Hoping she will grant our Christmas wishes.
The reality of her takes my breath away. Her sweet, beautiful face. The lights behind her cast a halo on her dark curls. And—dear God—she’s in some kind of stretchy red dress that clings inallthe right places.
She registers who we are and clamps her hand over her mouth; her eyes widen. She pulls away her hand to say a shocked, quiethito me before turning to Bea, her face breaking into a huge grin.
‘Mrs Claus! Come here!’ She holds out her arms.
I hand Bea over. She immediately gives Saoirse the full koala treatment.
‘I missed you, Saoirse! Is this your house? Can we come in?’
‘Of course you can come in!’ Saoirse holds my gaze over Bea’s shoulder as she squeezes my daughter. Her voice softens. ‘Ofcourseyou can. It’s a bit crazy, Beadle. We’re having a little Christmas party. But everyone is going to be so happy to see you. You remember Keeley, right?’
I put my hand on her arm as she turns. ‘You sure this is okay? I’m sorry to turn up like this. I—we needed to see you.’
She shakes her head like she can’t believe I’ve even asked. ‘Of course it’s okay. Come in.’
I follow her tentatively into the open-plan living room. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it’s both a surprise and a relief to see her here, surrounded by friends and laughter. Not that I was expecting to find her alone and pining for me. But still. She looks good. Great. A little pale. But beautiful.
And the flat is… shabby, unquestionably. In need of some serious maintenance. But it’s cosy and beautifully decorated. There’s a tall tree in one corner, bedecked with twinkling lights and a multitude of red ribbons and gold baubles. Row after row of paper cut-outs run around the room. Green Christmas trees. Red bells. White snowflakes. The entire room sports a Fair Isle jumper pattern. This must have taken days to do. I’d put money on it being Saoirse’s doing.
So this is how she decorates when Bea’s not calling the shots. It’s homely and thoughtful and atmospheric.
I stand awkwardly just inside the entrance, taking in the clusters of glamorous young women and bulky blokes in All Blacks and Irish rugby shirts. Suddenly, I feel old and square. Completely out of place. I get a few odd looks.
‘Mr Montague!’ Keeley from The Playroom greets me, her surprise almost comedic.
‘It’s Miles, please.’ I give her an awkward wave. ‘Merry Christmas, Keeley.’
‘Merry Christmas.’ She notices Bea. ‘Beadle! What are you doing here! What a lovely surprise! Do you want to come and see what presents we have under our tree for tomorrow? And do you like crisps, by any chance?’
‘Yes, please.’ Bea is shy but not overwhelmed. Good for her. I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed right now. That is until Keeley takes Bea and exchanges a look with Saoirse that’s impossible to miss.
I put my hands in my coat pockets and wait for Saoirse to make her way back to me.
‘Do you want a drink?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. Can we chat? Somewhere private?’
She looks almost scared, but she nods and says the words I’ve been hoping for.
‘My room. This way.’
CHAPTER 33
Saoirse: Friday 24 December
It’s very weird, and pretty amazing, having Miles in my room. It’s kind of embarrassing, too. He’s probably thinking how small and crappy it is compared to his gorgeous penthouse bedroom.
He follows my cue and sits on my bed (there’s not much room to do anything else). He still has his coat and scarf on, and he’s combed his dark hair back neatly. He looks so handsome, and serious, and absolutely bloody perfect that my heart beats out a sad song at the sight of him. He’s so kissable.
I would give anything, right now, to lean over and put my lips to his.
He clears his throat. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m okay.’ I shrug. What does he expect me to say? That I’ve felt as though all the light has gone out of my world these past couple of days?
‘I’m sorry I’ve been quiet. I had to deal with the Allegra stuff.’ He’s beseeching me with his eyes to understand. I do.
