When Blythe glanced out of Ludo’s office she could see Amir perched on her desk talking to Sam. She did not like the stern expression on Sam’s face. She realised Ludo was still talking. ‘Ludo, this is all brilliant and I am truly grateful. Don’t you think it would be best if we sat down this afternoon and went through the details then?’
‘I don’t want to push you for an answer. You’ve got the Christmas break to think about it, but for now we could talk over how it might work in practice.’ He looked keen.
This was her dream; Sam would have to wait. ‘Okay, just let me put off my lunch date.’ Blythe nodded into the shop.
Ludo looked in the same direction and the sight of Sam pulled him up. ‘Well now, you didn’t say there was a young man involved. You should go. This can wait,’ he said, with a smile.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, but Ludo was nodding enthusiastically. ‘Thank you,’ said Blythe, getting up and giving him a brief hug. He self-consciously shooed her out of his office.
‘What’s going on here?’ asked Blythe, walking straight up to Amir.
‘Amir was just telling me how you sold me a cottage that wasn’t even for sale just to hit a sales target. Something you never bothered to mention to me. In fact, I’m certain you said it was new to the market.’
‘Whoops. I’m sorry if I’ve said anything out of turn,’ said Amir, looking like the snide tattletale he was.
‘Shut up, Amir,’ said Blythe. Amir slid off her desk and moved around to sit in his own chair where he had a front-row seat for whatever was about to play out.
Blythe turned back to Sam. ‘Technically the cottage was for sale; I just didn’t know that it was when I sold it to you.’ Sam’s eyebrows rose. ‘But then I very quickly tracked down the solicitor dealing with the sale and the rest of the story you already know. It all ended well, didn’t it?’ Blythe smiled at Sam in the hope he would see her side of things.
‘But it was basically lying, Blythe.’
She wobbled her head. ‘I wouldn’t call any of it lying. Maybe I didn’t tell you everything but…’
‘You didn’t mention that Holly Cross was the Christmas capital of the world either, which makes me wonder what else you failed to tell me,’ he said, getting to his feet.
‘I didn’t, but to be fair – look at you now. You’ve debuted as a sexy Santa and been to the Christmas fayre, which means Vicky owes me some crackers.’ She said the last part more to herself than Sam.
‘Why would Vicky owe you crackers?’
‘Because she bet that I couldn’t persuade you to like Christmas and I have.’ Blythe was grinning but she didn’t like the look on Sam’s face.
‘So, everything. You and me. It was all about winning some stupid bet?’
‘Not at all. Look, let’s go for lunch and I’ll explain,’ said Blythe, grabbing her coat.
Sam checked his watch. ‘Actually, I’m not sure I’m free after all. I need to go.’
A weight hit the bottom of Blythe’s stomach like one of her mum’s mince pies. Her defences kicked in. ‘That’s fine because you were always going to choose something else over me,’ she said, jutting out her chin. ‘Men always do.’ Sam paused as if thinking how to respond. ‘It’s fine, Sam. Go. It’s not like it was a big thing anyway.’
Amir sniggered behind her until she held her stapler aloft and he stopped.
‘Everything all right?’ asked Ludo, emerging from his office.
‘This client was just leaving,’ said Blythe, opening the door for Sam.
Sam shook his head but walked out anyway, closing the door behind him.
The chill of December made her shiver. ‘Are you all right?’ asked Ludo, looking concerned.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. The high and low she’d just experienced had given her emotional whiplash.
*
Blythe walked home with a heavy heart, two bottles of wine from Ludo and a box of chocolates from Mr Smith and Honey, who were looking forward to moving into their new flat in the new year. Noddy Holder was blaring out from the kitchen radio as her mum and Greg danced into the hallway and at the sight of Blythe fell about laughing. ‘Hey, you’ve finished for Christmas. Get a snowball down you,’ said Greg, dashing off to the kitchen while her mother readjusted her blouse.
‘You’re okay,’ said Blythe. ‘I’m not really in the mood for a snowball.’
‘What’s wrong, love?’ asked her mum.
