Page 44 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

This was all completely unexpected, taking Lucy aback. Yes, she missed the early days, the getting-to-know-yous, the excitement of buying their house together … it hadn’t all been bad, had it? But her brain clicked into gear just in time before she admitted to anything stupid. She didn’t miss his boring bloody dictates – and she certainly didn’t miss his cheating. Where the hell was this all coming from?

‘What are you talking about, Liam? We can’t just go back to where we were … pretend you never cheated on me. That hurt, real bad … We were meant to be getting married …’ She found her hands were trembling and swiftly hid them behind her back. ‘Look, I can’t have this conversation now.’ She couldn’t listen to any more of this madness. Her cheeks blazing pink as she prickled with emotion.

She turned, ready to head back to Jack, but … the campervan had gone. She saw a flash of chianti red turn out onto the main road, heard the low chug of its engine motoring off. Oh no, had Jack taken this the wrong way too? She just needed a chance to explain. Bloody men. She let out a long slow sigh.

Oh, and where was Daisy? She’d been in the van too. In a whirl Lucy looked around, and there was Abby waiting patiently, if a tad awkwardly, at the street corner, holding her Dachshund’s lead and giving Daisy a treat by the looks of it.

‘See you around then Liam, I need to go …’ said Lucy, but she didn’t move immediately.

There were a few uneasy moments where Liam remained fixed to the spot as Lucy stood her ground too. Both struggling for words. And in the end, nothing seemed to fit. They’d already said their goodbyes, after all.

‘So that’s it … after everything …?’ Liam finally bit, still trying to catch her gaze, daring her to change her mind. ‘See you then, Luce,’ he muttered, turning on his heel and striding away.

Lucy finally allowed herself to look up at him. Knowing so well the square set of his shoulders, the gait of his walk, and the stinging hurt of his betrayal.

Chapter Twenty-One

Lucy trundled up the path which led to the main doors of Nonna’s little sheltered accommodation flat, walking past well-tended winter borders, a wooden painted snowman and a ‘Santa stops here’ sign, which she knew Nonna had put out herself (for the passing children). Her grandmother had lived here for the past ten years since the passing of her husband, Lucy’s papa. Having her daughter nearby, her Rothbury community and a view of the Simonside Hills was her comfort.

After the antics of last night and the village Christmas tree dramas, Lucy found she needed a little comfort too this morning. And with a cheery bunch of red-and-white carnations to hand, she pressed the intercom buzzer, with an, ‘It’s only me, Nonna.’

‘Hello, Lucy love. Come on up. Well, this is a nice surprise.’

Lucy soon entered the small living room, with its green floral-patterned sofa, matching armchair, dark-wood knick-knack-filled dresser and nest of tables. There was always something so homely and comforting about Nonna’s abode; it immediately helped to alleviate Lucy’s jangling nerves. ‘How are you doing, Nonna?’

‘Oh, not so bad, not so bad. Well then, I bet you’ll be ready for a nice cup of coffee and a bit of cake after your journey, pet?’

It sounded like Lucy had been on some kind of trek. It was only a twenty-five-minute drive from her cottage, but coffee sounded good nevertheless. Coffee, cake and comfort – Nonna’s specialities.

‘Yes, please, Nonna, but let me go and put the kettle on for you.’

‘Well, I’ll sort the cake, then. There’s some of my Clementine and Limoncello in the tin. Me and Marjorie had a slice or two yesterday.’ Nonna bustled up out of her armchair to help. She was sprightly for her late seventies, and liked to be kept busy, with her house always spotless and her baking tins and pantry well stocked – well, you never knew who might just decide to call by.

In the compact kitchen, Nonna started telling her granddaughter about the latest step in her scheme. ‘Yes, Marjorie called by yesterday, and plans are afoot.’ There was a cheerful tinkle to her voice.

‘Oh yes, what are you two up to now?’ Lucy asked, whilst spooning espresso-style granules into cups.

‘There’re some good deals on just now if we book early … Sorrento in the spring. Flights from Newcastle with coaches and everything all laid on.’

So she was still serious about this trip.

‘Oh yes, it’ll be beautiful at that time of year,’ Nonna continued animatedly, ‘early April … before it gets too hot, and when the lemon trees are in bloom. Ah, it’ll put a spring in our step for sure,’ she said wistfully.

Lucy was still a bit worried about all the practicalities and the vulnerability of her beloved Nonna, but seeing her grandmother’s face light up just chatting about her trip, well it was quite infectious … maybe she should just be supportive? Perhaps Nonna was right; she should go and have some fun whilst she was still able, rediscover some special memories and make some new ones with her friend.

‘Ah, I give in, I suppose it sounds good, Nonna.’ Lucy took a breath. ‘Yeah, I remember our trip to Sorrento all those years ago. Me and Olly, Mum and Dad …’ Back when they were still a four, it had been so special, with a trip to Pompeii, ice creams and fizzy Orangina down on the harbour-front overlooking a sparkling azure sea. An Italian adventure and a glimpse of her Mediterranean roots.

‘You could always come along …’ Nonna ventured, as generous as ever.

‘Oh, April, you say … I’ll be getting busy again with the pizza van bookings by then.’ Well, hopefully, she mused. ‘Remember, I’m still getting established, and I need to build on the good start All Fired Up has made this year.’ Her business still needed a lot of work and energy to really find its feet and become a viable success. And, Lucy had to admit she couldn’t quite imagine her thirty-year-old self holidaying with two late-septuagenarians – well, not for a whole week. ‘And I don’t want to be cramping your style, Nonna!’

Nonna smiled, ‘Oh, I wonder if Papa has any attractive cousins out there?’

‘Now, what are you scheming? I have Jack …’ she said, her voice a little squeaky as she remembered the way things had ended, with him disappearing off last night.

‘Not for you. I’m thinking of me and Marj …’

Really? Lucy raised her dark eyebrows. Nonna was teasing, surely. There was in fact a telling cheeky twinkle in her blue eyes. And Lucy knew that no-one had, or would ever, come near to Nonna’s dearest Papa.