Mary Lyons - Yuletide Bride

To be fair, her friend did have a point about Lucy. Ever since Clive had died, when her daughter was just under a year old, she had done her best to be both mother and father to the little girl. That she hadn’t always succeeded in properly fulfilling the two, very different roles over the past seven years, was a fact of which Amber was becoming daily more aware. So, maybe Rose was right? Maybe she ought to stop shilly-shallying, and force herself to take the practical, sensible decision to marry Philip Jackson?

A highly respected doctor, who’d recently joined a local practice, Philip was a genuinely nice and considerate man. The fact that he also had a private income, lived in a large house all on his own and was reasonably good-looking, with fair hair and kind brown eyes, made him the obvious candidate as far as her friends were concerned. But, while she was very fond of Philip, she wasn’t in love with him. And having once experienced the intense, tempestuous drive of overwhelming emotion and desire, it seemed quite wrong to settle for second best.

‘...so, the old dragon is bound to make Christmas a misery for all of us, and... Good Heavens ! It looks as if Sally really has been spending a fortune!’

Startled by Rose’s sudden exclamation, and guiltily aware that while she’d been buried deep in thought, she’d missed most of what her friend had been saying, Amber looked up to see a petite blonde woman making her way towards them, her progress impeded by the enormous amount of parcels she was carrying.

‘Hi, darlings! I’m sorry to be so late,’ she cried. ‘I’ve never known the shops to be so crowded. But I know you’ll both forgive me when I tell you some absolutely riveting news!’

‘I don’t know why you aren’t running your own gossip column in the local newspaper!’ Rose mocked as she and Amber exchanged a quick grin with one another.

‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy,’ Sally laughed good-naturedly, placing her shopping on an adjacent chair as she sat down to join them. ‘Besides, this isn’t a rumour—it’s the genuine truth, which everyone will know about sooner or later,’ she added before turning to Amber. ‘Do you remember Lady Parker? The mega-rich old woman that lived near you, and who died in a big fire at her house well over a year ago?’

Amber nodded. ‘I never actually met the old lady, because she’d been a recluse for many years. Apparently the house was burned to the ground.’

‘Right. Well, my dear husband was in charge of her affairs, and it seems that she always refused to make a will,’ Sally continued excitedly. ‘So, it took John simply ages to track down her only living relative. However, he’s now finally succeeded, and Lady Parker’s ten thousand acres—plus goodness knows how much extra money in stocks and shares, has all been inherited by...”Mad Max”!’

‘ What ?’ Rose gasped in astonishment. ‘You don’t mean...? Not...not the old vicar’s son—Max Warner?’

‘Yes!’ Sally beamed at her friends, delighted at the expression of shock and surprise on their faces. Amber, in particular, appeared to be totally stunned.

‘I just knew that you’d both be amazed to hear about the return of our old school heart-throb,’ she continued happily. ‘Of course, it’s been years since the Reverend Augustus Warner died, so I suppose that it’s not surprising that we’d forgotten all about his son. When John first told me about the return of “Mad Max”, I could hardly believe my ears!’

‘He certainly deserved that nickname!’ Rose laughed. ‘I remember him as a wild tearaway—with a simply terrible reputation for breaking girls’ hearts. All the same...’ she paused, staring into space with a dreamy expression on her face. ‘Max really was diabolically attractive, wasn’t he?’

‘Absolutely scrumptious!’ Sally agreed with a grin. ‘In fact, with his curly black hair and those twinkling, wicked blue eyes, the effect on our young teenage hearts was completely lethal !’

‘Mmm...’ Rose gave a sheepish grin. ‘After he kissed me at my sixteenth birthday party, I can remember being madly in love with Max for a whole year.’

‘Weren’t we all?’ her friend sighed heavily. ‘Of course, Amber is two years younger than either of us, and so probably won’t recall any of the completely crazy things he used to get up to. Do you remember that huge black motorbike of his? And the really ferocious competition amongst us girls, as to who could wangle a ride behind him on the pillion seat?’

‘Oh, yes! One of the highlights of my teens was when he once took me down the motorway at well over a hundred miles an hour.’ Cheeks flushed, Rose shook her head at her own folly. ‘I was absolutely scared to death, of course. But it was worth it. I reckoned I was the envy of everyone at school for at least two whole weeks!’

Sally giggled. ‘You certainly were. I can remember Cynthia Henderson, for instance, collapsing into a jealous fit of raving hysterics—right in the middle of school assembly!’

‘It’s all very well to talk about old school days, but where’s Max been all these years?’ Rose asked. ‘I know he was very clever. And, despite fooling around, he passed his school exams with flying colours before gaining a scholarship to university. But his father, old Reverend Warner, died while I was away training to be a nurse—and I’ve never heard anything about Max from that day to this.’

‘Nor had anyone else,’ Sally agreed. ‘In fact, my dear husband had almost given up the search for him. And then...when he was invited to a very grand, fund-raising dinner in London a few weeks ago, he discovered that Max Warner was the principal guest speaker!’

‘Good Heavens!’

‘We all thought that Max had dropped off the edge of the world, didn’t we? But not a bit of it!’ Sally gave a loud peal of laughter. ‘It seems he had an uncle in America. So, when his father died eight years ago, Max went off to the States to make his fortune. He’s now returned to England as the terrifically successful, managing director of a huge, high-powered public company. And he’s made an appointment to see John sometime soon, here in Elmbridge. How about that !’

While her friends were chatting excitedly together, exchanging news of a long-lost old school friend, Amber had been sitting rigidly still, her mind dazed and reeling, as though she’d been hit on the back of her head by a heavy sandbag. Even Sally’s sudden shriek of horror hardly managed to penetrate her stunned brain.

‘Oh, help—just look at the time!’ Sally quickly jumped up from the table. ‘I should have been at the hairdresser’s at least ten minutes ago!’

‘What an extraordinary piece of news about Max Warner,’ Rose mused as Sally bustled out of the café, before catching sight of her friend’s chalk-white face and dazed, stricken expression.

‘ Amber ! What on earth’s wrong? Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I...’ She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. ‘Really, I’m fine,’ she shakily informed Rose, who was gazing at her with deep concern.

‘You’ve been trying to do too much,’ her friend pointed out firmly. ‘Having to cope with your mother is enough to try the patience of a saint! And running that huge old house...’

‘I’m sorry...I have to go. I really must get home...there’s so much cooking to do....’ Amber muttered breathlessly as she swiftly gathered up her parcels.

‘You don’t look at all well. I hope you’re not going down with flu?’ Her friend gazed with concern at Amber’s pale face and trembling figure. ‘If you’re not feeling too good, there’s no need to worry about picking up Emily from school tomorrow. I can easily put off my trip to London.’