Escape for Christmas

Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

‘Hello, my friends. At least I’m not the spawn of the Devil, with you lot.’

Brody sighed, paying his second visit of the evening to the stable. He’d fed the donkey and sheep earlier and all were munching together happily in their pen. It was bloody freezing. Despite his Barbour, woolly scarf and beanie hat, he was chilled to the bone. The icy wind cut into his face, chilled by the snow that lay a foot high where it had drifted into corners of the yard. He pitied anyone who was out in such conditions. Only the hardy Herdwicks could withstand this weather, and he feared for a few of those.

As he looked over towards the farmhouse, he noted there was a light on in the bedroom. Tegan was clearly still awake. Well, it was only just past 10 p.m.

‘What a bloody mess,’ he muttered, stroking Gabe’s neck. ‘Sometimes I wish I was a donkey.’

Gabe carried on eating, oblivious to Brody’s dilemma.

‘You’re a man of few words, aren’t you, buddy?’ Brody said. ‘And you know what? In this situation it’s probably best to say as little as possible.’ He talked to the animals a while longer, making sure they were comfortable, then closed the stable doors.

While he’d been inside, the snow had started to fall a little less heavily and the wind had dropped a bit, at least temporarily. The skies had cleared and a full moon illuminated a vast expanse of glittering white, stretching as far as he could see.

When he’d last dared to look at it, Sunnyside resembled a storybook gingerbread house, its roof and gables thickly iced with white. Lights illuminated the windows and fairy lanterns glimmered in the garden. Was anyone crazy enough to be in the hot tub? Was that a snatch of music he could hear, when the wind dropped?

How he wished he was there, eating tapas and watching the flamenco dancers with Sophie. Maybe she was twirling around the floor now, laughing and out of breath. He hoped so, and that she was having fun. The last thing he wanted was for her to spend another Christmas feeling hurt.

Back inside, he hung up his coat, intending to warm himself by the fire, but raised voices from upstairs made him linger in the hallway. One was Tegan’s and the other was that of a man on speakerphone. Brody could only hear snatches, but Tegan sounded agitated and upset. Was it her father on the other end, or had something happened? Brody’s stomach knotted. He hoped her dad was OK. He really liked Alan and Fiona, Tegan’s parents. He’d known them for ever because of them being friends with his parents, which was yet another reason why he’d gone along with the whole charade, and he desperately wanted Alan to recover.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Brody strained his ears. Tegan’s room was the first off the landing and her door must be ajar for the sound to carry.

‘Why are you being like this?’ Tegan’s voice ramped up in volume. That didn’t sound like a reply to a father. She was definitely worked up about something.

Brody crept further up the stairs. Their creaking would have given him away, had Tegan made any effort to keep her voice down. He could now hear her every word and most of those from her male caller, who had an American accent.

‘No, he can’t hear me. He’s gone out to feed the animals.’

Brody didn’t quite catch the reply but he did hear Tegan’s response.

‘Don’t be sarcastic, Wes. Brody’s a lovely man and he’s a veterinarian. Of course he loves his animals.’

Brody’s stomach turned over. It was all he could do not to break into the bedroom and tell that bastard, Wes, what he thought of him. He also felt ashamed to hear Tegan defending him. He’d rather defend himself, preferably by punching Wes on the nose.

‘This isn’t helping. Why have you decided to pick a fight on Christmas Eve?’ Tegan said, with an edge of desperation. ‘You know my dad’s sick, and you’re being snarky.’

‘I’m being realistic, honey,’ Wes said.

Brody balled his fist. How dare that slimy creep call Tegan ‘honey’? Then he remembered that it was none of his business. But he still cared about Tegan and wished her well, even if anything resembling love had become purely the feelings of a concerned friend, which had been painful to acknowledge – as painful as the initial betrayal. Sadness crept over him when he realised that perhaps he’d never felt the deep love for Tegan that was necessary to make a lifelong commitment.

‘I’m not speaking to you while you’re in this mood. I don’t know what’s got into you!’ Tegan cried and the call was ended abruptly.

Brody held his breath, pausing on the stairs, not daring to move in case a creak gave him away. He shouldn’t have listened … And then he heard muffled sobs, a sound that cut him to the quick. He walked to the door of Tegan’s room, making as much noise as he could with his boots and – ridiculously – humming ‘Jingle Bells’ loudly.

‘Hi,’ he called, pausing outside her door. ‘I’m making hot chocolate and wondered if you wanted one. If you’re not asleep,’ he added. ‘Obviously you might not be asleep now, with me making all this racket.’

A few seconds later he heard her call, ‘Come in.’

She was propped up in bed, with her phone lying on the quilt beside her. She was smiling, but her eyes were a little red.

‘Would you like a drink? I was making one before I went to bed to try and get some sleep, just in case I’m called out later.’

‘In this weather? On Christmas Eve?’

‘It’s not likely and I hope it doesn’t happen, because I’m not sure how I’d ever be able to attend. Would you like one too?’ he tried again.

‘No. Thanks for the offer, but I am going to sleep now. I was listening to a podcast …’

‘OK. I’ll leave you be.’ He turned away, torn between whether to ask her if she really was alright or leave her alone.

‘Brody …’ she began.

‘Yes?’ He turned round.

‘Nothing. Only thanks for being so—’

‘Nice?’ he said bitterly.

‘Accommodating. Honourable.’

‘Oh yeah. That’s me. The honourable, animal-loving, kind …’

‘What do you mean?’ she said sharply.

Brody could have kicked himself. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered. ‘Ignore me. I’m just being grumpy.’

‘Not grumpy. I’m not happy about this – any of it – either,’ Tegan said, hugging her knees. ‘It’s a crap situation, and I so wish things were different.

‘Different how?’ Brody asked. ‘You’re with who you want to be and, for everyone’s sake, I’m willing to go along with the pretence until your dad’s better. Things can’t be different. They’re already the best they can be, in the circumstances.’

‘I suppose so,’ she replied quietly, picking at a thread on the quilt.

‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I guess it is. I only wish it wasn’t so … hard. So painful. I’ve hurt you badly and I wish I could put it right.’ She reached out a hand and rested her fingers on his wrist.

Brody froze. ‘I’m over it,’ he said.

There was a loud banging on the door downstairs. Someone was giving the iron knocker one hell of a bashing. Harold added to the din, barking loudly.

‘Who’s that?’ Tegan looked panicky.

‘God knows,’ Brody muttered. ‘Could be a local farmer or someone in the village, I suppose – though why they haven’t phoned, I’m not sure.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’re not going out in this weather?’

‘If I can help, of course I will. I have to see who it is and what they want.’ He left her and jogged downstairs. ‘Harold! Quiet!’

Harold gave a final woof before lying down in front of the door, ready to repel intruders. The door almost shook with the force of the banging and a familiar voice was shouting, but surely it couldn’t be …

‘Brody! Open up! Brody!’

‘Coming.’ He opened the door to find Sophie standing in the porch, a coat clutched around her and her hair dripping with wet snow. She blinked in the light from the porch.

‘Sophie? What’s the matter?’

‘I need you. Urgently.’

‘Is there something wrong with the cats?’

‘No! It’s one of the guests. She’s gone into labour and we need your help now!’