‘If it was up to me I’d go now,’ said Cass. ‘But Michael said something about travelling with him and his wife, nearer Christmas. It’ll be a bit of winter sun for them. As they’re paying for my ticket – and it might even be business class – I can’t complain.’
‘I should think not!’ Rosa sighed. ‘Imagine, a Caribbean island, blue skies, miles of sandy white beaches, in winter, travelling business class. Bliss!’
Cass couldn’t help smiling. ‘Dominica isn’t quite like your typical Caribbean island. It has something very special about it but it doesn’t have miles of sandy white beaches. Although there’s nowhere else I’d rather go.’
At last their train was boarding and they could get on. But once they’d found their seats and were settled, Cass said to Rosa, ‘I’m going to have a doze, if you don’t mind. It was a heavy night!’ Really, she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts and not have to talk.
‘It was!’ said Rosa instantly, possibly understanding this. ‘And after a busy day for you. I’ll read my book.’
Rosa’s mother picked them up at the station and dropped Cass back home. Cass’s own mother was there to welcome her, eager to hear her news.
‘Tell me all about it, darling. I want every detail.’
Cass went into the kitchen, having dumped her bag on the hall floor, as she always had. ‘Can’t do this without more tea!’ she declared. ‘Want some sort of hot drink, Mum?’
‘I’ll make it,’ said Cass’s mother. ‘You sit down and tell me everything.’
As Cass narrated her story, it did dawn on her again what an amazing job she’d been given. Without the addition of the disastrous look on Facebook, which had been like a knife to her already wounded heart, it did sound fantastic. She smiled and breathed and pretended the world was her oyster.
‘So when will you be going?’
‘That is the slight downside,’ Cass said, taking one of the biscuits usually reserved for visitors. ‘I’d like to go now and get going, but as the publisher is taking me, with his wife, I have to go when they want to go, which is much nearer Christmas.’
‘Talking of which, have you got any plans for Christmas?’
This seemed a strange query coming from her mother. Cass had assumed she’d be at home for Christmas, like every other year of her life. ‘Have you got plans, Mum?’
‘Since you ask, your brother has invited me up to London. Of course you could come too but Martin and Lou would be a bit pressed for space—’
‘So they don’t really want me?’
‘Don’t put it like that! But you and Martin do always rub each other up the wrong way …’
Cass decided to overlook how keen her mother seemed to stay with Martin, but this was Christmas. She realised that her mother longed not to be in charge and have to cook a turkey she then had to deal with for (seemingly) weeks afterwards. But inevitably, Christmas with Martin and Cass cooped up together would be stressful.
‘I’d be more than happy to go to Dad’s,’ said Cass. ‘He’s often asked me but I’ve never fancied it before. But now he’s got this lovely house on a Scottish island, Christmas there would be perfect!’ She wondered if her mother knew about Eleanor and decided not to mention her.
‘I do hope you’re not offended, darling—’
‘Of course I’m not!’ Cass quickly scanned her feelings and discovered that no, she wasn’t at all offended. She was twenty-five; she didn’t have to spend every Christmas with her mother and her mother didn’t have to spend every Christmas with her, either.
‘You’d better ask your father if it’s convenient,’ said her mother.
‘Christmas is ages away, Mum!’
‘It’ll be on us in no time. You mark my words.’
Cass’s call to her father, which was mainly so she could tell him about her job, ended in an invitation to come up and stay for a few days. Although the shop was busy, there were plenty of people looking for extra shifts and it was the same at the wine bar. Cass decided a few days off with her father, while she waited for Michael Masters to decide when they should go toDominica, would be a good thing. She would invite herself for Christmas while she was in Scotland.
Although the island where her father lived was very different in late autumn, it was still stunningly beautiful. She arrived on a golden day when the sun was low and the shadows were long. The colours of the fading heather and golden bracken looked extra bright against an ice-blue sky.
‘Darling!’ said her father. ‘How was your journey? It’s bloody miles from anywhere, this place!’
‘But you love it and so do I,’ said Cass, kissing him, before going to hug Eleanor.
‘He does,’ she agreed. ‘I’m very glad you do too. Come inside and get warm. It’s that last bit of the journey that takes the time.’
‘But the trip on the boat is always lovely, especially as it’s so calm today.’
