Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

CHAPTER FOUR

BEN was happily walking down the road, minding his own business. Well, almost. He’d just spotted a picture of the Wilkinsons’ cottage in the estate agent’s window and was actually paying more attention to that than the direction in which his feet were heading. He and Megan had dreamed about buying that cottage for years.

With his current income and the maintenance payments to Megan, could he afford it? Maybe.

But, before he could do the mental arithmetic, he was winded by some idiot charging up the hill backwards.

He didn’t even have the chance to say hey! before the track suited figure garbled out an apology and ran off.

Hang on a minute! He knew that idiot!

He was so busy staring up the hill at the pink-clad bottom with the word ‘Juicy’ emblazoned across it that he was almost knocked over a second time by a man in a large anorak and a wild look in his eyes. He had a huge camera in his hand.

Ben shrugged. Bit late in the season for bird-watching, but what the heck did he know? Global warming was having a weird effect on the wildlife in this area. Last year some strange-looking bird only seen in the isles of Scotland had been blown down to the south coast of England by a freak storm. The local ‘twitchers’ had gone bananas. That man had had the same crazed look in his eye. Marauding ornithologists aside, nothing was going to stop him from wandering down to the newsagent’s and get his morning paper before his meeting today.

However, Mrs Green, owner of the shop for the last thirty-three years and purveyor of local gossip, was in a chatty mood. Ben valiantly attempted to tuck his paper under his arm and drop the money in her hand, but her arms stayed firmly folded across her ample chest and he was forced to hover, one hand reaching over the counter, as the inquisition began.

‘I heard that another celebrity has bought Whitehaven, Mr Oliver. What do you think of that?’ She narrowed her eyes and analysed his reaction. He was trying hard not to have one. Something might have given him away because she added, ‘Of course, I expect you know all about that-having been so friendly with Laura Hastings and all.’

‘I just helped out in the garden, really.’ He waved the coins again, hoping the glint of something shiny might distract her.

‘Yes, but you’d know if the place had been sold, wouldn’t you?’

‘Not necessarily.’ He didn’t know why he was protecting Louise Thornton. Just that, having been the source of local gossip himself a few years ago, he knew how unpleasant, how…invaded…it could make one feel.

‘Well, whoever it is…’ Mrs Green leaned back and looked down her nose at him; it made him feel like a slice of something on a glass slide under a microscope ‘…they’ll be fine with the residents of Lower Hadwell. After all, we’ve been used to living with a bona fide Hollywood legend on our doorstep for the last twenty years, haven’t we?’

He nodded and thrust the money at her again. This time he wasn’t going to be put off. Just as she started to uncurl her hand to accept it, she paused and nodded in the direction of the magazine rack that was half-hidden by a tall shelf containing pet food and assorted stationery. ‘That mag that your Jasmine was waiting for has come in. I expect you’ll be wanting to pick that up as well.’

Ben’s mouth straightened into a thin line. He stuffed the coins back in his coat pocket and retreated to the safety of the other side of the shop, pleased that he was hidden by the boxes of envelopes balanced on the top shelf.

Now was it Pink! or Girl Chat that Jasmine liked? One had a free lip gloss with it, and he wasn’t sure about that, so he picked up the other one.

There was a sudden jangle of the shop door and a rush of cold air. A figure slammed the door closed and darted behind the shelving unit to join him.

‘Louise?’

She pulled the baseball cap she was wearing further down over her eyes and crouched a little lower. ‘Shh!’ she whispered loudly, without looking at him. Then she froze and slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder. ‘Ben?’

He didn’t say anything back. It was obvious who he was.

‘You’re wearing a suit,’ she said, forgetting to hunker down.

Just then the wild-looking ornithologist appeared, running down the street. Louise must have seen a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye, because she practically flattened herself against the shelves, sending a box of ballpoint pens flying. ‘Did he see me?’ she hissed at him, looking a little wild-eyed herself.

Ben tried to look nonchalant and peered out of the shop window, but it was difficult to see clearly with all the posters for local events and cards offering bicycles for sale and adverts for paperboys.

‘I think he’s gone.’

Louise edged closer to where he was standing and craned her neck. ‘Are you sure?’

He nodded. ‘He was going at some speed when he shot past here. On a hill this steep, it’s pretty difficult to stop when you’ve built up that kind of momentum. Why are you worried about-’

Oh. If Jas had been in his shoes she would have slapped herself on the forehead and said duh! Paparazzi. Definitely not a species seen around Lower Hadwell before. It put a totally new spin on the whole ‘invasion’ issue.

‘Couldn’t you just let him have a picture and then he’d be on his way?’ That seemed like a reasonable solution.

Louise looked at him as if he’d just suggested she do a nude photo-shoot on the jetty-in sub-zero temperatures.

‘I’m so…flipping cross with him, I might not be responsible for my actions. He just scared the life out of Jack as we were on our way into school.’

Her son was here? Good. Perhaps then she’d lose that slightly haunted look from her eyes. The look that unwittingly begged him to rush in and be her knight in shining armour. His armour had gone into retirement when he’d signed his divorce papers, and he’d better remember that fact.

She sighed and straightened up a little. ‘A photo of us looking shocked is bad enough, but a shot of me turning pink in the face and spitting obscenities at him would only stoke the fire. By Friday there’d be a whole pack of them camped out at the local inn waiting for us.’ She rubbed her face with her hand. ‘Thank goodness I’d calmed down enough to realise that when I spotted him following me again.’

She stopped talking and looked him up and down. ‘You’re wearing a suit. A very nice suit.’

‘You already said that.’

‘Won’t it get dirty?’

‘Nope.’

She glowered at him. ‘Stop being obtuse.’

He was tempted to chuckle, but decided it wouldn’t help her current mood. ‘I know you think I’m only fit for weeding the flower beds, but actually I’m not a gardener by trade. Not exactly.’

Louise’s mouth dropped open. A sensation of achievement swelled inside him. Although why he should feel so stupidly proud of the fact that he was bamboozling her for a change, he wasn’t sure.

‘I’m a landscape architect. I design outside spaces-town centres, open spaces, parks, private homes. This morning Lord Batterham, the owner of the large stately home near here, wants to chat to me about restoring a knot garden on his estate and building an environmentally friendly play area for visitors.’

She blinked. Twice. And closed her mouth. ‘Oh.’

She seemed to have forgotten all about the photographer, which had to be good news, so he decided to keep her distracted. ‘You look a little different yourself.’ Gone were the elegant clothes in dark, muted tones, replaced by a baby-pink tracksuit and bright white running shoes. And what was the cap with the ponytail sprouting through the back all about?

‘I look a mess,’ she muttered.

He took in her appearance again, went beyond the surface impression. Her face was free of make-up and her cheeks rosy with fading anger. A slightly more dishevelled appearance suited her. It made her more approachable…touchable.

He took a step back.

‘Every day for months I’ve not gone out without my best clothes or my make-up on. Trust some rat with a digital camera to turn up when I’m looking…well, less than perfect.’ She shook her head. ‘I swear they must have some kind of radar to target me on my off days.’

‘You look fine.’

She tipped her head to one side and gave him a weary look. ‘I think what you said was that I looked “different”. Believe me, it spoke volumes.’

‘I just meant…not your normal self.’

That’s right, Ben. Just dig yourself in deeper.

He was bad at this kind of stuff, he knew. He didn’t have the ability to dress words up and make them pretty. And what was so wrong with the plain, unvarnished truth, anyway?

‘Not my normal self?’ she said, staring hard at him.

He sighed inwardly. Megan hadn’t appreciated his ‘lack of tact and incredible insensitivity’ either. Some women were just too much hard work.

‘Well, here’s your explanation…’ She pulled a magazine off the rack and thrust it in front of his face. It took him a few moments to realise that the blurry picture on the cover was Louise herself-playing catch on a beach with a little boy. But that wasn’t all. The caption read ‘Celebrity Bulges’ and large red lines circled her tummy and thighs.

He snatched the magazine from her and slapped it back in the rack, upside down and with the cover facing inwards. She locked him with a steady gaze and, when she spoke, her voice was low and dry.

‘Apparently, I’ve been letting myself go. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.’

Her ability to mock herself blind-sided him. Laughter rocked him from the inside and burst out of his mouth. And then, after a few seconds, she joined him. Her eyes widened, as if she was as surprised at her own response as he was.

It was kind of surreal to be huddling in a little country newsagent’s, hiding from the press and chortling with Louise Thornton. The laughter subsided to a level where he could get a bit of control and he wiped his hand over his face.

Louise was no longer laughing, but she was still smiling. If the topic of conversation was transformations, here was one that beat them all. The remains of his laughter died away instantly.

She was truly beautiful when she smiled. Her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed. Why did she think she needed all that black stuff to make her look pretty? He almost wished the photographer was here right now to capture this moment.

Thinking of cameras and lenses, he walked to the shop window and looked up and down the street. ‘No sign of him now. I think you’re safe.’

Louise’s brows changed shape as she frowned, then relaxed again. The smile vanished and the remote beauty returned. ‘Of course.’ She stood up properly and started picking up the pens scattered all over the floor. When she’d finished, she gave him another smile, but this time her eyes were unaffected. ‘I’ll see you on Sunday?’

He nodded.

‘I promise I won’t make you weed the flower beds, if you’re really too grand for that.’

It was his cue to laugh again, but he couldn’t bring himself to. ‘I’ve been itching to sort that garden out properly for years. Just indulge me, okay?’

She nodded. And, although she was as collected and self-contained as always, he could see a hint of something in her eyes. As if she wanted to reach out but was too afraid.

‘I promise I’ll charge the earth and drink all your tea.’

That earned him a real smile. Small, but real.

‘It’s a deal, Mr Landscape Architect.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Speaking of which, didn’t you say you were off to a meeting?’

Lord Batterham!

He hurried back to the counter to pay Mrs Green for his paper. She was standing there, holding a magazine in her hand-the same one Louise had flourished in front of his nose. She stared at it and then at Louise, and then back at the magazine cover, as if she were playing some kind of mental tennis match.

For the first time in thirty-three years she wasn’t making a sound. He plopped the change in front of her on the counter, grabbed Louise by the hand and dashed out of the shop.

‘Mum? Can we go outside? It’s stopped raining.’

Louise stopped herself from putting the kettle on the Aga for a fifth time. She didn’t really want another cup of tea. It was just that, at some point this afternoon, somebody might.

‘Can we? Please?’ Jack’s voice was so high-pitched on that last word she was sure dogs would be bounding towards them from all over the district.

‘Can we what?’

Her son ran to the back door and opened it, letting in a gust of damp November air. Louise walked over to where he stood and stuck her head out of the door. Moisture dripped from the leaves of an evergreen bush in the little courtyard directly outside the kitchen, but the clouds were now a pale, pearly grey and she even thought she saw a hint of blue before it was hurried away by the wind.

Fresh air would do her good. Fresh air would stop her waiting. Or wondering why he was late. Well, not late, because they’d never really set a time for him to come and go, but later than normal.

She shook her head and reached for the scarf and hat on a peg nearby. Ben Oliver had turned all her assumptions about him on their heads once this week already. Why shouldn’t he do it again?

The grass on the sloping lawn in front of the house was still damp, but it didn’t stop Jack deciding a game of football was the ideal way to burn off a bit of energy. They used a couple of the big stones lining the driveway to mark out the goals.

She’d never been good at games at school, always too tired from acting as surrogate mother to her four younger brothers and sisters and part-time carer to her invalid father. Jack was running rings around her but then he misjudged a kick and the ball went flying past her towards the edge of the woods. She ran after it and stopped it with the side of her boot. If all went according to plan, she would have at least one goal to Jack’s seven by the time they gave up and headed back inside for hot chocolate.

She swung her leg in an almighty kick. A jarring pain hit her as her lower back met something flat and solid and, all of a sudden, she was staring at the sky. She could hear Jack laughing his head off some distance away.

‘Just you wait!’ she yelled, giggling slightly herself, but the mirth stopped when she attempted to move. ‘Ouch!’

‘Here.’ The voice was as rich as dark chocolate and she recognised it instantly. She also recognised the broad, long-fingered hand that came into her field of vision-although exactly when she’d noticed the shape of Ben Oliver’s hands, she wasn’t sure.

Even through the wool of her gloves, his skin was warm and he gripped her hand in such a way that she knew she could give him all her weight and he wouldn’t let her fall. She winced as he gently helped her to her feet. ‘Ow.’

‘Where does it hurt?’

She didn’t want to draw even more attention to her slightly-larger-than-planned and somewhat muddy backside. ‘Where d’you think?’

‘Do you want me to take a look?’

‘No!’ She twisted out of his grip and brushed herself down, more for something to do than for cosmetic effect. ‘Don’t tell me you’re an almost-doctor as well as an almost-gardener.’

He laughed and she looked up at him, her irritation dissolving. It was only then that she noticed the girl standing slightly behind him. She had shoulder-length, honey-coloured hair, nothing at all like Ben’s dark mop, but her eyes were all her father’s.

Ben grabbed his daughter’s hand and pulled her forward a little. She blushed and looked at the ground. ‘Louise, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Jasmine.’

‘Nice to meet you, Jasmine. I’m Louise. Your dad’s been helping me out with my garden.’

‘I know.’ The reply was barely a whisper, and Jasmine flushed an even deeper shade of red.

Her father may not have known who ‘Louise Thornton’ was the first time he’d met her, but Jasmine certainly did. This kind of reaction wasn’t unusual. Heck, she’d been just the same when she’d started going out with Toby and he’d introduced her to the latest Oscar-winning Hollywood actress.

‘Come and meet my son, Jack. He’s football mad, I’m afraid, though.’

Jasmine shrugged and followed her across the lawn as Ben strolled along, bringing up the rear. Jack took one look at Jasmine and Louise knew he’d decided she was okay. As the child of a celebrity couple, he had an uncanny kind of radar for discerning between hangers-on and real friends. He made instinctive decisions in a second and he was rarely wrong. Now, how did she go about getting herself some of that?

Jack picked up his football and started walking in the direction of the back door. ‘There’s chocolate cake inside. Want some?’

Jasmine nodded furiously and broke into a trot to keep up with him as he raced off towards the kitchen.

Ben fell into step beside Louise as they followed their offspring. ‘Sorry I had to bring Jas with me. I hope it’s okay.’

‘Of course it’s okay. Who do you think I am? The wicked witch of the West?’

He was smirking when she looked up at him. ‘You can be a tad fierce at times.’

Was she? Really? She fell into silence for a few seconds while she pondered his remark. What had happened to the shy, sweet Louise she’d once been? Where was the awkward girl with the too-long limbs and a school blazer that had been far too short?

Eventually, she said quietly, ‘If you’d been really afraid, you wouldn’t have come.’

Ben laughed again. She liked that sound. She wondered if she could make him do it some more. So far, it had only happened accidentally, when she hadn’t actually been trying to be funny at all.

‘True. I hadn’t intended on bringing Jas at all. It’s just that…’ he ran his hand through his hair ‘…it’s complicated.’

‘Trust me. I know complicated. What’s up?’

Ben stared off into the distance for a few seconds and she stopped walking, aware that it would be better if this conversation wasn’t overheard from the kitchen. Ben halted beside her.

‘My ex-wife, Megan…’ He made a microscopic movement with his head, as if he wanted to shake it but was stopping himself. ‘She’s a good mother, really. It’s just that lately her priorities have been a little skew-whiff.’

Louise nodded.

‘She seems to think that, now Jas is almost in secondary school, she can fend for herself a bit more. And, probably, she could. It’s just with the divorce still in the recent past, I think Jas feels a little neglected. Megan had last-minute plans and cancelled their Sunday afternoon together. I don’t think she even realises how shut out Jas feels sometimes.’

‘How long?’

‘Since the divorce? Two years.’

‘Two months for me. Although I kicked him out about a year ago.’ Louise breathed in. ‘Girls need a mother at that age.’

She had certainly ached for her mother, going through those awkward years, but Mum had died just as she’d been on the brink of puberty, and she’d had to muddle through on her own. At least, when her sisters had reached it, she’d been able to help them along.

Maybe if Mum had been around she wouldn’t have been quite as dazzled by Toby. Not that Toby hadn’t loved her at first. It was just that he wasn’t a good long-term choice. A little motherly advice would have come in mighty handy.

After years of looking after everyone else in the family-paying the bills, cooking the meals, wiping noses and changing bedpans-it had been like a fairy tale. A rich, handsome young man had arrived on the scene to take her away from all that. What seventeen-year-old girl wouldn’t have jumped at the chance?

‘Well, Jas is very welcome here. I understand completely.’

For the first time since she’d met him, she felt as if she wasn’t a complete mess compared to him. Ben gave a small smile and looked at the ground. ‘Thanks. Anyway, there’s not much light left. I’d better get started.’

Jack started yelling his question as he ran down the hallway, finishing it as he skidded into the kitchen in his socks. ‘Jas says there’s fireworks on tonight. Can we go?’

Fireworks? Oh, of course. Time had taken on a strange quality since she’d moved to Whitehaven. The date was…what? The second or third of November? It was only days away from Guy Fawkes night and there would be bonfires and firework displays all over the area this weekend. She’d thought the bangs she’d distantly heard last night must have been shotguns, but now it all made sense.

‘I don’t know, Jack. What time is it? And where?’

‘I’ll ask Jas!’ He raced out of the kitchen before she could quietly explain that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be out in public, that maybe the Olivers wouldn’t want a couple of extras tagging along. She fiddled with her cup of tea while she waited for her son to return but, after a couple of minutes, she decided he must have found something else to get all hyper about and had lost interest.

They didn’t need to go out to see fireworks. Whitehaven was perched high on a hill and there would be great views from the attic windows. They could watch at a safe distance.

Ben knocked softly on the back door. There was no reply. He stared at the chunky Victorian handle for a second, then gripped it, the brass chilly against his palm, and turned. The door swung open on surprisingly creak-free hinges.

‘Hello?’

Louise was standing at the old butler’s sink, staring out of the window. He could hear water sloshing and see bubbles splashing and a moment later she dumped an upturned cup on the draining rack. It fell over. She didn’t even look at it, just grabbed the next bit of crockery off the pile and started washing again. He coughed.

All the sloshing and splashing stopped. She didn’t alter the angle of her head, but somehow he could tell that her focus was no longer off in the distance. She was aware of him, he knew. And, somehow, that made him aware of her too.

Suddenly, she started washing the plate she was holding again. When it must have been scrubbed clean of every last speck of food, she placed it on the drying rack with exquisite care, then turned to face him, wiping the bubbles off her hands with a tea towel.

‘All finished?’

He nodded.

A million snatches of small talk whizzed round his head, but meaningless words weren’t his forte. And Louise didn’t seem to require any. She gave him a look-not quite a smile, more an expression of openness, of welcome-and then filled the kettle. He breathed a sigh of relief.

When he’d been married to Megan, he’d got used to having an arsenal of such phrases for the moment when he’d walked through the door. She’d always needed him to say something, to pay her attention, to make her feel noticed. And he’d adapted, because she was his wife and it had been what she’d needed.

Louise motioned for him to sit at the chunky kitchen table and started rummaging in a cupboard. After what he’d seen the other day, he wouldn’t have been surprised if this woman was thoroughly fed up with being noticed, so he did nothing to break the wonderful stillness that surrounded her. He just drank it in and slowly felt his muscles relax. She handed him a mug of tea, sweetened to perfection, then pottered round the kitchen.

Rampaging children, however, could not be counted on to be so restful. Jas and Jack stormed into the kitchen just as the last knot was about to ease from his shoulders.

‘Mum, I’m hungry!’

Even when she smiled, wide and full, as she was doing now, she still had a sense of elegance and poise that he’d rarely seen. At first he’d thought it was standoffishness, although it was merely reserve, but he could understand how people who perceived her to be an attention-hungry bimbo could misinterpret it as snobbishness. Louise Thornton was indeed an intriguing mix of contradictions. He was curious to know more.

‘You’re always hungry,’ she said, looking at her son.

‘Can we have some cake? Pleeeease? After all, we’ve got guests.’ Jack looked hopefully at Ben and Jasmine, and Ben chuckled. Having been a hollow-legged boy once himself, he was pretty sure Jack’s request wasn’t entirely altruistic. However, he wasn’t about to talk himself out of a nice piece of cake, so he watched for Louise’s reaction.

She rolled her eyes and pulled a large tin off the counter. It was the item she’d been rummaging for earlier. Clever woman. She’d been prepared.

When she opened the lid the most delicious waft of treacle and walnuts, reminding him of warm November evenings by the fire, hit him. He almost had to wipe the drool from his mouth with his sleeve by the time a large chunk was handed to him on a plate. He didn’t waste any time doing it justice.

Now, he could make a decent casserole and a great roast dinner, but baking evaded him entirely. This must be a prizewinning, locally made example. As he bit into it, he was almost tempted to growl with pleasure.

Light, moist cake with dense, spicy flavours and the earthiness of walnuts teased his taste buds. Almost half the slice was gone already. Would it be rude to ask for another one? He looked over at Jack, who had cleaned his plate, but was wearing a significant amount of crumbs over his face and down his front. Now, there was a lad who could be counted on to ask for more. All Ben had to do was hop on the bandwagon when the opportunity came.

Jack opened his mouth and Ben swallowed his last mouthful, confident that his plate would not lie desolate for long.

‘So, can we go to the fireworks, Mum? Please?’

Louise frowned and put the lid on the cake tin. Ben felt his shoulders sag.

‘I don’t know, Jack. I thought we could watch from upstairs. That way, we might get to see more than one display.’

Jack pursed his lips. ‘Jas says there’s going to be hot dogs on the village green. Can’t we go and have hot dogs?’

She looked pained as she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, darling. After the way that photographer…Well, it’s just better we stay here where no one will see us.’

Jack’s face fell and Louise’s was a mirror image of misery. Ben wished there was something he could do. It was criminal that a mother and son couldn’t do something as simple as watch a firework display without being hounded. He remembered only too well how hard he’d had to work not to stay inside every evening and mope when his divorce had been fresh and raw. With the extra pressures on Louise, he could see her turning into a hermit.

Jack slumped forward on the kitchen table, his chin in his hands and his bottom lip sticking out. Ben stared at the wall straight in front of him, racking his brain for a solution. Slowly, the pegs containing hats and coats and scarves near the back door came sharply into focus. He stood up.

‘I’ve got an idea.’