Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2) (8 page)

‘I really don’t dance,’ he said, trying to explain away his awkwardness.

‘It’s not your fault – mating rituals have changed a bit over the years. Time was, men used to have dance lessons. A man was expected to know the waltz or some other romantic dance, and they would swing their women around the dance floor, in order to impress them. Nowadays, in nightclubs up and down the country, the men linger at the bar, and the women dance to impress the men. It’s no longer in your genes to be able to dance. Luckily there is only really one time that you’d be expected to dance and that’s on your wedding day. But you don’t need to worry. You’re actually a really lovely dancer. I’m sure Giselle would love to dance with you.’

George was sure that she was only being polite. Besides, if his dancing had been lovely, it was only because he was with his best friend. If he’d had another woman in his arms he’d be a gibbering wreck.

Mani thankfully finished ‘Agadoo’ just as the food arrived, and Libby attacked it with enthusiasm.

‘Oh George, this is wonderful, you should try some.’ She held a forkful of food up to his lips and he obediently let her feed him.

‘Mmm,’ he said, savouring the spices, ‘that is really good. Here, have some of mine.’ He tried not to stare at her lips as he fed her a forkful of his beef handi.

‘Ooh, I really like that,’ she said, ‘and that was number two of my top tips: sharing food is quite intimate.’

‘Oh. I like it.’ Suddenly he saw her lean across the table and felt her wipe his lip and chin gently with her thumb. Her touch sent fireworks through his body and he swallowed the lump of beef that had been in his mouth before properly chewing it. He took a long swig of his drink to help the food go down.

‘And that was number three,’ she said with a wink, ‘body contact. Normally my characters might go for the hand, or a nudge of the knees under the table, but as you had sauce on your chin that was the perfect moment.’

He nodded weakly. He was supposed to be falling out of love with her, not falling more deeply in love.

‘The food here is amazing.’ Libby was oblivious to the emotions now swirling around in him along with his curry and beer. ‘Why do you think it’s empty?’

‘I guess we might find that out later tonight – the food might not be as amazing as it tastes.’ He devoured his curry with equal enthusiasm.

‘Doesn’t that put you off? Doesn’t that scare you? This could literally be our last meal, and tomorrow we’ll both be dead from food poisoning.’

‘It’s nice to live life on the edge.’

She nodded.

‘Still, I might give them the number of that advertising agency in Port Cardinal, the one that uses me all the time. A little bit of marketing might be just what this place needs.’

She wiped up some of her sauce with the naan bread and for a while they didn’t talk. But as he finished off his meal, he realised that a first date was supposed to be about talking, getting to know each other, and if he was with any other woman other than Libby right now, the last few minutes of silence would have been awkward.

‘So anyway I’m supposed to be wooing you, aren’t I?’

‘You’re doing fine – the view, the dance. We would have already had our first kiss, and all before we started to eat. It’s going well so far.’

‘What about the conversation?’ He found he was playing with the last few bits of rice on his plate.

‘I love talking to you, George, you’re funny, intelligent and you’re so easy to talk to. I could talk to you about anything for hours, and you listen, properly listen too. That’s a great quality. Don’t overthink what you should say to Giselle, just be yourself. And if you get stuck, just keep asking her lots of questions about herself, let her do all the talking. She will think you’re interested and it doesn’t leave room for awkward silences.’

‘But why do silences mean something different when we’re with different people? With you it’s never awkward, is it? It’s just silence. But with other people I feel the need to fill it with inane ramblings. What’s wrong with silence?’

He was waiting for her to say something when Kamal appeared.

‘Dessert?’ he asked, beaming proudly at their empty plates.

She shook her head, patting her stomach. ‘Sorry, I’m way too full. George?’

He shook his head too.

‘Just the bill then please,’ she said.

He fished his wallet out of his pocket. ‘Now what does the first-date etiquette say about payment?’

She pulled a face. ‘It is still kind of expected that the man will pay, or at least offer to pay. It shows generosity, old-fashioned chivalry, and a lot of women like that. It shows you want to care for her. I would just put your card down on the bill and not make a big deal out of it. She really doesn’t need to think you are counting the pennies. If I was on a first date, I would offer to pay my half. In this day and age the woman really should offer to pay half, but I wouldn’t count on it, and actually you should probably insist on paying unless she throws some kind of feminist tantrum. If she does, by all means let her pay.’

He nodded.

She smiled. ‘You don’t need to worry, you are incredibly generous. You should just do what feels natural. But you want to watch out for the gold diggers: if you are on your fifth date and she has never shown any sign of reaching for her purse, then I’d start to get a bit worried.’

Her phone suddenly rang in her bag, the
A-Team
theme tune, which always made him smile. But instead of retrieving it, she ignored it.

‘Are you not going to get that?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m on a date – you need to know there is no one that is more important than you right now. Really I should have left it at home or turned it off, but I forgot.’

‘What if it’s important?’

‘If you’re worried then check on it surreptitiously, preferably when you pop to the loo.’

The phone stopped ringing, just as he was wondering whether he should be taking notes.

J
udith sat
in one of the booths in the Bubble, stroking Jack’s ears and surreptitiously watching Amy and Seb. Amy was working down one end of the bar, chatting animatedly to Polly and Matt and the other customers. Though Seb was serving behind the bar, she had barely given him a single look all night. To the untrained observer, he held no interest for Amy whatsoever, or if you had some curiosity about the situation you might think the two of them had had a row. But Judith recognised the signs of someone in love, but not wanting to admit it. Deliberately not looking at him was much more obvious than just not looking at him. What upset Judith most though, was that she was pretty sure that Seb was in love with Amy too.

Judith remembered when she first met Seb. When her own husband had died eleven years before, she had moved to White Cliff Bay to be close to her sister, who had then promptly died the year later. Marie had been at university at the time in London and when she finished her course it was natural for her to stay there with her friends, but she visited often and on one of her many visits she’d bumped into Seb.

When Marie was younger and she’d started dating, Judith had in her mind the worst possible person that Marie could bring home. Seb pretty much fitted the bill. His shaved head and tattoos made him look mean and violent. He was a landlord in a pub – hardly the doctor or lawyer that she had hoped for her bright, beautiful daughter – and quite a bit older, twenty-seven to Marie’s young, innocent twenty-two.

At first Judith had disapproved but it hadn’t taken Seb long to win her round. He adored Marie and anyone could see that they were made for each other. Judith soon loved him like the son she’d never had.

Seb and Marie were married very quickly, just a year after they’d first met, but four years later Marie was dead. A horrible car accident had robbed Judith of her only child and Seb of his loving wife. Marie hadn’t died straight away though, and for a few hours, it seemed like she would pull through. Then complications set in and she deteriorated very quickly.

The grief had brought Judith and Seb both closer together. They now saw each other two or three times a week; she would do the odd shift for him in the pub and every Thursday night, his night off, he’d be round her house for dinner. They had become very close over the last five years; she adored him and wanted more than anything for him to find happiness again.

But not with Amy, anyone but Amy. Judith couldn’t think of anyone worse than Amy for Seb to fall in love with. She was loud, crude and truly one of the vilest people she knew.

She had to get Amy out of his life and fast.

S
eb couldn’t concentrate
on anything tonight. He had messed up several orders already, though thankfully it was mostly the locals and they all took it with good humour. Amy was infuriating. She hadn’t so much as looked at or spoken to him all night and it was driving him mad.

The more she ignored him the more he wanted to talk to her, wanted her to notice him. She looked fantastic tonight, sexy in a gorgeous black dress and her favourite red high heels, her dark hair long and gleaming down her back. He wanted to kiss her … he had to kiss her.

She occupied every single waking and sleeping thought and it scared him. He had never felt this way before and although, for the last few months, he had put it down to lust and a need for sex, he knew it was so much more than that. But he couldn’t get involved with anyone again. The pain he’d felt when Marie died had been unbearable and he couldn’t go through that again, especially not with someone like Amy who he had such strong feelings for. If his heart had broken so painfully when Marie died, what would it feel like to lose Amy when his feelings for her were so much more?

He looked at Judith and realised she had been watching him. He smiled over at her as he moved to serve another customer.

And that was another reason. Guilt. How could he ever explain his feelings for Amy? He’d loved Marie, he knew that, but somehow the intensity of his feelings for Amy was greater and he never wanted to belittle what he’d had with Marie. He couldn’t hurt Judith, he owed her so much, and falling in love with another woman would break her heart. Minutes after Marie had died, Judith sobbing, near hysterical in her grief, had made him promise that there would never be anyone else. At the time he had promised without hesitation – he could never have imagined loving anyone as much as he had loved Marie – and he had kept the promise ever since.

But now he had to find the courage to break that promise – and the thought of opening himself up to all that hurt again was one that was utterly terrifying.

‘
G
eorge
, I have a question. At what point do you introduce your partner as your girlfriend?’

‘I don’t know, that is a very good question.’

‘OK, say this was really our first date and we bumped into your friends, how would you introduce me?’

‘I think I would just say “This is Libby”, and then if it was a good friend I might waggle my eyebrows a bit to indicate that I was sleeping with you, or at least hoping to.’

‘Oh, the eyebrow waggle, very clever, subtle.’

‘And then two or three dates down the road, you might become “my good friend Libby”. But I think, to avoid all confusion or awkwardness of introducing you as my girlfriend, if you didn’t want to be introduced as such, I’d probably just introduce you as “my lovely Libby”.’

‘Oh, that’s sweet.’

‘Yeah, even after we were married I could still use that one.’

‘Well, I think once we’re married you could safely assume it wouldn’t be awkward any more. Once we’re married you could introduce me as your wife, I’d be OK with that.’

‘Oh, very gracious of you. OK, I have a question for you. When do you tell your partner you love them?’

‘When you do love them, never before.’

‘But what if she says she loves me?’ He thought that was pretty wishful thinking; he couldn’t imagine anyone telling him they loved him.

‘If you don’t feel the same way, you should never say it back, just smile and kiss her.’

He frowned. ‘Won’t she notice that I haven’t said it back?’

‘Yes of course she will notice, but you can’t say you love her if you don’t; it will give her false hope and, if and when you finally do love her, you’ll want to tell her. If you’ve already done that several weeks before, it won’t mean as much.’

‘What if she asks if I feel the same way?’

‘You say that after your divorce you are a bit vulnerable and it will take you a while to completely trust someone. You tell her that you’ve built all these walls up to protect yourself and that it may take a while to pull them down, to be able to let yourself fall in love again.’

He smiled to himself at how well she actually knew him, inside and out.

‘Just promise me you won’t ever tell a woman that you love her if you don’t, that’s the worst thing you could do. And I’m not talking about the kind of love that you feel for Angelina Jolie, I’m talking proper all-consuming, can’t-breathe kind of love. Only when you feel that should you declare it.’

He sighed. ‘It’s hard. It’s like, “I love you, here’s my heart to do with what you will.” I gave my heart to Josie and she stamped all over it, crushed it to a bloody pulp. I’m going to have to find a whole load of courage to do it again.’

Libby smiled. ‘When you find that special someone, someone you want to marry, you will. And you will be more selective over who you fall in love with next time.’

‘But it’s not enough to choose the perfect woman, if she doesn’t love you back.’

‘Oh George, how could they not love you back?’

The bill arrived, accompanied with two pieces of white chocolate and one piece of dark.

‘Oooh, white chocolate.’ Her eyes lit up.

He loved white chocolate. It was his all-time favourite thing to eat and he wanted to hug her when he saw her hand hover over the white chocolate before settling on the dark piece. She popped it in her mouth and pushed the two pieces of white chocolate towards him.

He took one piece and pushed the plate with the remaining piece back to her.

She shook her head. ‘No, you take it, your need is greater than mine.’

He determined next time he was at the shops to pick up another bag of rum and raisin fudge for her; he knew that was her favourite thing in the world.

She fished out her purse from her tiny handbag, and dug out a twenty, but he waved it away with his card. ‘As payment for being my guinea pig.’

‘Oh, I enjoyed it.’

Once George had paid, Kamal escorted them to the door.

‘Did you enjoy your meal?’ Kamal asked.

‘Very much,’ Libby nodded. ‘Especially the music.’

George took his mind off the laugh that was forming in his throat by handing Kamal the business card of the advertising agency and advising him to give them a call.

Once outside the restaurant the cold air blew from the sea and over the hilltops, whistling around them, light snowflakes falling like tiny grains of salt, and Libby shivered.

‘Bet my jacket doesn’t look so silly now, does it?’ he said, whisking it off and wrapping it round her shoulders, hoping the gesture wasn’t too cheesy. He put his arm round her too and started to guide her towards the car, but she peeled away, heading towards the cliff top. He saw her stop and just stare at the view. Coming to stand by her side, he saw the inky water below, covered with a dappled silver blanket.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘When I look out on that view, sometimes I want to look out on it for the rest of my life.’

His heart leapt with a sudden sliver of hope. ‘Do you think you might ever find somewhere that you would want to stay?’

She didn’t answer straight away, which helped turn that sliver into a small bloom.

‘What about an extension?’ he said, quickly. ‘You said you haven’t been able to finish your latest story. What if you extended your stay here until it’s finished?’

‘I can’t. I travel because of my job.’

It was such an automatic answer, even she believed it now.

‘I want you to stay,’ he said, softly.

She turned to him, suddenly giving him her undivided attention.

‘I know you would never stay because of me…’

‘That’s got nothing to do with it, I…’

He stepped closer. Pulling his jacket tighter around her shoulders, he kissed her softly on the forehead, stalling all other words from her. ‘It’s OK, I get it. You’ve been running for so long that now you don’t know how to stop. But if you stayed, I’d keep the demons from your door.’

She stared up at him and then rested her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He held her tight, wishing more than anything that he had reached her.

‘I will miss you so much, George Donaldson.’

His heart sank. He stared out at the sea, wanting to say something to break the tension that was hanging in the air between them.

‘Come on.’ He stepped back out of her arms, then took her hand and led her back towards the car. ‘Our date isn’t over yet.’

‘Yes, of course, we’re going to watch
Psycho
so you can cuddle me when you get scared.’

He laughed. ‘I cuddle you because you get scared, not the other way round. Anyway, that’s not what I meant. There’s something I thought you might like to see.’

‘
W
here are you taking me
?’ Libby asked as George drove through the steep windy roads of White Cliff Bay. They drove past the huge Christmas tree in the village square and Libby smiled at the carollers who were singing a version of ‘Silent Night’ as people wrapped up in hats and scarves stood by and watched. She glanced over at George as he drove. They were clearly going to ignore that little moment up on the cliff tops. There were lots of things they were going to ignore lately and Libby couldn’t help the feeling that they were just papering over the cracks.

‘All that talk of that engagement ring ice carving today, I remembered there’s some ice carving competition tonight in the town hall. Now that sounds pretty Christmassy to me. I’m sure there’s room for a couple of ice carvings in your book,’ George said.

He drove past the ice rink at the top of the slipway. The whole town looked magical, as if ready for Christmas. Decorations and garlands of lights were strewn from every building and across the streets, creating golden puddles on the wet cobbled streets below. The beauty of the place, all dressed in its Christmas best, had never failed to make Libby smile over the last few weeks.

‘It’s very late – are you sure the town hall will still be open?’ She had been ready to snuggle up with George for another movie but he had taken a different way home, driving through the town instead. It was bitter cold out and she didn’t really want to drive across the town and find the place was closed. Everything seemed to close really early in White Cliff Bay. Most of the restaurants even stopped serving food after nine.

‘Apparently it’s open till ten thirty for people to go and have a look at the carvings so I think we should be OK.’

George pulled up outside the town hall which was decorated with garlands of lights and two sensibly dressed Christmas trees stood sentinel either side of the door.

Inside, the town hall was completely empty of people and almost in darkness apart from the spotlights underneath the six ice carvings, causing the sculptures to glow with an enchanting ethereal beauty. She was suddenly very glad George had suggested this.

‘See, there’s an angel and a snowflake, that’s very Christmassy.’ George pointed across the room and Libby went to investigate the two carvings. The angel was beautiful, with every line of hair, every feather, carved intricately. She looked round to see if anyone was watching but she and George were completely alone. She reached forward and touched the angel’s face, feeling the cold almost burn through her skin, but she was surprised how dry the ice felt. Surely it should be melting. She looked down at the rosette to see it had come first place in the competition. She could see why.

‘This is Penny’s. She lives in the town,’ George said as he admired the angel too.

Libby moved on to the snowflake, which, although small, was carved with incredible talent. She moved to a vase of flowers, admiring the roses, tulips and orchids that had been carved with delicate petals and leaves. She felt incredibly humbled to see this huge amount of talent all together in one room and a little bit sad that by the time the morning came there would be nothing left of any of them other than a puddle of water. It felt special somehow that only she and George were there to witness this brief moment of beauty. The other people from the town, the competitors and the judges had all been and gone, leaving the ice carvings all alone. But whether George realised it or not, standing there just the two of them and these incredible carvings was actually really romantic.

She slipped her hand into his and he looked surprised at the gesture. ‘Thank you for bringing me here tonight.’

He smiled. ‘My pleasure.’

‘I feel bad that they’ll all be gone by tomorrow.’

‘Some beauty is fleeting, some lasts a lifetime.’

She stared at him, stunned at this rare moment of sincerity and soulfulness from him.

He turned to look at her. ‘I guess it’s like friendships. Some people come and go from your life like ships passing in the night, some people stay forever. It’s funny though, when you meet those forever friends, you just know that they are going to be your friend for the rest of your life – there’s that connection there that you don’t get from those fleeting friendships. I thought we had that connection.’

‘We do.’ She had felt it too, there was no denying that. ‘Friendships are not just about proximity. We can still be friends even if we are far apart. We can keep in touch.’

‘And you keep in touch with a lot of the people you meet on your travels, do you?’

There was no one, no friends. She very rarely allowed herself to get close to people; some places she stayed, she came and went without anyone even knowing her name. Even the people that she did become friendly with, she left them with a hug and a promise to keep in touch, even though she never had any intention of keeping that promise.

‘It’s different with you.’

He smiled sadly, before he looked away.

‘Wow, look at this.’ George pointed to what was obviously supposed to be Hogwarts Castle. It was quite simply stunning. Every tiny brick, every spire and turret was carved beautifully; even the tiny dragon on the roof was portrayed with minute detail.

She swallowed down the emotion that had bubbled to the surface with their conversation. ‘This is just… amazing.’

She looked at the rosette next to the carving and saw it had come second place in the competition. She looked back at the angel.

‘How did the castle come second place? The angel is beautiful but the castle is something out of this world.’

George looked across the room at the angel and back at the castle. ‘I agree. Penny was the woman who I saved from the sea last night; she had jumped in to save one of the Mayor’s boys. I’m guessing that had something to do with her winning. Though if I know Penny she will hate that she won that way. Maybe we should award the rosette to the rightful winner.’

He quickly grabbed the second place rosette and ran across the room and swapped it for the first place rosette on the angel. He came back and silently awarded the castle with first place.

‘George! You can’t do that.’

‘No one else is going to come here. It’ll be closed in the next few minutes and a pool of water tomorrow, but at least the rightful winner has now been awarded as such.’

They walked past and admired a wonderful lighthouse, the exact copy of the one out in the bay, and a spectacular mermaid.

‘Well, after all that ice, I think we should go home and watch
Titanic
.’

Libby smiled. It was a film she had watched with George probably twenty or thirty times and he still cried every single time.

George looked through his imaginary telescope. ‘Iceberg dead ahead.’ He ran to the front of his imaginary boat and stood with his arms stretched out to the side. ‘Jack, I’m flying.’

Libby moved to stand behind him, extending her arms out too so she was flying with him. As George launched into ‘My Heart Will Go On’ by Celine Dion there was suddenly a polite cough from behind them. They whirled round to see a security guard at the door.

‘We’re locking up in two minutes.’

George nodded, looking like a naughty school boy who had been caught smoking behind the bike sheds, and the security guard left them alone.

‘I suppose we should go,’ Libby said.

‘Hang on,’ George said, running to the vase of flowers. He looked over his shoulder and then, with a great deal of difficulty, he snapped off a tiny ice rose.