Carole Singer's Christmas (19 page)

‘I’m a fool, Nicodemus,’ he said to his hound as they sat in his office on Sunday evening. ‘Nothing but a bloody stupid fool.’

Nicodemus didn’t comment but merely let out a long, doggy kind of sigh and went back to sleep.

His phone rang and Nick felt an even bigger fool when he answered it.

‘Hi, it’s Carole. I just wanted to check that you were okay. You haven’t been round since this morning, Gran tells me.’

‘I’m fine, thanks. Just busy that’s all. How are you feeling?’

‘So much better, thanks. I’m not sure if it was your homemade remedy, Mum’s special scrambled eggs, or just the unbelievable shock of seeing her, and not just seeing her but seeing her so happy and so much like the mum she used to be. Perhaps it’s a mixture of all three.’

‘Possibly. It was clearly a wonderful surprise for you and for Mitsy. I’m so pleased for you both.’

‘Thanks Nick. And you have no idea just how much of a surprise it was, believe me. When Dad died, Mum really lost it. And I do mean
really
lost it. I can understand why, of course. Dad was, well, the most wonderful man anyone is ever likely to meet and he and Mum were so happy, so completely in love. It was the kind of stuff in fairy tales, and then suddenly, he was gone. She literally fell apart. Shattered before our eyes, and each little fragment dashed off in different directions. I honestly never believed for one single second that they would ever all come back together again and I would get my mum back. Sorry, I’m rambling. You don’t want to hear this.’

He sat up in his chair. ‘I do, Carole. I do want to hear it. I just wish you were here with me, instead of telling me over the phone.’

‘Oh! ... I ... Um ... well ... Gran was wondering where you were so ... why don’t you pop in for a cup of tea later ... or ... hot chocolate?’

He realised he’d been stupid, said the wrong thing and now she felt she had to be polite.

‘I can’t, I’m afraid,’ he lied. ‘There’s lots to do and with you not being here for the last two days, things have started to pile up.’

‘Oh! Of course. And I’m really sorry about that. I’ll ... I’ll be in tomorrow. The cold has almost completely gone. It must have been one of those twenty-four hour things so don’t worry about catching any of my germs. And Mum says she is going to be staying, so as she’ll be able to look after Gran, I can put in more hours at the garden centre if you like, especially as it’ll be Christmas in less than three weeks now.’

‘Really? I’d have thought you’d want to take the opportunity to go and see your boyfriend for a couple of days. I can manage here perfectly well without you, so there’s no need to worry about that.’

He knew that was a mistake as soon as he’d said it but it was too late to explain that he hadn’t meant it to sound quite the way it had.

‘Oh! Fine. I may just do that. At least he’ll be pleased to see me. Thanks again for the remedy and stuff. Oh, and don’t worry about coming round to help put Gran to bed or get her up in the morning. Jamie’s more than capable and he and Gran are getting on like a house on fire. That’s one burden off your shoulders, at least. Bye Nick, and thanks for all your help. I’ll see you in a few days.’

‘Carole I ...’

She had rung off.

He slammed the phone down on his desk, startling Nicodemus who whimpered.

‘Sorry boy,’ Nick said. ‘I told you I was a bloody fool, didn’t I?’

Nicodemus stood up, stretched his long graceful legs in front of him and strutted over to Nick. He plopped his head on Nick’s knee and stared up at him with huge brown, sympathetic eyes.

Nick smiled and stroked Nicodemus’ sleek golden fur. ‘At least someone loves me,’ he whispered, ‘even if it is just you.’

***

Sebastian was beginning to have doubts.

Surely if Carole really loved him, she should have made a decision by now? How much more would it take to convince her that he loved her and that they should be together?

When he’d bumped into her that day in the village, he’d been overjoyed. He’d often thought about her over the years and wondered if he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. He’d wondered what she looked like, whether she had changed. He’d wondered if she was happy, or whether she still longed for him as much as he sometimes longed for her.

When he saw her in the flesh and she looked even more beautiful than he remembered, he’d been more certain than ever that his decision to return to Jutsdown had been the right one, even if perhaps, it hadn’t been for the right reasons.

He felt as if fate were giving him another chance – giving them both another chance, at finding happiness.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

He knew that Carole was devastated when he left. He knew it had taken her years to get over him; that much he’d heard from his mother and father via the Jutsdown grapevine. He knew that she was still running her own business, the business she’d started in the study at her gran’s house, and that it was doing well. He also that knew she was living with someone and he’d felt an odd sort of heartache when that news reached him – almost as if a door that he had thought would be permanently open, had slammed shut in his face.

He hadn’t really known what to expect when he returned to Jutsdown. Things had changed and people had moved on but somehow it was still the same as it had always been and as he walked through the village, he began to feel as if he’d never left.

Seeing Carole and the look in her eyes had reinforced that. It was clear she wasn’t completely over him; that she still had feelings for him, and a trickle of hope ran through his veins. Perhaps they could pick up where they left off? Perhaps it could be as it once was? Sex had always been good between them and they had so much in common that he was sure it would only take a few words, a few looks, a few kisses and she’d be back in his arms. She’d be his again and he could forget the last few years and put Australia and his life there, very firmly behind him.

But he’d been giving her the looks, the words, the kisses – or at least he’d tried to, and she seemed oddly reluctant to commit. She seemed to doubt him, doubt his love. Even when he’d got down on one knee in the snow and proposed, just like he had all those years ago, she didn’t seem sure.

Perhaps her feelings for her new boyfriend were stronger that he’d thought. Perhaps it would need more time. She hadn’t said ‘No’, after all. She’d only said she needed to think about it, to sort her feelings out. All he needed to do was be there, tell her he loved her, remind her of the sex they had, show her what she was missing, make her realise that she wanted to be with him; needed to be with him.

He and Carole were meant to be together – he just had to convince her of that fact. It seemed though that this was proving more difficult than he had ever expected.

***

Dominic had made a decision.

Now that he had, he wondered why it had taken him so long to get there.

He thought he was happy with things the way they were; thought he and Carole would just go on living together for the foreseeable future and that nothing much would change. He now realised he was wrong.

Change was good. Things needed to change. Change meant moving forward, planning a future, laying firm foundations. Change was a positive step in the right direction. But would Carole think so too?

He opened a bottle of wine, poured himself a large glass and went over the three years of his relationship with Carole as if he were reading a client file and separating the positives from the negatives. He analysed what each of them brought to the relationship; debated the merits of a permanent merger. He’d done something similar before of course, just a little over a year ago when he suggested she move in with him. And that had been a wise move – a good decision and a beneficial relationship for both of them. 

He worked very long hours and his career was important to him so having Carole work from home was a positive on so many levels. She made breakfast for him; she kept the house immaculate, perhaps a little too immaculate but what the hell – we’re all allowed our little foibles. She had a meal waiting for him when he got home and she was good in bed.

Not that that part had mattered to him very much. He liked sex – didn’t every man? But there were other things far more important than sex in a lasting relationship. And Carole ticked all those boxes and then some.

Oddly enough, since being with Carole he’d started to enjoy sex more. He hadn’t realised quite how much until these last few days, in fact. He was getting to the stage where he was thinking of little else, even at work, and that really wasn’t a good thing. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate and if he didn’t get some soon, he was sure his work would suffer and the partners would notice.

Damn his luck, he thought. Why did she have to go and get a cold this weekend? Now he’d have to wait another five days and he wasn’t sure if he could do that. How could this have happened? How could he, Dominic Smith, one of the brightest young lawyers in the square mile with a razor-sharp mind and negotiating skills par excellence, suddenly be ruled by his dick?

And not just by his dick, but by his heart. He had assumed that he and Carole would get married one day; he’d taken that for granted but since she’d been away he’d realised that he had a problem. He did take her for granted and he was beginning to get the strangest feeling that she was slipping away, or possibly even, being courted elsewhere like one of his top clients being wooed by a rival firm. He had to seal the deal and he had to do it soon. Perhaps he’d do it next weekend. He’d go down to Jutsdown village. He’d face the barely hidden disapproval from her gran and he’d make Carole an offer he hoped she couldn’t refuse. He’d ask her to become his wife, Mrs Carole Ann Smith. And … he even liked the way that sounded.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Carole sat on the floor of the study, curled up at her mum’s feet and leaning her elbow on Sarah’s knees whilst Sarah stroked Carole’s hair just as she had so many years ago.

Arkenarten was sprawled on his back, legs stretched out, on the cushions of the window seat, purring contentedly and no doubt dreaming of mice. Mitsy was resting comfortably on the sofa bed listening to Jamie who was reading her the latest of her favourite author’s murder mysteries, which he had downloaded just that evening to his iPad.

Carole watched his face as he acted out the part of each character with some relish and she wondered how it was that a person’s life could change so dramatically in the space of just a few short hours.

If
The
Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come
had shown her this vision, she wouldn’t have believed it and she would have suggested very firmly that the ghost needed to seek alternative employment because foretelling the future clearly wasn’t his forte.

For almost twenty years she’d watched her mother become a virtual stranger; one whom she saw less and less of over the years until it had got to the point of meeting only on rare occasions such as Christmas and birthdays. A woman who was so disinterested in anything very much except an almost deranged pursuit of finding another man who would take care of her and then running off from him as soon as she did. A woman who had once been jolly and loving and carefree to a woman who had become depressed, detached and turned everything into a bit of a drama.

She had never been as obsessed with cleanliness as Carole was – in fact far from it. Carole’s childhood home had been filled with treasures and mementos, books and toys, her mother’s collections of this and that but it had never been dirty or untidy. It was a sort of organised chaos. Everywhere they had lived since had become progressively worse to the extent now that visitors were tempted to wear biohazard clothing before entering.

Both Carole and Mitsy had tried to convince Sarah to seek professional help to combat her grief and depression but she had dismissed the idea, assuring them that she could cope and that they should worry about themselves, not her. And she had coped, but for almost twenty years, she had been desperately unhappy. Until now.

‘I’ll go and make some hot chocolate,’ Sarah announced. ‘It’s ten o’clock and I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m ready for bed.’ She smiled lovingly at Carole. ‘And you need to get a good night’s rest, cherub. You’re not completely over this cold and you need your sleep.’

‘I’ll help,’ Carole said, rising to her feet and stretching just as Arkenarten would.

Sarah took her daughter’s arm, linked it through hers and they wandered towards the kitchen in a comfortable silence.

‘So are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do we have some way to go before we’re back to a mother and daughter sharing confidences kind of relationship?’ Sarah asked as she put the saucepan of milk on the gas hob.

Carole grinned. ‘To be honest Mum, this is all a bit surreal. Wonderful, but weird nevertheless.’

Sarah nodded. ‘I can understand that and things won’t get back to the way they were or even close to an average mother and daughter relationship for some time, I suppose. There are a lot of bridges to build and for me, a lot of bad habits to break but I want to try, cherub. I really want that with all my heart.’

‘Me too, Mum and today has been ... magical. Jamie is a wonderful man and it’s been great to spend more time with him. I’m not sure if I should say this but–’

‘He reminds you of your dad,’ Sarah interrupted. ‘I think that was what drew me to him. They’re not exactly the same, of course. That would be too weird but they both have that something, a sort of quiet strength. And a kindness and tenderness that you only find in men with truly good hearts. And they are few and far between, cherub, let me tell you.’

‘I ... I feel as if I’ve known him for years, Mum, and not that I’ve only met him a few times before. I feel really at ease with him. Comfortable.’

‘That’s exactly how I felt the moment I met him. You know what I was like with men. I shudder now to think of the way I behaved, mainly because of the unhappiness I caused you, but with Jamie, it was different. I am truly sorry for all that my darling. I hope one day you can forgive–’