Susie giggles at that.
A hush falls as someone kills the lights, and it’s like a ceremonial ritual is about to take place. Sarah lights the sparklers, and the kids’ faces lined up round the table are illuminated by the bright fizz like miniature cherubs.
Then the lights are back on, and everyone’s digging in. Bailey goes off to help serve.
‘Bailey is an amazing cook, but you probably already know that. Wait ’til you try his Christmas pudding. It’s a whisky flambé,’ says Hazel conversationally, waiting for the initial rush to subside.
‘Ah, I won’t be here, more’s the pity,’ I reply. I knew there would have to be alcohol involved at some point. Last night’s session at the hotel is all too fresh. I’m still feeling seedy. I’m going to swear off drinking. Forever.
‘Oh, sorry. I forgot you’re heading to your grandmother’s tomorrow. You can take something with you. Bails won’t mind.’
I look over at Bailey, who’s serving dollops of trifle. He happens to glance over at me, and we lock eyes for a moment. Discomforted again by the intensity in his gaze, I look away first. Something feels different between us, but I can’t figure out what.
‘There’s always loads,’ continues Hazel. ‘Everyone usually rolls home after the holidays, having gained half a stone.’
I feel like saying something about the evils of sugar, but it feels churlish when everyone’s so excited. I bite my tongue.
Bailey comes over to me. ‘What would you like?’
‘Uh, I’m not much of a dessert person.’
But my protest goes unheard. Soon, he’s back with a full plate of goodies, then disappears again.
I nibble on the edge of a gingerbread star cookie silently in the corner. A strong need to escape washes over me, and I back away towards the door, hoping that Bailey is too busy to notice. But he catches me before I can go through it.
‘Where are you going?’ he asks.
I hand him my plate. ‘I’m feeling really tired. I might turn in. Sorry.’
I keep my head down as I walk away so I don’t have to see any disappointment or pity on his face.
Chapter 10
I’m in my PJs on my side of the cushion barrier, attempting to fall asleep, when Bailey bounds into the room. The wardrobe door bangs, and then he kicks the edge of the bed and squawks.
‘Do you mind? You’ll wake Crumpet.’ He’s been loaned Rupert’s old dog bed and is snoring softly in the corner of the room.
‘Sorry, it’s dark. I can’t see what I’m doing.’
‘It’s not that dark. There’s a full moon. Maybe you need glasses.’ Thankfully someone has turned off the Christmas lights outside otherwise it would be like a disco in here.
‘I won’t be a minute.’ Bailey leaves again, I assume to use the bathroom. This is going to be a loooong night.
Wide awake now, I sit up and unlock my phone. I’ve been studiously avoiding it ever since the message from TikTok admin at Kingussie station. But I’m surprised to discover that Andrea has sent a text wishing me a ‘Merry Xmas’ and hoping that I’m OK. Nice to know someone cares if I live or die. I send her a quick reply, leaving out any details of where I am, except that I’m safe. The fact that I’m in Bailey’s bed isn’t something I want to share, even if it’s a perfectly innocent scenario.
Bailey enters, and I flip my phone face down on my chest. His shadow lurches across the curtains like a werewolf in a horror film. There’s a rustle of clothing being removed. Then the bed dips as he gets in the other side.
Cautiously, I lift my phone and place it on the nightstand. Bailey is now quiet and unmoving, but I can hear his breathing. It’s disturbingly loud.
I close my eyes and wait for sleep to come, but I’m not used to sleeping with someone right next to me, even behind a wall of cushions. Neither, it appears, is Bailey.
‘Are you asleep?’ he stage-whispers.
‘Not really.’
‘So what’s going on with you?’
‘Nothing.’
