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

‘Absolutely not. Besides, if Richard likes anyone, it’s you.’

‘He does?’ Surely Mel was mistaken. ‘But how do you know? I … I never said anything.’

‘You didn’t need to, you idiot. But he’s terrified of you because you seem so in control.’

‘If only,’ she whispered.

‘Why do think he’s always showing up at your house or thinking of another reason for Fred to go over to theirs?’

‘Because two boys together are easier than one. He said so.’

‘“He said so,”’ Mel mimicked, frustrated by how dense her sister could be sometimes. ‘Chris, he likes you. Believe it. When I hinted about the money problems you’ve been having, he was so concerned for you.’

‘But what about when he wouldn’t kiss me?’

‘I don’t know about that, but he certainly ain’t interested in me. He’s a decent man and a good dad who’s had his problems. Has he ever talked to you about what’s happened to him since his time in Iraq? Sounds more than anyone could bear. Seeing your friends blown to pieces, finding a local family you’d become close to lying dead by the road. How do you recover from something like that?’

‘I didn’t even know he’d been to Iraq! He’s talked to you about it?’

‘A little. There’s nothing like a car journey or two to break the ice. You know me.’

Bloody hell! Mel would have made a better journalist than she was. Christie could imagine only too well how her sister’s curiosity wouldn’t have let Richard get away with the dismissive replies he’d given the couple of times she’d asked about his army days. With him captive in the car, Mel would have taken the opportunity to grill him about everything she could. Christie was shocked to hear what he had experienced. Like most people, she only had the vaguest idea of what an active soldier’s life involved. She saw the news, was momentarily affected by the announcement of another young serviceman’s death, but then she went back to her own life, to her own comparatively trivial concerns.

After they’d finished talking, she walked downstairs with some hope back in her step. As she reached the bottom, the front door opened and in walked Libby, armed with three shopping bags. Behind her, Christie saw Sophie waving from the car. Anxious to smooth her way back into Libby’s good books, she dashed out to ask Sophie and her mum in for a cup of tea, but they were hurrying home. By the time she was back inside, Libby had disappeared upstairs. She went into the kitchen to get out the Christmas cake and make some tea. A few minutes later, she heard a shout. ‘Mum!’

Surprised even to be spoken to, she went to the foot of the stairs and looked up to see Libby standing at the top wearing a floaty, sleeveless long black dress, low cut with three buttons down to the empire line. Round her neck glittered a necklace of silver rings and white beads. Gone was her Goth daughter, replaced by a coltish beauty who was quite unaware of how lovely she was.

‘What do you think?’ Libby sounded nervous, apparently having forgotten their last disagreement.

‘Wow! You look sensational.’ Her voice cracked as she caught a glimpse of the young woman Libby was becoming. She noticed that the marks on her arms had almost disappeared. If you didn’t know …

‘Really? Sophie’s mum said it was perfect for their New Year party.’

‘Yes, really.’ Christie took a step up towards her. This was the moment. If she’d apologised to Mel, she certainly should to Libby. ‘Libs, I’m sorry about last night.’ She saw her daughter stiffen. ‘Really sorry. I found one of Dad’s notes after you’d gone to bed. It must be the last one. It said, “The best bit about fighting is the making up.”’

Libby let go her grip on the banister and brushed the hair back from her face as she gazed down at her mother. ‘Where did you find it?’

‘Tucked behind our favourite photo of him. The glass broke. He’s right, though, isn’t he?’

Libby inclined her head as she took in what Christie said. ‘I s’pose so. What about Auntie Mel, though? She ought to be here now, like she is every Christmas.’

‘I know. I’ve said I’m sorry to her too and she’s coming down tomorrow. She’ll love that dress.’ Libby gave a glimmer of a smile as she heard her mother out. ‘We didn’t really mean all the stuff we said, although I know she was right.’

‘Mmm. Whatever.’ Libby turned back to her room, not wanting to be involved in their row.

‘Love you, Libs. Daddy and I are so proud of you,’ Christie called after her. She knew that melting her daughter’s heart always took time, but the thaw had begun and she was prepared to wait.

*

Fred and she were in the middle of a game of Super Mario, shrieking at each other above the noise with every point lost and gained, when she heard a car pull up outside the house. To her annoyance, she lost a barrage of points as her concentration wavered. ‘Fred, pause the thing while I get the door, will you?’ She caught sight of her score plummeting as she stood up.

The bell rang as she walked down the hall. ‘Coming,’ she yelled, as she yanked open the door – and stopped dead. Standing in front of her, Richard was stamping his feet and rubbing his hands against the cold. She stared at him as he looked up, clearly apprehensive of the greeting he was about to receive.

‘Mel called me,’ he began uncertainly. ‘She said she thought it would be all right for me to collect Olly’s scarf and hat. We left them …’

‘I know. In your hurry to escape! Come in.’ She held the door open and he stepped past her into the warmth, saying he couldn’t stay long. ‘I’m so, so sorry you had to hear us arguing like a couple of crazed cats. We don’t do it often, but when we do …’

‘You really go for it. She said that too.’ They stood looking at each other, Christie all too aware that his opinion of her must be at rock bottom.

‘She did?’ She could almost hear her sister blurting out whatever came into her head and cringed. It wouldn’t be the first time. ‘And anything else?’

He hesitated then took a big breath as if steeling himself. ‘She said something about a massive misunderstanding, and that if I were to ask you for a drink, you might not say no?’

Christie gave a half-smile. ‘My sister is such a meddler. I might have known she’d phone you right away. She’s done something like this to me once before.’

‘Is that a no, then?’ He looked so deflated, but she couldn’t stop herself smiling.

‘No. It certainly is not.’ This, after all, was what she’d been waiting for, been longing for, even if she had needed Mel’s interference to achieve it. ‘I’d love to.’ She picked up Olly’s hat and scarf from the end of the banister and passed them over. Christmas was definitely taking a turn for the better.

‘Then why don’t I bring Olly over tomorrow and we can all go to the pub?’

‘I’ve got an even better idea. Mel’s going to be here then, and since she’s all but set us up, I’m sure she won’t mind staying in with the kids for a couple of hours.’

Memories of their last kiss vanished as he lifted one hand to her face, the back of his fingers brushing her cheek before he cupped the side of her head. He leaned forward and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm against hers. This time she abandoned herself to her feelings, knowing that this was what he wanted too. He held her close before they broke away from one another.

‘I’ve been longing to do that,’ he murmured. ‘That first time I wasn’t sure you were ready or that you even wanted me to kiss you back.’

‘Oh, I did,’ she whispered back. ‘And I definitely do now.’

*

Nick often came to her in her sleep. In the early days she had woken up shocked that the empty side of the bed next to her was not warm from his body. She often dreamed of him walking up the drive to the new house.

‘How did you know where to find me?’ she’d ask.

‘I always know where you are. I’ll never leave you,’ was his reply.

In the last few months he’d been appearing to her less frequently, and when he did, he was hard to reach. Something was holding him back, taking him from her. She could see him talking to her but she could no longer hear his words.

The night she kissed Richard, she did not dream of Nick.

22 (#ulink_981e9f01-26cd-593a-9ac5-7281bc31749c)

The arrivals hall of Terminal 2 was busy with February half-term travellers. Those newly arrived passengers who weren’t keeping an eye on their children stood focused on the conveyor-belt as the cases thudded down the ramp, one after another – but almost never theirs. Libby’s was one of the last off. Grabbing it, she hoisted it onto their trolley, almost knocking Fred over as he climbed aboard.

‘Hurry! We’ve got to catch them up,’ he yelled, bouncing up and down, watching Olly being pushed towards the exit by Richard.

‘Get off!’ insisted Libby, giving him a shove. ‘I can’t get this one on if you’re sitting there.’