Page 47

‘I can’t say I don’t love you. We both know love is – complicated …’

He’d strained his ears to hear more but could catch only mumbled snatches of voices. The wind had suddenly increased, forced down the mountains at the head of the dale. It howled around the cave and rattled the branches of the treetops below the cave.

Arlo scrambled down the crag side, pebbles slipping and falling in his haste. His faint flame of hope that, one day, he might start something with Katie flickered and died.

He was almost certain that Katie was still in love with Ned.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

‘What was that?’ Ned dropped her hands.

Katie jerked her head round. ‘Sounds like someone’s coming.’

She stood on the rocky platform, hoping – she couldn’t lie – that someone had turned up so they could end the conversation.

‘There’s no one,’ Ned said. ‘But can you say you do love me?’ he murmured. ‘No, don’t answer that.’ He heaved a big sigh. ‘I’m aware that I’ve been putting pressure on you, turning up here and demanding you talk to me.’

‘It’s too late. You’re here now.’

‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to make your life harder. The opposite is true. There’s too much going on, too much pressure and emotion and I don’t want to spoil your Christmas. I realise you came here to escape.’

‘Not to escape but to pay something back to—’ She almost added ‘to the people I love’ then realised he hadn’t been included in the list yet he had been one of her biggest supports. ‘To pay something back.’

‘It’s OK. I know what you’re saying – or not saying – and I would never have expected to be asked.’ He smiled bravely. ‘You did say we were over. That’s a decision I’m prepared to accept, but now I’m here, and you’ve invited me to stay, why don’t we just let Christmas happen, with me here as one of the gang, with no expectations, and see how it goes?’

Christmas Eve was going to go well if it was the last thing she did, Katie decided, lying in bed the following morning.

In the original plan, she’d planned crisp walks through the pine forest followed by mulled wine and carols at a nearby country estate as the setting sun turned the snowcapped mountains pink.

Later, everyone would tuck into the kind of ridiculously unhealthy food that no one would dare buy or eat at any other time of year, drink Poinsettias in front of the fire, and leave out mince pies and port for Santa that they’d eat and quaff themselves before retiring to their cosy beds.

The bed part was true, she thought as she pushed herself up the pillows. Arlo had equipped the rooms with duvets as thick and billowy as the clouds that had towered over the hills when Greg had dropped them at the jetty the previous afternoon.

As for the rest of the plan … Katie didn’t need to throw open the curtains to realise that the day had dawned as soggy as the lettuce Athene had binned the night before. Rain drummed against the windows and dripped from the trees, accompanied by gusts of wind. Peering between the drapes, she might as well have been marooned in a sea of grey as there were no mountains or even a lake to be seen.

Loud barking cut through the rain and she spotted Arlo in a blue waterproof striding across the garden towards the woodshed. Katie was a little surprised to see him already at the house – he probably had logs to chop or something. He certainly didn’t seem bothered by the rain, and Katie decided she wouldn’t be either.

There was no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing, so they’d just have to wrap up, make the most of Christmas Eve morning and then hunker down by the fire in the afternoon.

Her spirits were further lifted by a series of photos of her twin nieces pinging on to WhatsApp, heralded by the sleigh bells alert she’d chosen. The pics showed the babies wearing impossibly cute and way too large Christmas pudding onesies. Another had captured her brother-in-law spark out on the sofa with baby sick on his pyjamas.

Happy Christmas Eve! Hope Santa comes to you all! Katie wrote before pulling on jeans and several layers and heading down to breakfast. The aroma of spices and baking led her straight to the kitchen where Wanda was taking a tray of mince pies from the Aga.

‘Morning!’ she called. ‘Happy Christmas Eve!’

Jess was leaning against the worktop, crunching on a slice of sourdough. Carols were playing from the radio.

She assumed Athene was still in her room. Katie hadn’t forgotten that she needed to find private time to find out what had gone on to make her friend cry.

‘Those smell amazing,’ Katie said, pouring coffee from the cafetière.

‘I always make some on Christmas Eve. They were Ian’s favourite. It was our Christmas tradition.’ Wanda stood back, hands on hips.

Katie put her arm around her. ‘Well, it can be ours now, can’t it, Jess?’

‘Absolutely.’ Jess put down her plate and joined in a group hug.

Wanda waved her hands in front of her eyes. ‘Don’t get me started. I know it’s been over three years but on occasions like this, Christmas and birthdays, I do miss him so much.’