everyone had taken a piece of it) was now attached to the top of the bird table in the middle of the lawn.

  ‘Should we have burned it, do you think? Isn’t that what you’re meant to do with Christmas greenery?’ Thea asked, watching as a robin pecked at the berries. How strange that it wasn’t poisonous to birds, only to mammals.

  ‘We can burn the tree or the holly instead. It’s all to do with the midwinter passing, the triumph of light over dark in the battle of the seasons. So long as something evergreen gets burned we’ll be in with a chance for good fortune.’

  ‘I’m glad it’s out here for the birds,’ she said. ‘That way, it’s got the best chance of being reproduced somewhere else. Spread the joy.’

  ‘Exactly. Now it can go and be l
ucky for someone else. It’s been pretty damn lucky for us, hasn’t it?’ Sean said, pulling Thea closer to him.

  ‘It has,’ she said.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Judy Astley became the author of witty, contemporary novels after several years as a dressmaker, illustrator, painter and parent. Her own Christmases are a mad mixture of ever-increasing family, too much food and a panic-stricken last-minute hurtle round the shops for presents. She has usually managed to pay off the resulting expense by the time the next lot of Christmas cards come on the market. Judy lives in London and Cornwall.

  Also by Judy Astley

  JUST FOR THE SUMMER

  PLEASANT VICES

  SEVEN FOR A SECRET

  MUDDY WATERS

  EVERY GOOD GIRL

  THE RIGHT THING

  EXCESS BAGGAGE

  NO PLACE FOR A MAN

  UNCHAINED MELANIE

  AWAY FROM IT ALL

  SIZE MATTERS

  ALL INCLUSIVE

  BLOWING IT

  LAYING THE GHOST

  OTHER PEOPLE’S HUSBANDS

  THE LOOK OF LOVE

  I SHOULD BE SO LUCKY

  IN THE SUMMERTIME

  For more information on Judy Astley and her books, see her website at www.judyastley.com

  TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS

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  A Random House Group Company

  www.transworldbooks.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain

  in 2014 by Bantam Press

  an imprint of Transworld Publishers

  Copyright © Judy Astley 2014

  Judy Astley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781473509733

  ISBN 9780593074404

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