That was an understatement. Jo's mum and dad had possibly the worst marriage in the history of marriages and the fall-out was still affecting Jo to this day.
'But you're not your mum or your dad. In fact, you're nothing like either of them.'
Jo nodded. 'I know. That's why I used to think I must've been adopted. But those two are both far too selfish to have gone to the trouble of adopting a child. Anyway. Let's not talk about them. How did we get on to such a melancholy subject? Give me another hug, you.' She pulled Neva back into her arms. 'God, I'm going to miss you.'
They would be seeing one another again after Christmas, and they still had all their belongings to pack and move out of the flat, but this was their last Christmas as flatmates and it was different saying goodbye for the holidays when it was also the end of an era.
'But as you said, we're only a phone call away.'
'Yeah. And you'd better get going if you want to avoid the mad rush of the Christmas exodus. You know how bad it is getting out of London on a Friday. On the last one before Christmas it's going to be a stampede.' Jo wrapped her jacket more tightly around her and glanced upwards. 'The weather forecast isn't good, so you be careful. I wouldn't be surprised if it chucks it down even though there's not a cloud in the sky at the moment.'
Neva smiled. 'They always get it wrong. It's going to be a beautiful day. Cold and crisp and clear. Just the way December days should be.'
Jo didn't look convinced. 'I hope you get to Wyntersleap before it rains. Drive safely.'
'I will. And I'll call and let you know I've arrived.'
'Make sure you do. You know how I worry.'
Neva kissed Jo on the cheek before patting the roof of her car.
'Come on then my little beauty box. Let's get on the road.'
She ran her fingers over the lovingly designed art-work emblazoned across the boot and the matching signage along the side. Her logo had only been spray-painted last week by Luke - a friend who was an artist. He'd done a fantastic job, and even though it might seem foolish, Neva had an uncontrollable urge to stroke it every time she got in and out of her car.
The words, Neva's Hair & Beauty shimmered in the pale, morning sunlight, the holographic silver letters a kaleidoscope of colours reflecting all the Christmas lights in the windows of the surrounding shops, flats and houses overlooking the road.
'Weirdo,' Jo said, following Neva to the driver's door.
'Heathen. It's beautiful and I want to stroke it.'
'Get a cat. Better yet. Get a man.'
'Nope. I'm off men completely, for the foreseeable future. I'm sick of being lied to, cheated on, forgotten about, or simply ignored. A man is the last thing I need. And I can't get a cat if Sasha got that puppy. But I suppose I can stroke that over the holidays.'
'I'm missing you already, you weirdo.'
Neva gave Jo a final hug before she got into her car, closed the door, switched on the engine and opened the electric window.
'Same here, you heathen. See you next year. Merry Christmas. Give Rob and his family hell. Show them all what they're in for by inviting you into the fold.' She blew Jo a kiss and winked.
'Don't worry, I will. Have the best Christmas ever with that crazy family of yours. Give them all my love. Even your annoying little niece. Tell her if she doesn't like the present I bought her, that's tough. We don't always get what we want in life. It's a lesson she needs to learn and the sooner the better.'
Neva grinned. 'Yeah right. You can tell her that yourself. I want a peaceful Christmas. Anyway, we both know she'll love it.'
She would. Sasha loved anything to do with ghosts, vampires, zombies and ghouls, so the bumper book of ghost stories Jo had bought her was the perfect present, even if the rest of the family might not agree.
Sasha was the only child of Neva's elder sister, Rowan and her husband, Nigel Lane, and she was a little odd for an eight-year-old. She had already decided to be a ghost and demon hunter when she grew up. Buffy of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, a series she had watched with her mum, was her role model. Her clothes, which were mainly black, had to have pockets for her to store her mini flashlight, garlic, bottle of Holy water and set of knives. The garlic, knives and bottle were plastic. The 'Holy' water was from the tap, but Sasha had a vivid imagination, so none of that mattered to her. Her footwear of choice were high top Converse trainers but her one small nod to femininity were that they were black and silver glitter, because according to Sasha, every girl needs a bit of sparkle in their lives, even vampire slayers. The family all hoped she would eventually grow out of it, but Neva wasn't so sure. And neither was Neva's dad.
'Call me!' Jo repeated, as Neva strapped on her seatbelt and put the car into first gear.
'I will. Have a fabulous time with Rob's parents, and wish Rob, Merry Christmas from me.' She hesitated for just a second. 'You're the best friend in the whole wide world, Jo Duncan. And I love you.'
Jo nodded. 'Back at ya, Neva Grey. Now get out of here before I change my mind about spending Christmas with Rob and his folks, and jump in your passenger seat instead.'
Neva laughed, turned on her indicator and closed the electric window as she headed her car into the never-ending flow of London's, morning rush hour. Glancing in her rear-view mirror, she saw Jo jumping up and down at the side of the road, ignoring all the traffic and waving her arms wildly to prolong their goodbye.
Chapter Two
Clouds bubbled up in the clear, December sky soon after Neva turned onto the M25, said to be the inspiration for Chris Rea's famous song, The Road to Hell - and the man wasn't wrong. It had taken her almost half an hour to travel a distance of a few miles and vehicles were bumper to bumper on every lane. At this rate she wouldn't arrive in Wyntersleap until lunchtime. Without thinking, she started singing the song over the Christmas tunes on her playlist. Chris Rea was one of her mum and dad's favourites and Neva and her sister had been brought up listening to his albums. She knew every single word to several of his songs.
As she edged her car forward to secure a place in the queue leading onto the M23, single file due to the almost obligatory roadworks on motorways at peak holiday times these days, she searched for Driving Home for Christmas, another Chris Rea hit, and belted out the words at the top of her lungs. It made her happier despite the curious looks from several other motorists also filtering into the queue.
No sooner had she passed the Gatwick turn-off than the rain began but at least the traffic had thinned out. Unfortunately, the rain intensified. By the time she saw the sign for Brighton and the coast, visibility was becoming a problem and half an hour later when her sat-nav informed her the turning for Merriment Bay was half a mile away, she nearly missed the sign due to the torrential rain. Luckily, she was in the left-hand lane, going far slower than her usual seventy miles an hour due to the appalling weather conditions, and as no one else was travelling in that direction, she was able to do a quick manoeuvre and veer left without causing an accident or hitting the grass verge separating the motorway and turn-off.
She breathed a sigh of relief. It couldn't be far to the tiny village of Wyntersleap now, although her sat-nav seemed uncertain. But Jo had insisted Neva check and double check the map before she left, so she knew Wyntersleap was five miles inland from the coast and Merriment Bay and her sat-nav did seem confident that Merriment Bay was fifteen miles away. Just ten more miles and Neva would step inside the cosy cottage she'd seen on the Wyntersleap Cottage Rental website.
The tiny village was nestled between rolling green hills and surrounded by fields and woodland. There was a burbling river passing beneath an old stone bridge at the entrance to the village and the entire place looked idyllic. And rather twee. Although the video on the website was clearly shot at the height of summer. But it looked like something you'd see on a picture postcard, or covered in snow on a Christmas tin of chocolate biscuits.
She smiled at the thought. Her mum and dad would be there waiting. They'd told her they planned to arrive firs
t thing, which for them meant 8 a.m. even if they couldn't collect the keys until 10. Her mum would've started baking the moment she stepped into the kitchen and the smell of cinnamon, ginger and mixed spices, would be wafting around the place. Her dad would've lit the fire so that it would be roaring by the time the rest of the family arrived. He would've already hung lights around the windows, if none were there beforehand, but he'd wait to dress the tree until everyone else was there.
There'd also be a tree in the village square if the photos on the website were to be believed, although there were only nine other cottages, one tiny shop and an equally tiny pub called Wyntersleap Inn. The stately home of Wynter House, which sat high amongst the hills, looked down upon the village like a giant eagle perched at the edge of her nest overlooking her young. The website also stated that Christmas was a magical time in Wyntersleap. But magic could be good or bad, so that would remain to be seen.
Mainly, she was looking forward to spending two weeks with her family. Although two weeks with Sasha was a bit like an endurance test. Things were rarely peaceful when Sasha was around. Nevertheless, Neva couldn't wait to see her niece again, along with Rowan and Nigel. They didn't get together as a family as often as any of them would have liked because they all led busy lives, so Christmas was a special time.
And this Christmas would be even more so. Knowing that she was coming into money, Neva had splashed out on a few extra presents for her family. But it wasn't just that. They usually spent Christmas at Neva's childhood home, so renting this cottage was a first.
When her parents told her and her sister, they had done it, both she and Rowan were surprised. They were almost speechless when their dad had added that it was because they had something to tell everyone and the cottage was the perfect place to do that.
Neva immediately thought they were going to say they were selling the family home and downsizing. It made perfect sense to do so; the house was far too big for just the two of them, although the timing couldn't have been worse for Neva. She always knew she could return to her parents' house if ever she needed to, but if they moved to something smaller, that might not be possible. Hence the further indecision about where she might be living after her and Jo's flat sale completed.
And when Neva phoned her mum two nights ago, Dawn had told her that Rowan and Nigel were getting Sasha a puppy. So this Christmas definitely would be different. And certainly not as peaceful as Neva wished it might.
'Really? Is that wise?' Neva had said.
Dawn sighed dramatically. 'Nigel believes a puppy may make Sasha less interested in her obsession with the living dead. And the permanently dead, of course. Her fascination with ghosts seems to be outweighing her zombie and vampire fetishes for the time being. Your father and I aren't sure if that's a step in the right direction, or not.'
Neva laughed. 'I'll bet you anything, that puppy will become some sort of vampire slash ghost hunter's sidekick within five minutes of its arrival. I'm not sure who I feel sorrier for - Rowan and Nigel, or the puppy.'
'Can you imagine, sweetheart? I expect the puppy will have a whale of a time. Sasha will love it to bits as she does all soft fluffy creatures. Frankly, I still believe it was the death of her pet rabbit that caused this strange obsession in the first place. But your father disagrees. He says she has simply found herself a life-long interest and we have to learn to live with it. His brother is the same about trains. But trains and the living dead are not at all alike.'
Neva giggled. 'I agree with Dad. I think Sasha's in this for the duration. Of course she may grow out of it once she becomes interested in boys.'
Dawn tutted. 'Heaven forbid. That's something I'm not ready to think about. I prefer her current obsession. I remember what Rowan was like. You weren't nearly half so bad. You sort of drifted into your first relationship, and not until you were seventeen. Rowan couldn't wait. She was eleven when she brought her first boyfriend home. I'll never forget the look on your father's face when we saw him. His name was Jayden. He was thirteen, had five tattoos and he called your father, 'Mate'. We both still thank our lucky stars that he decided Rowan wasn't 'cool' enough for him to date for longer than two weeks. It took her six months of tears and tantrums to get over him.'
'Yes. I remember. But Sasha won't waste time with tears if someone dumps her. She'll probably just knock them out with a karate blow or something.'
Neva was only half joking. That's probably what Sasha would do. Neva wished she had half the confidence and street-smarts of her eight-year-old niece.
'Turn left after one mile,' Neva's sat-nav informed her as she drove across a bridge raised high above what looked like a massive lake, but she couldn't see properly and needed to concentrate on the road because that itself was covered in water. Driving over the edge of a bridge would not be a good idea and the barriers either side didn't look that high, or as if they would stop very much at all.
Neva sighed with relief as she reached the other side and peered through the deluge. Where was this turn-off, exactly? All she could see now were fields and trees and rain.
'Take the next turning on your left.'
'I will if I can see it.' There was no point in shouting at the sat-nav, but it felt good to do it.
'You have missed the turning. It is two miles to the next turning. Take the turning on your left in-'
'Oh shut up.' Neva glanced in her rear-view mirror and braked. She turned the fan on full as the inside of the windscreen was misting up and wiped the screen with her sleeve for good measure.
There was no way she was driving an extra two miles in this weather. Two miles wasn't far but her eyes were itching and her throat was dry. The sooner she reached the cottage the happier she would be.
She looked around, to her left, her right, in front and behind before executing a careful three-point turn. The road was narrower here, more of a lane than anything, and it was bordered by trees and bushes. She didn't want to scratch her new paintwork. The sat-nav remained oddly silent, as if it held its breath, which was nonsense of course, but it made Neva smile.
'What the-?'
The squeal of brakes, the slosh of water and the thud that sent her car spinning like a ballerina, soon made Neva realise her mistake. She knew enough to turn into the spin, not try to brake, and thankfully her car came to a stop against a grassy mound.
The splash of feet running through puddles and a rapid tapping on the car window brought her back to her surroundings and she looked through the pane of glass as rivulets of rain poured down it.
She met a pair of eyes, the brightest blue she had ever seen.
'Are you OK?' The deep voice was muffled by the glass and the deluge.
Neva nodded and pressed the button to open the window. Not the wisest move as she got a face full of water so cold it sent a shiver through her body as it trickled down her neck beneath her jacket.
The man held open his weatherproof jacket to shield her and handed her a handkerchief. A cotton handkerchief.
Neva dabbed at her face. Why-oh-why hadn't she put on any make-up today? At least she had tinted her eyebrows and eyelashes two days ago. That was something. But without make-up her complexion was pale, and lipstick always did wonders for her bare, cupid's-bow lips. If only she had put some on. She licked them self-consciously as she nodded at the gorgeous hunk standing in the pouring rain.
'I'm fine thanks.'
He scanned the seats before his gaze settled on her face.
'You've got a lot of festive foliage.' He smiled as he reached out and removed a poinsettia leaf from her hair. 'What were you doing in the middle of the road? Did you hit a puddle and aquaplane?'
'What? Oh yes. Yes I did.'
She wasn't going to tell him she was doing a three-point turn. She hadn't expected any oncoming traffic even though she had checked. She had hardly seen another vehicle since she'd left the main road a couple of miles back. She darted a look in the rear-view mirror. All the presents appeared to have remained in place but one or two o
f the plants had tumbled over.
'But you're sure you're OK?' There was genuine concern in those unbelievably blue eyes and that deep but soft and sexy voice.
'Yes. Please don't worry. I'm just a bit shaken, that's all. Oh God! My car. Is it badly damaged?'
He glanced at the side and shook his head. 'Oddly enough, it's not. This was the side I hit and I can only see a slight dent over the wheel arch. That'll come out with a bit of hammering.'
'Hammering!'
He grinned. 'Don't worry. I'm sure they won't wreck your paintwork. Are you OK to drive?'
Neva nodded. She was shaking but that was more from the icy blast and showers of rain coming in the window. Despite his gallantry, his jacket was letting some of the rain past and each large droplet hit her hand, or face, or neck.
'I'm fine.'
'Where are you headed?' He was saturated now but it didn't seem to bother him.
'A little village called Wyntersleap. Have you heard of it? It's somewhere around here but I think I may have missed the turn-off.'
'Wyntersleap?' His large eyes grew wider and his smile doubled in size. 'You're going to Wyntersleap? To one of the rental cottages?'
Neva nodded again. 'Yes. Don't tell me you're going there too.' Her heart beat faster as hope swelled in her chest.
'Not to the village. I'm going to Wynter House.'
'Oh. The big house on the hills above the village? Wow. Do you know the Wynters?'
'Intimately.' He winked and gave a soft short laugh. 'I'm Adam. And let me guess. You must be Neva.'
She gasped. 'How did you know my name?'
'It's emblazoned on the side of your car. I had a fifty-fifty chance of being right.'
Neva laughed. 'I'm Neva. Neva Grey. It's lovely to meet you, Adam. But don't you want to get out of the rain?'
He tipped his head to one side and a lock of dark brown hair, the colour of chocolate, flopped onto his handsome face, followed by a trickle of water. He shoved his hair away with an agile-looking hand but he didn't take his gaze from Neva's face and his voice was even softer and sexier when he spoke.
Christmas at Wynter House Page 2