Page 58 of A Merry Little Christmas

‘How dare you?’ Yvonna seethed. ‘How bloody dare you? What happened before you came on the scene has absolutely nothing to do with you. ‘You’re right,’ said Nell. ‘It’s none of my business, but it is Olek’s.’ ‘I’d like you to leave now.’ Yvonna glared at her. ‘Go on, get out of here.’

Wow. What was that saying about the lady protesting too much? Nell mused.

‘Fine. I’m going.’ Nell opened the car door and threw herself into the driving seat. The hem of her coat was hanging over the doorsill, and she quickly whipped it into the car as Yvonna bent over her.

‘I think this conversation is best kept between us, don’t you?’ Yvonna said, archly. ‘If you ever mention this again, I’ll be going straight to Olek and commiserating with him on his infertility. He’d be very surprised to find out who was gossiping about him behind his back, would’t he?’

‘You wouldn’t do that.’ Nell felt sick at the thought of Olek hearing anything of the sort from Yvonna.

Yvonna simply gave her a smug smile.

She was hiding something, it was obvious. Not that it made the situation any better for Nell and Olek. In fact, having her worst suspicions confirmed made it much, much worse. Now not only had Nell lied to her husband, but she was withholding information about the most important person in Olek’s life: his beloved son.

Chapter 21

Nell

Twenty minutes after leaving Yvonna, Nell had made it back to Merry and Bright.

‘What a day. Thank goodness you’re still here,’ she said to Woody, stifling a yawn. She dropped her bag and car keys on the counter and tugged off her coat. ‘Is there any of that mulled wine left?’

‘Yes, loads,’ said Woody, turning off the vacuum cleaner and taking her coat from her. ‘I almost threw it away and then couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ve had two glasses while I was clearing up.’

‘Good.’ Nell picked up a handful of nuts from a bowl and crunched on them. ‘I’m going to get drunk.’

The drive from Yvonna’s had passed in a blur. The constant low-level anxiety was nothing new after the rubbish couple of weeks she’d had, but tonight everything had ramped up tenfold and her mind was in a whirl.

What had possessed her to even consider asking Yvonna if Olek really was Max’s father? As if she was likely to admit otherwise after all this time. And now she’d laid herself open to all sorts of trouble. If Olek ever found out that she’d been asking his ex-wife probing questions, it was all bound to come out. Olek being infertile would be difficult enough to accept, given Nell had told him she was the one with the issue, but to discover that he hadn’t fathered Max either and she’d kept it from him, he’d … well, she didn’t know how he’d react, and she’d rather not find out, ever.

Woody lifted the lid of the slow cooker which was keeping the mulled wine warm. A delicious smell of orange, cinnamon and nutmeg wafted out. He poured her a large mugful. ‘Just checking you’re not driving home?’

Good question. Nell sank onto a stool and took a long sip, her eyes widening as the alcohol hit the back of her throat. That felt good.

The shop’s Christmas lights still twinkled, the smell of a myriad of scented candles lingered, and Woody had changed the music to soothing carols, and for the first time in several hours, Nell could feel her heart rate returning to normal. The thought of going back out into the cold again didn’t appeal at all. And right now she was scared that if she looked into Olek’s lovely trusting eyes, she’d blurt out her truths, lies and suspicions.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go home. I might just stay here. Oh, I keep forgetting you’re a paying Airbnb guest. Sorry. Of course I’ll go home, I’ll get a taxi.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, pouring some for himself. ‘I can make the bed up on the sofa for you. Anyway, it’ll be fun to have a guest, it gets a little lonely here at night.’

‘That settles it, but I’ll make the sofa bed up,’ she insisted.

He laughed. ‘You haven’t even had a drink yet, let’s play it by ear.’

‘Such an odd expression that,’ Nell mused.

He gave her a curious look. ‘I just mean that we’ll see how we go, no need to follow a plan.’

‘I know that, but playing something from memory without the music in front of you to follow is amazing. It implies you can get by without putting a foot wrong, or without playing the wrong tune. All I ever do is put my foot in it and play bum notes.’

‘O-K.’ Woody gave her a wary look. ‘That’s a bit deep. Oh don’t cry!’

‘Ignore me, it’s just been a hell of a day. This tastes better than it did before,’ she added, sniffing her mug.

‘Ah. I should have warned you that I’ve added a glug of something your mother-in-law left for you. She said it in Polish and I can’t remember what the word was, but I think it’s cherry-flavoured vodka.’

Nell gave a little moan of pleasure. ‘Now we’re talking. Her home-made brew is legendary. Top me up, Woody, and pour another one for yourself. Let’s get this party started.’

Within twenty minutes, the shop floor was pastry-crumb and mulled wine-spills free, and Woody and Nell had retired to the flat upstairs with the rest of the cherry vodka.