Mix-Up under the Mistletoe (Glenbriar #11)

Chapter Four

Tilly

Friday, December 20 th

Afternoon

O pen countryside whizzed by as the train sped north. Tilly put her phone on the table and looked out in awe. For someone who worked in travel, she didn’t know Scotland at all. Or anywhere, for that matter. She wanted to, but holidaying alone was awkward… and she was pretty much alone most of the time. Even now. Mitchell had left her to it, though he’d spent the previous evening in the hotel going through every way she could approach this and how best to get Rafe Harrington to open up about his latest market solutions and target groups. This was her chance to prove herself to the bosses at 1-Quick.

The journey was worth it, if nothing else. Mitchell had been right in thinking she had nothing to rush home for. Maybe she could spend the weekend here. As long as she was back by Monday morning, it would be fine.

Lifting her phone, she googled Glenbriar and flicked through available hotels. It might be fun to stay an extra night here before she went home, but everything was fully booked and the nearest availability was in Perth. That might do at a push, but maybe she should save it for another time. She needed to focus on the meeting with Rafe Harrington. Assuming she got to see him, and that was a pretty big assumption. This whole trip could be a massive waste of time and energy. But she’d narrowed down exactly what she was going to say. She’d apologise for crashing his family time but say she was passing anyway and wanted to personally introduce herself before they opened a dialogue in January. Showing a more human face wouldn’t do any harm, and if she was lucky, he might grant her a short time to talk, and she would seize the moment. Hopefully she could channel some of Mitchell’s determination and justify Arnie’s faith in her.

He thought her smile would do the trick; Mitchell didn’t. He’d said smiling and agreeing with people would get her nowhere. Who was right? Were any of them? Was this whole idea insane? Or even worth the risk?

Keeping her head down, fitting in, and not rocking the boat was what she was all about. A niggle in her mind told her this course of action might not just rock the boat, but capsize it. As long as 1-Quick got what they wanted… But what about Rafe Harrington and Innova? Why did what 1-Quick was doing feel all wrong? Neither Arnie nor Mitchell thought it was sneaky or underhand. Mitchell had done something similar in Manchester and had great success. And really, what was the worst that could happen? She got turned away. Well, fine. She would take that and move on. At least she’d tried.

As the train slowed through towns, she caught more snapshots of houses and was drawn into the imaginary worlds behind their windows, or in their wintery gardens. The view was so different from the urban sprawl of London. So much space. Open countryside and snowcapped hills were never far away. Rivers snaked their way through the valleys and lochs glinted in the distance. Just beautiful.

Tilly’s bed in the hotel room had been softer than she was used to, and she’d caught up on some sleep. Adrenaline was keeping her going, but she was looking forward to having Christmas Day off, not because she was doing anything festive but because she could rest. Relaxing and doing nothing were things she’d almost forgotten about. She tried at weekends, but they went so quickly once she’d fitted in food shopping, laundry, housework, and the inevitable emails that would come in even when the office was supposedly shut.

She used to enjoy running, but now even that felt like a chore. As she watched more hills go by, she wondered what it would be like to climb them. The views must be amazing. Would she ever do that?

The countryside got steadily wilder as the train left Perth. Glenbriar was just a few stops away now. The sky was pale grey – almost white. Did that mean snow was coming? She’d very rarely experienced snow. The weather app on her phone showed a chance of showers and heavy snow over high ground and rural glens. This wasn’t too rural, was it?

She opened her phone again. The whole way she’d resisted doing this, but she couldn’t resist any more. In between getting instructions from Mitchell the previous evening, she’d spent some time googling Rafe Harrington. She wanted to look again, and check she’d got the right person. Not that there was any doubt. The name was hardly common. The saved search came up, and she scrolled down the photos. This, more than any other objection, made her stomach twist. Before looking him up, she’d imagined Rafe Harrington as a kindly old man who looked like Father Christmas. Why? He definitely wasn’t old, and he didn’t look like someone prone to a belly that wobbled like a bowlful of jelly. He was handsome – alarmingly so – and he looked tall and fit in the group photos that came up. He’d won awards and there were several pictures of him getting plaques and certificates. When Tilly looked at his headshot, she had a weird sensation in her chest like she already knew him, though she was sure they hadn’t met. She stared at the photo again and it seemed to call to her, much like the twinkling lights in the houses she passed on the train. Photos couldn’t tell her anything about a person. Why then, did she see someone kind, generous, caring, and loving, and not just a flat image of a man?

She knew the answer to that. It was limerence. She’d been warned about it before, and it was all linked to her upbringing. Not something she wanted to think about right now. Her mind was too full of other things. Like why approaching a man like this was a lot more daunting than an encounter with a Santa lookalike. It threw up unwanted memories of dates she’d been on. Those cringy first meetings, where she was sure to over share or say something stupid. And there it was, back to her own issues again. Her innate problem of thinking guys felt more for her than they inevitably did. She understood why it happened, but it didn’t take away the awkwardness. Obviously this wasn’t a date, but the level of discomfiture would be on a par with that. What if she blushed or got tongue tied?

This had disaster written all over it.

She leaned her chin on her fist and gazed out of the window. She’d got this far, and it felt quite adventurous and freeing doing something like this by herself. Even if Rafe Harrington kicked her out, so what? At least she’d shown initiative and not given up at the first hurdle.

Glenbriar Station platform was small, quaint and super cute. The view down the track was of rolling hills, all snow-capped and very dramatic. An old Victorian building on the platform was neatly painted with a blue trim. It was no longer a ticket office but a bookshop with a little cart outside under the glass canopy and a large Christmas tree beside it. Fairy lights twinkled around the window display, making the shop appear like something straight out of a Dickens novel.

Tilly resisted going in even though the lights and the warmth called to her. She’d check it out on the way back. Right now, she was on a mission, and she wanted to get it done. The tension in her body wouldn’t let up until this was over and she’d given it her best shot.

She made her way off the platform and into a small car park. A solitary taxi was waiting. Was it there for someone specific or available to whoever showed up? Only a couple of other people had got off and they seemed to be heading for cars.

Risk it?

Well, this whole trip was a risk, so why not? She knocked on the window and the driver opened it.

‘Hi.’ She smiled at him. ‘Are you available for hire or are you waiting for someone?’

‘I’m available.’ He had a deep and gentle Scottish accent. ‘Where are you heading?’

‘It’s a house called Greenacres. I’m not exactly sure where it is. It’s a big eco-type house.’

‘I know the place. It’s a few miles out though, so it’ll cost a bit.’

‘That’s fine.’ Expenses would pay for it. ‘But how many miles?’ This might take longer than she’d expected.

‘Six or seven. Should take about fifteen minutes.’

As the taxi pulled out of the station, rain pattered against the windscreen, but it was more like sleet. Within a few minutes, it was coming down thick and fast and the wipers were working overtime.

Tilly’s heart fell with every passing metre. They left the town and headed along a country road. Where was this place? Should she ask the driver to wait for her once they got there? She didn’t want the meeting with Rafe to be too long, just an introduction and a chance to chat to him. She went over the speech in her head she’d rehearsed with Mitchell. Gain his confidence and trust first.

Easier said than done.

‘This is it here, lass.’ The driver pulled in at the side of the road, then down a winding driveway.

‘Are you able to come back for me?’ she asked.

‘When?’ he glanced up, a little puzzled. ‘Aren’t you here to stay?’

‘No… I just have a meeting.’

‘Ah right. Here’s my card then. Give me a call when you’re done.’

‘Thanks.’ She took the card, paid, and got out. The sleet had turned to snow and fat flakes were falling, lying silently on the path. It was like a Christmas card, only she was living in it. Except her business here wasn’t exactly joyful.

Finding the main door proved tricky as the house curved around and she took tentative steps along the path, now frosted with snow. She had her suitcase with her, which must look ridiculous and not at all professional. Lights flickered at a window, and she spotted a beautiful Christmas tree beside a door. This was another dollhouse she wanted to open and play with – the biggest one ever. What was it like inside? Her chest ached at the thought of coming home to a place like this, full of family and love.

She’d reached the door.

This was it. Raising her hand, she held her breath. She had to do it.

After another brief hesitation, she rang the doorbell.

No going back now. It wasn’t like she could go anywhere else. She wasn’t entirely sure exactly where she was. For a few seconds, she was sure no one would answer and the tension in her body lifted. If she turned and ran, could she catch the taxi? She could tell Arnie she’d tried, and no one was in.

Then she heard voices, and the door clicked open. A young woman smiled at Tilly from inside, and her heart and mind froze. Surely this was Rafe’s wife. Of course he’d be married. He probably had children. Just because Tilly was a loner didn’t mean everyone else was. Why had she not thought about that? The woman in his office had said he’d gone home for Christmas and that inferred going to be with family.

Oh god.

‘I’m here to see Rafe Harrington.’ Tilly tried to channel Mitchell’s confidence, though most of her wanted to turn and run. She pulled out what she hoped was her best and most assured smile.

‘Oh. He’s not back yet.’ The woman frowned slightly though her lips were still curved upwards. ‘Are you Tilly?’

‘Um…’ Tilly stared at her, her pulse quickening. How the heck did she know that? ‘Yes.’

‘Tilly Thorpe?’

Tilly nodded. What on earth? Had Mitchell somehow got hold of Rafe Harrington and his whole family were prepped for her visit?

‘Oh my god.’ The woman held up her hands like she was about to cheer, a grin splitting her face. ‘This is so awesome. In you come. Get out of the snow.’

Awesome?

What?

‘I can’t believe my brother,’ she said. ‘Sometimes he’s… Well, never mind. Let me get Mum. She’ll be over the moon. Just drop your case there and come on into the kitchen. It’s lovely and warm. Dad’s out walking the dogs, but I don’t think he’ll be too long. It’s getting wild out there.’

Completely side-swiped, Tilly did what the woman said and followed her. This wasn’t the welcome she was expecting.

‘Is Rafe…?’

‘He’ll be here soon. Oh my god, I’m being so rude. I haven’t even introduced myself. It feels like I already know you from what Rafe told me. I’m Genevieve, his little sister.’

‘Um… Pleased to meet you.’ Tilly smiled and was about to hold out her hand to shake it when Genevieve pulled her into a hug. What the hell?

She must be missing something somewhere.

‘Oh, Tilly. This is just brilliant.’ Genevieve’s embrace was warm and kindly. She patted Tilly’s back. Not used to this kind of thing, Tilly felt like she should pull away and explain that she didn’t know what was going on, but something about it was so comforting that she couldn’t move. Why was Rafe’s sister pleased to see her? And what had he told her? How could he have told her anything ? Tilly had never met him. Something weird was happening here, but she had no idea what. Was this a trap? His way of getting back at 1-Quick by having his family be incredibly friendly and welcoming? Perhaps to lull her into a false sense of security.

But he didn’t know I’d be here, did he?

Still frowning and trying to mentally fit things together that didn’t want to fit, Tilly pulled back.

Genevieve released her and smiled. ‘You look exhausted. Was the trip up from London a complete nightmare?’

How did she know all this stuff?

‘It’s a long way and I don’t sleep well on public transport,’ Tilly replied.

‘Oh, I totally get that. I couldn’t either. Take a seat.’

The kitchen was a huge open-plan room that somehow perfectly combined space-age with rustic. The combination of sleek metal and wood was aesthetically pleasing. Tilly sat on one of the high barstools. The work surface stretched out like a canvas and could have been plucked straight from a Christmas food magazine. Under-cupboard lighting glowed, highlighting bowls of nuts, plates of biscuits, and trays of gingerbread squares.

The air was alive with the scent of spices and freshly baked treats, but it wasn’t overpowering, just warming. Tilly could almost relax here if it wasn’t for the strangeness of the situation. Classical Christmas music drifted around, and she felt like she was featuring in her very own Christmas film.

Genevieve opened the fridge door. ‘What can I get you to drink? I don’t know about you, but it feels like hot chocolate weather.’

‘If you really don’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t. I’ll just heat up some milk and go grab Mum. She’s been dying to meet you. And if Grandma’s awake, I’ll get her too. She came here especially to see you. She’ll be so excited.’

Tilly furrowed her brow and sucked on the inside of her lip. Why would Rafe’s mum be dying to meet her? And his grandma had come especially to see her? This had to be a wind up, surely.

Genevieve put a jug of milk in the microwave, then said, ‘Give me a minute; I’ll just get Mum and see if Grandma’s awake.’

What should she do? Tell her she didn’t understand why they were being so welcoming? Or would that make her look rude? She wanted to make a good impression, even if this was a trap. But it didn’t seem to be, unless Genevieve was a really good actress, which was possible.

Or am I doing it again?

The childhood trauma was really rearing its head today. Was this the attachment issues showing up again? Maybe she was seeing things the way she wanted to see them and imagining Genevieve liked her more than she actually did. Tilly’s old therapist had warned her about her tendency to do that in romantic situations, but it was entirely possible she was doing the same here. Now she knew about it, she identified it everywhere in her life.

‘Tilly! Hello, hello.’ An older woman, who was very like Genevieve, almost ran into the room. Tilly didn’t have a chance to get off the stool before she was engulfed in another hug. ‘I’m Hilary, Rafe’s mum. So delighted you could make it. We weren’t sure if you would, but this is a wonderful surprise.’ Her perfume was delicate and calming. What must it be like to have a mum who hugged like this when you came home for Christmas?

What must it be like to have a mum at all?

Tilly had no family. Well, unless you included her sister, but Tilly didn’t, not after what Ellie had done to her as a child. Some things were unforgivable. Even at Christmas.

She smiled at Rafe’s mum, not sure what to say.

‘Very pleased to meet you, dear.’ An elderly lady with a walking stick shuffled forward and gave her a brief hug and a peck on the cheek. ‘Such a beautiful smile indeed.’

Genevieve let out a little laugh as she scooped chocolate powder into the hot milk and whizzed it with a little hand-held electronic whisk. Tilly frowned. Were they laughing at some private joke? Soon, the hot chocolate was frothy and looked delicious. Genevieve poured it into four tall glasses with little round handles. ‘Cream?’ She smiled at Tilly.

‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all.’

Tilly was almost holding her breath as Rafe’s mum and granny sat beaming at her like they’d never seen anyone so wonderful. This moment would surely crash down around her at any second. Perhaps they’d poisoned the hot chocolate or were waiting until Rafe got back so they could tell him how she’d imposed on them. Memories flooded back of childhood days with Ellie. All those times they’d had chances to live with nice people in foster care. Ellie had ruined those chances one by one. She wasn’t here to ruin this moment, but something surely would.

Tilly would have a taste of something wonderful only to be thrown from the house and have the door slammed in her face; an all too familiar scenario.

Genevieve squirted the cream on top of the hot chocolates and handed a glass to Tilly. Outside the window, the snow was getting thick. How long would Rafe be? Tilly checked the time; she was on a tight turn around if she was to get back to Glasgow and then get the sleeper train home. Her fleeting idea of staying an extra night had evaporated. She should get away as soon as she could.

‘It’s very pretty here.’ She watched the snow fluttering down, mesmerising her for a moment.

‘We’re so lucky with this spot.’ Hilary sipped her hot chocolate. ‘It must be quite different from what you’re used to.’

‘It is. I haven’t seen snow for a long time. And when it snows in London, it’s hardly ever as thick as this.’

‘Well, you can enjoy it here,’ Rafe’s grandma said.

‘I’m not sure how long it’ll last,’ Hilary added. ‘It normally clears up after a few days and it’ll be a miracle if it’s still here for Christmas day.’

‘Yeah, we hardly ever get a white Christmas,’ Genevieve said.

Tilly took another sip of her hot chocolate. Much as she would like to enjoy sitting here watching the falling snow, it wasn’t going to happen because she couldn’t relax. Something bizarre was going on. Why were they all looking at her like that? Like they were actually pleased to see her.

Just my imagination. Attachment issues gone wild again.

‘How do you normally spend Christmas?’ Genevieve asked. ‘Do you go to see family?’

Tilly shook her head. ‘I don’t really have a family.’

‘Oh dear,’ Hilary said. ‘We didn’t know that.’

Well, they wouldn’t, would they?

‘That’s sad,’ Genevieve said.

‘I’m used to it.’ Tilly gulped some of the cream from her hot chocolate. ‘I never knew my parents. I was brought up in a children’s home.’ Ellie had scuppered any chance of being fostered long term or adopted with her desperate need to sabotage anything good. And not just for herself, for Tilly too. So they’d been stuck in the home every Christmas. Not exactly the stuff of dreams. After a while she got used to it, but watching Christmas films and reading Christmas books where everyone found the magic of Christmas and happiness at home with their family always hit a sore spot.

‘That sounds so lonely,’ Genevieve said. ‘Thank goodness you met—’

‘Hello!’ a man shouted from somewhere in the house.

‘That’s Rafe,’ Hilary said. Both she and Genevieve got to their feet while her grandma continued to sip her hot chocolate, barely taking her eyes off Tilly. ‘Wait until we tell him you made it.’ Hilary almost ran to the door.

Tilly watched them, her eyes wide and her heart thumping. He was here.

Crunch time had arrived.