by Emma Jackson
Dorie, Nick and Stephen were by the fire. Dorie seated, Stephen with an elbow resting on the mantelpiece like Val Doonican and Nick…Nick was perched on the corner of the romance bookcase, one foot on the floor and one dangling, tapping to a frenetic beat no one else could hear. His mouth went up at the corner as I walked past but his eyes were not focusing on anything.
I took a seat at the piano, set my shoulders back and dived into ‘Jingle Bells’, with no preamble. Everyone knows that, and I figured the kids would go for it. They had to sing too; this was a carolling evening, not a concert. If the guests weren’t going to join in with me, I’d be wrapping this up after three songs and going to bed.
The kids pulled through for me. And once their sweet, little shouty voices got going, most of the adults joined in too. Thank goodness.
I transitioned straight into ‘Frosty the Snowman’ before they could start getting nervous and the tension eased out of my shoulders some more.
But I was aware of Nick even though he was no more than a flicker in the corner of my eye. I could see Stephen better but that was no great reassurance. He wasn’t really singing. His head kept turning in his brother’s direction, which was making the need for me to turn my head in his direction overwhelming.
Giving in, at the end of the song, I spun around on my seat with the cover story of asking if anyone had any requests and the words nearly died in my throat. Luckily there was a small smattering of applause that I could let peter out while I studied him.
He looked even worse than earlier. His sleeve was down over his hand and pressed to his mouth. He didn’t catch my eye because he was staring at the fire, foot still tapping.
‘Anyone have any requests?’ I managed to get out, smiling at the rest of the guests who all looked positively giddy in comparison.
‘“Let it Snow”,’ someone called out, and as I nodded Nick stood up suddenly. Dorie reached out to touch his hand and he shook his head and pulled away, edging his way out of the room.
I immediately wanted to follow him. But I couldn’t. There was a bunch of people waiting for me to play ‘Let It Snow’. I took a deep breath and felt only marginally better when Stephen pushed off the mantelpiece, stooping to whisper something in Dorie’s ear before following his brother out.
Every muscle in me was twitching to go to Nick. I had to push the impulse down and it made tears prick at the backs of my eyes. This was what the hotel did. Being responsible for it made you have to answer to the guests’ expectations, and often that meant putting the personal on hold. I don’t know how my mum did it all the time, especially when Dad was ill. She must’ve wanted to ditch it all so much and I didn’t understand why she hadn’t if I was honest. Why she couldn’t bear to let anyone else run the place…apart from me.
Except…this was why she trusted me to do it. Not because I was completely organised or an expert, but because she trusted me to make that same choice now. For her. To protect what she had worked so hard for. The guests were getting annoyed at dinner – I’d seen it – I couldn’t let them down now, when it was all coming together. I couldn’t let her down.
So, I played the piano, and I sang the songs, and I tried to push Nick out of my mind.
‘Okay, I’m going to take a ten-minute break – then we’ll do a couple more songs before we get the cookies and carrots ready for Father Christmas and his reindeer,’ I announced several songs later to the group.
The crowd quickly dispersed to chat and go to the toilet, but I saw Dorie was still sitting in the armchair on the far side of the room. I went over to her even though I was busting for a wee, and a drink too. I needed to ask her what was going on with Nick. Stephen hadn’t returned and she’d been sat on her own, her face lined with sadness. For the first time, she really looked her age, even in the soft lighting.
‘Dorie, are you okay?’ I crouched down beside her.
She turned to look at me and I was shocked when she reached out and touched my cheek gently; tears were brimming in her bright eyes.
‘You’re a lovely girl, Beth. Nick’s mum would’ve liked you.’ She patted my cheek and dropped her hand back down to her lap, where she was holding a silver flask I’d not noticed before.
‘What happened? Is Nick all right?’
‘Not really.’ Her lips pressed together hard before she spoke again. ‘He hasn’t told you has he? About his mum passing.’
I shook my head slightly; throat closing up. ‘No. But Stephen did.’
‘It’s so hard for those boys.’
‘For you too.’
‘Yes. But Nick. He can’t—’ She took a swig from her flask. ‘He was with her you see. When it happened.’
A lump of ice was forming in my stomach as things started to make a little more sense as to why Nick was not coping in the same way as Stephen. Everyone had to deal with their grief in a different way but if Nick was with her and it was sudden, it would explain a lot. I wanted to ask but we were in the middle of a library full of chatting holidaymakers, who I’d worked very hard to get in the festive mood for the last forty-five minutes.
And there it was again – that business decision being made over the personal.
‘I’m so sorry, Dorie.’
‘Me too, sweet girl, me too.’ She sighed and wiped a careful finger under each eye. ‘I can see you and Nick have…a closeness. I’m just… He’s not quite himself at the moment. I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what I’m getting at.’
Whether she was worried that I was taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable, or he was seeking an escape in me, or he was just acting out of character, I couldn’t quite tell. Clearly, I wasn’t as clever as she assumed but it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that Nick was hurting.
I would’ve gone to him right then but I had the rest of the guests to see to: the parents of the kids were leaving their presents down behind the desk for me to put under the tree once they’d all gone up to bed and it would be late by the time I was finished preparing for tomorrow. Maybe I’d knock on his door on my way to bed, just to tell him ‘Merry Christmas’ and see if he was okay.
How could he possibly be okay?
I somehow managed not to rush the guests through the second set of carols I had planned. The kids were actually bouncing around when it got to the time to put out the offerings for Father Christmas by the fire. That kind of excitement pretty much only happens when you’re little.
By half past one in the morning, the last of them had disappeared upstairs and I’d locked up. It was odd that it was Christmas Day technically, and yet not, because the last sleep had still not been slept.
Once the library was tidy, the lamps turned off, fire tamped down and candles blown out and double-checked, I set about moving the children’s presents into the lounge to arrange beneath the big tree. I ate as many of the cookies as I could stomach at that time in the morning and left the crumbs. On a whim, I decided to dust some icing sugar over the hearth and make some sooty footprints.
It was now two o’clock in the morning. I should really have been going to bed because I had quite the day to deal with. I’d built up the guests’ anticipation nicely and when they all got up expecting their wonderful, amazing Christmas, I had to make sure I didn’t wreck it. I had a goose to cook, as well as all the trimmings. A goose. A few decent hours of sleep were vital if I was going to manage to avoid giving everyone food poisoning. However…
Instead of going straight upstairs, I found myself lingering by the door off the stairwell that led onto the second floor. It was too late to knock on Nick’s door. But…something was making me think it would be a bigger mistake not to. He’d been there for me so much in the last two days; the least I could do was wake him up in the middle of the night just to see if he was all right, wasn’t it? I would’ve done the same for anyone. Probably.
Heart hammering, I stopped at room eight, knocked quietly and waited. I’d made the decision now and I couldn’t deny it, I was seeking him out beca
use I needed to know how he was. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I knew.
I knocked again, a little louder but still taking care not to disturb the other guests.
There was shuffling on the other side of the door and Nick opened it. He was extremely rumpled and bleary-eyed but, strangely, fully dressed except for his shoes. He’d jammed his glasses onto his face and one of the rests wasn’t sitting on his ear, it was stuck in his hair.
‘Beth. What’s wrong?’ He leaned out and looked down the hall towards another door. ‘Is my nan okay?’
‘Everything’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out—’
‘Maybe don’t knock on my door in the middle of the night, then.’ He exhaled in a rush, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t sounded that blunt with me since we’d called a truce over the angel incident. His skin was pinched, reddened across the nose and his high cheekbones.
‘I just…’ The words died on my tongue as I took in his frown and the way he was still holding on to the door handle, keeping the door half closed. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want me here and that stung but maybe it was for the best. He had his family to comfort him, if that’s what he needed, and I had a hotel to run and some sleep to get. I had my answer, which was no different to what I’d thought it was. He wasn’t okay, but he didn’t want me to know. ‘Don’t worry. Sorry I woke you.’
I walked away quickly, pushed the staff only door open again and went into the back staircase. I took a deep breath, pushed my hair back from my face and started up the final flight of stairs. I’d read too much into the song he’d asked me to play earlier – or read it wrong – and now I felt like a prize idiot. When was I going to realise that my romantic notions about music healing the world were just silly nonsense?
‘Beth.’
I spun around. Nick was on the small landing below me, the door to the hallway swinging closed behind him.
He looked up at me, digging his hand into his hair. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. Are you okay?’
I nodded, even though my heart was palpitating so joyously it was hard to ignore how much it contrasted with the sluggishness I’d felt at his brief rejection.
‘Good. As long as you’re all right—’
‘Come upstairs with me?’ I held out my hand to him without thinking, as though I could stop him from walking away with my non-existent super powers. ‘Just for a drink.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m…I should probably sleep.’
I dropped my hand again and forced a smile on my face. ‘Of course. I understand. Goodnight.’ I choked out the words. ‘I hope you get some rest. Promise I won’t wake you up again.’
‘Night.’
I turned away because I couldn’t bear watching him go. I was struggling to get the door open now. Using my mum’s massive set of keys meant it was like finding a needle in a haystack to get hold of our door key. Beneath the rattle of metal, there was a soft hush of stockinged feet on wood and then Nick was next to me. His arms came around me from behind and he placed a kiss of the nape of my neck.
‘I changed my mind,’ he whispered against my skin. ‘Can I come in?’
I held still, weak under the onslaught of his heat, flush against my back, his arms around my stomach. I could tell him to go. I could put the distance back between us, but I didn’t want that. I wanted him, and not just for tonight.
The key appeared in my hand as though I’d had the right one the whole time and I unlocked the door.
Chapter Sixteen
He let go of me as I pushed the door open and he followed me in.
I didn’t turn the main lights on, but our white fibre-optic Christmas tree cycled softly through a prism of colours in the corner of our front room and it was enough to see that I really should have thought things through before inviting him up. The place was a mess.
In my hurry to get down to the hotel every day, I hadn’t put away or cleaned a single thing in the flat. There were coffee cups and magazines on the table by the red blinking light of the phone; a cardigan, and tights and – oh Lord – a bra, over the back of the sofa. The curtains had been opened in a haphazard way, one pulled and fastened neatly. My mum must’ve done that before she left because I was obviously a complete slob.
I hurried away to scoop up my dirty laundry and went straight into the kitchenette to throw it in the washing machine. ‘Sorry about the mess.’
‘Mess?’ He glanced around as though he hadn’t even been looking and then shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. It’s actually nice to be somewhere that feels like…a home. All I’ve done is stay in hotel rooms the last few months.’
‘You haven’t been home in months? Is that normal for pilots?’
He moved closer, leaning his shoulder against the post on the counter that separated the kitchenette from the lounge area. His presence felt like such a tenuous thing though. Despite his leaning, he was anything but relaxed. His shoulders were drawn in like he expected an attack and was going to bolt at the slightest provocation. Eventually he pulled a one-syllable answer out from his boots: ‘No.’
An admission. Another tiny step closer.
I flicked the down lights on underneath the kitchen cupboards and decided that I was just going to do it. I was going to talk to him about it. He’d shown me that he wanted to try so maybe if I just asked him, it would help. And I wanted to help him so much.
‘What happened this evening? Why didn’t you stay for the carolling? I saw you leave all of a sudden and then Stephen followed.’ He ran his index finger over the edge of the laminate on the worktop. ‘Was it my singing? You can tell me.’ I tried to lighten the moment and he huffed a laugh.
‘No, it wasn’t your singing. It was lovely. Too lovely.’ He drew in a shaky breath. ‘I couldn’t bear it anymore. My mum would’ve loved it here.’ He gulped in another breath like he was struggling to get oxygen, like he’d jumped into the deep end and was struggling to keep his head above the water. My own chest tightened. ‘She was always trying so hard to make it a special time and me and Stephen would just be lazy and ungrateful and arguing, ruining it for her—’
He broke off again. He was shaking and I went to him, sliding my arms around his waist and pressing my ear to his chest. Holding him so hard, like I could hold him together if I just squeezed him tightly enough.
At first, he was still, frozen. And then his arms went around me too and he lowered his head to my shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of my neck.
I couldn’t offer him any words about his relationship with his mum, or thoughts on his and Stephen’s behaviour – though I suspected it wasn’t much different to any other kids’ behaviour at Christmas – but I could do this. I could hold him.
When the tiny tremors stilled, he pulled back, turning his face away from me.
‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was gruff and cold.
‘Don’t do that.’ I caught his cheek in my hand and forced him to look at me. ‘Please don’t hide from me anymore. It doesn’t work anyway. I see you, Nick. I see that you’re kind and funny and hurting. And sexy,’ I added, rubbing my thumb along his jaw and stroking my fingertips through the short hair behind his ear. I was getting greedy for intimacy with him. The more little signs he showed to me, that he wanted to let me in, the more I wanted to shove my foot into the door to stop him from closing it. It was making me reckless, but I was so tired I didn’t have the energy to wrestle myself under control. ‘My God are you sexy.’
He stared at me, blue eyes burning with too many emotions for either of us to understand, until one of us moved closer – I didn’t know if it was him or me.
There was no finesse to the kisses this time, no smooth charming moves; he was all raw energy, buzzing with need, and I wanted to pour myself into him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and tiptoed up. His hand ran straight down to my backside and pulled me in tight against him. I gasped, opening my mouth, so we were plummeting into a fathomless kiss, where there
was no air, no light, just us. Every muscle, every nerve in my body needed to relive the feel of him. The rightness, the heat, the blur, of how we’d been last night and today in the snow, but it was somehow more. There was an insistent tug in my chest that was somewhere between excitement and uncontrollable sobbing.
He dragged himself away, shaking his head. ‘No. I shouldn’t do this.’ He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length. ‘I’m a mess, Beth. I don’t want to take advantage of you. You don’t deserve it.’
I took a big gulp of air and struggled not to peel his hands from my shoulders so I could launch myself into his arms.
‘I think I’m the best judge of what I deserve, thank you. You aren’t taking advantage of me. If anything, it’s the other way around. You’re clearly vulnerable at the moment, and here I am waking you up in the middle of the night to drag you to my lair and have my wicked way with you.’
He laughed a little and the tension in his arms eased but he didn’t let me any closer. I touched his hands, where they rested on my shoulders. Anything for skin-to-skin contact. I was going to start having some serious withdrawal symptoms soon if I couldn’t get at him. The hollow of his cheek looked so deep in the soft light from the kitchen, I wanted to run my fingers along it, feel the dip and the prickle of his stubble, so fair but definitely there. He looked unblinkingly into my eyes – probably worried if he lost eye contact I would attack.
‘I see you too, Beth,’ he murmured. ‘You’re so fearless. I’m such a coward. Being near you makes me feel stronger but I’m scared it’s because I’m absorbing it from you. Like I’m a weird energy vampire.’
‘I’m quite into the vampire thing so you don’t need to worry,’ I had to joke. I couldn’t take it seriously that this man thought I was fearless. That he was stronger from being with me.
‘I do worry though. And there you go again. Brushing it off and moving on. You’re so sure of yourself. It’s amazing.’