by Sharon Booth
Well, none, as it turned out.
Why, I wondered, had we ever got together in the first place? He'd certainly had no reason to want me, given what I'd recently been told. I hid a smile, thinking how he'd actually believed that I only wanted to go out with him when I was eleven years old because I wanted a sports car. A sports car! Honestly, how gullible was he? Although, to be fair, Hayley had believed it, too, and she'd been my best friend.
If only he hadn't heard me that day, he might well have asked me out there and then, and then I'd have had someone to confide in, to turn to when Dad left. I might never have gone off the rails and become so bitter, so lonely.
I thought about that day when Kit had been beaten up by my friends. They weren't really my friends, to be honest. They just knew how to get hold of alcohol, and that was all I needed from them at the time. They didn't ask questions, didn't want to know anything about me. I hid behind black hair dye and a mask of heavy makeup, and they didn't care a bit. It suited me fine.
Poor Kit. He was a very forgiving person, really. He must have been, because he'd known who I was that day we met up again in Helmston, and he'd not let it put him off. He hadn't even mentioned my shameful behaviour.
I rubbed my arm, remembering that day when I was sixteen years old. It was a few days before Christmas, and I'd gone into Helmston to wander around the market and seek out any last-minute bargains. Christmas, even at that tender age, had become my responsibility, and I wanted it to be perfect for Mum and Olivia.
Christmas had flavoured the air: the scent of pine from the lorry load of Christmas trees on sale, the tempting aroma of roast turkey and stuffing sandwiches coming from a nearby stall, roast chestnuts, and hot mince pies, which were being devoured by a crowd of people who acted as if they hadn't tasted food for months.
I'd felt my stomach rumble and stopped, wondering if I could be bothered to queue to buy a sandwich. I didn't even have time to make a decision, as I found myself tumbling to the ground, having been knocked over by someone who clearly hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings.
"God, I'm really sorry."
A hand took hold of mine. I pushed back my hair and peered up to see a boy, around my own age, looking down at me, quite anxiously. As he’d pulled me to my feet, I glared at him, feeling stupid and humiliated.
"Why didn't you watch where you were going?" I snapped, brushing the back of my jeans, then tightening the grip on my shoulder bag. Well, he could have been anyone. For all I knew, the whole thing was a scam designed to put me off my guard, while he grabbed my bag and ran. Although, to be fair, he needn't have helped me up, if that was the case, and he did look quite remorseful.
"I wasn't paying attention," he admitted. "I was too distracted by the smell of that roast turkey."
Despite my annoyance, I couldn't help but smile. "Me, too," I confessed. "Smells fab, doesn't it?"
His face broke into a grin and his eyes twinkled.
My stomach flipped in sudden recognition. Those eyes! "Are you—are you Christopher Carroll?"
His smile dropped, and he stared at me. "Marley? Marley Jacobs?"
We both gaped at each other. "Oh, my God." I'm not sure which one of us said it. Maybe we both did. We both seemed pretty stunned to meet again, that was for sure. Given that the last time he'd seen me, I'd been an angry drunken goth, maybe it wasn't surprising that he hadn't recognised me. Not that I'd realised that, at the time, of course.
"How have you been?" I remembered feeling all trembly and nervous, talking to him, though he'd seemed pretty cool once he'd got over the shock of seeing me.
Later, he confessed that he'd been all churned up inside, but I would never have known that from the way he shrugged and replied, "Oh, you know. Fine. How about you?"
Funny, but we'd both completely forgotten about those roast turkey sandwiches, as we began walking through the market together, talking and catching up. It was as if we already knew each other, somehow, which in a way we did, but not like that. It was as if we'd been best friends, or something, and we really hadn't been. There was a bond. It felt right. Like it was our time at last.
He'd told me all about refusing to stay on at the boarding school to do his A levels—much to his parents' fury—and how he'd finally managed to convince them to allow him to do them at the local college, instead. I'd eagerly informed him that I was attending the same college. I'd started there in September and was doing a two-year secretarial course. We'd both agreed it was a coincidence that we were at the same place every day, and how funny it was that we'd never bumped into each other.
"I'll keep an eye out for you," I'd promised.
He'd shook his head, his eyes looking deep into mine. "We'll have to make firmer arrangements than that, don't you think?"
My insides had swished around as if they were on the waltzers, and I'd nodded and bashfully agreed that we would.
Christopher had eventually steered me over to a little van selling drinks, and bought us both a hot chocolate. It was the first time he saw me get whipped cream on my nose, and he'd laughed at me. I'd got all huffy, but he'd dabbed the cream away, then leaned over and kissed me, very gently and quite shyly.
Oh, that kiss! I remembered it so clearly. The Christmas lights that were strewn across the market place dimmed into darkness by comparison. He lit me up, he brought me to life. It sounded very dramatic, when I thought about it, but it was true. It was how it’d felt. From that moment on, Christopher Carroll was my world.
"What are you smiling at?" Great Uncle Charles's curious tone brought me back to the present.
"Just remembering some stuff," I mumbled.
"About Kit Carroll, I presume, judging by that soppy look on your face."
I shivered. How had Kit and I drifted so far apart? How had we reached the point where he could just walk away, just leave me behind? The young man I'd known then was so different to the one I knew now. The teenager who'd led me around that market, seeming so pleased and eager to be in my company, enjoying the Christmas build-up, dabbing cream from my nose and kissing me so tenderly, wasn't the sort of man who would abandon his girlfriend, break all his promises, then return years later to bring the family business to its knees.
What had gone wrong?
"I can't give up on him," I murmured. "The old Kit is still in there somewhere. I just have to find him."
Great Uncle Charles sighed. "Then, hurry up and get on with it, girl. It's nearly Christmas. You're running out of time."
This, I thought grimly, wasn't for the sake of the factory and all its workers. It wasn't even for my family, or for Jack and his family. This was all about Kit.
Maybe, at some level, it always had been.
Chapter Nineteen
There was a most annoying voice in Kit's ear. He kept trying to ignore it, but it persisted, whining at him in an irritating tone, repeating the same words, over and over again.
He opened one eye and blinked sleepily. Silence. All was darkness. Had he been dreaming?
Deciding he had, he closed his eye again and hugged the pillow, too tired to give the matter further thought.
"This is your brother calling. Warning, warning, this is your brother calling. Pick up the phone. It's your brother!"
"What the—?"
Both Kit's eyes snapped open, and his heart hammered in fear. That was his mobile, the ringtone he'd assigned to Jack. But why would Jack be calling at that time of night? Oh, God.
He sat up and scrabbled on the bedside table for the lamp. As light flooded the bedroom, he spotted his mobile phone lying face down on the floor. What the hell was it doing there? He must have knocked it off the table during the night. He'd not looked at it all day yesterday. He'd been so stressed about the meetings that he'd accidentally left it at home, and then he'd been too tired to check it when he finally went to bed.
He reached down and grabbed the phone. "Jack?" He was breathless with anxiety. "What is it? What's happened?"
There was a silence t
hat seemed to stretch for eternity, then Jack's voice said, "It's okay, Kit. Everything's fine at this end. Sorry if I panicked you. I should have thought."
Kit took a deep breath and leaned back against the headboard. "For Christ's sake, Jack. You do know it's—" He glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. "—just gone one in the morning. Bloody hell! What are you doing, ringing me at this time?"
"I've been trying all day. Where have you been?"
Kit rubbed his eyes. "I didn't have my phone with me. I was in meetings, then I fell asleep downstairs. Only woke up at half eleven, and my phone was upstairs the whole time. Sorry. What's so important if everyone's okay? Everyone is okay? I mean, nothing—"
"Everything's as it should be here, Kit. This is about you, and the factory."
Kit's mouth went dry. What had he heard? "Go on."
"I had an interesting phone call today."
Phone call? Had Colin been in touch with him? Their solicitor? Didn't accountants and solicitors have some sort of code of confidentiality? Or was it someone else? Had someone who knew Jack seen The Gazette? Someone in the know had obviously grassed him up. Damn. How was he going to reassure his brother?
"Don't you want to know who rang me?"
"I daresay you're going to tell me."
"I am. It was Marley."
Marley! Kit's eyes widened. "What the hell is she playing at? Ringing you up like that! She knows you're in America."
"On holiday."
"Yeah. On holiday. I'm sorry, Jack. What did she want?" And then he remembered. The argument the previous night. Her fury and disgust with him about the bonuses. But she wouldn't, would she? She wouldn't go behind his back like that, surely? "Oh. Let me guess. I'm the big bad boss who destroyed Christmas. Right?"
"Something like that. I really didn't like what she told me, and I couldn't get hold of you for an explanation, so I got in touch with Colin. I knew he'd know if there was a reason for your strange behaviour, and sure enough, he did."
"He told you?"
"Yep."
"Everything?"
"I'm really hoping so. Surely to God, there can't be any more. Or can there?"
Kit sighed. "I'm sorry. I'd really hoped to save you from all this. You've got enough going on."
"But, Kit, this is my problem, too! For God's sake, it's my fault. All of it."
"It's not your fault, don't be stupid. How could you know that Halliwell & Stephenson's were going to go bankrupt?"
"I should have been prepared. It's not as if I wasn't suspicious. They hadn't paid us for months. As soon as they started fobbing me off, I should have scaled down production and done some serious investigating, but I was so preoccupied with everything else. I really took my eye off the ball. I'm so sorry."
"It was my fault, not yours. You had enough to do, and I should have come home sooner and taken this place off your hands."
There was quiet for a moment, then Jack said, "How bad is this?"
Kit hesitated, wondering how much to reveal. He supposed the cat was out of the bag, anyway, thanks to bloody Marley and her big mouth. "Fairly bad. Colin doesn't think we'll be able to get anything back, and there's barely enough in the accounts now to cover the wages for January."
He heard the sharp intake of breath and wished, with all his heart, that he could have kept the news from Jack, but he couldn't lie to him. Not when he was aware of the demise of LuvRocks.
"Has Serafina been in touch, yet?"
"She'll be here in a few days. She seems really positive about the whole thing, so that's looking good."
"I should hope she is. She's been angling for this for years."
"Yeah, well. Looks like she'll get what she wants."
"I really am sorry, Kit."
"It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything to me, anyway. Never did. It's you and Amanda who'll suffer again."
"Oh, we can sort something out, no problem. It's hardly the most important thing we've had to deal with, is it?"
"I guess not."
"Nowhere near, in fact. What I don't get is, why haven't you just told the factory staff the truth? You've got them all hating you and blaming you, and thinking you're a real tightwad. Why haven't you explained the situation?"
"Because I'd rather they hated me and thought I was a miser, than worry all Christmas about not having a job in the new year, that's why. They're going to have to know soon enough, but for God's sake, let's let them enjoy their Christmas first. It's the least we can do."
"You're a good man, Kit. I wish Marley realised that. You should at least tell her what's going on."
Kit laughed. "Oh, yeah, because she's so trustworthy, isn't she? Can't believe she went behind my back like that and rang you."
"She was worried sick about the factory, and worried about your behaviour. Tell her the truth, Kit. Let her help you. You need someone on your side."
Kit didn't answer. He didn't actually trust himself to speak.
"If this thing with Serafina goes ahead, will that fix our problems?" Jack's voice was quiet, and Kit considered, for a moment, bluffing his way through the conversation and assuring his brother that of course it would. But only for a moment.
"It will pay off what we owe the suppliers and keep us going for a few months, but, unless we come up with some drastic solutions, we'll be in the same position this time next year, if not before. The truth is, we need to increase output drastically, and pull in some money from somewhere. Even the big names are struggling. What chance has a small company like Carroll's got these days?"
"I wish I could be with you to help."
"Don't be daft. I've been to some trade fairs and conferences. I've got some people interested. Something might come of it. And I had a promising meeting yesterday with a potential customer. Could be really lucrative, if it comes off. We'll just have to wait and see."
"We don't have time to wait and see, though, do we? That's what you're telling me. We have to get more people interested in the place, and in our products. We need a branding rethink and a marketing campaign. Have you been in touch with Clarke & Howell's? Gina usually works with us, and she's excellent."
"And very expensive," Kit pointed out. "Marley already suggested her, and she wasn't too impressed with me when I said I'd do it all myself."
"Well, you can't really blame her," Jack said, sounding far too reasonable for Kit's liking. "She hasn't a clue what we're dealing with, and she must think you're a complete Scrooge. You have to tell her, Kit. No way around it."
"I won't tell her anything," Kit insisted. "I don't trust her, and she's just proved I was right not to, by telephoning you and dropping all this on you."
"She was thinking of Carroll's," Jack said.
"She was thinking of her Christmas bonus and some pathetic designer dress she wanted, you mean," Kit growled. His anger towards Marley was growing by the minute. How could she have been so sneaky? And why was he so upset about it, anyway? He should have expected something like that from her. "Look, it's the middle of the night, and I'm knackered. I have to be at work at eight, so I'll get off now and call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Will you? Promise?"
"I just said so, didn't I?"
"I mean it, though, Kit. I have enough going on here."
"Which is why I didn't want you to know!"
"But now that I do, I'll only worry more if you don't keep me informed every step of the way. Don't make me play guessing games, okay? I want to know everything. Swear it."
Kit rolled his eyes. "Hell, Jack, you'll be asking me to make a pinky promise next."
"I'll make you cross your heart and hope to die if I have to. Now, promise."
Kit sighed. "I promise."
"And you haven't got your fingers crossed?"
In spite of himself, Kit couldn't help laughing. "How old are you?"
Jack chuckled. "Okay, I believe you. Night, 'bro."
"Night, Jack. Take care."
Putting his mobile on the bedside table, Kit swit
ched off the lamp and lay back down, staring up into the darkness while his mind replayed the conversation.
It was no use. He needed to sleep. He was exhausted, and he had to be at the factory early. He had a long day ahead of him, and that awkward encounter with Marley to get over.
As if her overreacting so badly and storming out of the house hadn't been enough, he had to tackle her about her unbelievable lack of loyalty towards him, and her underhanded behaviour.
Great.
Sighing, Kit pulled the pillow over his head. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting much sleep at all that night.
Chapter Twenty
I wasn't looking forward to going into work. As I approached the factory gates, my stomach turned over in dread. No doubt Jack would have been in touch with Kit already, and as if that wasn't bad enough, I hadn't seen him since that embarrassing night at Fell House.
At least the foyer looked half decent, I thought, as I passed the glass door and glanced in. The Christmas lights had been switched on by Claire in reception, and the tree didn't look anywhere near as tacky as I'd remembered. Then again, I wasn't standing too close to it, was I?
I wondered if Kit had already arrived, and if he'd noticed what we'd done. Wait 'til he saw the canteen. He was going to flip his lid.
Oh, well, might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, as they say.
I wasn't sure if he was in, or not, as his office door was firmly shut when I sneaked into my own office. Closing the outer door quietly behind me, I hardly dared to breathe. The longer I could put off the evil moment, the better. I was even willing to sacrifice my first coffee of the day, in case the sound of the kettle alerted him to my presence.
I switched on the computer, wincing at the faint whirring sound it made, and unbuttoned my coat as I waited for it to start up. After hanging my coat on the hook, I picked up my bag, but almost dropped it in fright as my mobile started to ring. Heart hammering, I fumbled around inside the bag, desperately trying to locate my phone to turn it off. Who the hell was calling me at that time of the morning?