Jane Linfoot - A Cosy Christmas in Cornwall

Damn. If I’d known this before I could have rung ahead or even tried to hide him, not that I’d have managed that. I might as well come clean. ‘He was always invited, but he was only available to come at the last minute.’

Bill’s blinking at us now. ‘Keep going.’

I’m trying doubly hard here, not to be distracted by the views, and not to lose my cool no matter how annoying he is. ‘He belongs to my neighbour, Tatiana, she’s a model, I’m his stand-in mum when she works abroad.’ I can see I’m not making any impression. ‘He’s a kind of a dog share.’

Bill’s frowning. ‘Still not getting it.’

‘Tatiana got a last minute job and flew off to Prague, there was no one else to look after him so he’s here with me.’ I’m throwing in all the details to make him understand. ‘Merwyn begged me … he was wearing his Santa outfit … I couldn’t refuse.’ That’s how I know how effective it is.

Bill’s raising his eyebrows. ‘So this wasn’t another of Mrs Johnstone-Cody’s oversights?’ He’s so condescending.

‘Merwyn’s all down to me.’ Merwyn’s eyes are still popping, his gaze welded on the chocolate drop, but I hadn’t counted on him drooling quite so much. I’m going to have to grovel fast before he dribbles all over the rather expensive-looking floor. ‘I’m sorry, I assumed dogs would be welcome, they are in all the best on-trend places now.’ Flattery’s not working so I try again. ‘It’s a big castle, he’s a little dog.’ I almost add so get over it , but I manage to bite it back. Instead I get a tissue out of my pocket and try to mop the slobber puddle off the floor without Bill seeing.

Before I know it Bill’s standing in front of us, handing over kitchen roll, studying me through narrowed eyes. It’s actually more like an in depth examination than a look.

‘So you lost the pixie haircut you had in Chamonix?’

Damn, I was hoping we’d get Merwyn the ‘all clear’ before we moved on anywhere else. What I want to talk about is Merwyn’s free pass to a castle Christmas, not sodding hairstyles.

Bill’s stare is so piercing it’s as if he’s turning me inside out. ‘It made you look like Audrey Hepburn in her elfin period. You wore your hat less then too.’ He blinks at me. ‘Come to think of it, you’ve had it on ever since you got here. Are you cold?’

However persistent he is, I’m not giving anything away. ‘I’m fine, it’s just with longer hair I get more bad hair days that need covering up.’ Even if he caught me off guard there I’m so pleased with that reply I throw in a bit more. ‘You know what it’s like, all this damp sea air and salt, it’s a nightmare for messy bobs.’

‘You’ve still got a look of Audrey, even in that woolly hat with the huge furry pompom.’

I let out a hollow ironic laugh. ‘That’s a bonkers comparison. How did you even ski if you’re that blind?’ I can’t say how nostalgic I am for my lovely cropped cut. Or how exasperated I get trying to make my longer hair behave. Now he’s mentioned it, I’m tugging the sweep of my bob fringe down under my hat making sure it’s covering the side of my face properly. ‘You’re right though, I only grew it about a year ago.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle. ‘Both ways really suit you. To my mind dark brown hair is very underrated.’ His face breaks into a grin as he reaches across and gives the strand below my ear a playful tug. ‘And longer is good because it’s easier to pull.’

‘Stop that!’ I lurch sideways.

‘What?’ His lips are twisting into a smile and his laugh is low. ‘It was one little tweak, there’s no need to jump all the way to St Aidan.’

That’s what he thinks. From the shivers radiating across my scalp and zithering down my spine, St Aidan is probably five miles too close. And just because he says something nice doesn’t make him any less arrogant. In fact in this case it only reinforces how great he is at telling lies. I mean, in all our years together George never mentioned Audrey once. Now I’ve got my shuddering under control I need to turn this back onto Bill.

‘You’ve changed a bit yourself.’

He grins and rubs his fingers through his tousled curls. ‘Waving goodbye to Will and his short-back and sides means a lot fewer trips to the barbers.’ His eyes narrow. ‘There’s plenty to pull too, help yourself, any time.’

I shake my head at Merwyn to hide that I’m even tempted and let out a snort. ‘That’s one thing I definitely won’t be doing.’ And hopefully that’s an end to it.

It’s not as if we ever met up with any of the holiday people again after we got back home. I decided afterwards that George must have blagged his way into that chalet in the same way he did with everything else in life. But if Bill’s intent on raking over the past, I might as well find out what happened to the super-attractive solicitor who spent the entire holiday throwing herself off her skis and into his path. ‘Weren’t you with a woman called …’

He rolls his eyes as I hesitate. ‘You’re thinking of Gemma. We weren’t actually an item, at the time I think I was probably trying my best to avoid her.’

‘Omigod, yes, Gemma c-c-c –’ For once I manage to stop before the worst comes out. If I’d given her her full ‘cow-face’ title Merwyn might be banished for ever. It’s important to say, we didn’t call her anything that rude lightly. Looking back, that was probably an offence to cows. But she pushed the other eleven of us to the limit by being the chalet-mate from hell – using all the hot water, always grabbing the best shower, hogging the steam room, stealing other people’s cake from the fridge, drinking all the wine, taking the last milk, making nasty comments about everyone else’s bums in ski pants, not to mention their thighs, party dresses, career progress and their sex toys.

I pick myself up enough to carry on. ‘Gemma was the super-pretty one.’ It’s probably only human to remember the worst bits. Her faking a broken ankle on the slopes so he had to take her to hospital. Doing the same pretending to fall downstairs. ‘Good job avoiding her, I’d say that was a narrow escape. She was hard work, hideous even.’

He pulls a face, then he goes on. ‘Well, she got me in the end, we did go out eventually.’

I’m smiling. ‘Haha, you nearly had me there.’ And then I see he isn’t laughing. ‘Shit, you really did get together, didn’t you?’ I’ve no idea why there is a stab of jealousy shooting through my chest big enough to wind me. I mean, he was bound to be with someone, and that was never going to be me. But even though Gemma was super-attractive with a high flying job, I’m still reeling, simply because she seemed so calculating and blatant for someone as warm as he was. But as my mum and gran always say, if a woman sets her sights on a man and is determined enough, she can usually get him in the end.

‘We actually got together shortly after Chamonix. Gemma wasn’t too keen on life down here, but luckily we’d kept our London place, she’s working back there for now.’

‘So you’re still in touch then?’ Why the hell did I ask that? It’s obvious they are.

He gives a hollow laugh. ‘I hear from her most days, yes.’

Can you kick yourself and die inside all at the same time, because that’s what I’m doing now. ‘I’m soooo sorry.’ It isn’t nearly enough. ‘Double sorry. Triple, even.’ And I’m also waving goodbye to every chance of clemency Merwyn had.

Bill’s still staring at me like I’m Exhibit A. ‘It must be my turn for a question now. So if you and George aren’t married you must be having the longest engagement ever? Or else you got married and divorced? I mean, he was your fiancé?’