Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2) (10 page)

She moved the popcorn from in between them onto the coffee table and, to his great surprise, shifted closer to him, lifting his arm and cuddling into his chest. He didn’t do anything, unsure if she just wanted him to stop talking and watch the film.

‘My dad died earlier this year and you have no idea how relieved I was. He was a vile man,’ Libby said, quietly. He swallowed, tightening his arm around her. She was going to talk and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it.

‘He was never physically abusive and I suppose I should be grateful for that but he abused my mum in so many other ways. I remember when I was little she was so full of life and joy and over the years I watched it just fade away until it was gone. She wanted to travel and see the world – when he was at work or out at the golf club we would watch all these travel programmes and documentaries together and she would tell me about all the places she wanted to see. We never went anywhere. So many times I heard her trying to persuade Dad to go on holiday to these places but he always refused, he didn’t want to fly, didn’t want to eat strange food and go to countries where they didn’t speak the language, there were many reasons. But I often wondered if the only reason was he didn’t want to do anything that would make her happy. He had a horrible temper. He would pick holes in everything she did, she never ironed his shirts well enough, the dinners she cooked were disgusting. He would scream at her until she cried. There was nothing loving about their marriage and that’s what scares me. She married him because she loved him. I saw their wedding photos and they were happy and very much in love. How does that love turn to so much hate and disrespect?’

‘I guess people just grow apart. Me and Josie got together so young, I guess as we grew up we both wanted different things. Maybe it was the same for your mum and dad.’

‘Growing apart I can understand, but I could never hate the person I had loved so much. My dad constantly put her down, insulted her and then those comments passed to me. He told me I was worthless and that no one would ever love me. There’s only so many times you can hear that before you start to believe it.’

‘What? You think you’re worthless?’

‘No, I don’t think that, not any more. I’ve proven I have worth. The stories I write bring happiness to thousands of people, the money isn’t bad either. But I don’t think I’ll ever find someone who loves me.’

‘You don’t stay still long enough for that, and I bet you’d be surprised at how many hearts you’ve broken when you pack up and walk away.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t think there are any broken hearts left littering the road I’ve walked.’

‘Trust me on this, you’re incredibly loveable.’

She smiled up at him and he wanted to tell her how much he loved her but the fear of rejection was too much. If he told her how he felt and she still walked away at the end of the year it would break his heart just months after it had barely healed.

‘So you keep moving on because you’re scared of letting yourself fall in love only to have that love be betrayed?’

‘No. Well, maybe that’s part of it. My mom got sick. Cancer. They caught it too late and by the time they realised she was given months left to live.’

‘Christ, Lib, I’m so sorry.’

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘She was my best friend and there isn’t a day that doesn’t go by that I don’t miss her. But I was so angry at her when she died. Still am, I suppose. A few weeks before she died she told me she had some money put aside for me in a locker in the train station near where she worked. She said it was for me to escape so I would never have to live the life she led. She told me she wanted me to see the world, to seize every opportunity that came my way. After she died, Dad immediately passed all her duties to me, shouting at me to clean and cook for him. It was happening all over again. I wasn’t allowed out, I wasn’t allowed to see my friends. I took the locker key my mum had left me and retrieved a bag full of cash. I took it home and counted it and there was over fifty thousand pounds. She said it was all her tip money. I guess over the years it all added up. The next day I took the bag and walked away. There was no way I was going to stay and live that life. I changed my name, flew abroad and haven’t stopped running ever since. I was so scared that he would track me down and find me, so I kept moving on, but he never did. Though I don’t know whether that’s because he just didn’t bother to look or he was unable to find me. The money meant I didn’t have to worry about food or rent for the next two years and by that time I had already written three books and got them published. I was so angry at my mum, though. She should have left him, lived the life she wanted to live. Life is precious and so short and she should have seized it and visited all those places that she wanted to see. She had the money to do it and instead she wasted her life with a man who hated her. All her hopes and dreams, and she never did anything to fulfil them.’

‘It’s hard to walk away, Lib. You shouldn’t judge her too harshly.’

‘You walked away from Josie.’

‘It took me four years to find that courage. Probably more. Four years where I pathetically hoped things would get better, where I tried to pretend it was just a bad patch and we would get through it. We had so many good memories and it was hard to believe that we’d never get that back. Things got worse and I still didn’t leave. I loved her and it took a long time for me to fall out of love with her. Maybe it took a long time for your mum to realise there was no love left in the marriage. Sometimes you can convince yourself that one person’s love for the other is enough for both of you. It sounds to me that she was planning to leave – she saved fifty thousand pounds in cash. That sounds like an escape fund to me, not just for you, but for her too. Maybe cancer caught up with her before she could escape so she gave the money to you instead.’

She stared at him. ‘Is that what you think?’

He nodded. ‘For her to create an escape fund for you shows that she knew there was a serious problem. But she couldn’t just leave, she had to have somewhere to go, money to spend. So she saved up. If that was tip money, that’s quite a few years she spent plotting her escape. It’s heartbreaking that she never got the chance to live her life and see the world. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve taken on her dreams of travelling – she would have been so proud to see what you have achieved and the places you’ve seen – but I don’t think for one minute that she ever meant for you to spend your whole life running, seeing the world at the expense of making real friendships and falling in love. Your dad is dead, there’s no one going to come banging on your door. But by constantly running and moving on, you’re letting him win and you don’t want to give him that. Maybe it’s time you stayed in one place for a while.’

Libby was silent for a long while and he wondered whether she was even thinking about what he’d said, or just thinking of another excuse.

‘But what about my work? My publishers are expecting a story set in New York next.’

‘Then you go there on holiday. I’ll come with you.’

‘You would?’

‘In a heartbeat. Seeing the world must be an incredible experience but surely seeing it with someone, having someone to share those memories with, would be infinitely better.’

She looked back at the TV. ‘I don’t know, George. I’ve never stayed anywhere longer than six months. What if I get bored?’

‘What if you don’t? You love it here. I think that’s why you are struggling to finish your story because you know finishing it will mean you have to leave. What if you don’t finish it? What if you stay here and create your own story? One that involves movie nights with your best friend and quiz nights down the pub. A story that includes a stupid scarecrow festival in the spring, the summer fete with one of the few places left in the world that still does maypole dancing and scuba diving in one of the most beautiful places in the world to dive. People love you here. Amy and Kat would be very sad to see you leave.’

She looked back up at him. ‘And what about you?’

‘I’d be heartbroken.’

She stared at him for a second and then burst out laughing. ‘Put the movie on, George.’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘It’s a maybe.’

He felt the smile spread across his face. He’d take a maybe.

‘So.’ He broke the tension, and then put on his most sinister voice. ‘You ready to be scared?’

She nodded and picked up the bowl of popcorn and plonked it on his lap. She didn’t move from his arms as she took a big handful of popcorn. He pressed play on the movie and the room was lit by the flickering of the old black and white film. As the haunting music drifted out from the speakers, she cuddled closer against him.

He would just have to do everything in his power to turn that maybe into a yes.

L
ibby woke
the next day to snow falling in light flurries outside her window and smiled hugely. She had never really appreciated the snow before, but George’s love of all things Christmassy was obviously having an effect on her. So many Christmases had been spent moving on from one place to the next or sitting alone in the only restaurant or pub that insisted on staying open. This year she would spend it with her best friend. For the first time in a long time she was really looking forward to Christmas.

Could she really stay in one place? Put down roots, get married, have a baby? OK, she was getting ahead of herself. She just had to work out if she could stay first, the other stuff could come later.

It was still early, and she guessed that Rosie and Alex hadn’t started yet. Though Tuesdays, she gathered, Alex worked from home, so it tended to kick off a bit later than other days. She smiled to herself. It came to something when you set your clock by the sexual antics of the couple upstairs.

She got up, got undressed and then pulled on her robe to walk from the bedroom to the bathroom, just in case George was in her flat. He wasn’t. She pulled back the shower curtain. But standing in the shower was a large old woman with a knife. The woman lunged forward to stab her.

She screamed hysterically. Staggering backwards away from this maniac, she tripped over the bath mat and went flying into the wall, cracking her head painfully on the bathroom cabinet. Everything went black.

J
udith was
busy sweeping her drive when Verity Donaldson, the newest member of their book club, came round. Verity and her husband Bill had moved opposite her a few months before, after living their entire life on the beach of Silver Cove, and although Judith didn’t really have many friends it seemed that Verity wasn’t to be put off.

‘I bought some new books round for you,’ Verity said, indicating the shopping bag.

‘For the book club?’

‘No, for you.’ She rooted round in her bag. ‘I’m not quite sure what you like, though I know it’s not the rubbish that we read at the book club, so I bought you a selection. Michael McIntyre’s autobiography is very funny,
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
is brilliant, the latest book from Jill Mansell, one from my new favourite author Aven Ellis, she’s fantastic. Ooh, have you read these? I know they’re meant to be for teenage girls but I just love them.’ Verity pulled out the first two books in the
Twilight
series and Judith smiled; she suddenly liked Verity a whole lot more.

‘I’m reading
Eclipse
at the moment. I’ve just got to the bit where the vampires and the wolves are training for the big fight.’

Verity smiled. ‘I knew I’d spotted a kindred spirit. Why don’t you put the kettle on and we can talk about it?’ She took her arm and started guiding her towards the house. ‘Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?’

‘Oh, Edward, obviously.’

‘Yeah, I thought that until I saw the films, but that Taylor Lautner who plays Jacob is a very fine specimen…’

Suddenly Judith stiffened as a blue car pulled up outside next door. How embarrassing that Verity would be here to see this. Jackson Cartwright got out, flashed them both a smile and knocked on Amy’s door. Every week, without fail, he would turn up at the same time like clockwork. Amy would greet him at the door, wearing nothing but a dressing gown and a saucy smile. He’d go in and shortly after she would be seen closing her bedroom curtains. An hour later, he’d re-emerge, with a huge grin on his face. She had seen money exchange hands on numerous occasions. Slut. The worst thing was Jackson Cartwright was a respected member of the community, a teacher at the local senior school, and here he was on his one day off, clearly paying for sex.

Amy opened the door and Jackson slipped past her into the house.

‘Hello, my lovely,’ Verity called, waving at Amy as if she were her new best friend.

‘Hello, Verity, thanks again for dinner the other night, it was lovely to see you.’

‘You’re welcome, any time.’

Judith watched the exchange with some annoyance. Verity obviously didn’t know how vile Amy was, otherwise she wouldn’t be inviting her round for dinner.

‘I better go, Jackson’s waiting, and as he’s paying by the hour, I better get upstairs and earn my money.’

Judith flushed with embarrassment as Amy closed the door.

‘Lovely girl, that Amy. Shall we go inside and get that kettle on?’ Verity said, moving back towards Judith’s house.

Judith shook her head at Verity as she walked past; she was very naïve if she hadn’t realised that Amy was a prostitute.

‘
S
hit
, Libby, open your eyes, please open your eyes,’ George begged, kneeling by her side and shaking her gently.

There was blood, quite a lot of it, and no amount of begging or shaking her was bringing her round. He eyed the blood-stained knife discarded on the floor.

He stroked her face, softly. ‘I love you Lib, you have to wake up, you just have to, please.’

But there was no response.

‘
H
ow is your George
?’ Judith asked, putting the kettle on.

‘Oh fine, still madly in love with his best friend…’

‘Amy?’ she asked. Surely not.

‘No, Libby, but he seems happy enough.’ Verity opened the biscuit tin and helped herself to a Bourbon. Judith liked that she felt comfortable enough with her to do that. ‘I don’t know, Judith, you want the best for your children, don’t you? And George hasn’t been with anyone since his divorce from Josie. He’s a lovely man, he deserves someone to love him, but Josie hurt him so badly I just don’t think he will risk his heart again.’

Judith handed Verity a mug of tea.

‘But you must worry about Seb in the same way? I know he loved Marie, but it’s high time he found someone else, isn’t it? It must be nearly five years now – that’s way too long to grieve over someone, don’t you think?’

Verity’s eyes were kind, but they were watching her carefully.

‘Five years exactly,’ Judith said, quietly. ‘Five years today.’

‘Oh I’m sorry, dear, you must think I’m so callous, don’t pay any attention to me and my ramblings.’

Judith turned away to put the milk back in the fridge. ‘You’re right though, I do want him to be happy again. Marie would have wanted him to find someone, she would have hated that he stayed on his own for all this time. And I feel obligated to him, to look out for him until someone else comes and takes the reins, when actually all I really want to do is go around the world, see the sights before it gets too late for me.’

‘Life is too short and too precious to live it for someone else; you have to live it for yourself.’

Judith turned back, clasping her mug protectively to her chest. ‘I know…but I…I guess I want someone for Seb that Marie would have approved of.’

‘We can’t live our children’s lives for them. I know Seb isn’t your son, but he’s as good as. If I could live George’s life for him, I would march straight round to Libby’s flat and shake her by the shoulders until she saw what was right under her nose: that she and George were made for each other, that if she were to give him a chance, he would make her the happiest girl alive. But I can’t do that. If he’s too scared to tell her his feelings, I have to let him live his own life, make his own decisions, and trust that those decisions will ultimately bring him happiness. It’s the same with Seb. Who you think will bring him happiness and who he thinks will make him happy will probably be two very different people and in the end you have to let him choose for himself.’ Verity dipped a biscuit into her tea and chewed it, obviously thinking how to phrase what she wanted to say next. ‘Love comes in many different shapes and sizes, and more often than not it comes in the shape we least expected. Libby, I think, would be perfect for George, but if he came to me tomorrow with a six-foot punk rocker called Bert who had a pierced face and green shaved hair and said this was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, I would be delighted that he was finally happy again.’

Judith smirked at the thought of George hand in hand with a shaved, leather-clad punk rocker and knew Verity was right. She couldn’t choose for Seb. She had tried to choose for Marie and, against Judith’s better judgement, Marie had chosen Seb who had made her deliriously happy.

‘I don’t know if he will ever love again though, Verity. Like you say, it’s been five years; he should have found love by now.’

Verity helped herself to another biscuit. ‘I think…that he hasn’t found love because he’s too worried that it will upset you.’

Judith felt her mouth fall open. Had she really been holding Seb back all this time? She wanted him to be happy and had he been protecting her? But he couldn’t possibly find happiness with Amy, any fool could see that that was a recipe for disaster. He didn’t love Amy. She meant nothing to him surely. The night before had just been a kiss, nothing more than that. For all of Verity’s liberal attitude to George marrying some bloke called Bert, Judith couldn’t be that relaxed. In fact, Judith would prefer it if Seb did turn round and say he was marrying Bert; anyone would be better than Amy.

L
ibby was
aware of pain before she could open her eyes, aware of her face lying against the cool bathroom tiles. She forced her eyes open, the bathroom was a blur but there was no one there. She tried to get up, forcing her hands under her and pushing herself off the floor, but her arms were shaky and she couldn’t get enough leverage. She groaned as she fell back to the floor.

Suddenly she heard footsteps running from the lounge towards the bathroom, and the blurred figure of the old lady in a purple dress came towards her. Panic rose up in her again and she desperately and unsuccessfully tried to scrabble up. She reached out blindly to find something to defend herself with and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, the toilet brush, swinging it round in the direction of the old lady. It made contact with her face, and to her surprise, as she hit her, the old lady’s hair suddenly fell off.

‘Ewww, Libby, that’s disgusting, that’s been around your loo and now you’re smacking me round the face with it…’ said George’s voice and she stopped trying to defend herself in confusion.

‘George?’ she groaned.

The old lady crouched down and Libby put a hand out to stop her getting closer, but as she stared at her, trying to clear her head of the grogginess, George’s face came into focus, his eyes filled with concern.

‘Are you OK, Lib?’

Libby’s eyes closed again against her will. The pain was immense. She forced them back open again and nodded, trying to raise herself into a sitting position. George helped her sit up straight.

‘What happened?’ she muttered.

She saw a flush seep over his features. ‘I’m sorry, honey, it was meant to be a joke, I thought it would make you laugh. I’m so sorry.’

She looked at him in confusion and then, taking in the dress he was wearing, the grey curly wig on the floor lying next to what was clearly a rubber blood-stained knife, she realised what he’d done. The shower scene in
Psycho
had never before been so real.

‘Oh, you idiot,’ she laughed but doing so made her brain bounce inside her head. She groaned.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated. ‘Stay there, I’ll get you some ice.’

He raced out the bathroom and she could hear him rooting around in her freezer and then he was back, gently pressing a bag of peas to her head.

‘You scared the crap out of me,’ she muttered, watching him care for her.

‘You know what, Lib, whatever fear you felt, times that by a hundred and you might get somewhere in the region of what I felt when you knocked yourself unconscious. I honestly thought I might have killed you. I was just about to call an ambulance.’

‘You don’t want to do that, you want to dump my body in the sea, before anyone found out that you killed me.’

‘Good point, though I’d have to cut off your fingers and take out your teeth so you couldn’t be identified by fingerprints or dental records.’

‘And probably pour honey or something over me so the fish eat all my flesh.’

‘Nice.’

‘I need to get up.’

He put the peas down and, with his hands round her waist, pulled her gently to her feet. Her head span, the blood rushing to her brain making her feel suddenly very drunk, and she leaned heavily against the wall as the bathroom swam around her.

G
eorge watched
the colour drain out of her; as he helped Libby to her feet, she went a very sickly shade of grey.

‘I think I need to lie down.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘I do.’ She took a step forward and staggered, losing her balance, but he caught her. She leaned against him and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

‘I think you might need stitches, Lib, the cut is pretty deep.’

‘Urgh, I’m sure it’s fine.’

‘We really should get you to a hospital, you might have loosened some brain cells when you fell, they can push them back in, if need be.’

‘George, the nearest hospital is nearly an hour away. I’m sure I’ll be OK after I’ve slept.’

‘You’re not supposed to go to sleep after a bang to the head.’

‘It’s OK,’ she mumbled.

‘OK, how about I call a doctor, and ask their advice?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

He guided her out the bathroom and into the lounge, where she flopped uselessly onto the sofa. He found the phone book and quickly dialled the number for the local surgery.

‘Yes hello, my friend banged her head and knocked herself out and I’m wondering if I should take her to the hospital? Yes… Right… Just a few minutes… she’s a bit dizzy… I’m not sure, it probably isn’t that deep… Right… OK… Thanks.’ He put the phone down. ‘Yeah, they said I should bring you in just in case.’

She giggled, holding her hands out like she had been handcuffed. ‘Bring me in.’

He pulled her to her feet. ‘Come on, Miss Joseph, get some shoes on.’