The grand plan, thus far though, seemed to revolve around splitting the family up, making the siblings fall out somehow, especially with her. She was a little unimpressed; reading the texts, the plans weren’t exactly military grade, but then Mark and Loretta weren’t either. In Loretta’s last text she said she needed to get Freddie to marry her, and Mark said he had some ideas that he would share with her when he saw her. Harriet realised that now she needed reinforcements and the only person she could turn to was Connor.
The hot water cascaded onto her, and Harriet felt her nerves rising up. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt anxious about going to see Connor. Which was ridiculous, he was her friend, someone she saw practically every day and their friendship had been rebuilt. There was no friction between them, apart from her unresolved, bubbling feelings, of which he knew nothing. She gave herself a pep talk – she was a big girl, it was time to act like it.
She dressed carefully in skinny jeans, an oversized charity shop jumper and her boots. She blow-dried her hair and added just a touch of make-up to hide the lines that seemed to burst onto her face with increasing regularity. If she was in New York she would be having regular Botox but here, well, it wasn’t something she thought about – not that she could afford it. Had she forgotten how to take care of herself? In New York, she was always groomed and one Saturday a month the whole day would practically be taken up with it all, although the cost of that day was about six weeks’ allowance. God, she never thought about spending money before, but now that was a jolting thought. But then, in New York, natural was a dirty word.
She walked briskly to Connor’s cottage, playing in her head what she would say. She would tell him about the night in the study, how Mark and Loretta joined forces and then she would tell him about the text messages. She hoped that he would know what to do.
Lights blazed in the cottage, and she knocked at the door. She waited a few minutes – for a small cottage, Connor seemed to take a time to open the door, but finally he was there, facing her. She ignored her little flutters and smiled, this was important, more important than her silly feelings after all.
‘Harry?’ He looked confused.
‘Sorry to drop in unannounced but—’
‘Who is it, Con?’ a voice said. A voice she immediately recognised as Bella. Her face ignited; she felt her cheeks burning.
‘It’s Harriet,’ he called back, still looking a little uncomfortable. Within seconds, Bella was at the door.
Shit, Harriet thought, what now? She wished the doorstep would open up and swallow her whole.
‘Hey,’ Bella said. Harriet noticed how comfortable she seemed as she put her hand on Connor’s arm. Why had no one told her they were together. Why hadn’t he? Friends, my arse, she thought as she noticed that Connor couldn’t meet her gaze.
‘Hi, I’m so sorry I interrupted your evening,’ she started, with no idea where to go from here. ‘I had no idea …’
Connor looked embarrassed, she noticed, but Bella seemed oblivious.
‘I told Connor we should have told you all that we’ve been seeing each other, but he thought we ought to keep it professional. I knew you wouldn’t mind though?’
‘Er, no?’ Harriet replied. She glanced at Connor who was studying his socks.
‘I mean it’s been a month now so it is time we came clean.’ Bella beamed like the cat who got the cream. The bloody PR who got the Connor.
Harriet tried and failed to process the words. A month! Her insides burned with something akin to humiliation again. She had vowed after Zach she wouldn’t be humiliated again, but look, here she was standing on Connor’s doorstep feeling like a lovesick teenager. And that wasn’t even the reason she was here.
‘Well, that’s great, and as I said, sorry for interrupting your evening. I just wanted to—’ What the hell could she say? ‘I wanted to check on Hilda, she seemed out of sorts earlier.’ The tips of her ears felt a bit hot, she hoped the lie wasn’t too obvious … Of course it was bloody obvious.
‘Oh she’s fine, H. I put them all to bed an hour ago and she was wagging her tail happily.’
‘Hilda’s such a lovely dog, it’s a shame we can’t adopt her,’ Bella said.
We? They’d been seeing each other a month and they were a we. And besides, over her dead body would they get her dog. She scowled.
‘Are you all right?’ Connor asked, noticing.
‘Yes of course, just worried about Hilda,’ Harriet snapped. ‘Right, I’ll be off then, enjoy your evening.’ Harriet kissed Bella on the cheek – in her head she slapped her – and totally ignoring Connor she left.
The big heaving sobs took her by surprise, but as she walked home her body convulsed. She had kept telling herself that nothing would ever happen with Connor, but now it was clearer than ever. Despite her pep talks, deep down she obviously still hoped he would suddenly realise it was her he wanted all along. But no, it was Bella. And who could blame him? Bella with her Audrey Hepburn hair, her tea dresses and Alice bands, whose pink cheeks were so naturally wholesome, and her prettiness, her sweetness, was there for all to see. She had the whole package. Lovely young lady who any man would be lucky to date. Not anything like her.
If Connor wanted a woman like Bella, it was apparent that he would never want someone like her. Ball-breaker Harriet, with her razor-sharp tongue and a hairstyle to match. Who could reduce grown men to tears in under ten words or sometimes with just a look. Who was ambitious and intelligent and no shrinking violet. She was so far from Connor’s type, that was brilliantly clear to her now. Time to move on, and it was definitely time for Harriet to move forward. She had been stuck in the Meadowbrook mud for quite long enough.
Chapter 21
‘If you could state your name, age and why you are here,’ Freddie asked, doing his best Simon Cowell impression.
‘You know my name,’ Samuel said, scratching his head.
‘Well yes, but I’m trying to be professional.’
‘Oh, right you are. I’m Samuel and I’m here to audition for the role of Santa.’
‘Your hearing’s pretty good,’ Harriet said, they were behind a desk and he was a fair few feet away from them.
‘Oh yes, I’ve got a new hearing aid, got it off the telly.’ He sounded very pleased with himself.
‘Can we please get on with it,’ Freddie stormed.
‘I think the high-waisted trousers have gone to his head,’ Gus chortled.
‘Samuel, do you like children?’ Pippa asked, the only sensible one among them.
‘No, can’t stand the little blighters.’
‘NEXT,’ Freddie shouted.
‘Freddie, can I just say, that we are looking for someone to dress up in a red suit and hand out presents, not the next big thing,’ Harriet said. They had seen six potential Santas so far. In Freddie’s eyes they were either too old, too young, not fat enough, or in the case of Samuel not keen on children.
‘That last guy, Julian, he looked shifty.’
‘Freddie, he was an accountant,’ Gus said, exasperated.
‘Exactly.’ They all shook their heads.
Gerry walked in.
‘Hi, I’d like to apply for the job.’
‘Aren’t you too busy with the winter wonderland?’ Pippa asked. ‘I thought you were one of the wise men.’
‘Well I was,’ Gerry said. ‘But then I got to thinking, anyone can be a wise man, especially as John said all we had to do was stand there looking wise.’
‘Well, after today, I’m not sure anyone could do that actually,’ Freddie said.
‘Go on, Gerry,’ Harriet sighed.
‘Well, I thought that maybe someone else could be a wise man and I could be Santa.’ He wrung his hands nervously.
‘OK, but you’re a bit thin,’ Freddie said. ‘And do you like children?’
‘I really do. And not in a bad way. And I was thinking, what if we made the grotto look a bit like Santa’s house? I mean I could do that, I could put up a shed easily an
d we could decorate it, and make it look like the kiddies are coming into Santa’s front room. I’d do it all for free, you know, to raise money for the sanctuary.’
‘I’m liking this.’ Freddie leant in closer.
‘And I thought we could get Gwen to be Mrs Santa, and she could help me hand out the presents.’ Harriet was sure she could see him blushing.
‘Why Gwen?’ she asked.
‘Just thought she would make the perfect Mrs Claus really.’ Gerry studied his feet.
‘I agree,’ Freddie said. ‘But I’m not sure you really could pull off Santa.’
‘Give me ten minutes.’ Gerry left, then came back with a bag and nipped into the loo. When he emerged he was wearing a Santa outfit, complete with cushion stomach, beard, glasses and was carrying a sack.
‘Wow,’ Harriet said. ‘He’s not bad.’
‘Not bad, I think he looks fantastic,’ Pippa said.
‘I agree,’ Gus added.
‘OK. You’re hired, but on the condition that you get the grotto done and you have to persuade Gwen to be Mrs Claus,’ Freddie said.
‘Thank you, thank you, I cannot tell you how much this means to me. It’s everything.’
‘Hang on, Gerry, where did you get the costume from?’ Harriet narrowed her eyes.
‘Ah, well I just happened to have it lying around. You know.’ He shrugged. No one knew quite what to say.
‘Can you believe this is our first Christmas without him?’ Pippa’s voice choked with emotion as they sat at home later. Harriet, blinking back tears, merely shook her head.
Harriet had quickly realised that when you lose someone you love everything immediately became a notable first. For example, her first birthday without him, which largely went uncelebrated so soon was it after her father’s funeral, the first summer fête, and now the first Christmas was looming. Her father had been gone for nearly seven months. They were more than halfway through their year at Meadowbrook and with every passing month, the further away he felt. She missed him every day, it had become part of her, a part she welcomed because it kept him with her, but she also despised because it broke her heart anew when she woke most mornings. The contradictions of grief.
She knew her siblings were feeling their father’s absence keenly as well as they prepared for the Meadowbrook Christmas event. Andrew Singer loved Christmas. For the first few years after their mum died, she vaguely recalled a slow-down in festivities but then as they had got older, at some point, he had rallied again. Christmas retook its rightful place as the highlight of the year at Meadowbrook. They had the biggest tree, which always took a few men to haul into place, piles of presents that, when they were still kids, their father’s long-suffering PA would spend hours in Hamleys collecting, and a big party every year. He had done this up until last Christmas and Harriet had been the only Singer not there for both the cocktail party and Christmas Day. They had Skyped her, all of them, and after she’d hung up she had cried, real, fat tears, because she felt then as if she was estranged from her family and her old home.
She shook her head. Memories haunted her, at the time she felt justified in her life, now she felt anything but.
Her father tentatively asked her to come home every year since she moved to New York – and now she would give anything to reverse her decision and say yes. Instead she always told him that work made it impossible, which was true, but only because she was so married to her job. Last Christmas she had worked Christmas Eve, then on the day itself she had gone to Mimi’s apartment where six single New Yorkers had drunk cocktails and eaten sushi in front of a fake designer Christmas tree. She had gone into the office the day after Boxing Day and that was Christmas over. She told her father that she couldn’t get a flight back in time, which she couldn’t for just two days, but she should have tried harder.
However, Christmas this year was going to be different; she was determined to make up for lost time. She would never fully forgive herself for the time she had missed spending with her dad, but she would try to make it up to her siblings who were still very much here.
Harriet had taken charge of decorations and the tree which, as per tradition, was delivered from a local forest. It was huge and dominated the grand hall. It had taken them nearly all day to dress it, but as they rediscovered the decorations collected throughout their childhood it had been a bonding moment for them all. Emotional, moving and cathartic. Luckily it was also included in the household expenses. If the siblings had had to fund a tree themselves, it would have been little bigger than a twig.
They worked together as a team: Harriet, of course taking charge, Pippa doing exactly what she was told, Gus quietly moving decorations to make it more artistic and Freddie teasing everyone. Fleur joined in, the excitement of youth still apparent as she gabbled about what she was hoping to get for Christmas.
‘Fleur, you know I told you about Granddad’s will? I literally have very little money, in fact I am pretty sure your allowance is bigger than mine,’ Gus said grimly. Harriet knew he was worried about Christmas, about how he was going to spoil his daughter the way he usually did.
‘I know, Dad, but you don’t need to spend money on me, what I’d really like from you is a painting of Zayn and Harry.’
‘The kittens not the popstars, right?’ Freddie asked.
‘Of course the kittens.’
Gus reached out and hugged his daughter. ‘I might not have got much right in my life but I got you right.’
‘Yeah but Mum takes the credit for it,’ Fleur teased.
Gwen appeared with mulled wine. She’d been feeding them all day, and bringing drinks as well. This was an event for her too.
‘Dad would approve,’ Harriet said as she stood back to admire their handiwork. The four siblings stood in a row, Fleur slightly in front of them and Gwen to the side, beaming.
‘He really would.’ Fleur gave her aunt a hug.
‘I just wish he was here,’ she replied, furiously wiping tears from her eyes.
Freddie had decided that the Meadowbrook tree light switch-on would rival the Oxford Street event and that they would hold their father’s traditional cocktail party for the occasion; live music – carols from the church choir – guests, and of course a celebrity to switch the lights on. And all for free. Gwen had managed the catering, she had done her fair share but Hilary had made a number of quiches and someone else mince pies, so they were well taken care of. And luckily her father’s alcohol supply had not been totally diminished. Whether it would last the year was another issue. Even though Freddie had cut down drastically on his drinking, with the support of his siblings of course, they still managed to get through a fair bit.
Rising to the occasion, Freddie, had taken total charge of everything other than the food. Harriet watched with amusement as he walked around with a clipboard, making notes and barking orders at Pippa, who was sweetly humouring him. He was in his element, not thinking about drinking but actually throwing himself into making it work. Pippa had organised a Christmas-themed raffle, and although they weren’t charging their guests, they had pots for donations all round.
The winter wonderland committee, plus the gardening club and those who were involved with the animal sanctuary were attending, along with the family, Mark and Loretta. Over fifty guests, including Hector who was fast-becoming the Meadowbrook resident celebrity, roped in to do the switch-on. His reputation was being turned around. Despite still displaying no discernible talent, he was always on morning TV, in gossip magazines and there were rumours that he was going to be on the next series of a celebrity jungle show that Harriet hadn’t seen. According to Greg, pictures of him singing with the church choir might help him secure the show, as long as he could pull off looking angelic convincingly. Amanda and Hayley were joining them along with Bella who was now very much a part of Connor’s life. It hurt Harriet, but she managed to keep out of their way as much as possible and did her best not to think about them. Harriet was good at shutting her feelings down, but sh
e wasn’t quite good enough anymore.
Harriet put on a red cocktail dress and it looked striking with her pale skin, even if she was the only one to say so. Although she had put on a few pounds since eating Gwen’s food, it suited her, and she felt a little softer, less angular, although still slim. She secured a simple pendant around her neck, which looked long and slender. She’d bought the Valentino dress last year. Gosh, she had baulked at the price tag, it was scarily expensive, but so beautiful and it flattered her more than any other dress ever. As did the saleswoman, who kept telling her how stunning she was. And Harriet had felt stunning. She’d bought it for a big charity event – goodness how different from the events they had here at Meadowbrook. It was an event to be seen at, her bank had purchased two tables, she was on one with clients, Zach and his wife on the other. It was the only time she had met Zach’s wife actually. And she knew that she wore the dress as a statement – she didn’t want to be overshadowed by anyone. And not only that, but they had drunk so much champagne – vintage, of course – that in the auction she had paid a ridiculous amount of money for a weekend on Long Island. One which she still hadn’t gone on. It made her feel a little sick actually, the obscene amounts of money they spent in the name of doing something good but actually just indulging themselves. She couldn’t even remember the cause. God, for the first time since being home she felt ashamed about her lifestyle, as well as ashamed about Zach.
And she was also guilty about Connor. She knew that on some screwed-up Harriet level, she was hoping that he would notice her tonight. Would see how stunning she looked in her designer dress and feel something. She knew she probably needed years of therapy, but she wanted to believe he would look at her and suddenly the room would fade away. The penny would drop that he was in love with her and he would finally find the courage to tell her. She pinned a lot of unrealistic expectation on that red dress. But then, for what it cost, it should have delivered her a whole happily ever after.
A Year at Meadowbrook Manor Page 20