by Alice Ross
‘Next time I’m coming back as a dog,’ she informed him, scooping him up. ‘Life has to be a lot less complicated than being a human.’
The doorbell rang, causing her to jump again.
She decided not to answer it. Whoever it was, she didn’t want to see them.
It rang again.
And again.
And again. Echoing around the house until she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. Setting Pip down on the floor, she dragged herself up to the hall and peeped around the edge of the curtain, heart stuttering when she saw who stood outside.
‘You have to let me explain,’ pleaded Doug, standing in the hall in a black wool overcoat and striped purple scarf, a moment later. His hair was dripping wet and he was wearing wellies that looked three sizes too big. ‘You have no idea what it’s been like for me.’
Amelia blinked a few times. She couldn’t believe: a) that he was there, and b) the gall of him. ‘For you?’ she repeated. ‘You have no idea what it’s been like for me. I asked you if everything was okay the day you arrived back from Antigua. I presented you with the perfect opportunity to tell me, but did you? No. You let me hear it from a practical stranger. How do you think that makes me feel?’
‘I was going to tell you. I really was. But it all happened so quickly. What with her mother and everything—’
‘Oh, I doubt very much this has anything to do with her mother,’ cut in Amelia, anger obliterating every one of her other emotions. ‘She knows about us.’
‘She doesn’t. She can’t.’
Amelia rolled her eyes. For someone so exceptionally bright, Doug could be very dense. ‘Of course she does. Which is why she’s so anxious to put a ring on your finger. And why, when she no longer had the excuse of using her mother, she rang the press.’
He shook his head. ‘Not even Imogen would be so callous as to use her own mother like that.’
Amelia cocked an eyebrow. ‘Wouldn’t she?’
He gaped at her for a few seconds. ‘Shit.’
‘Exactly.’
Doug stared, stupefied, at the floor for a few seconds, before raising his eyes to hers and blurting out, ‘But I still have to go through with it. How bad would it look if the press fly in specially, only to discover the whole thing’s off?’
Amelia furrowed her brow. ‘What?’
His flush deepened. ‘Well … I … I still have to marry her. I mean, the press are after a story. And if the wedding doesn’t go ahead, they’ll be sniffing about for a reason why. Imagine how stupid that would make us all look.’
Amelia shook her head, more in amazement at her own stupidity than anything else. How could she have failed to see it before? That evening in Cambridge, when Imogen had informed the gathering of her model/aristocratic heritage, Doug, along with just about everyone else in the pub, with the notable exception of Amelia, had been impressed. Indeed his eyes had almost popped out of his head at the list of famous acquaintances she’d reeled off, the backstage events she’d been to, the glitzy first nights.
At the time, it evidently hadn’t been enough to cancel out his attraction to Amelia. But that was before he’d sampled Imogen’s life – waggled a toe in the world of the rich and the beautiful. All the photographs of him and Imogen at red carpet functions and mingling with the jet set that the internet had spewed up, showed just how comfortably he’d slotted into that life. And it was a life he obviously didn’t want to give up. ‘You love all this “celebrity” stuff, don’t you?’
He ran a hand through his wet hair and gave a snort of dismissive laughter – one that sounded far too forced to be genuine. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t.’
Amelia almost echoed his laugh. His attempt at denial was pathetic. He’d been well and truly rumbled. And he knew it. ‘Okay then,’ she pressed. ‘So if Imogen’s mother received the all-clear yesterday, why didn’t you call the whole thing off then?’
He gawped at her, evidently lost for words. Seeing him so on the back foot gave Amelia a prick of triumph. ‘I don’t know. I just …’ His broad shoulders slumped in defeat and his gaze slid back to the floor. ‘I just can’t. Maybe it is the celebrity thing, maybe I’m just comfortable with the whole set-up. I honestly don’t know. But as much as I’ve tried to tell her, I can’t.’
Bile rose in Amelia’s throat. She swallowed it down and tilted up her head defiantly. No way would she cry in front of him. She would cling on to what little dignity she had left if it killed her. Which, she couldn’t help but think at that moment, it very well might. ‘Well, at least you’ve admitted it. And at least we all now know where we stand,’ she said, as frostily as she could.
He met her gaze. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ she batted back, her initial feeling of nausea being swept aside by one she could only describe as relief. ‘You’ve done me a monumental favour. Now, I think you should go.’
He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as a little Jack Russell, a red cloak billowing out behind him, hared up the corridor baring his teeth.
‘Bloody hell,’ screamed Doug, before whipping open the door and shooting out of the house.
*
Crikey! So much for a relaxing couple of weeks in the country, mused Amelia, as she prepared for Phil’s leaving party that evening. She could scarcely believe the day she’d had. No sooner had Doug been unceremoniously chased off the premises by Pip, than Annie had arrived on the scene.
‘What on earth’s happened?’ she demanded, enveloping a sobbing Amelia in her arms.
So Amelia had told her. The whole sorry tale, from start to finish, as they’d sat at the kitchen table imbibing several cups of strong coffee. By the time she’d blurted out the bit about the wedding at the manor, Annie had shaken her head incredulously.
‘I can’t believe it. Of all the people. But why didn’t you say anything? I wouldn’t have dreamed of dragging you up to the manor if I’d known. I’d never have put you in such an awkward position. You must have felt terrible.’
Amelia had shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position, what with Portia being your friend and Imogen’s.’
‘Oh my God. Wait until I tell Portia. Although on second thoughts, it’s probably best if I don’t say anything.’
‘Probably,’ muttered Amelia. ‘But to be honest, I’m beyond caring. I saw a side of Doug today that I’ve never seen before. A side I didn’t like.’
‘He sounds like a complete snake to me. Exactly like my ex.’
‘He’s shallow. And spoiled,’ said Amelia. ‘He’s had it all too easy. He’s sailed through life without really having to work for anything. And when I think back to how easily he got over me at Cambridge, while I was in bits for years, I should’ve known what he was like way before now. I guess, because that first year at university was the only year of my life when I’ve really been myself, really enjoyed life, that I’ve associated that with him all these years. When really it wasn’t about him at all.’
‘You know,’ Annie had said, reaching for Amelia’s hand. ‘I had no idea about any of this. No idea how hard you’ve worked. I just thought you were the brainy one of the family and I was the dunce.’
Amelia had laughed. ‘If only. I was really jealous of you. You were always so confident and popular – so comfortable in your own skin. I felt like an interloper barging into the family when no one really wanted me.’
‘We did want you. All of us. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when mum and dad told me I was going to have a little sister.’
‘But they had their plans.’
‘Which they willingly put on hold for you. They’re so proud of you.’
‘Not for much longer. Not when they find out I’ve lost my job.’
‘We’ll have no talk of lost jobs or lousy men this evening,’ Annie had said, thrusting to her feet. ‘We are going to give Phil the send-off he deserves. And if you say you’re not coming, I’ll set Pip on you.’
*
&
nbsp; Just as predicted, the entire village turned up at the Stables for Phil’s leaving party. And the guest of honour hadn’t stopped gushing about how he couldn’t believe all the effort everyone had gone to. Well, he hadn’t stopped gushing in between canoodling with his girlfriend. Amelia was delighted to see Phil looking so happy with Rachel. They made a gorgeous couple. And, thankfully, he seemed to have forgotten their grossly inappropriate kiss as he’d dashed over to inform her of their toned-down Australia plans. Plans he now seemed thrilled with.
As for her plans, Amelia had no idea. She only knew that, following her heart to heart with Annie, she felt like a new woman. She had loved Doug. But she now realised that for years she’d been carrying a torch for the man she thought he was, not the man he actually was. She doubted very much that he and Imogen would make a success of their marriage, but that was their problem, not hers.
This coming year would be a new start for her. She’d decided to build a new life. Life being the operative word. As the age-old adage advocated, she would work to live, not live to work. And if someone came along with whom she could share this new life, someone who made her happy, who would love her, care for her, put her on a pedestal above all others; someone with whom she could have a relationship full of love, laughter and respect, just like Annie and Jake’s, then so much the better. But if not, she’d come this far on her own. She’d survive.
‘Goodness, it’s all going on over at the manor,’ gushed Mrs Gates from the village shop, bustling up to the tearoom counter, behind which Amelia had taken up residence. ‘I hear Hello! magazine are there and everything. Flown in specially in a helicopter. Not often we have excitement like that in Buttersley. Do we know who the happy couple are?’
‘Couple of hangers-on, from what I can gather,’ piped up Derek Carter, the vicar, swiping up a glass of red wine from the counter. ‘Mother-of-the-bride was apparently in a pop video in the eighties, married somebody with a title, and has been milking the whole thing since. Nothing much, as far as I can see, to get excited about, Mrs Gates.’
A wave of disappointment swept over Mrs Gates’s lined face. ‘Oh,’ she huffed, adjusting her beehive wig as the vicar scuttled off. ‘What a shame. I thought it must be somebody important.’
‘No. Nobody important, Mrs Gates,’ said Amelia. And she meant it. Doug had meant the world to her once. But not any more. She’d taken a very large broom to the space he’d occupied in her head for far too many years than she now realised was healthy. Refreshingly empty and thoroughly cleansed, the same space now patiently awaited new and exciting things to fill it. Of course she’d be lying if she said part of her didn’t hurt. But the hurt wasn’t anywhere near as excruciating as she’d imagined it would be. More like a mild nagging toothache. No, the overwhelming sensation sweeping over her was one of relief, like a wild animal released from captivity: liberation mingled with excitement and a tiny dash of trepidation.
‘Hi,’ said a male voice, slicing through her musings. It was Stan.
‘Oh. Hi,’ she said, trying to ignore the way her heart had just skipped a beat. ‘How are you?’
He shrugged. ‘Oh, you know.’
He looked so miserable that an urge to wrap her arms around him overtook her. But she couldn’t. For one thing he’d think she was barmy. And for another, he was a married man.
‘Bea not with you?’ she asked, purely in the absence of any better ideas.
‘No.’
Amelia narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t the Stan she knew and … liked. ‘Everything okay?’ she ventured.
He shook his head. ‘To be honest, I’ve had better weeks. Bea and I … We’ve decided … We’ve decided to split. We haven’t been getting on very well lately and … you know … it’s just one of those things.’
‘Oh.’ Heavens. As if she hadn’t experienced enough drama for one day, that announcement knocked Amelia completely for six. ‘Right,’ she blustered. ‘Well, I’m … sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit of a shock but it’s best for both of us. To be honest I’ve never really settled here. I’ll come up to see Maddy but I’m moving back to London in the New Year. I’ve been offered my old job back.’
A strange warm feeling trickled down Amelia’s spine. ‘I’ll be going back to London next week. Maybe we could … you know … meet up for a drink or something. But only if you’d like to.’
Stan smiled, the twinkle returning to his lovely warm eyes. ‘I’d like that very much.’
*
Since Dan’s suggestion that she should become a teacher, Ella had given the matter a considerable amount of thought. And done her research, even finding a couple of courses for which she already had the necessary grades. Plucking up the courage to inform her parents of this development had taken somewhat longer. To reduce the chance of ridicule, she waited until all her siblings were absent from the house before approaching them in the kitchen.
Somewhat fortuitously, her mother provided the perfect entry. ‘The closing date for the Job Centre roles is in two weeks’ time,’ she said. ‘Have you filled your application form in yet?’
Ella shook her head and cleared her throat. ‘Actually, I’ve, er, had another idea. I’m thinking of becoming a …’ she paused as both parents stared at her expectantly ‘… a teacher,’ she blurted out.
Two blank faces gaped at her. Ella’s pulse, already racing, stepped up apace. She jumped as, all at once, her mother clapped her hands together and her dad guffawed with laughter.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ gushed a now beaming Mona. ‘You’ll be a brilliant teacher.’
Ella’s eyes grew wide. ‘But the Job Centre … I thought you—’
Mona shook her head. ‘You’d hate it. You’d be bored stiff. I wanted to give you a little push, to spur you on. I – we – hoped a bit of pressure might make you focus. And it has. I can’t tell you how pleased we are.’
‘Delighted,’ confirmed her dad. ‘Absolutely delighted.’
Ella planted a kiss, first on her mum’s cheek, then on her dad’s, before hurtling up to her room and texting Dan.
I’m going to be a teacher
The best teacher ☺ Celebration drink? Can pick you up at 7
See you then, Ella texted back, having the distinct feeling that this coming year might just be her best yet.
A few days later
On the computer screen, all the way from Goa, Mr and Mrs Richards furrowed their suntanned brows as they gazed at their youngest daughter. ‘Why on earth are you dressed like that, dear?’ asked her mother.
‘Aunty Melia is Paddington Bear,’ replied Thomas, sitting on Amelia’s knee, in his own navy-blue duffel coat and floppy yellow hat. ‘Mr Russell gave Aunty Melia his duffel coat. He’s been in hospital and I painted him a picture but he’s better now.’
‘Riiiight,’ said Mrs Richards.
‘And Aunty Amelia has her suitcase packed,’ informed Sophie, popping up in front of the camera in her new Gretel dress. ‘She’s going back to London tomorrow. We don’t want her to go. Even though she made a cake yesterday and it had a big hole in the middle.’
‘Goodness,’ gasped Mrs Richards. ‘Amelia making a cake. Well, I never. I must say, though, I’m delighted you’ve all had such a lovely Christmas together. I do hope you’ll make more effort to get up to Yorkshire this coming year, Amelia. I’m sure you don’t take anywhere near your full holiday entitlement from work.’
From under her yellow rain hat, Amelia grimaced. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to tell her parents about her job. ‘Actually, Mum, I’m not going back to work. They made me redundant. A couple of weeks ago.’
She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable disappointment to wash over her parents’ faces. It didn’t. To her immense surprise, they both broke into wide smiles.
‘Thank God for that,’ declared her dad. ‘We’ve worried ourselves sick about you working so hard.’
‘Oh, I do hope you’ll look for something a little l
ess all-consuming after this,’ added her mother.
Amelia laughed, relief pulsing through her. ‘I will,’ she promised. ‘But I thought I might have a little trip out to see you two first. If it’s convenient.’
‘Of course it’s convenient,’ said her now beaming mother. ‘But please don’t bring that ghastly coat with you. And believe me, I’m not just saying that because it’s ninety degrees in the shade here. Now, Thomas and Sophie, darlings, when are we ever going to see you in normal clothes?’
‘I’m not wearing normal clothes until I’m twelve,’ announced Sophie, matter-of-factly.
‘And Thomas not wearing normal clothes ever,’ said Thomas.
‘Oh, well,’ chuckled Mrs Richards. ‘As long as everyone is healthy and happy, I suppose I can’t really wish for anything else.’
Annie’s Recipe for Perfect Hot Chocolate
¼ cup of water
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1.5 cups milk
¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
Whipped cream to garnish
Combine the water, sugar and cocoa powder in a 16oz microwave-safe jug.
Zap on high in the microwave for 30 seconds, or until hot.
Stir well to create a chocolate syrup.
Add the milk and microwave for approximately one minute.
Add the vanilla and pour into a mug.
Serve with whipped cream on the top.
If you loved A Winter’s Wish then turn the page for an exclusive extract from An Autumn Affair, the irresistible first story in the Countryside Dreams series by Alice Ross!
Chapter One
In her car, outside Primrose Cottage, Julia Blakelaw sucked in a deep breath and willed her racing heart to slow. Its worrying pace had continued the four miles home from the supermarket. Hopefully, though, she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. She adjusted the rear-view mirror and examined her reflection. Flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, and mussed-up hair met her gaze. She looked like she’d spent the entire afternoon having wild debauched sex. Which, of course, she hadn’t. In Julia’s routine life, Friday afternoons did not include wild debauched sex. They included the weekly shop at Waitrose, procuring all the necessary items to sustain a picky husband and even pickier seventeen-year-old twins.