‘Theadvance. Have you been on the eggnog already?’
‘What do you suggest?’ He didn’t know what she was talking about and neither did he care: he simply wanted Angela to leave him alone so he could decide whether to read Beatrice’s message or not.
He was leaning towards not.
‘My advice would be to take it,’ his agent said.
‘Okay.’
‘Great! I’ll let her know and she can draw up the contract.’
‘Fine.’
‘You might sound a bit more enthusiastic.’
‘Sorry… I’m thrilled. Honestly.’
‘Good. A deal like that, isn’t to be sniffed at. Right, that’s me done. Have a lovely Christmas and I’ll speak to you in the New Year.’
‘You, too.’
He replaced the phone on its cradle and stared at his mobile’s screen. ‘Let’s get this over with,’ he muttered, knowing that he would end up reading it sooner or later.
But when he opened it, it was the best Christmas present he could have wished for.
The living room was warm and cosy; the lights on the tree twinkled, and Christmas songs played in the background, Beatrice having insisted that the TV be turned off for an hour.
Taya and Sadie were in the kitchen making a gingerbread house, but making a mess would be a more accurate description, as there were blobs and smears of brightly coloured icing all over the kitchen table and all over the girls as well.
She was glad to see Taya having fun though, so she would put up with a bit of mess. Considering it was Christmas Eve, her eldest child was oddly subdued, and the only explanation that Beatrice could come up with was that the events of the past few days had affected her more than she’d thought, and now that things were kind of back to normal, it was beginning to catch up with her.
That was something else Beatrice blamed herself for, but she’d had to focus on Sadie – Sadie had needed her more than Taya – but for a few days Beatrice had neglected her other child. And what really hurt, what she felt so incredibly guilty about, was the suspicion that she might have taken her eye off the ball when it came to her kids. She had been so wrapped up in her new job and her new (old) love affair, that she hadn’t seen what was happening under her very nose.
No more. From now on, all of Beatrice’s love, care and attention would be on her children. No distractions. And after Christmas she would have to have a serious think about whether she intended to carry on working. She loved her job, but if she hadn’t been so worried about missing work and letting Dulciedown on Thursday, would she have listened to her instincts and kept Sadie home from school?
Rationally, she knew it wouldn’t have made any difference – Sadie would still have needed her appendix removed. And by being in school and Eric being in the audience, Sadie had got to the hospital faster than if she had collapsed at home.
But all the rationalising and reasoning in the world couldn’t prevent Beatrice from feeling as guilty as hell.
Lisa reckoned she was using the guilt to deflect from the misery of a broken heart, but Beatrice didn’t think that was true, and even if it was, she’d take it, because anything was better than thinking about Mark.
The lights on the tree created a soft warm glow, but inside her, the chill of loneliness settled over her. She never should have let him into her heart again. The wound of his first abandonment had fleshed over, the scar on her heart still there, but buried deep. He had ripped it open again and it was now raw and bleeding, with a pain so acute she knew she would never risk loving anyone again.
Her heart ached, not just from his absence, but from the dreams she had woven in the quiet hours of her mind which were now lost. She had painted a future together in colours more vibrant than the pictures in his books. When she’d read his letter and understood that he didn’t love her after all, her world had darkened, the colour leeched out of it. Hers was a story without a happy ending, and she hated herself for letting him write the first word on her heart.
Each day since he’d left had felt like a slow unravelling, a reminder of the love that had slipped through her fingers for a second time.
As she sat in the fading light, tears welled, but she refused to cry over him again. She’d shed enough tears, so with a shaky breath, she blinked them away and resolved to take it one day at a time. And if she never heard his name again, it would be too soon.
The doorbell rang.
With a deep sigh, she got to her feet. It was probably her parents. They’d taken to calling in most days to check on her and the girls. Sadie had scared them, too.
Sadie beat her to the door, thundering into the hall. ‘Mummy! It’s Mark!’ she yelled.
Beatrice hurried after her. ‘What have I told you about answering the door to strangers—’ She stopped. ItwasMark.
‘Mark isn’t a stranger,’ Sadie said, grabbing his hand and trying to tug him inside.
