Page 10 of The Merry Christmas Project

He shrugged. ‘No worries, I was glad to give you a lift.’

‘I mean for letting us go,’ she clarified. ‘For letting me take this job. For making it easy for me. Lots of ex-husbands would have kicked up a fuss. So thanks.’

‘Just promise me they’ll keep in touch,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m going to miss them.’

‘I promise.’ Lydia scrabbled in her bag. ‘Here’s my work email. Just in case.’

She handed him a business card. His eyes fell on her name : Lydia Broom, Head of Recruitment, Premier Ski Resorts, Whistler. She’d reverted to her maiden name, he realised with a stab of sadness.

‘I thought it was time,’ she said, a slight flush to her cheeks. ‘A new job, new start.’

He tapped the card on his fingertips. ‘Just a year, right ?’

‘The contract is just for a year, yes. And then we’ll come home.’

He nodded, hoping that his kids had a great time but not so great that they never wanted to come back to England. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he’d said, kissing her cheek. ‘You deserve this.’

Lydia had worked in human resources for a hotel chain before having Harley. She’d gone back part-time afterwards, until Freya had come along. But juggling childcare and a demanding job alongside Cole’s long working hours had proved unsustainable and Lydia had put her own aspirations on hold. Since their divorce, she’d been looking to resume her career and he had, of course, supported her fully. What he couldn’t have predicted was that her job would take his kids so far away from him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with tears. ‘You’re a good man.’

She’d put her arms around their children and they walked away from him and through to departures. He’d watched until they’d disappeared from view, and then with a heavy heart had set off back to the car park.

A good man, Lydia had said – but not good enough to be her husband anymore, Cole thought.

Ten minutes later, he’d pulled on a T-shirt and joggers and was rubbing his hair dry with a towel. There was a rhythmic thud coming from downstairs, which meant that his brother-in-law Paul was putting a client through their paces. Paul had been an accountant when he had first met Hester, Cole’s sister, but recently retrained as a personal trainer and motivational coach and now ran Smart Fitness Solutions from the double garage which he’d converted into a gym. The room above had been kitted out as a self-contained studio apartment at the same time. It was open plan with a double bed at one end, a sofa facing the TV in the middle and a kitchen sink plus a couple of cupboards and a fridge near the door. Cole had a kettle, microwave and coffee machine and for any serious cooking he went over to the main house.

The annexe was small for his bulky six-foot frame, but with the Wetherley building site, plus the high street renovation project he’d taken on, he didn’t usually spend much time here.

After Lydia and the children had gone to Canada, Hester and Paul had suggested he move in with them. Up until then he’d been renting a three-bedroomed house near Lydia so he could have the children over to stay, but the rent had been high and he was paying for rooms he no longer needed. Living with his sister and brother-in-law was the perfect compromise : affordable living accommodation at a time when all his capital was tied up, and company when he needed it.

It was only a temporary arrangement ; by the time the kids came back to the UK he planned to be settled in a decent house. So far it was working out well. He looked out of the window down at the drive ; his sister’s little two-seater Mercedes had appeared, indicating she was back from work. He thought about going over for a chat, to tell her that Harley had liked his present but then remembered all the work he’d brought home with him. For the next couple of hours, he decided, he’d catch up with some paperwork.

Cole pressed send on his final email and glanced at the time : five o’clock. The last hour or so had flown by. Admin was a necessary evil ; he much preferred working on-site, being hands-on, but this build was the biggest he’d ever taken on and the only way to keep the project on schedule was to ensure Josh, as site foreman, had the manpower and the materials he needed when he needed them. He stretched his arms over his head to unlock the tightness in his shoulders and looked out of the front window. The light had faded from the day and the sky had turned dusky grey. His stomach rumbled but it was too early to start cooking dinner ; Paul didn’t usually finish with his last client until eight and the three of them had fallen into a habit of eating together. Since living on his own he’d discovered that he quite liked cooking, which was just as well, because despite having a kitchen that resembled the flight desk of a spaceship, Hester didn’t enjoy cooking and Paul would happily exist on protein smoothies. To keep the hunger pangs at bay, he checked the cupboards for snacks and found some crisps and the end of a loaf.

The two things together made him think of Freya and crisp sandwiches ; that was what she liked to ‘cook’ when she was at his house. The thought made him want to ring her up and ask her whether she’d managed to find her favourite prawn cocktail flavour in Canada, but she’d be at school now.

He’d just shoved some crisps in his mouth when he heard the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. There was a light tap on the door before Hester let herself in.

In jeans and a shirt tied at the midriff she looked much younger than her thirty-two years. She still had freckles across her cheeks, a tiny gap between her two front teeth and the haphazard strawberry blonde hair, now piled up messily on her head, that she’d had as a little girl. In those days his little sister had been the bane of his life, gatecrashing his room when he had friends over and following him everywhere like his shadow. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her.

‘How’s my favourite lodger ?’ she asked, giving him a hug. ‘Have you spoken to Harley ? Ooh, give me a crisp.’

‘Help yourself,’ Cole said dryly, after she had already taken a handful. He buttered some bread and she helped herself to a slice of that too. ‘I spoke to both kids before they went off to school. Harley seemed to be enjoying his first birthday away from his friends and family. He says thanks for the hoodie, by the way.’

He scattered the last few crisps onto the bread, squashed another slice on top of it and bit into his sandwich without bothering to cut it up.

‘And how are you feeling ?’ Hester asked.

He held her gaze and sighed.

She took a seat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. ‘Hey. Talk to me.’

Cole lowered himself beside her and set his plate on the table in front of them. Most of the time he was fine : positive, optimistic and determined to make the best of his life. But just occasionally the full force of his situation caught up with him. It was just so far from where he’d thought he be.

‘Hey,’ she nudged him. ‘Talk to me.’

He let out a sigh. ‘I had it all : the car, the house, a beautiful wife, two gorgeous kids. Now I’m divorced, living above my sister’s garage and I have to wish my son happy birthday through a screen. What an idiot.’