Page 36 of Escape for Christmas
It was hard having Tegan back. The two of them had been having difficulties for … at least three months now. Brody hadn’t wanted to acknowledge their drifting apart at first, but it had started not that long after she’d arrived in New York in September. At first they’d been WhatsApping each other every night, then every few days. Tegan had said she was too tired or too busy, and the time difference hadn’t helped.
They’d got engaged just before she’d left for New York, keeping it low-key among their close families and friends. Looking back, if he was being brutally honest, Brody hadn’t been one hundred per cent ready to make the commitment, but he did love Tegan. Then he’d found out it wasn’t them drifting apart, but Tegan drifting into another man’s bed.
All of this he’d longed to be able to tell Sophie. Should he go to her tomorrow and explain. Would she trust him? Was it fair to Tegan? Did Tegan even deserve him to be fair?
She had done wrong, yet she was having a horrific time and he couldn’t help but worry about her and feel sorry forher. Losing your father at any time was devastating. He never wanted anyone to go through the experience he had; but even if he couldn’t prevent it happening, he had no intention of making things worse.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bloody Christmas. Bloody Brody.
If Sophie was brutally honest, the fact that Brody had turned out to be a lying git had nothing to do with Christmas. It wasn’t Christmas’s fault. She had to admit that much as she pulled up outside the farm shop the next morning.
It was only just starting to get light, but the car park was already almost full with Christmas Eve shoppers. Wispy snowflakes were falling and the coloured lights strung along the wooden porch shone through the gloom. The decking was piled high with bags of logs, fir wreaths and holly sprays. Carols were playing from the loudspeakers, and customers in Santa hats were greeting each other warmly.
Sophie felt like the love-child of Scrooge and the Grinch.
Last night had been humiliating and upsetting. She’d never forget the few seconds of silence that had hung between her and Brody after Louise had announced that his fiancée had arrived.
She’d hardly been able to speak. Louise only looked on, perhaps too shocked to say more. Sophie thought she saw the glint of tears in Louise’s eyes, as if she was about to cry. Had she suspected that something more than feeding thedonkey had been going on? Sophie had wondered why Louise had been so spiky, and now she knew exactly why.
The worst thing was that Sophie was beginning to think there was something wrong with her. She was having doubts about the ‘Escape for Christmas’ break. Could she handle it? Was she stupid for even thinking of it? Were she and her few guests the only people on Earth not to love Christmas? Was she … just bitter and flaky – or a bitweird?
‘Good morning! Happy Christmas!’ A man Sophie recognised from last night’s party greeted her cheerfully.
‘Morning,’ Sophie ground out, before tagging on a smile.
It’s not his fault, she reminded herself. It’s no one’s fault but your own, Sophie Cranford, for being far too naive and trusting. Only bad things happen to you at Christmas.
She collected her bags from the car and found a trolley. The handle, wet with melting sleet, chilled her fingers. Sophie entered the portal to Christmas mayhem and braced herself. From this moment on, she had to set aside her troubles and put on a brave face, whether that was in the farm shop with ‘normal’ people or when she got home to prepare for the arrival of her guests later that day.
The guests had come to get away from Christmas, not to have a miserable time with the host from hell. She imagined the reviews:
Stunning location: shame about the host.
Host made me us feel like we were a hindrance. Won’t be going back.
Avoid at all costs. Hostess spent the time with a face like a slapped arse.
‘Deck the halls with boughs of holly!’ The volume on the speakers was even louder inside the shop, giving Sophie an instant headache, and the scent of the festive season was almost overpowering: cinnamon mixed with pine and cloves in a noxious Christmas pong that made her feel nauseous.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed her trolley past pyramids of dates and satsumas to the collections counter. She’d pre-ordered as much of the food that she’d need as she could, and checked off the receipt to make sure everything she’d requested was available. It contained local bacon, eggs, Cumberland sausage, bread, tomatoes and mushrooms for the breakfasts. She’d also ordered chicken thighs, fresh prawns and squid rings for the paella, along with a large bag of rice and some saffron.
She added a bottle of wine and large box of chocolates as a gift for Vee – who definitely didn’t deserve a grouchy boss, after all she’d done – before heading to the deli section for her tapas ingredients. She’d already bought in some that should be simple to prepare from jars or packets – olives and anchovies – and now added chorizo and serrano ham. She sincerely hoped the cats didn’t get into the kitchen or dining room; all that meat and fish would drive them insane.
The cats!
Phew. She’d almost forgotten they would need extra food while the shops were closed and Sophie was busy. Theaisles were getting more crowded and she lost count of the times she said ‘Sorry’ in her quest to wheel her trolley to the pet-food section, where she added some kibble and several tins of cat food to her trolley. Not turkey or reindeer; tuna and quail. The cats deserved a treat, but it wouldn’t be a festive one, that was for sure.
‘Sophie!’
Brody emerged from behind the dog-food section with a Christmas stocking full of canine treats and a huge bag of carrots. Sophie tried to walk off in the opposite direction, but she was cornered by a display of cat selection boxes.
‘Can I come past, please?’ she said, her voice holding firm.
He looked washed out and hadn’t shaved. But why should she care? Hopefully he felt as bad as he looked. Brody also didn’t move out of the way. ‘Please don’t be like this,’ he pleaded.
‘I’d just like to take my cat food to the till,’ she said haughtily, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.
