by Sharon Booth
"Having fun?"
I stopped my frantic dash to silence my phone and turned slowly, to see Kit standing in the doorway, mobile phone clutched to his ear. He gave me a rather forced smile, then ended the call he was making. Immediately, my phone stopped ringing. He put his mobile in his pocket and folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe.
"How did you get my number?" Stupid question, really. It would have been in the file box containing all staff contact details. Hardly difficult to find, even for him.
He raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's all you have to say to me?"
I hesitated, wondering whether to play dumb, or brave it out. I decided on the latter course of action. I'd done nothing to be ashamed of, after all. "If this is about my refusing to help you—"
"Oh, I think we both know it's about more than that. My office. Now."
I glared at him, but he'd already turned his back on me and was heading over to his own desk. How rude. I stomped in after him, determined not to let him see how rattled I felt.
"Close the door, please."
"Yes, sir." Bloody hell, it was worse than school!
"Take a seat."
I sank into the chair and faced him across the desk, wearing what I hoped was a defiant expression.
"So, have you anything to say about your behaviour?"
I stared at him incredulously. "Who are you? Mr Matthews?"
Mr Matthews had been our headmaster at Moreton Cross Primary. He'd been a fairly affable chap, but of course, we'd all been quite wary of him back then. He was authority, after all, and in those days, that actually meant something. Not like today's whippersnappers.
"I'm your boss. Sometimes, I think you forget that."
"Fat chance," I muttered.
"Marley!" His eyes flashed at me, and his hands gripped the edge of the desk. "This isn't a game. I'm bloody furious with you."
"And I'm bloody furious with you," I retorted. "What did you think I'd do, Kit? Just let you walk all over the staff as if they don't matter? Let you destroy Carroll's without trying to do something to stop you? I had to act before it was too late, and Jack was the only option I had left. You drove me to it, so don't try to make me feel guilty."
"You had no right to contact Jack! I told you about the staff bonus in confidence. I thought I could trust you. Well, I won't make that mistake again."
"I know how you feel," I snapped. "Hurts, doesn't it? But you live and learn."
We glared at each other. "You have no idea what you've done. Jack should never have been dragged into all this. It wasn't fair of you."
"Oh, boo-hoo," I said, past caring what he thought, or about Jack's feelings. Kit's face was all rage and fury, sparks flashing in his dark eyes, his mouth tight set beneath the twitching of a muscle in his jaw. He'd never looked more fabulous, quite honestly, and my hormones leaped about all over the place, until I wasn't afraid any longer. Frankly, I just wanted to pounce on him. "Poor Jack. Did I interrupt his holiday? How inconvenient for him."
"You're an absolute bitch, do you know that?" Kit snarled.
"I'm not sure a boss is supposed to say that to an employee. I think there may be laws against it."
"Marley, I'm warning you ..."
"Warning me? You honestly expect me to feel guilty about disturbing Jack, while he's swanning around New York with his glamour-puss wife, buying up half of Macy's—no doubt for little Prince Timothy—while all your employees are going to be scrabbling around, hard-pressed to afford a bag of sprouts for Christmas, now you've even stopped their bonus? Tough luck."
"For the last time," he said, through gritted teeth, "he's not in bloody New York, and stop being such a fucking cow."
My eyes widened. "I beg your pardon? Don't you dare talk to me like that! And, okay, so he's not in New York. Big deal. California, then, star-spotting in Hollywood, or wherever the hell else he's swanned off to, enjoying himself while we all struggle on, coping with Ebenezer Carroll here."
"Florida, actually."
I laughed bitterly. "Oh, well, this just gets better and better. Taken Tim to meet Mickey Mouse, have they? Bully for them. My nephews probably won't even get a Disney DVD this Christmas, thanks to you, never mind a trip to Disney World. How the other half live, eh?"
Kit had gone very quiet. He clutched the desk as if his life depended on it. I folded my arms, waiting for him to explode. Even I had to admit, I'd gone too far. I'd be lucky if he didn't sack me.
To my astonishment, he suddenly let out a long breath, as if he'd been holding it in for ages, then leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. I watched him, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Why wasn't he yelling at me? Instead, he looked … broken.
After what felt like forever, he looked up at me, and my heart sank when I saw tears glittering in his eyes.
"Kit, what is it? What's wrong?" I forgot all about my anger and was at his side in an instant, my hand on his arm.
He swallowed, staring up at me without speaking, as if he didn't even know how to begin.
"Kit, you're scaring me." I grabbed my chair and, pulling it round to his side of the desk, sat next to him. It was as if all the years peeled away, as I reached for his hand. He didn't pull away, just stared down at it, then back up at me.
"It's Tim," he said eventually. "He's—he's very ill. He has a brain tumour. They've been battling this for months, Marley. That's why they're in America. Tim's having proton therapy at a specialist clinic in Florida. He's been through hell. They all have."
It was like that moment in films, when someone finds out something shocking and everything around them fades out and there's just a huge close-up of their horrified face. That's exactly how I felt right then. The world just seemed to stop, and there was just Kit with his sad eyes and weary voice, and me and my guilt and shame. I felt cold as ice.
"Oh, God," was all I could manage, and even that took me some time. I realised he was gripping my hand tightly, and I squeezed his fingers, trying in one small gesture to communicate how sorry I was, how terrible I felt, how sad I was for Tim and his family. "Is he? I mean, how bad ..." Kit let go of my hand and stood, wandering over to the window, where he stared down at the car park, hands in pockets. I watched him, saying nothing. I didn't know what else I could say.
"Jack seems to think it's going well. The NHS funded it, so there must be hope. They wouldn't do that if they didn't think it would benefit him, would they?"
I nodded. "Well, that's good, then, isn't it?"
He turned to face me again. "Yeah, that's good. It's just, it's not pleasant, is it? And he's already been through so much this year, and he's all that way from home, and it's Christmas ..." His voice caught, and I bit my lip, longing to go to him and put my arms around him.
"Why didn't Jack mention it?" I murmured. "All these months, he's not said a word."
"He didn't want them to become that family. You know what it's like when people get ill. Everything becomes about the illness. He wanted to feel normal. He wanted to be able to come into work and put it all behind him, just for those few hours each day. If you'd known, it would have been there between you the whole time. I can understand that, can't you?"
"Yeah. Yes, of course I can." No wonder Jack had been looking so exhausted lately. He must have been worried sick. All those months of watching his little boy suffer like that, all that pain and worry and fear. And I'd rung him in the middle of Tim's treatment to pour all that stuff about the factory onto him, on top of everything else. I felt sick with shame. "I'm so sorry," I said. "Really. I'm sorry for all the things I've said about Jack not caring. I'm sorry for ringing him up and bothering him with all this, and I'm sorry for not being there for you."
He looked a bit nonplussed. "For me? What do you mean?"
"You've carried all this worry about Tim, and you've had to deal with the factory and knowing nothing about how to run it, and all I've done is make things more difficult for you. I'm so sorry, Kit, I really am."
He walked over to me and put his h
and on my shoulder. "You didn't know what was going on, so how could you possibly be responsible for all this? I should have told you sooner. It's done now, anyway. We have to get on with it. I've told Jack everything's okay and not to worry. I just want him to concentrate on Tim."
"Of course," I said. "How long will he be over there?"
"He'll be back around the middle, or end, of January," Kit said. "All being well."
His eyes gazed into mine. They were full of sadness, determination, fear and defiance, all at the same time. It was a potent mixture. I put my hand to his face and stroked his cheek with my thumb.
"It will be all right," I whispered. "You'll see."
He lifted his own hand to his face and covered mine with it, still staring at me. For a moment, neither of us moved, not even to breathe. Then we were together, and all the years fell away, as his mouth covered mine and he kissed me for the first time since we were eighteen-year-olds, with all our lives ahead of us, and nothing but love and hope and dreams before us.
The kiss seemed to go on forever, yet at the same time, it was over far too soon. We stepped back from each other, Kit seeming as stunned as I felt.
My mouth felt bruised. My fingers brushed my lips. I could have kissed him all day. How did he feel, though? Was he regretting it? Would he tell me that should never have happened? I waited, half afraid of what he would say, and too scared to speak and break the spell.
He sank into his chair, looking rather dazed, while I stood, stomach fluttering as I waited for his verdict.
"That wasn't supposed to happen," he said eventually.
"No." I felt my spirits sinking. He regretted it, then. I'd known he would, somewhere inside me. That was why I hadn't wanted to be the first to speak. I hadn't wanted that magical moment to be over. And with his words it was, and I felt awkward, embarrassed. How were we going to work together again after that?
Even so, it was probably for the best. We had so much baggage between us, after all. So much had gone wrong in the past, and it would never work again. You should never go back, after all. Everyone knew that. I bit my lip, wondering, what now?
"I'd forgotten how good you are at kissing," he said.
I lifted my head and saw the smile playing on his lips, and the sparkle in his eyes. My heart thumped. "You're pretty good yourself," I said.
He shrugged. "Where does this leave us, Marley? I mean, what did it mean? Was it just about feeling sorry for me? About Tim? Or ..."
I stared at him helplessly. The truth was, I didn't know. After everything he'd done, after the terrible way he'd let me down, after all I'd been through, how could I let him back into my life? It wasn't as if we even got on, was it? We'd done nothing but bicker since he'd come back. Yet, there was no denying the attraction between us. It flared and simmered every time we were together. But was that enough? How could we just pretend the past had never happened?
"I'm guessing you're regretting it," he said heavily. "I can see in your face that you think it was a big mistake."
"Don't you?" I asked, surprised. I felt a stirring of hope and pushed it down firmly.
"No," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "Truthfully, I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you walk into The Blue Lamp. Of course, you had to go and ruin the moment by dying."
I wanted to laugh, then I remembered Tim and the laughter dissipated. "You hid it well," I said instead. "You seemed to feel nothing but contempt for me."
"You do push my buttons," he admitted, "but maybe that's because you're special. No one else has ever been able to wind me up the way you do. But no one else has ever made me feel the way you do, either."
"But after everything that went on before ..."
"We had something good once, didn't we?" His voice sounded almost pleading.
"Yes, we did. But, then ..." I sighed, the memories tumbling back and filling me with pain and dread. "They always say you should never go back to an old love. If it ended, it ended for a reason."
"Do you really believe that?"
His eyes—those beautiful dark eyes—bored into mine, and I swallowed.
Did I?
The phone rang, and I jumped.
Kit cursed under his breath and snatched up the receiver. "Yes? Okay, Claire, put him through." He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and whispered, "It's Ethan Rochester. I have to take this. Can we talk later?"
I nodded, wide-eyed. Ethan Rochester was the owner of Rochester's Department Stores. What on earth would he be calling Kit about?
A picture of a Jenny Kingston handbag floated before my eyes, and I sighed. As if I'd ever own one of those. Time to come back down to earth.
I closed the office door behind me and headed over to the kettle. I needed a strong coffee and a few moments to gather my thoughts. My lips still tingled from that kiss, and I wondered how the hell I could resume normal working relations with my boss after that.
The true question was, was a working relationship all I wanted from him? And if not, how could we ever get past everything that had happened before?
And how, with whom he’d become, could I bear to have any sort of relationship with a man who put Ebenezer Scrooge to shame?
Chapter Twenty-One
"See the smiles you've put on everyone's faces?" Don beamed at me, as he paused in his mission to devour a plate of stew and dumplings within five minutes flat. "Makes a big difference, doesn't it? All these trimmings, I mean."
I glanced around at the silver, gold, blue, red and purple shiny mess that the canteen had become, and sighed. "I suppose so."
"You suppose so?" He waved a spoon at me, dripping stock all over the table, and shook his head. "Now, what's up? You were right as rain, last night. Even had a smile on your face at one point. Your mum wanted to take a photo. Now look at you, gone all mardy again. What's to do?"
I kissed my boss, and now I think I've gone and fallen for him all over again, in spite of the fact that he broke my heart, I can't trust him, and he's the meanest man in town. "Nothing," I said. "Still doesn't feel like Christmas, does it? I mean, considering it's less than a fortnight away. There's just something missing."
"Yeah," he said, suddenly gloomy. "Miller's spicy chicken wings, that's what."
"You're going with Mum, aren't you?"
"Oh, aye, but it's not the same as the Christmas buffet, is it? That's a tradition. Christmas is made up of traditions. Take one away and nothing feels the same."
I considered that for a moment. He was right, in a way, even though I'd never particularly enjoyed the Christmas all-you-can-eat buffet at Miller's. The all-you-can-eat tag seemed to trigger some weird effect in many people, who took it as a personal challenge and went all out to empty the restaurant of anything edible within its walls. It was quite disgusting to watch, and certainly brought out the worst in the factory staff. Even Olivia had been known to have three main courses and two puddings, and David—well, better not to think about David and that memorable occasion with the chicken satay. Ugh. Even so, without the staff meal, something did feel wrong. Christmas wasn't Christmas without a works party, and Kit needed cheering up, too.
I looked around thoughtfully. I needed a distraction, something else to think about. Kit needed reminding that Christmas could be fun, in spite of everything that was going on in Florida, and the staff needed to pull together again. It had been an amazing atmosphere last night. We needed more of that, especially since they were yet to hear the news about the bonus.
Time for another announcement.
It didn't go down well, at first. There were lots of protests that it wasn't up to us to organise a party—that it was management's job. They had a point, but as Don pointed out, it was either we did it, or no one did it. Did they want a party, or what? Turned out they did, however sour-faced some of them looked about it.
"Right," I said. "Tomorrow lunchtime. Everyone can bring something to eat, or drink. I'll pin a sheet of paper on the noticeboard, and you can all write down what you want to bring
, so we don't end up with ten thousand sausage rolls and nothing else. Liz, have you any other CDs apart from Now Christmas?"
Liz nodded eagerly. "Oh, loads. Plenty of party songs, too. We'll soon have everyone up and dancing."
"Brilliant."
"What about misery guts upstairs?" asked someone. "Is he gonna put a spanner in the works, or what?"
"I'll speak to him," I promised. "I'm sure he'll be fine about it."
"Oh, aye? Believe that when I see it," said another man, and as they all jeered and laughed, I felt torn.
I wanted to defend Kit, to tell them what he was going through, with his nephew being so poorly, but on the other hand, I could well understand their anger. He'd not behaved well towards them, and they'd be even less happy when they found out about the money. He'd brought it on himself, really. I could only hope that the party would give them all a chance to heal, and meet on better terms. Maybe, just maybe, Kit would change his mind and pay the bonus, after all.
Fingers crossed.
I wasn't particularly looking forward to mentioning the party to him, but in the event, it was quite easy. He was smiling, when I walked into his office, carrying a mug of coffee and a plate of chocolate biscuits, and he seemed much more relaxed.
"Just the job," he said, taking the snack from me and nodding his thanks. "I haven't had time for lunch, so this will fill the gap nicely."
"You should have had a proper meal," I said. "You need to eat."
"Oh, there's plenty of time for that when I get home." He eyed me ruefully. "I've still got loads of chilli in the fridge. I'll just warm that up."
I blushed. "Sorry about all that," I began, but he waved his arm, brushing my apology away.
"It's forgotten."
"You look a lot happier," I observed. "Has this got something to do with the phone call from Ethan Rochester?"
He grinned. "Yeah, it has. Sit down, Marley."