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‘You’re not married to Avril?’ Honor said, returning to the conversation and blinking at him dazedly. ‘Then who is she?’
‘Avril’s my mum,’ he said on a laugh.
‘Yourmother?’
He nodded. ‘My mum.’
‘Then Merryn is your–’
‘Little sister, yes.’
‘Not your daughter. You’re not married?’
‘I’m not married.’
They broke off to half-heartedly sing, ‘Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la!’
Honor stopped singing once the chorus was done. ‘You’re not married!’ She stared at him. At his stubbled, square-jawed chin. At his eyes, mossy-green in the dark. At the glossy curls escaping from his hat. For the first time she noticed he wore a tiny gold hoop in one ear. It made him appear even more piratical. She felt as if she’d never been this close to him before, had never seen him properly. Her breath hitched in her throat. She wanted to gaze and gaze at him, soak in every detail and commit it to memory, to her heart. More than anything she wanted to tug him to her and kiss the life out of him. He wasn’t married. She’d got it all wrong. Buthow?
‘I mean, I was married. To Rose, not Avril. I’m divorced now.’ He looked utterly confused. ‘Why did you think I was married?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Oh, Jago, I’m just glad, so glad, that you’re not.’ She reached up and cupped his face in her mittened hands. The song sheet fluttered to the ground ignored. ‘I’m so glad you’re not,’ she repeated in a whisper and kissed him with all the love she had.
‘Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la!’
CHAPTER28
‘ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU’ – MARIAH CAREY
They snuck off, heading away from the crowds, not really heeding where they were going, and found themselves walking along the promenade. Most people were at the carol singing so they had it to themselves – and the starlit night.
‘My hands are freezing,’ he complained.
‘Here. You can share my glove.’ She slid his nearest hand into the mitten she was wearing. They entwined fingers and she put both their hands into the pocket of her coat. They had to walk very closely together as a result. ‘Better?’ she smiled up at him.
‘You can’t imagine how much better I feel.’ They stopped walking and he kissed her tenderly. ‘We have a lot of talking to do. A lot of unknotting the misunderstandings,’ he said, against her lips.
‘I’d rather just kiss you,’ she murmured, loving the vibrations the sound made. Behind them, the slow shifting sea shushed gently against an indigo sky.
‘So would I, but I’m freezing. It’s not romantic to die of frostbite.’
She giggled. ‘You won’t die of frostbite. I’ll keep you warm.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ They kissed again, more lingeringly this time and with heat.
‘This is certainly warming me up.’
‘I really think we ought to admire the decorated beach huts,’ she admonished.
‘Are the beach huts decorated? I hadn’t noticed.’
She pushed him off, albeit reluctantly. ‘I could stand here and kiss you all night but we’ve got talking to do.’
‘We have.’ He blew out a breath. It misted upwards. ‘Shall we go somewhere warm to do that talking?’
Honor nodded. ‘Yes let’s. The Old Anchor will be rammed with half-frozen carol singers when they’ve finally finished.’ She cocked an ear as singing floated across the sea from the harbour. ‘Ah. “O Come All Ye Faithful”. Always a favourite. How about we walk up to The Ship?’
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. ‘Perfect. Wasn’t that where it all started?’ Then he pinched out some wool which had stuck to his lip. ‘And the sooner we get there the better.’
