Little White Lies (10 page)

“Are you sure I can’t drop you off somewhere?” Neil offers as I walk him to a taxi stand after lunch. “We can go past your halls?”

“No, thank you.” I smile. “My friend texted—we’re meeting for a drink just round the corner.”

It’s not a complete lie. Christian did finally text me the address, and we
are
meeting for a drink.

Just got ur message. Phone on silent. Hope everything’s OK. See you later hopefully: Cedar Court, Tanglewood Lane, Castleton
his text had read.

Admittedly, it’s not just round the corner. I’ve never even
heard
of Castleton.

“Oh, to be a student again.” Neil grins. “Drinking all day long. Well, enjoy, and happy birthday, kiddo.”

“Thanks.” I beam. “And thanks for lunch.”

“Any time.” He winks. “Remember what I said. Just call me if you need anything. Bye!”

I wave till his taxi disappears round the next corner, then hurry to the next cab in the line and give the driver the address, hoping I’ve got enough cash to get me there.

We drive past the sights of Sheffield—the cathedral, City Hall, past the university
—then we keep on going, till all that surrounds us are gently rolling hills, grassy fields, trees, sheep, and the occasional farmhouse. Gradually the hills get steeper, gorsier, more rugged, as rocky cliffs begin to shoot up from nowhere, ripping through and scarring their grassy coats. It’s beautiful, like something out of Middle Earth.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Peak District, love.”

“Derbyshire?”

He nods.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Yep, nearly there.”

I hope so,
I think, checking my new watch. It’s two-thirty. I’m not sure there’ll be much point me turning up at this party at all if it takes much longer—we’ve been driving for half an hour already.

Finally the taxi pulls into the gravelly drive of a huge redbrick manor house and stops by the front door.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I stare up at the building doubtfully.

“Yep.” He points to a sign. “Cedar Court Care Home.”

“Care home?”
I stare at him. “There must be some mistake.” I try to call Christian.

“You’ll not get signal here, love. The hills get in the way.”

He’s right. I get out of the car and try again, holding my phone high in the air.

“Are you coming or going?” the driver asks impatiently. “I can’t wait all day.”

“I...” I falter.

“Louise?”

“Yes?” I turn as the woman we bumped into at the hospital hurries out of the front door.

“Oh good! You made it!” She beams. “Sorry, we’ve not been properly introduced—I’m Shirley, one of the carers here. Christian asked me to keep an eye out for you. Happy birthday, by the way!”

“What? How did you...?”

“Christian told us.” She smiles. “But don’t worry, he didn’t divulge your age—he’s a gentleman.”

I stare at her. How did he...?
My driving license,
I realize. He must’ve remembered my birthday from when he checked my ID in the pub.

“He’s just in the garden—I’ll take you round, shall I?”

The taxi driver clears his throat. “That’ll be thirty quid, then, love.”

I spin round. “Thirty!”

He nods. “Many happy returns.”

I empty my purse and hand him the money grudgingly. If Neil hadn’t given me a tenner for my birthday, I’d be stuck. I hope there’s a cash machine round here somewhere—I’ve not got enough left for the return fare.

“Follow me.” Shirley smiles, leading me round the side of the building to a vast sprawling garden. A large patio hugs the side of the building, stretching tiled pathways snaking in several directions across the pristine lawns, which are studded with benches, trimmed with immaculate flower beds, surrounded by colorful bushes and evergreens, and filled with old people, happily chattering and mingling.

This
is the party Christian couldn’t miss
.
.
.
?

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!” I look round as a guy in a suit appears at the patio doors.

I blink.
Christian?

“Doesn’t he scrub up nicely?” Shirley beams. She’s not kidding. He looks incredible, his dark hair tied back in a neat ponytail, the crisp suit fitting him like a glove.

He winks at me. “It is time for the birthday girl to take to the dance floor.”

I freeze. What is he doing? I can’t dance! I open my mouth to protest when a tiny wizened old lady in an emerald dress emerges from the house, her smile radiant as everybody claps.

“Edna scrubs up well too, doesn’t she?” Shirley says. “If I look that good on my ninetieth birthday, I’ll be a happy lady.”

I feel myself relax.
Edna’s
the birthday girl.

“Maestro, music, please!” Christian cries, nodding at an old man next to a stereo, and the waltz from
Sleeping Beauty
starts playing.

Christian bows to Edna. “May I have this dance?”

“I’d be delighted.” She beams.

He takes her in his arms and I watch incredulously as Christian gently, slowly, impossibly gracefully, dances Edna around the patio until the music finally comes to an end.

“Oh, I feel like a princess!” she laughs.

“You look like a princess.” Christian smiles, kissing her hand as he leads her to a chair. “Your throne, Your Highness.”

He bows again, and as he disappears into the building I move to follow him.

“Young lady!” I stop in my tracks as Edna beckons to me. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“H-happy birthday,” I stammer, panicking as I move closer. “I’m really sorry—I’m not gate-crashing your party—Chri
stian invited me.”

“Oh, then you must be Louise! Christian told me it’s your birthday today too—please, have a seat.” She pats the bench beside her. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.” I smile, sitting down. “Happy birthday to you too!”

“I’m so thrilled Christian’s found himself a nice young lady.” Edna beams.

“Oh, we’re not—I—I haven’t known him long,” I stutter.

“Neither have I!” Edna smiles. “He just blew in with the summer breeze a couple of months ago like a migrating bird, but some people you can just read like a book, can’t you?”

I smile tightly. I hope not.

“Sometimes I feel like I’ve known him his whole life.” Edna smiles.

“
I
have!” another old lady interrupts, wielding a wrapped present. “He’s such a lovely boy, my nephew.”

I look up, surprised. “You’re his aunt?”

“No, she’s not,” Edna whispers. “Thank you for my present, Daisy, you’re so kind.”

“So’s my Tommy,” Daisy says. “Such a dear boy.” She moves away.

“Daisy’s got dementia,” Edna whispers to me. “She gets confused. They all love Christian, though.”

“How did you meet him?” I ask her.

“Oh, I’m his landlady, dear.” She smiles. “Although he’s been much more than a tenant to me, especially since I moved in here. I don’t have any family of my own anymore, but Christian visits me every week, you know? Even when I was in hospital after my little dizzy spell.”

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“Oh yes, yes, they’ve changed my tablets and now I’m stronger than ever, but that hasn’t stopped him spoiling me rotten with chocolates and the most beautiful bouquets of flowers.” She beams. “And when I told him how I used to dance that waltz on my birthday every year with my late husband, well, Christian promised he’d dance it with me instead.” She blinks quickly. “He’s an absolute angel. You’ll not find anyone sweeter or kinder. Why aren’t you two together?” she asks suddenly. “What have you got to lose?”

Far too much.

“Oh, I know he didn’t move here under the
best
of circumstan
ces.”

I frown. What does she know?

“But everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they?” She smiles. “Life’s too short. Give him a shot, love.”

“Edna, what do you—”

“Speaking of shots... Bartender!” Edna cries. “Mine’s a cosmopolitan!”

“Coming right up, m’lady!” Christian appears with a silver tray.

“Your Majesty.” He hands Edna a glass, then offers me a blue cocktail. “I promised you a drink.” He grins. “I keep my promises.”

“What’s in it?” I ask warily.

“I’d tell you... but then I’d have to kill you.” He winks. “Trade secret. You’ll love it.”

“It looks disgusting!” I wince.

“Don’t be fooled,” he chides, handing me the glass. “Appearances can be deceptive. If you don’t try it, you’ll never know....” He swoops off with his tray.

“Edna—” I turn back to the old lady, but she’s gone, tottering off to join a game of croquet on the lawn.

I sniff the blue concoction suspiciously, then decide to risk the smallest sip. It’s utterly delicious.

My head spins as I watch Christian deliver more canapés and cocktails to the delighted old ladies, laughing and flirting and teasing and comforting them in turn, revealing a side to him I’d never imagined in my wildest dreams. Is this the real him? Or is he playing a part? If so, who is he trying to impress? The lovely old ladies? Or me?

“So how was it?” Christian asks, finally flopping onto the bench beside me. “The cocktail?”

“Oh.” I smile. “Repulsive.”

“I can tell.” He eyes my empty glass.

“I had to throw it away.” I shrug.

“So why’ve you got blue lips?”

My hand flies to my mouth.

“Gotcha.” He grins. “Was everything okay earlier? I was worried when I got your message about an emergency.”

“Oh no, everything’s fine,” I tell him. “It turned out to be a false alarm.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles. “And I’m glad you made it in the end.”

“Me too.” As my eyes meet his a warm feeling tingles through my body. When it reaches my cheeks I blink quickly and look away. That cocktail must have been stronger than it tasted.

“It’s really lovely what you’re doing for Edna,” I say, watching her cheer as she knocks a ball through a hoop.

“I owe her.” Christian shrugs. “She’s been really good to me. She reminds me of my nan.” He smiles wistfully. “Plus it’s hard, suddenly leaving all your friends and family behind and being plunged into a new life where you don’t know anyone....” He smiles. “A wise person told me that.”

I shrug and look away.

“So I thought a party might help.”

“Seems to be working,” I agree. “Though I have to admit, this isn’t
exactly
what I was expecting when you said ‘party.’ ”

“Whatever do you mean?” he protests. “There’s music, alcohol, cake....”

“It’s great,” I laugh. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m full of surprises, me.”

“No kidding,” I say, looking at him closely. “Barman, butler, dancer... What else have you been hiding?”

“We’ve all got our secrets.” He glances around at the old ladies. “Mrs. Groves over there was Miss Cleethorpes 1951, Ms. Williams with the walker used to play professional golf, and Mrs. Harris with the head scarf did time for robbing a bank.”

I giggle. “You’re kidding.”

“Everyone’s got a past.” He shrugs. “Some like to remember, some prefer to forget.”

No kidding.

“What about you?” I ask.

He turns.

“Why did you really come to Sheffield?”