AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘If he does, don’t leave it this time, yeah? Some of us like a bit of sparkle in our lives.’
* * *
Jacob pressed the code into the number pad and waited for the gate to swing open before driving through and parking behind his father’s big black car on the gravel driveway. Heather’s pink Mini was missing but his mum’s little red convertible was still there. That was okay. Heather already knew what he was planning and it was probably best to tell his parents together anyway.
It hadn’t occurred to him until Clara asked what his parents thought about their Scottish Christmas that they might be anything other than thrilled. He was giving them the perfect retreat—what more could they want? But the look in Clara’s eye on their shopping trip had told him he was missing something. Hence the drive to Surrey to fill them in on the plan.
He let himself in the front door without knocking, and the scent of evergreen pine and cinnamon hit him instantly. The hallway as a whole was dominated by an oversized Christmas tree, tastefully decorated in gold and red, with touches of tartan. The wide, curving staircase had garlands of greenery and red berries twirling around the banister all the way to the first floor, and bowls of dried fruits and spices sat on the console table next to the front door.
Christmas, as he remembered it at home, had always been a very traditional affair. Apart from that year when everyone had come out to California to his beach house, to celebrate with him and Clara. Clara had cooked a full English roast and they’d eaten it in the sunshine. The stockings had hung by the artisan steel-and-glass fire display, looking out of place in their red velvet glory.
It hadn’t been traditional, maybe, but he’d been happy. Happy—and terrified, he realised now. Scared that it could all go wrong. That he’d screw it up.
They’d gone from meeting to marriage so fast, and never even thought to talk about what their lives together would look like. And it had never felt real, somehow. As if, from the moment he’d said ‘I do’ in that clichéd Vegas chapel, he’d been waiting for it to end. For Clara to realise that he wasn’t enough, that she couldn’t rely on him. That he was bound to hurt her, eventually.
Even his family knew better than to trust him with anything more than business. Work was easy. People were breakable.
He’d woken up the next morning to find Clara gone, a note propped up against the bracelet he’d given her the day before.
Jacob shook away the memories and called out. ‘Any chance of a mince pie?’
His mum appeared from the kitchen instantly, a tartan apron wrapped over her skirt and blouse. ‘Jacob! What a surprise. Why didn’t you call and let us know you were coming?’
‘Spur-of-the-moment decision.’ He pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘Is Dad here?’
‘Upstairs. Working, of course.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I thought he might slow down a bit once...well, never mind. He seems happy enough.’
‘Think we can risk interrupting him? I’ve got something to talk to you both about.’ He knew as soon as he said it that it was a mistake, but it was too late. His mother’s eyes took on the sort of gleam that meant she was picturing grandchildren, and the smile she gave him made him fear for his life once he’d explained what was actually happening.
‘By all means,’ she said, grabbing his arm and leading him towards the stairs. ‘It’ll do him good to take a break, anyway. Now, let me see if I can guess...’
‘It’s nothing to do with a woman,’ Jacob said quickly, then realised that wasn’t strictly true. ‘Well, not in the way you’re thinking, anyway.’
‘So you’re saying I shouldn’t buy a hat but I might want to start thinking about nursery curtains?’
‘No! Definitely not that.’ The very thought of it made him shudder. If people were breakable, children were a million times more so. He’d learnt that early enough. Fatherhood was one responsibility he’d proved himself incapable of, and sworn never to have. And, given how badly he’d screwed up his marriage, it just proved that was the right decision.
His mother might be disappointed now, but even she had to accept that. There was, after all, a reason why she’d never asked him to babysit Heather again. Not after the accident.
Jacob sighed as they reached the top of the stairs. There was no way out of this that wasn’t going to make things worse. ‘Just...wait. Let’s go and find Dad. Then you’ll both know soon enough.’
James Foster’s office was at the far end of the hallway, its window looking out over the apple orchard behind the house. Jacob knocked on the door and waited, feeling like a sixteen-year-old boy again, in trouble because his science marks weren’t quite as high as they needed to be.
In the end, of course, it had been his flair for business that had taken the family company to new heights, not his scientific talents. For him, science had become something to work around rather than to experiment in. It was safer that way.
‘Come in.’
Even his dad’s voice sounded tired, Jacob realised. Whatever Heather wanted to believe, there was no denying that he wasn’t as healthy as he’d been even one month ago. But maybe his Christmas surprise would help. Remind his father of everything he had to live for.
Jacob pushed open the door and stepped into the study, his mother close behind him.
‘Jacob!’ James said, struggling to his feet. His arms felt brittle around him, Jacob thought. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’
‘Jacob has something to tell us.’ His mum had already settled herself into the armchair by the window, ready to listen. ‘And it has absolutely nothing to do with a woman, except that it might.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ his father said, sitting back down in his desk chair. ‘So, do tell.’
Jacob perched on the edge of a table, pushed up against the old fireplace. ‘Well, it’s about Christmas, actually.’
‘You’re bringing someone new?’ His mother clapped her hands in enthusiasm. ‘Except you said not a woman.’ Her eyes grew wide. ‘Is it a man? Because, darling, really, we just want you to be happy. And you can adopt these days, you know—’
‘I’m not bringing anyone,’ Jacob said firmly. ‘But I am taking you somewhere.’
‘Somewhere...not here?’ she asked. ‘But it’s Christmas.’
For a horrible moment it struck Jacob that Clara might actually have read his parents better than he had this time.
‘Do you remember that year we spent Christmas in Scotland?’ he asked, changing tack.
‘In the cottage?’ James said. ‘Of course. It was possibly the best Christmas we ever had.’
Of course it had been. The last Christmas before the accident. The last time his family had been able to look at Jacob without that shadow in their eyes. The one that told him that they loved him, of course—they just couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t believe in him. Couldn’t move past what had happened.
And neither could he.
This Christmas might not fix his mistakes but it was at least one more step in a long line of atonements. Maybe the last one he’d get to make to his father. He had to make it count.
Jacob forced a smile. ‘Well, good. Because I wanted to give you another Christmas like that.’
‘So you hired the cottage for Christmas?’ James frowned. ‘I thought that cottage was sold on, a few years later. Do you remember, Sheila? We tried to book again, didn’t we? Let me check my files...’
‘Not the same cottage.’ The last thing he needed was his dad disappearing into his filing cabinet for the afternoon. ‘Actually, I’ve found a castle, up in the Highlands. It has huge old fireplaces, four-poster beds... It’ll be perfect.’ Or so Clara promised him.
‘A castle? Jacob, where on earth do you find a castle for Christmas?’ His mother asked, astonished.
‘On the Internet, I imagine,’ his father said. ‘Was it on eBay, Jacob?
Because I’ve heard some stories...’
‘I haven’t bought the castle,’ Jacob explained. ‘We’re just hiring it. Clara said—’
‘Clara?’ Mum might be woolly on some things, but she homed right in on the mention of her ex-daughter-in-law. Jacob winced. He’d half hoped to get through this without having to explain the exact logistics. ‘What has Clara got to do with this plan? Are you two back together? What happened?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that.’ How to explain? ‘She runs a concierge and events company in London now, you see. I’ve hired her to organise us the perfect Christmas. I figured that since she already knew us...’
‘And left you,’ his mum pointed out. ‘Jacob, really. Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to see her again? We all remember how mad you were over her. And how heartbroken you were when she left. We just don’t want to see that happen to you again.’
Jacob had a horrible feeling that they were going to believe this was all a cunning ploy to win his wife back, whatever he said. Unless...unless he told them about the divorce. He took one glance at his father and dismissed the idea. He couldn’t bear to lay that last disappointment, that last failure, on the old man.
