Page 75 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

It was hours later when she woke with a jerk, lurching upright and regretting it immediately as her head pounded and the contents of her stomach surged.

Everything had come rushing back to her, with brutal clarity.

Not just Anthony, and the terrible sting of his betrayal, but also the conversation with Julia, the sense of healing that had begun. And, more urgent than all of this, Amy’s plea to her to keep her promise.

She had said she’d join them for the village tree decorating. She’d promised Amy, Lottie and Oscar that she would be there, that she’d bring a special picnic and afterwards take them to the café for treats and crafting.

Groaning as the room swam around her, she threw off the covers and dragged on some jeans and a jumper. Glancing in the mirror as she cleaned her teeth and washed away yesterday’s make-up, she flinched.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin tinged with a distinct greenish pallor, and her hair hung lank and lifeless. She could feel her hangover seeping through her pores.

There was no time for a shower to freshen up, no time for coffee to bring her back to her life. She was already horribly, drastically late. She’d probably missed the whole thing.

She had broken her promise to the children.

Shoving her arms into a coat – she borrowed one of Julia’s, remembering with a jolt that she’d left her own in the restaurant – and feet into wellies, she dashed out into the bright morning, squinting as sunlight bounced off the snow-covered street. She hurried to the green, where the tree towered into the clear sky. It stood, proudly festooned in lights, tinsel and baubles. She had clearly missed the decorating.

There were still a few people milling around; she saw Reverend Pauline who was stamping her feet and rubbing her hands and looking longingly in the direction of The Plough while chatting to Lauren and her friend Emma. At her feet sat her karaoke machine, blasting out Christmas favourites from the likes of Wham! and Slade.

Pat and Matt were there, chatting and laughing with Marnie and Andrew, who had their arms wrapped around each other. Here were two couples who had apparently got it all worked out. Such a display of genuine affection should have given Jen hope but, as she watched, she just felt that they all knew some great secret to happiness that she would never be party too.

Glancing around, trying to ignore the rising bile in her throat as her head moved, she spotted Julia and Dan, with George toddling around at their feet in his starfish snowsuit. Next to them was Amy, playing with Lottie and Oscar, and Ted, crouching down to talk to them.

Head down, hands in pockets and breathless from rushing, she trudged over to them; ready to face the music.

Ted saw her first, rising to his feet, his dark eyes on hers. His expression tired and, if she was honest, a little disappointed. Something stirred in her stomach, which did not help with the self-inflicted nausea she was battling.

The children all turned to see what Ted was looking at, and they each stopped playing, staring at her, their little faces serious. Amy didn’t run to her, Lottie didn’t call for her Train Lady, Oscar didn’t smile his gap-toothed grin.

Jen took a deep breath and walked over.

‘Hi,’ she said, forcing herself to smile brightly at the children. ‘The tree looks lovely! Someone’s done a brilliant job decorating it.’

They all just looked at her.

‘Why didn’t you come?’ Amy asked.

‘Her was tired,’ Lottie said. ‘Your mummy said.’

Amy gazed at Jen with wounded eyes. ‘You actually did promise.’

Jen sighed. She glanced at Ted, hoping to find some sympathy there, but he wore the same expression of disappointment. This was unfair, she felt; he knew what she’d been through the night before.

Crouching down, she took Amy’s mittened hands in her own freezing fingers. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘I – I was very tired this morning. I’ll make it up to you. Shall we go to the café and have a treat?’ She smiled brightly. Distraction was a great tactic with small children; once they were tucking into one of Marnie’s delicious snowman cupcakes they would have forgotten all about Jen missing the tree decorating.

But Amy just pulled her hands from Jen’s grip. ‘I think I’m going to go home with my mummy and daddy. Actually.’

Jen stood up as they walked over to the tree to admire their handiwork again.

‘Lucky for them they don’t understand about heartbreak yet,’ she muttered to Ted. ‘Or hangovers.’ She winced and rubbed her temple, the ice cold of her hands a comfort against her burning skin.

He said nothing.

‘I think I’m in the dog house,’ she said. She sighed, her eyes stinging with self-pitying tears. ‘Been a rough twenty-four hours.’

‘You did promise them you’d be here.’ He glanced around. ‘Don’t suppose you brought the decorations?’

Jen blinked. The last thing she needed was for Ted to have a go at her; she was feeling guilty enough without the one person she’d always been able to rely on to take her side adding to it. She shook her head. The decorations were still waiting to be picked up. ‘I’ll bring them later. Look, you know what happened, you’re being unfair,’ she muttered, hugging the coat around her. The wind was bitter and she felt like it was slicing right through to her skin.