Page 43 of Christmas off Script
‘I justthoughtit. Now come on, let’s get this read-through over and we can get back to cramming for the Christmas quiz.’
8
Pulling the collar of her coat tighter around her neck against the icy wind, Ella pressed the doorbell for the third time in as many minutes.
Has it only been a week since I was last here?
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
The last time she’d stood on this spot, she’d been living with Oliver and looking forward to an afternoon with Leo, then the panto read-through on Sunday.
Now Oliver had dumped her, their house was empty and on the market, she’d agreed to play Cinderella, and her Prince Charming was none other than Zach Price, her first ever boyfriend and the man who’d tried to ruin her life.
Thank god for Leo and his family.
The front door opened and Michelle’s heavily made-up eyes narrowed to slits. ‘You’re late.’
Ella instinctively glanced at her watch. ‘I—’
Michelle thrust her phone screen out, showing the time: three minutes past eleven.
A sudden wave of tiredness crashed through Ella, almost knocking her off her feet, and she reached for the cold brickwork for support. Coming from Foxbrooke Manor to this was like leaving heaven and immediately arriving in hell.
I can’t do this anymore.
She took a step back. ‘I don’t have to be here,’ she said, her normal filters blunted by emotional exhaustion.
Michelle’s eyes widened to comical proportions. Lurching to grab Ella’s arm, she stumbled on the doorsill and pitched forward with a gasp.
Knees buckling as she failed to hold her stepmother’s weight, Ella fell backwards, landing with a painful thud on the concrete path as she cushioned Michelle’s fall.
‘My leg!’ Michelle cried. ‘My fucking leg!’
Ella froze as the flashback slammed into her. She was trapped again, listening to the terrified screams of her half-sisters, her stepmother’s howling, her father’s frantic shouts. Her body was paralysed with panic, her vision filled with the memory of broken glass and blood.
‘Help me!’
Flung back into the present moment, heart racing, and sweat prickling her skin, Ella lifted Michelle up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry,’ she stammered.
‘Just get me back inside.’
Ella supported her stepmother as they entered the house, casting her eyes around for the nearest stick. There wasn’t one in the hall, so they went into the living room. Michelle sat with a heavy thud on the sofa and closed her eyes.
In the silence that followed, Ella’s pulse began to slow, and she became aware she’d been hurt by the fall. Her coccyx was throbbing, her right leg and arm ached, and her elbow was burning. Taking off her coat, she saw blood soaking through her sweatshirt. She pulled up the sleeve to see a livid graze.
‘You gonna complain about a scratch when I’m like this?’ Michelle asked.
Ella hastily tugged the sleeve back down. ‘No, of course not. Can I get you anything? Ring the doctor?’
‘No. They never give me what I want. Waste of fucking time.’ She rested her head back and let out a long sigh, then eyeballed Ella. ‘When were you going to tell me about Oliver?’
‘Er…’You never read my messages. I’ve only just got here, and anyway, why on earth would I tell you?
‘I knew this would happen. Don’t know why you keep falling for posh twats. You think you’re better than us, but you’re not.’ Reaching forward with a grunt, Michelle picked up a vape from the table and took a long drag. ‘Got anything else to tell me?’
Ella knew enough of her stepmother to know this question was a trap. ‘Zach Price is back in Foxbrooke and playing Prince Charming in the Christmas panto.’
Michelle sneered. ‘That’s not going to save him.’
