What Happens at Christmas

by Evonne Wareham

  ‘Lark!’ Horror made Lori grab her sister’s shoulders. ‘Lark, it’s not a matter of a play date. Misty isn’t here. You didn’t leave your daughter with me.’

  Chapter Eight

  21 December, 9 a.m.

  They’d moved inside the cottage. Lark had inspected the narrow hall and stairs suspiciously, apparently still not entirely convinced that her daughter was not somewhere on the premises. Now she was sitting on the window-sill, staring around her with a disgruntled expression. ‘Darling, what have you done with the furniture?’

  ‘Storage.’ Lori leaned against the wall, arms folded. Both her panic and horror had subsided in the face of practical necessity. Discovering where her sister had left her niece. ‘We need to find Misty. Is she with Dan?’

  Lark waved a dismissive hand. ‘Dan’s in L.A. with his latest woman.’ Lori sighed. Dan, Lark’s ex husband and Misty’s father, had been happily married to ‘his latest woman’ for nearly two years, but Lori let it go. More important stuff to deal with.

  Lark was fidgeting, looking disconsolately around the room. ‘Honestly, I don’t know why you didn’t stay up at the Court, instead of moving into this pokey little place. There would be so much more room for Misty to run about and play.’

  And to live with me on a permanent basis?

  Lori had given up explaining to her sister that their parents had used the proceeds of the sale of their former home to set up their holistic retreat in Santorini – unexpectedly giving her the deposit for the ‘pokey little place’ as part of the deal. Under the urging of the local solicitor, who had known Skylark from childhood, her sister’s share was safely tucked up in a savings account for her daughter. Their younger brother, Merlin, would eventually take over the retreat, where he worked as chief yoga instructor. Somehow Lark’s selective thought processes hadn’t grasped that the family didn’t actually own the Court any more. But Lori didn’t have time for that. Right now the selective thoughts had to be focused on Misty. ‘Come on, Lark, when did you last see Misty? Or talk to her?’

  Lark thought for a moment. ‘On my birthday?’ Oh God, that was in October. ‘Yes.’ Lark smiled. ‘It was so sweet, she sang Happy Birthday over the phone and Gilly said—’ Lark snapped her fingers. ‘That’s where she is. I knew it was in Wales, that’s why I thought she was with you.’

  ‘Hereford isn’t in Wales.’ Fleetingly Lori wondered what the mitigating circumstances might be for strangling your sister. Misplacing her four-year-old daughter surely had to come high on the list? But if Misty was with Gilly, Lark’s former hairdresser, who had babysat her when she was tiny, that wasn’t so bad. Except – ‘Wait a minute. I ran into Gilly in Cardiff at the end of the summer. I’m sure she said she was pregnant.’

  ‘How should I know?’ Lark pushed out her lower lip, looking more like a discontented four-year-old than Misty ever did. ‘I noticed that she’d put on a lot of weight when I dropped Misty off, so maybe that was it.’

  Lori covered her eyes with one hand. The thought of a heavily pregnant woman or maybe, even worse, a woman with a newborn, lumbered with a precociously lively little girl who wasn’t even a relative … She dropped her hand and held on to her temper. ‘Has Gilly tried to contact you, at all?’

  Lark looked shifty, if fairy princess hair and doe eyes could look shifty. ‘She might have …’ She shrugged. ‘Bruno has people to take care of fans and those sorts of people.’ Including babysitters, enquiring when your new muse and favourite leading lady might be coming back to retrieve her daughter?

  ‘Ring her.’ Lori settled her features into her most scary office manager look. ‘Now.’

  ‘Couldn’t you …?’ Lark took in the set jaw and hard eyes and scrabbled in her bag for her phone.

  Lori couldn’t fully hear the other side of the conversation, but the tones of relief in the responses from Gilly were distinguishable, even if the words weren’t.

  Lark ended the call, giving her phone an angry stare, before dropping it back in her bag. ‘She tried to ring you a couple of times,’ she said accusingly.

  ‘My old phone died.’ Another casualty of the flood. She’d got a new number with an upgraded phone, conveniently putting paid to irritating calls in the middle of the night from Frazer, when he’d had too many beers and decided he regretted his decision to break up.

  And as I had no reason to think that my niece’s supposedly former babysitter would (a) have my number or (b) need to contact me on it, I refuse to feel guilty about it.

  Quite how Lark had managed to dump Misty on Gilly was something she wasn’t going into now. And probably not worth asking what had happened to Misty’s latest nanny either. Her sister was unlikely to remember. This whole thing would have to be sorted out with Dan.

  After Christmas.

  ‘Gilly wants me to collect Misty.’ Lark’s voice was perilously close to a whine.

  ‘Off you go then.’ Lori made a shooing gesture. ‘You said you had a plane to catch.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Skylark brightened. ‘The Seychelles. Bruno has bought this wonderful villa—’

  ‘Then the sooner you collect your daughter, the sooner you can be on your way. Misty will love the Seychelles. All those long sandy beaches.’ That last part wasn’t malicious. Well, not much.

  ‘Oh!’ Realisation widened the blue eyes. ‘Could you—?’

  ‘No,’ Lori said firmly. ‘I’ll be leaving straight after you.’ She hardened her heart. She had to, in the circumstances. ‘The sooner you get going, the sooner you can be on that plane.’ She knew Bruno had his own jet. It would wait for Lark.

  ‘Lori …’ Lark’s voice had gone low and husky. Her wheedling voice. ‘Do you think—?’

  ‘No!’ The panic was rising again. Laced with guilt. It wasn’t Misty’s fault that she had the most self-absorbed mother on the planet. Do not weaken.

  Lark waved her hand at the bare room, wincing at the sound of hammering from somewhere above. ‘Can’t you get these people to come back later?’

  ‘I can’t, Lark. They’re doing me a special deal because no one else wants them just before Christmas. Now you go and fetch your daughter. It would be lovely for you to spend Christmas together.’ And possibly the first Christmas since Misty started to walk. Her heart tripped a little. Guilt again. But there would be someone in Bruno’s entourage capable of taking care of a child. And if there wasn’t, he’d undoubtedly hire someone. The relationship was fairly new, but from the photos in the gossip magazines the man was besotted. He already had teenage children from a previous relationship who appeared healthy and well-adjusted, so he’d probably make a suitable step-father. If Skylark manages to put a ring on it. But that wasn’t going to turn Lark into celebrity mother of the year. Dan will have to sort this out.

  ‘I really don’t want …’ Lark pouted ‘She’s growing so … big.’

  Clarity hit Lori like a blast from next door’s massive array of fairy-lights. It had been fine when Misty was a very cute and pretty baby. There had been a spate of celebrity pregnancies and newborns around that time. Lark had been thrilled to be part of the fashionable trend, posing for photos and showing off her svelte post-baby figure and her charming bundle with the rest. She’d even given interviews on her top ten tips for the new mother. Wonder who wrote them for her?

  Lori stifled the burst of cynicism. Not the issue here. Misty was still pretty, cute and bright as a button, but the older she got the greater the reminder that Lark too was getting older. Lori did some quick mental calculations – just past twenty-eight, with the big three zero looming, ever closer, on the horizon.

  Lori took a good look at her younger sister. There were three years between them. Despite the immaculately applied make-up and no doubt phenomenally expensive skincare products, applied with religious zeal, Lark’s currency as a fresh-faced beauty might be starting to slide, just a fraction. There were tiny expression lines at the corners of her eyes, and slight indentations around the deep pink pout, which were no doubt magnified to
monumental proportions in her sister’s mind. For Lark, the fact that she was an excellent actress, with an Oscar nomination to her credit, wasn’t going to make up for that. In Lark’s mind her face was her fortune.

  And it’s not going to get any better. But you can’t fix that today.

  Lori detached herself from the wall and crossed the room to kiss her sister’s cheek, while pulling her to her feet. ‘Go to Gilly’s and collect Misty. She’ll be thrilled to see you,’ she said encouragingly, watching Lark’s face brighten. Admiration always got to her, even from a four-year-old. Should that be especially from a four-year-old, when she was your daughter? ‘Collect her, and catch the plane. Everything will be fine.’ Slowly she steered her sister out of the front room and out of the cottage. The driver had emerged from the limo, and was leaning against the bonnet. From the resigned expression on his face, he was Lark’s regular chauffeur. Lori shepherded her sister into the car, prompting her to give the driver Gilly’s address.

  ‘It’s okay Miss France, I remember taking the little one there. I’ve got the car seat in the boot.’

  ‘Oh good. Thanks.’ She turned to Skylark, who had removed her coat and was settling herself in the back of the car.

  If we’d just thought to ask the chauffeur.

  The driver had slid smoothly behind the wheel.

  Lori put a hand on the open back door of the car. ‘You’ll soon be seeing Misty and off on holiday together. You will have a lovely time, an absolutely super Christmas,’ Lori added encouragingly, as she closed the door and stepped away.

  The car backed carefully out into the main road.

  With a shaky sigh Lori crossed to the cottage. Her own car was packed. All she had to do was put Griff in his basket, and they too could be on their way

  Except that the cat was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Nine

  21 December, 11.30 a.m.

  ‘I don’t believe this!’ Lori collapsed in a disgusted heap on the stairs. There was no sign of Griff, anywhere. She’d called, banged food bowls and rattled treat bags, and called again. She’d toured the neighbours, those who were in, and peered into the gardens and over fences of those who weren’t. ‘He’s never gone missing before! He’s too bloody lazy to go missing!’

  Mike, Paulie’s apprentice, staggered by, clutching a radiator. ‘You tried the cupboard under the stairs? My mam’s cat always hides in there.’

  ‘Twice.’ Lori dropped her head in her hands. She was hot, sweaty and hungry. The weather was unseasonably mild for December and the bowl of cereal she’d eaten, standing up in the kitchen, before the last trip to the storage locker with her dismantled bed, was a very long time ago. Her handbag, with her emergency chocolate stash, was in the front room. She hauled herself to her feet to go in search of it, half her mind picturing Griff as a cold stiff corpse on the side of a road somewhere, and the other half contemplating a nice pair of fur-backed gloves. Grrr!

  She’d eat a few squares of chocolate, then tour the house and garden again. Paulie and his crew hadn’t taken up any floorboards yet, but maybe Griff was asleep in some discarded packaging somewhere. The chocolate melted slowly on her tongue. She leaned on the window-sill looking idly out – the house at the other end of the row was empty during the week, and on quite a lot of weekends too. If Griff had chosen to sleep somewhere there …

  A car was pulling into the small street of houses and moving slowly along the road, stopping behind her Fiesta. It took Lori a few seconds to register, and then she was out of the door and into the garden, half choking as the last of the chocolate went down the wrong way.

  ‘No. No. No.’ The last ‘no’ was almost a wail. She lurched towards the car, with a vague half-formed thought of making it turn straight back around, but she wasn’t fast enough. The door had already opened and a small figure in a sparkly pink jumper, a stiff net skirt and twinkling red shoes, darted out. With a casual wave to her aunt, Misty sped past to greet Griff, who had miraculously emerged, in perfect health, from under next door’s hedge.

  And her sister was out of the car now, with an elegantly wrapped parcel and an envelope in her hands. ‘Darling, I knew you’d wait.’ She gave Lori the benefit of one of the most famous smiles in Hollywood as she too slipped past. ‘I’ll just put this down somewhere safe, inside. Fragile.’ She mouthed the last word as she glided into the cottage.

  ‘No … I … Lark … You can’t …’ Lori could hear her heart beating in her ears.

  Misty staggered over, arms full of cat. ‘I love Griff.’

  ‘I know you do, sweetheart, look I—’

  ‘Mummy says I’m staying with you for Christmas.’ The little girl looked doubtfully at the scaffolding. ‘Is that for Father Christmas to climb up?’

  ‘Um, sort of, but I don’t think …’ Lori’s mind was racing as fast as her heart. You can’t do this. No way. But how do you have a stand-up fight with your sister with her daughter looking on? Well, she was going to have to try. Seeing Misty was happy cuddling Griff – You and I, Houdini, will be having words later – Lori turned to stalk back into her house to find her sister and whatever impractical ornament she’d chosen as a present, and get them both, plus Misty, back in the car, pronto.

  In the pocket of her tracksuit her phone began to chirp and vibrate. With a muffled curse she pulled it out ‘Yes!’ she barked into the phone.

  ‘Ms France? This is Bella Hughes from Small Homes Insurance – about your claim for additional services in relation to your repair work—’

  ‘What about it?’ Lori knew she was being brusque, but she really had to find Lark. And put her, and Misty, back in the car.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s been an error …’

  Lori sat down hard on an upturned bucket that had been left under the scaffolding, listening to the woman at the end of the phone who was turning a bad day one hundred times worse.

  ‘That isn’t right.’ Cutting in when the woman paused, Lori got up to pace to the other side of the garden. The woman proceeded to tell her how it was right. Lori paced to the gate. Misty, with Griff in her arms, had taken possession of the bucket and was whispering into the cat’s ear.

  ‘This was all cleared weeks ago. It was negotiated as a special arrangement, with your colleague.’ Lori paced back, entirely focused on convincing the woman at the insurers that they would be paying her accommodation bill while her home was rebuilt.

  Too focused.

  At the last minute something alerted her. A fugitive waft of her sister’s perfume, a quick click of a car door …

  It was already too late.

  Misty was standing by the gate, waving, as the limo backed away from the kerb, leaving a pile of luggage, lavishly wrapped Christmas presents and a child’s car seat neatly stacked on the side of the road.

  Chapter Ten

  21 December, 12 noon

  ‘That bastard driver must have been unloading stuff the minute Lark got out of the car!’ Lori was pacing again, this time back and forth in her narrow hall. Paulie was leaning placidly against the wall, listening to her rant.

  Mike, the apprentice, had taken Misty round to his mam’s for something to eat. ‘It’s Monday, so it’s cold meat and bubble and squeak – there’ll be enough for a little ’un.’

  Lori’s stomach rumbled and abruptly her anger evaporated. She flopped onto the stairs, shoving both her hands into her hair. ‘It’s not just the insurers refusing to meet the cost. I had to sweet talk the guesthouse owner into agreeing to let me have Griff in my room – if I turn up with a four-year-old!’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘What did the insurers actually say?’

  ‘Administrative error, resulting in my being given incorrect approval,’ Lori recited, making a face. ‘I know the woman is wrong. She was just being officious and throwing her weight about, but the person who agreed it is on leave until the New Year.’ She looked around her house-cum-building site with a sigh. ‘Since strangling my sister isn’t an option, I’ve just got to get on wit
h it. If we bring both the beds back we can put them up in the front room and if I take Misty out every day …’ She tailed off, looking up at Paulie. ‘It’s not going to work is it?’

  ‘Actually, it doesn’t have to.’ Paulie was grinning. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but you had it all sorted with the insurers.’ He pulled a ring of keys off his belt and selected two, taking them off the bundle. A shadow crossed his face as he held them out. ‘My gran’s place.’

  ‘I thought it was sold?’ Lori knew that after a long struggle to cope with his grandmother’s worsening dementia, Paulie and his parents had admitted defeat when she had been found wandering on the hills behind the converted barn, in just her dressing gown and slippers. She was safe, and as comfortable as they could make her now, in a care home in Hereford.

  ‘We’ve done the contracts and stuff, but it’s not final until the sixth of January. Until then it’s standing empty.’ He grimaced. ‘The buyers are going to use it for holiday lets, so they won’t be waiting outside with a removal van, even then.’ He shrugged. ‘Not what we wanted, but what can you do? It’s still got the furniture, they bought that as well. I was going to take the truck up on Boxing Day and clear out what’s left of the personal stuff, but there isn’t that much.’ He held up the keys. ‘It’s yours until we have this place sorted.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Lori took the keys. ‘It’ll be okay with your mam?’

  ‘Mam won’t mind. She’s left sorting out the barn to me. She and Dad are in Tenerife. Staying until the middle of January.’ The shadow crossed his face again. ‘First holiday they’ve had since Gran …’ He swallowed, then he grinned. ‘Anything to keep you and the nipper out of my building site. Come on.’ He jerked his head at the front door. ‘Let’s go and re-pack your car with Misty’s stuff. You know where the barn is. We had the power turned off. But there’s a back-up generator and the range in the kitchen is a wood burner. It does the heating and hot water and cooking …’