Page 4 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

The car journey from the boutique to Keira’s flat didn’t take long and it was done in silence except for the music on the radio. Sarah had looked out her window the entire time, thinking about Rhys.

They’d started dating in the spring after they met on a job where he’d been the lead architect adding a second storey to a beautiful Georgian house in Oxfordshire. Rhys had returned to the property one day to take photographs to add to his website, and he’d walked into the master bedroom which Sarah was still working on. She’d been giving a final coat of forest-green paint to the feature wall. Sensing someone was in the room, she’d turned round from her position at the top of a stepladder, brush in hand, and noticed the gorgeous, dark-blond man in a suit. She’d assumed he was the husband as she’d never met the house owner’s partner. He’d smiled a friendly hello before inspecting the cornicing, and she held her breath, hoping he would be as happy as his wife was with the work she was doing.

Once he’d had a quick inspection he checked they were alone and then smiled at Sarah. ‘It’s not quite my taste, but it looks good. I’ll be back in a couple of days once the decorating is finished.’

She left the tin of paint at the top of the stepladder and made her way down. ‘You’re not the husband?’ Now she was at his level she realised he must be at least six foot compared to her five foot five.

Dimples indented his cheeks when he grinned and laughed. ‘No, I’m not the husband. I’m the architect.’

Come to think of it, now she wasn’t towering above him he did look a bit young for homeowner Portia, who was in her forties.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘I’m Sarah. Sarah the decorator.’

‘That’s your full name?’

‘Just Sarah will be fine.’ She didn’t tend to blush, and even if she did, luckily her olive skin would conceal it. But she tended to get tongue-tied when she was embarrassed so she stayed quiet as she took the paint tin from the top of the stepladder, picked up the brush and headed downstairs, trying to ignore the fact that his footfall behind her meant he was close on her tail.

She went through the kitchen to the utility room.

‘I’m Rhys, in case you’re interested.’ He’d come all the way into the room too.

Portia must have been alerted to their presence because she trilled, ‘Yoo-hoo, everything all right?’

Rhys turned and beamed a smile at Portia. ‘That’s what we should be asking you.’

Sarah had to hand it to him – he obviously had charm. Portia was friendly with her but with Rhys she was almost tripping herself up in an attempt to engage with him.

‘Everything is perfect,’ Portia enthused. ‘And you two are perfect. You’re brilliant, amazing! I will put pictures on my Instagram – follow me?’ It all came out in one big gush of words.

Sarah waited until Portia had floated out of the room before she said, ‘I’m pretty sure that request was for you.’

He kept his voice low. ‘I only need to come back one more time when the master bedroom is finished, take some photographs.’ He checked behind him that Portia hadn’t suddenly floated back their way. ‘I don’t suppose we could coordinate visits, could we? Turn up at the same time?’

‘Why?’

‘She answered the door in a very low-cut top the last time I was here on my own, and made sure I knew that her husband wouldn’t be home for hours.’

Sarah grimaced. ‘So you need me for protection?’

‘No…’ But he smiled before adding, ‘Yes, please.’

Sarah had given him her number, he’d called, and they’d turned up at the house at the same time to do their final photographs for their respective businesses. They followed that with a lunch, and it was the most comfortable she’d felt with anyone she’d ever dated. She’d had so much fun, they’d talked for ages, and she’d floated into a café to meet Keira who had asked, ‘What happy pills are you on? Whatever they are, please give me some.’

She and Rhys had seen each other every evening after work for almost eight weeks before they’d gone away for a weekend so she could meet his parents, and after that she’d introduced him to her mum. Chrissie seemed to love him, but when they got engaged and Sarah moved out of home and in with her fiancé, her mum’s true feelings and opinions had come out and they hadn’t changed since.

Sarah thanked her mum for the lift and rang the bell to Keira’s flat.

‘Well, you don’t look like someone who has just tried on their dream dress,’ was the first thing Keira said to her.

Keira made them both a big mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and Sarah felt instantly calmer in her best friend’s company.

‘I can’t wait to be your bridesmaid,’ said Keira.

‘So we’re making this all about you?’ But Sarah didn’t mind the shift in focus at all. Keira had a magic way of making her feel better and calmer. Sometimes Sarah thought perhaps the worry gene was something she’d inherited from her mum, but Keira was the opposite. She wasn’t irresponsible, she was just relaxed, went with the flow.

‘Of course.’ Keira grinned over the top of her hot chocolate mug. ‘I’m hoping Rhys introduces me to lots of good-looking men in Northumberland. With your guest list it’ll be a case of the law of averages, surely.’