Page 54 of The Night Before Christmas
‘Really?’ she said, not able to say more.
‘Indeed.’ His cheeks flushed. Could it be the heat of the room? ‘She was very beautiful. Incredibly beautiful,’ he said, fondly, looking down at the clipping for the first time. ‘I loved to take her photograph.’
Felicity glanced at Cherie, who was staring down at her hands fixedly.
Then suddenly it all became clear.
‘She was looking at you,’ she said, before she could filter it. ‘In the photo. She was staring at you.’
Bertie looked at her steadily for a moment, and then nodded.
‘They were lovers, for a time, yes,’ came the voice of Cherie from her right, quiet but very firm. ‘It was a long time ago.’
Felicity nearly stood up but controlled the impulse. She considered reaching for her cup – just for something to do really – but she didn’t trust herself not to spill it this time. Instead, she grabbed a nearby cushion and hugged it tightly against her lap. Bertie and Cherie waited patiently.
Things just got weird.
‘Sorry, can you just say that again?’ she finally managed.
Bertie laughed then, and it was a light and lovely and unexpected sound.
‘I can say it now, I suppose,’ he said, smiling at her. She could see how handsome he must have been, still was, really, with those lovely deep brown eyes. ‘I was in love with her. Your beautiful mother. Jocelyn.’
It had been a long time since she’d heard anyone say that name. The tears began rolling in earnest down Felicity’s cheeks and Cherie put a gentle arm around her shoulders.
‘She was beautiful,’ she said, quietly.
‘That was the day we met,’ he said, his eyes on the clipping. ‘I thought it was the most boring assignment on the island. “Go cover the garden party at Le Manoir,” they said. I nearly didn’tgo. But the moment I set eyes on her… she was just captivating. The most perfect subject. Look at her. Just look at her.’
Cherie shifted slightly in her seat, her arm dropping from Felicity’s shoulders.
Felicity cleared her throat.
What the hell have I stumbled into?
‘And you… you’re the reason my father walked out?’ she said slowly, as realisation after realisation washed over her.
‘I’m the reason,’ he said, serious then. ‘I knew she had a family, and I should have just stayed away. But I couldn’t help myself. I sent her a present for Christmas, left it on the doorstep, that’s all, but your father found it and somehow he knew straight away what was going on. Must have already had his suspicions, I suppose.’
‘What did you give her?’ said Cherie, a little more sharply than perhaps she had intended. She visibly checked herself and then got up and started busying herself clearing away the tea things.
Bertie gave a little smile.
‘It was a paperweight,’ he said. ‘Just a paperweight.’
Felicity let out a little gasp. ‘It wasn’t just a paperweight.’ She almost shrieked. ‘I bet it was a red glass heart. I still have it.’
Bertie looked at her, astonished.
Felicity nodded.
‘She kept it,’ he said with a secret smile.
‘Yes,’ said Felicity. ‘She kept it.’
The paperweight was the thing.
In fact, the paperweight was the only thing Felicity really had of her mother’s these days, apart from a few scarves and acouple of her old books. For as far back as she could remember it had taken pride of place on their mantelpiece, in their tiny mouldering cottage. It was a deep ruby red and perfectly shiny and flawless, or at least most of it was. Ominously, it had an almighty crack down the middle that at some point had been fixed with amber-coloured resin. Felicity had always assumed it was a flaw in the glass but now she wasn’t so sure.
