The car turned another nausea-inducing curve and Clara looked up to see an imposing stone building looming ahead. Crenellations, thick grey stone, arrow slit windows... ‘I think that’s it!’
‘Thank God. Hang on.’ Jacob swung the car onto the side of the road and pulled to a stop. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he angled himself out of the car and held it up to capture the view. Clara watched him snap a few shots, then climb back into the car and start the engine again.
‘I don’t remember you being much of a photographer.’ It was an easy subject, at least. With the castle so nearly in sight, and the realisation that she still had the rest of the day and most of tomorrow to spend in his company, at the least, Clara was very grateful for that.
Jacob shrugged. ‘It’s for posterity. I want Mum and Heather to have something to remember this Christmas by for the rest of their lives.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t forget,’ Clara murmured. ‘But the photos will be lovely.’
It struck her again what a big thing this was for Jacob to do. Not in terms of money—that was nothing to him, she was sure. No, Jacob had poured something far more valuable into this Christmas weekend. His time, his energy and his thoughts. Jacob was a busy man; Clara knew that better than most. Usually, showing up in time for Christmas lunch and staying long enough for pudding was an achievement for him. This year, not only was he giving his family a whole weekend, he had also helped with the preparation. Well, after some nudging, anyway.
He wasn’t just giving his father a perfect last Christmas; he was giving his whole family memories of James that they’d treasure always.
Clara stared up at the castle and pretended the stone walls weren’t a little blurry through her suddenly wet eyes.
Maybe Jacob had changed, after all. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man she’d walked out on would never have even thought of arranging a Christmas like this one, let alone being so involved in making it happen.
But could she trust him with her daughter’s heart—when he’d already broken her own?
CHAPTER EIGHT
JACOB PULLED THE CAR to a halt just outside the imposing wooden doors of the castle and got out to take a closer look at the location of his Perfect Christmas.
‘It doesn’t exactly say homely,’ he said, staring up at the forbidding grey Scottish stone.
‘Nor do any of your homes.’ Clara slammed the boot closed, their suitcases at her feet, and he winced at the noise.
‘My homes are...’ he searched for the words ‘...state-of-the-art.’
‘They’re all white.’ She’d always complained about that, Jacob remembered now. But he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he hadn’t just told her to decorate if it bothered her that much.
Probably because white was what his interior designer had decided on—what she’d told him was current and upmarket and professional. In fact, he distinctly recalled her saying, ‘It screams success, darling. Says you don’t need anything to stand out.’
Jacob wondered if Clara would have stayed if the walls had been yellow. Or covered in flowers.
Probably not.
‘My parents’ home isn’t white,’ he pointed out instead. ‘Honeysuckle House is officially the colour of afternoon tea and Victoria sponge.’ His mother went out of her way to make their house, by far the largest in their village, appear just like all the others—at least, inside the security gates. As if they didn’t have eight times the money of anyone else in their already very affluent surroundings.
‘So, somewhere between brown and beige, then?’ Clara asked.
‘I meant it’s homely,’ Jacob replied, taking his suitcase from her.
‘It is,’ Clara admitted. ‘I always loved Honeysuckle House.’
‘You should go and visit. Dad would love to see you.’ The thought of Clara in that space again, the place where he’d grown up, made Jacob’s spine tingle. As if his past and his present were mingling and he didn’t know what it might mean for his future.
It was something he’d been contemplating on the drive, while she’d slept, merrily scuppering his plans to talk her into staying for Christmas Day with his family. Organising this Christmas had brought Clara back into his life and he couldn’t help but think that couldn’t just be the end of it. After five years of only communicating through lawyers, they were here together, being civil—friendly, even.
Maybe there wasn’t any hope for their marriage, but could they manage to be friends after this? People did become friends with their exes sometimes, didn’t they? And the thought of going back to a world without Clara in it... It felt strange. Unwelcoming.
Distinctly unhomely.
Clara ignored his suggestion about visiting his father and instead hefted her handbag onto her shoulder and extended the handle of her tiny suitcase to drag it along behind her. He assumed that she’d sent most of her stuff up with the courier, or poor Merry, because there was no way she had more than the bare essentials in that bag. It was another sign, as if he needed one, that she didn’t plan to stay any longer than necessary.
Well, he had the whole of Christmas Eve to work on that. And perhaps her fondness for his father was his way in. After all, it had persuaded her to take on the job in the first place. What was a couple more days at this point?
The thought that he might actually end up paying his ex-wife to spend Christmas with him caused him to frown for a moment, but if that was what it took to give James Foster his dream Christmas then Jacob knew he’d swallow his pride and do it.
Clara pulled a large metal key from her pocket and opened the doors, using her shoulder to help shove them open. Jacob couldn’t help but feel that fortifications didn’t really scream cosy Christmas, but Clara had said this place was just right so for now he was inclined to trust her.
‘Okay, so this is your grand hall,’ she said, turning around in the expansive space just beyond the doors.
‘There’s a suit of armour.’ Jacob crossed the hall to touch it. It was real metal armour. ‘Are you planning on festooning it with tinsel?’
‘I’m planning on putting the tree—which should be arriving this evening, incidentally—here at the bottom of the stairs. I guarantee that by the time I’ve finished decorating it, no one will be looking at the armour.’ He turned to see where she was pointing and clocked the massive staircase that twisted its way up to the first floor. He could almost imagine his mother and Heather descending it, dressed in their Christmas finery. Another photo for the album.
‘Besides,’ Clara went on, ‘I rather thought your father would enjoy the armour. Doesn’t he have a thing about medieval military history?’
Jacob blinked. How had he forgotten that? ‘Actually, yes. Okay, I’ll give you the armour. Now, how about the grand tour?’
‘Absolutely.’ Clara nodded and, leaning her suitcase against the wall, disappeared down a passageway.
Jacob followed, wondering whether medieval castles also came with central heating.
* * *
Clara headed for the kitchen, her heart racing. Okay, so maybe she’d underestimated quite how...castley this place was. Still, she could already see it, decorated for Christmas, with the scent of turkey wafting out from the kitchen, presents under the tree...and a couple of glasses of something down everyone’s throats. Then it would be perfect.
But first she had to convince Jacob of that.
He’d said that the original perfect Christmas had been spent in a cottage in the Highlands, so she started with the kitchen. She knew from the photos the owner had sent over that it had a large farmhouse-style kitchen table that would be ideal for breakfasts or board games or just chatting over coffee. Between that and the Aga, hopefully Jacob would start to get the sort of feel he wanted from the place.
‘This is nice,’ he said as he ducked t
hrough the low doorway behind her. Rows of copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling and the range cooker had been left on low, keeping the room cosy and warm.
‘The owner did the whole place up a year or so ago, to hire out for corporate retreats and the like. It must have cost him a fortune to finish it to this kind of standard but...’ She remembered the rates that she—well, Jacob—was paying, and why she’d been so desperate to fill the castle and not have to pay her cancellation charge. ‘I guess he figures it’s worth the investment.’
‘He’s done a good job,’ Jacob admitted, running his fingers across the cascade of copper on the ceiling. ‘So, what is he—some sort of displaced laird, trying to make money from the old family pile?’
‘Something like that,’ Clara replied. ‘Do you want to see the rest?’
Jacob gave a sharp nod and Clara took off through the other door into the next part of the castle. That was another reason why she really wished she’d been able to get up here first and alone. She’d have been able to get the lie of the land, get her bearings. She had a feeling that studying the castle floor plans the night before might not totally cut it.
Still, Jacob seemed impressed by the pantry, already filled with the food she’d ordered for the festivities. And, once they found their way back into the main part of the castle, the banqueting room, the snug, the parlour and sunroom all went down well. Whilst Jacob managed to make a cutting comment about each, Clara could tell that he was secretly impressed.
So was she. And relieved.
‘I still say that nowhere in Scotland needs a sun anything,’ Jacob grumbled as they made their way back through the grand hallway to the staircase.
‘Ah, but imagine the views from the sunroom if the sun did actually come out,’ Clara said. ‘And I know you think the banqueting hall is too large—’
‘It has a table that sits thirty,’ Jacob interjected. ‘There’s going to be four of us. Five if you agree to stay. You should, you know, just to make the numbers up.’
‘But it won’t feel big once I’ve finished decorating it. Well, not so big, anyway,’ Clara said. ‘And I’m not staying.’ He was joking, right? The last place she wanted to spend Christmas was here with her ex-in-laws.
But the look Jacob gave her told her that she was missing something. What on earth had he got planned now? He couldn’t really be expecting her to stay, could he? If so, she really needed to nip that idea in the bud.
‘We’ll see.’ Jacob started up the stairs before she could reiterate her determination to head back to the hotel for Christmas Day.
Oh, he was infuriating. Had he been this infuriating when they’d been married? Most likely; she had left him, after all. And if it hadn’t been so obvious before their elopement, it was probably only because they’d spent so much of their time together in bed.
A hot flash ran through her body at the memories, making her too warm under her knitted dress and thick tights. Clara bit down on her lip. There was absolutely no time for thoughts like that. Not any more.
She was spending Christmas with Ivy and Merry and that was all she wanted in the world. She followed Jacob up the stairs, ignoring the small part of her mind that pointed out that her Christmas with Ivy could be all the more perfect if Jacob was there too. She needed to time things right. There was too much at risk to just rush in and tell him.
‘Now, this room I definitely approve of,’ Jacob called out, and Clara hurried towards his voice to find out where he’d got to.
Predictably, he’d found the master bedroom—complete with its antique four-poster bed that looked as if it could sleep twelve and the heavy velvet hangings that gave the room a sumptuous, luxurious feel. This, she could tell from the moment she entered, was a room for seduction.
But not this Christmas, thank you very much.
‘This is the room I’d earmarked for your parents,’ she said, stopping him before he got too carried away with thoughts of sleeping there. ‘It’s the biggest, has the easiest access to the rest of the castle and has the largest en suite bathroom. It’s also the warmest, thanks to the fireplace.’
Jacob looked longingly at the bed. ‘I suppose that makes sense,’ he said.
‘Come on. I’ll show you the rest.’
The other bedrooms were all impressive in their own way but, Clara had to admit, none had quite the charm of the four-poster in the master bedroom.
By the time their tour was finished, Jacob looked much happier with the set-up at the castle.
‘Okay,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘This is going to work. So, what do we do next?’
‘I need to do some final checks before I have to head to the hotel for the night. I’ll do the decorating and so on tomorrow, before your family arrive. They get in at four, right?’
Jacob nodded. ‘Yeah. But why don’t you just stay here tonight? It’s not like there aren’t enough bedrooms.’
For one blinding flash of a moment Clara’s brain was filled with images of her and Jacob taking advantage of that four-poster bed.
No. Bad brain.
‘I need to check in to the hotel,’ she said, trying to banish the pictures from her mind. ‘Besides, Merry will be arriving this evening too.’
‘Of course. Merry.’ What was that in his voice? Could it be...jealousy? No. She didn’t remember him ever being jealous about who she’d spent her time with when they were actually properly married. It was highly unlikely he was about to start now.
‘Anyway. I need to get on, so you can...settle in, I guess. Work, if you want to.’ And didn’t he always? She was surprised he’d made it this long without setting up his laptop. ‘I can get you the Wi-Fi password if you want.’
‘There’s nothing I can do to help?’ Again, Clara felt that strange tug on her heart as she realised how eager he was to be a real part of the planning.
‘I’m mostly just checking that the local supplies I ordered have been delivered, and waiting for the courier company to arrive and unload the boxes. Then I’ll grab a taxi down to the hotel and make a few calls to confirm the bits being delivered tomorrow—fresh greenery, fresh food, those sort of things. After that, everything can wait until tomorrow. I’ve got it all in hand. You really don’t need to worry.’ It was all there on her time plan.
She checked her watch. In fact...
The knock on the door, precisely on time, made her smile.
‘That will be Bruce,’ she announced.
Jacob frowned. ‘Who is Bruce?’
‘Bruce the Spruce,’ Clara said with a grin. ‘Your perfect Christmas tree.’
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS EASY to busy herself in getting the castle ready for Christmas. All she needed to do was stick to her schedule, count the courier boxes that had arrived and ignore Jacob hovering near her shoulder, checking up on everything she was doing. At least then she had a chance of making it to the hotel before Ivy’s bedtime. Maybe she could stay up a bit later than normal...
‘I do know how to do this, you know,’ she snapped finally, when she turned to put the box with the Christmas lights in by the tree ready for the morning and almost crashed into him. ‘It’s my job.’
Jacob stepped back, hands raised in apology. ‘I know, I know. I just feel like I should be doing something to help, that’s all.’ Clara bit back a laugh. All those months of marriage she’d spent complaining that she wanted him to stop working and spend time with her, and the one time she wanted to be left alone to work she couldn’t get rid of him! Even Clara could appreciate the irony.
But their conversation in the car had got her thinking. Maybe that had been part of the problem—she hadn’t had anything except him in her life so she’d clung too desperately to him. She’d been lopsided, like a Christmas tree with decorations only on one side. She needed decorating all the way around. And now, with P
erfect London, and Ivy and even Merry, she had that. Well, almost. There might be a few branches still in need of some sparkle. Or some love...
Could Jacob provide that? Did she want him to? Clara had been so focused on what he might mean to Ivy, she had barely paused to consider what it might mean for her to have him back in her life.
‘Can’t I start decorating Bruce or something?’ Jacob asked, bringing her attention back to the cold, undecorated castle hallway.
‘Bruce needs to settle in overnight,’ she explained. ‘To let his branches drop, and let him suck up plenty of water to keep him going. I’ll decorate him in the morning.’
‘Then what can I do?’ Jacob asked.
‘I told you—go do some work or something.’
‘I don’t want to.’
Clara stilled at his words. What she would have given to hear him say that about work when they’d been married. Now it just made her suspicious. What was he playing at?
‘I don’t need you dancing attendance on me, Jacob. I’m not your guest—I’m here to work. You’re not responsible for me, you know.’
Something flashed across Jacob’s face. Was it...relief? Relief that he could get back to work, she supposed.
But he surprised her. ‘Fine. But this is still my Christmas. I want to help. Give me something to do.’
Clara shrugged. If that was what he wanted... Flipping through the stack of paper on her clipboard, she pulled off a sheet and handed it to him.
‘Box Seventeen?’ he asked, reading the title.
‘It’s that one over there.’ Clara pointed to a medium-sized brown box liberally labelled with the number seventeen on all sides. ‘Check through it and make sure that everything on that list is in there.’
‘Didn’t you check them when you packed them?’ Jacob slit open the box and Clara tried not to stop breathing as the scissors went a little deeper through the tape than she liked.
‘Three times,’ she confirmed. ‘And now we check them again.’
‘Were you always this hyper-organised?’
The Unexpected Holiday Gift Page 8