A Christmas Kiss Page 2

  ‘Brrr. I can’t believe how cold it is.’ She shivered and flicked the engine on, turning the vents onto the windows that had already started to steam up. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long for the car to start generating a bit of warmth.

  Just as she’d fastened her seat belt, her phone rang, reminding her it was still in the top pocket of her coat. She fished it out and smiled to see Donny’s number. ‘Hi, babe,’ she said, waiting for an answer. ‘Donny? … Hello … Donny, are you there?’ There was no reply, but she could hear a muffled mix of background noises. He must’ve butt dialled me by mistake. She laughed softly to herself and was just about to hang up when she heard a woman’s voice; a woman’s voice that was vaguely familiar and it was saying her boyfriend’s name. Livvie listened on, her brow furrowing at the collection of unpalatable groaning sounds that followed.

  Her heart lurched and panic began to swirl in her gut as realisation dawned. She’d had her suspicions for the last couple of weeks and she didn’t have long to wait for them to be confirmed when the woman asked Donny to do something toe-curlingly explicit; something you definitely wouldn’t ask of a plumber who’d called round to fix a leaky tap.

  Tears welled in Livvie’s eyes, as hurt seeped up inside her. All the planning she’d done to prepare for this dinner, the amount of money she’d spent on getting the best ingredients to make tornado rossini, Donny’s favourite meal. Not to mention having to use up a day’s holiday when she only needed to leave work a few hours early. Mrs Harris was a dragon and had refused to budge on letting Livvie leave early if she made the hours up by working over-time. If it wasn’t for Bry, Livvie would have left there years ago.

  In a moment, anger quashed her sadness and she snatched the tears from her eyes. Throwing her phone down, she flicked the indicator, pulled out of her parking place and made her way home, her heart thudding angrily as her head filled with the words she planned to hurl at the pair.

  Livvie tucked her car around the corner from the converted Victorian villa she shared with Donny in the less salubrious part of Rickelthorpe; she didn’t want to alert him to her early arrival. As she walked towards the building, she spotted Donny’s scruffy white van parked on the road in front of it. The lights were on in their flat; surely they weren’t having their sordid little rendezvous there? Anger jostled with hurt, urging her forward and giving her a much-needed blast of courage to confront him.

  With her heart pounding even harder in her chest, Livvie slotted the key into the lock of the large black front door, made difficult by fingers that were still numb with cold. Carefully, she clicked it shut and tiptoed over the tiled hallway that led to the broad staircase. She made her way stealthily up the stairs, avoiding the ones with the tell-tale creak – though the runner was threadbare in parts, it still did a good job of muffling her steps. Alighting silently on the landing, Livvie steadied her breathing and pressed her ear to the door of their flat. A wave of nausea washed over her; they were there.

  Before she knew it, she found herself pushing the door open and following the voices to the living room; wanting to catch her boyfriend out, yet not wanting to face the truth. She was conscious of her mouth falling open as she took in the sight of Donny, his blond hair sticking up in tufts, and their neighbour Debbie en flagrante on the sofa. Her sofa, the one she’d saved for ages to buy.

  ‘You bastard!’ Livvie tore across the room and kicked Donny hard up the backside. ‘You bloody cheating slime-ball.’

  ‘Arghh! Arghh! You caught my bollocks, you stupid cow!’ Donny fell to the floor, rolling around, groaning in agony.

  ‘Good! You bloody-well deserve it!’ Adrenalin raged around her body. She turned to Debbie. ‘And you can get your slaggy arse off my sofa and get out of my flat.’ She picked up a pile of discarded clothing and threw it at the woman, who desperately tried to cover herself. ‘Go on, get out!’ Livvie was surprised at just how good screaming at her felt.

  ‘It’s my flat too, and keep your voice down, the neighbours will hear.’ Donny was still bent-double.

  ‘Well, that hardly matters, does it? The neighbour’s sodding-well here, screwing around with my boyfriend of the last two years.’ She watched as Debbie, her face a picture, struggled to pull her dress over her head.

  ‘It’s all her fault; leading me on. What d’you expect me to do when it’s offered on a plate?’ Donny went to push himself up, his face puce and still crumpled with pain.

  ‘What do you mean, offered on a plate? You were the one who came on to me with your sad little cheesy pick-up lines. But you needn’t bother wasting them on me anymore and besides, you’re not that great.’ Debbie snatched up the remains of her clothing from the floor and looked at Livvie. ‘And don’t think I’m the first; all he’s done is brag about his conquests and how you’re too stupid to even notice.’ With that she flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Livvie’s mind was reeling as she turned her attention back to Donny. Debbie’s last words had stung, but they were enough to elbow the tears that had begun to well in her eyes out of the way. She took a fortifying breath. ‘I think you should go.’

  ‘Go where? This is my flat, too, you know; we rent it together.’ His blue eyes had lost their usually playful expression, replaced with one that was cold and challenging.

  ‘Shame you don’t always remember that when it comes to actually paying the rent and the bills, isn’t it? And I think you’ll find it was me who paid the deposit.’

  ‘I pay what I can; you know that. There’s just not that much work around at the moment.’ It didn’t escape Livvie’s attention that he seemed reluctant to make eye-contact as he pulled on his clothes.

  ‘That’s probably cos you’re spending half your time shagging around!’

  ‘Well, you’ve only got yourself to blame. When was the last time we had sex, eh? Answer me that. Two weeks ago? Three weeks ago? It’s so flaming long ago, I can’t even remember.’

  She flinched; if her reckoning was right, it was closer to four weeks ago. She’d been sensing her feelings change towards Donny as a succession of little niggles had started to creep their way into the back of her mind, pushing an invisible wedge between them. Returning home late, smelling of other women’s perfume, stale beer on his breath, not to mention finding the back of an earring in their bed a couple of weeks ago; a bed she’d only just changed that morning.

  At that thought, Livvie suddenly found herself making her way towards their bedroom.

  ‘What’re you doing? You don’t need to go in there.’ Donny followed her down the hall, pulling at her arm.

  ‘And why would that be?’ She took in the sight of the crumpled sheets of the bed she’d left made that morning, the decorative cushions cast on the floor. ‘In our bed, too? You total slime-ball.’

  ‘Yeah, well, like I said, you’ve only got yourself to blame.’

  ‘And when did you last initiate anything between us? It’s been down to me that last couple of times.’

  Donny’s expression changed to a spiteful sneer. ‘Well, maybe if you took a look in the mirror, you’d see why; see what I have to look at. You’ve let yourself go, Liv, piled on the weight, especially on your arse, and as for those thunder-thighs, they’re like a couple of massive tree-trunks. It’s no wonder I don’t want to come anywhere near you.’

  His words plunged into her heart like the blade of a knife, but she wasn’t going to let him see he’d hurt her. She fought with all her might to hold her tears back. ‘I think that says more about you than it does about me; you’re a nasty, spiteful individual, and I think you should go.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not hanging around here tonight, listening to your crap. I’m off out.’ He strode back towards the living room and grabbed his keys from the bowl on the sideboard. ‘And don’t forget what I said about looking in the mirror.’ He threw the words over his shoulder as he left the flat.

  Livvie’s heart twisted. She hurried over to the window, watching as Donny climbed into h
is van and drove off. Only then did she let the hurt take hold and the hot tears flow.

  3

  Zander

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ asked Noah. He and Zander were sitting at a small table in the corner of the pub, by the large Victorian fireplace that housed an electric “roaring” fire. Already the Queen’s Head was buzzing with people in a party mood, the festive music from the speakers slowly being drowned out by the increasing volume of the revellers’ high-spirited voices.

  Zander took a long, slow slug of his shandy before he answered. ‘There’s not a lot to say, really; I thought I was about to go away to Carcassonne for Christmas and the New Year, take Mel so she could get to know my family better, and they could get to know her. But now it’s all off.’ He shrugged, wiping the condensation from his pint glass with his fingers. ‘Simple as that.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean you can’t still go, though.’

  ‘I know, but I don’t think I could stand all the sympathetic looks from my family; you’ve no idea what it’s like being the only unmarried offspring. Steff’s been happily married to John – who, incidentally, is the “perfect” son-in-law – for what feels like forever.

  ‘I thought you liked John?’

  ‘I do, he’s a really good bloke; I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. And Toby’s still on cloud nine after getting hitched to Jo last year. Which leaves me, at the grand old age of thirty-six, who doesn’t seem to be able to hang on to a partner for more than five minutes, doomed – in their eyes – to a life of singledom.’ Zander puffed out his cheeks and sighed. ‘I’m dreading making the call to my parents, telling them we won’t be going.’

  ‘I still think you should go, the sympathetic looks wouldn’t last for the whole break – and you never know, you might meet a nice French girl.’ Noah hooked an eyebrow at him.

  ‘Er, I’m still in a relationship with Mel – at least I think I am – and the thought of having to explain, face-to-face, why she isn’t with me; seeing the pity in their eyes, catching them whispering about me … ughh!’ Zander was still unsure of how he should broach the subject of Mel when he went to collect Alf from Steff’s later that evening; the interrogation, though well meant, would be intense and he didn’t know if he was up to it. He was seriously considering not mentioning it. He could get round it by explaining the situation to his mother over the phone; he knew she’d be disappointed at first, but she’d have the grandchildren to take her mind off it. And the fact that she could break the news to everyone was, he had to admit, very tempting. It may be the coward’s way out, but deep down he knew what Steff’s reaction would be, and he knew she’d be absolutely right. ‘Trust me, Noah, having Christmas dinner, just me and Alf, is the easy option.’

  ‘I take your point. But, if you want my opinion – and I hope you don’t think I’m stepping out of line here – it might be a good time to have a think about where your relationship with Mel is going. It’s just, you seem to have a lot of hassle with her; nothing seems straightforward. And it’s been a while since I’ve seen you look properly happy.’

  Zander gazed into his glass; his friend was right, there had been umpteen times recently when Mel had scuppered their plans and blown him off for doing something with her trendy new friends. As for feeling happy, now he thought about it, that wasn’t something he’d felt around Mel for quite some time. ‘Yep, maybe I will; we can’t go on like this forever.’

  Noah paused for a moment before his eyes suddenly lit up. ‘You could always come to us for Christmas dinner; it’s our turn to host this year – last count I think Jess said we had eleven coming; that’s fifteen including us and the kids, you could make it a nice even number. And it goes without saying that Alf’s welcome, too.’

  ‘Thanks, buddy, that’s a kind offer but the last thing you need is my miserable face putting the dampers on the day.’

  Before Noah had chance to reply, their attention was drawn towards a group of women – clearly on the other side of a few egg nogs. They were giggling loudly and looking in the direction of Zander and Noah’s table. The giggles increased in shrillness and volume once they realised they’d got their quarry’s attention.

  Zander groaned as the loudest of the group started to weave her rather tipsy way towards them. ‘Great,’ he said sotto voce. ‘That’s all we need.’

  Noah snorted into his pint.

  ‘Hi, I’m Bex, and me and my friends were just wondering if anyone had ever told you that you look like that Henry Cavill bloke?’ Swaying precariously on a pair of dangerously high heels, she peered at Zander, twirling the ends of the tinsel she had draped around her neck.

  ‘Er, yeah, once or twice.’ He felt his heart sink. He daren’t look at Noah who he could sense sniggering beside him.

  ‘Thought so.’ The swaying continued as she peered more closely at him. ‘Your eyes aren’t half blue.’

  Zander just nodded.

  ‘Well, if you fancy buying us a drink and getting to know us a little better, Henry, we’re going to be over there for the next half hour or so. Mine’s a Porn Star Martini.’ She arched her eyebrows suggestively at him. ‘Your friend can come too, if he fancies.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Noah.

  ‘You’re welcome, Ginger Nuts.’ Bex turned on her heels, almost losing her balance, and headed back to her chums amidst shrieks of laughter.

  ‘Nice,’ said Noah. ‘Tempted?’

  ‘I’d rather stick pins in my bollocks,’ said Zander.

  ‘Ouch!’

  Zander raked his fingers through his short dark crop. ‘How come I always attract the wrong sort of women?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s the attracting part that’s the problem; the choosing part, however, is a different matter.’

  Zander thought for a moment, his mind briefly parading his girlfriends of the last ten or so years before him. Hmm. Noah had a point; there was definitely a theme going on.

  ‘If you think about it, all of the women you’ve had a relationship with – apart from Clara – have been the glamorous, high-maintenance, self-centred, dolly-bird type who think appearance and material things are everything; I’m sorry to say it, but you have an affinity for shallow birds, mate. Whereas, those of us who don’t have your film-star good looks, well, we don’t have that problem; that type of women seem to by-pass us – not that I’m complaining. I’ve got my lovely Jess, who’s beautiful, kind and easy-going.’

  ‘Yep, you’re a lucky bloke.’ Zander nodded. A memory of Clara who he’d broken up with seven years ago popped into his mind; he quickly shooed it away.

  Noah pulled a face. ‘Sorry, that sounded a bit smug, didn’t it? Didn’t mean it to; but you get where I’m coming from?’

  ‘No worries, mate, I know you didn’t and, yes, I’m beginning to realise what you mean.’

  Zander glanced around; the pub was filling up with a sea of happy-looking people, all ready to get into the festive spirit and have a good time. ‘Right,’ he said downing the dregs of his shandy, ‘time to go and collect Alf from Steff’s. Can’t say I’m looking forward to the questioning; nothing gets past that big sister of mine.’

  Noah checked his watch. ‘Yep, time I was heading back, too. Good luck, and remember, if you change your mind, you’re always welcome to join us for Christmas.’

  ‘Thanks, you’re a good mate.’ He reached across and tapped Noah on the shoulder before getting to his feet. It triggered a burst of cheering from the group of women at the bar.

  ‘Ooh, decided to come and join us, have you, Henry?’ The woman’s screeching tone was like chalk down a blackboard, making Zander grit his teeth.

  He pulled on his dark tweed coat, shaking his head. ‘Sorry, ladies, I’m afraid I’m going home.’

  ‘Well, let us know if you’d like us to come and join you,’ Bex said, making her friends cackle.

  He smiled politely and turned back to Noah. ‘You have a fantastic Christmas; give my love to Jess and the kids, and I’ll see you in the New Year.’

&nb
sp; ‘Yep, you too. And don’t forget what I said.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Zander headed towards the door, ignoring the whistles and leers from the women at the bar. Outside, he paused for a moment, the icy air nipping at his ears and nose. A gust of wind suddenly blasted down the street; it carried with it the inimitable hint of snow. He pulled up the collar of his coat and headed towards his car, wondering just how he was going to explain to Steff that he wasn’t going to be joining them in Carcassonne. No longer bolstered by Noah’s chat and the Christmas vibe in the pub, he felt his heart plummet right down to his brown brogues. Bloody Melissa.

  Standing at his sister’s shiny, pillar-box red front door, Zander took a breath and braced himself. Postponing the inevitable, he took a sudden interest in the large wreath that was hanging from the door-knocker. Made of thick, glossy branches of pine, it was adorned with fresh, rosy apples, deep purple baubles and sprigs of holly sporting vivid red berries. Trimmed with a rich burgundy bow and woven with warm white fairy lights; it’s festive aesthetic wasn’t wasted on him. But now wasn’t the time to admire Steff’s handiwork; he had a Labrador to collect and an explanation to give. ‘Best get this over with,’ he said to himself as he pressed the doorbell.

  Its melodic chime triggered a babble of excited children’s voices, followed by barking from Alf and Cynthia – the family’s wire-haired dachshund – as the four of them raced down the hall. Moments later, the door was flung open, and the dogs shot towards him, Alf’s stubby tail wagging furiously and Cynthia running circles around him on her stumpy little legs.

  ‘Woah. Hello there.’ Zander ruffled his Labrador’s ears.

  ‘Hi, Uncle Zandie, Mum’s making some mince pies and we’ve been helping,’ said his nephew Joel, whose face was smeared with the proof.