Fern Britton Summer Collection: New Beginnings, Hidden Treasures, The Holiday Home, The Stolen Weekend

Miserable, she shook her head.

‘Whatever the rights and wrongs, you’ve got to apologise. As far as I can see, you’ve alienated almost everyone close to you, apart from my good self. It’s no use waiting for one of them to make the first move.’

‘Apologise?’ She was aghast at the idea.

‘If you’re going to be that difficult, you’ll end up like Julia,’ he warned.

She managed a feeble grin. ‘Oh, God! Not really?’ She tried to pull her hands from his grip but he held tight.

‘Yes, really. Do you want to become an embittered old bitch with nothing but her work to keep her going?’

‘Don’t be so silly. They’ll come round.’ But she didn’t sound convinced, even to herself.

‘Why should they? Sounds to me as if you managed a five-star demolition job. And on Christmas Day too. What timing.’ He sat back on his heels, letting go her hands.

‘You don’t really think I’m getting like Julia?’ Even though she didn’t truly believe he meant it, she didn’t like the idea one bit. ‘Do you?

He laughed. ‘Get over yourself, will you? I was joking.’ He stood up, brushed the knees of his trousers and took the brandy bottle from the mantelpiece. ‘Another?’

She nodded.

‘Listen. Nobody’s like Julia. I told you I knew her at drama school, way back in the seventies.’ He sat down beside Christie, swirling the brandy in his glass. ‘By the time I met her, she’d lost almost all trace of her Scouse accent and was busy reinventing herself as an actress, getting a few bit parts here and there, and temping to keep the wolf from the door. Well, we all did waitering, bar work, all that stuff, until it dawned on us that we hadn’t a cat’s chance of making it. But she met Max.’

Christie was intrigued to have the story she’d already heard fleshed out.

Frank smiled, stretching his legs in front of him and staring into his glass before he took another sip. ‘Now her knickers are welded on, but back in those days, she’d drop them for anyone who might help her climb the slippery pole to success. And legend has it, she climbed many slippery poles, dear! Anyway, poor old Max didn’t stand a chance. For years, he was a means to an end for her, though I doubt he ever saw it like that. And don’t forget they never had the children he really wanted – they would have held her back.’

‘Don’t be so mean. Maybe they just couldn’t.’ Christie couldn’t believe that anyone would be capable of sacrificing the most precious thing that could happen to them to the hard-nosed world of work.

‘Listen to you. Always Little Miss Loyalty.’ Frank looked amused as he poked at the fire. ‘And ever since, brilliant and successful agent she may be, but if Julia has any friends, she keeps them well hidden. That woman’s on one long power trip – and if you’re not careful, you’ll be on it with her!’

‘Stop it!’ Christie leaned across and smacked his arm. ‘I’m not anything like that bad.’

‘If you were, I wouldn’t be sitting here, love,’ Frank reassured her, dodging her hand. ‘But I’m serious about putting things right. These are the people who love you.’

‘And one who doesn’t!’ Christie reminded him.

‘Granted, that’s unfortunate. But don’t ditch the others because of him.’

They talked and drank on into the night, he gently persuasive, then increasingly impatient at Christie’s drunken reluctance to make the first move. ‘After all, I’m not the one who nicked my sister’s bloke from under her nose.’

Frank listened to everything she had to say, but eventually he glanced at his watch. ‘Time for bed, sweetheart. If you’re going to insist on being so bloody-minded, let’s sleep on it and see how it all looks in the morning.’ He got to his feet. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll slum it in your sister’s sheets …’

But sleep didn’t come easily to Christie that night. Every time she was about to drift off, her conversations with Libby, Maureen and, most often, Mel spun through her head, giving her ample opportunity to ratchet up her guilt by thinking of everything else she could have said or done that would have avoided confrontation. She was sure she’d only slept a couple of hours when the doorbell woke her: Sophie and her mother to take Libby to the Boxing Day sales. Libby was out of the house like a greyhound out of a trap, leaving her mother to nurse her thumping hangover.

‘Nothing like a brisk walk to blow away the cobwebs,’ pronounced Frank, after they’d shared something like a gallon of black coffee over breakfast and their heads were a little clearer. ‘Let’s go, before the snow comes.’ They dragged Fred away from his Wii, wrapped up and headed out.

The earth was frozen hard underfoot as they trudged along the bridle path, hands stuffed into pockets, hats pulled down over ears, noses and cheeks pink with cold. For as far as the eye could see, a winter wonderland stretched away from them: woods and ploughed fields powdered with snow, trees and hedges rimed with frost, patches of ice that cracked under their weight. To the south, the featureless grey sky was relieved by a hazy washed-out sun that was failing to break through. Fred dawdled behind them, poking sticks into frozen puddles.

‘You’re a bloody idiot, you know,’ said Frank, his breath visible in the air ahead of them. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think about what Mel said. Is there any truth in it?’

‘Of course not,’ she objected. ‘I’m exactly the same person I ever was.’

‘Are you sure?’ He wedged himself through a kissing gate, swinging it back for Christie. ‘Think Julia.’

‘Positive.’

He looked at her sceptically as she zigzagged through, obviously suggesting she might think again.

‘Well, -ish,’ she qualified. They walked on for a while without speaking, both thinking about the ongoing conversation they’d been having ever since Frank arrived the night before, Fred still bringing up the rear.

As they walked, Christie had grudgingly to admit that, in the sober light of day, Frank was probably right. She should say sorry. Perhaps she had changed – but not all for the bad, she rapidly justified herself. The time was definitely right for her to emerge from the paralysis of her grief, and Mel had encouraged her. Everyone had. She just hadn’t foreseen all that her new job or, for that matter, being managed by Julia would involve. She’d had more to deal with than she’d anticipated, including the impact on her children, especially Libby. But that wasn’t an excuse to take it out on everyone else. Despite her unwillingness to admit she was in the wrong, someone had to take responsibility and square things. That much she knew.

‘OK. I give in.’ She broke the silence. ‘I’ll phone her. Though God knows what she’ll say.’

Frank slipped his arm through hers. ‘Right decision. At last. Can we go home now? I’m freezing my butt off out here.’

Christie laughed, letting him turn them round. ‘And I’ll take a long hard look at myself, provided you promise to keep me on the straight and narrow.’

‘Why do you think I came?’ He tightened his grip to stop her falling as her foot slid on a patch of ice while Fred ran ahead, delighted to be heading home at last.

*

After a scratch lunch of Christmas leftovers and baked potatoes, Frank left, confident he had done all he could for her. Christie kissed him goodbye, thanked him for being a true friend, and promised that as soon as she and Fred had tested the new metal detector in the garden, she would phone Mel.

An hour later, with freezing fingers and gutted at not having discovered a horde of Viking treasure, Fred climbed into his sleeping bag with a rebellious Smudge and returned to his Wii. With him torn between his game and coaxing the kitten back into the bag, Christie at last had the chance to make herself a strong coffee and head upstairs to call Mel undisturbed.

Her sister picked up immediately. Christie went in at full throttle, having decided not to give her a chance to get a word in edgeways. She didn’t want the argument to kick off again, making matters worse with their recriminations. ‘Before you say anything, I’m so sorry. I’ve been a complete cow. I needed you to point it out and I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. Not any of it. I feel dreadful. Can we kiss and make up? Please. As for Richard, I’m cool with you seeing him. Really. I was just being unbelievably selfish.’ She paused for breath, having meant every word.

To her astonishment, Mel started laughing – the one reaction she hadn’t expected. ‘Stop! Stop! I was going to phone you this evening when I thought you might have calmed down. I was just as bad. Jet lag and drink – killer combo. I only got up a couple of hours ago and feel awful about what I said.’

‘But it’s true,’ Christie insisted. ‘I have been horribly demanding and critical, wanting everything to go my way. I wasn’t thinking about you and Mum. I see that now, thanks to Frank, who’s talked yet more sense into me. I guess I was starting to believe my own publicity. Well, the good bits anyway.’

‘Well, maybe you were, a bit,’ Mel conceded, adding hastily, ‘but I don’t really blame you.’

‘Friends?’ Christie said anxiously.

‘Friends.’ There was no doubt in her sister’s voice. ‘Can I come over tomorrow instead?’

‘Of course.’ She felt the weight fly from her shoulders. She had been so scared that Mel would be much harder to pull round than this.

‘As for Richard …’

Christie froze, bracing herself for what was about to come.

‘I’m not having and I’m not about to have a fling with him. I like him a lot, but my heart’s set on Jean-Pierre, my St Lucian photographer. Not that I’d ever tell him. Not yet, anyway.’

‘You’re not?’ Had she misheard?