Page 88 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘A man,’ Imogen corrected. ‘I’m thirty-one.’
‘A man then. So soon?’
‘I can’t help my feelings. And, deep down, I knew a long time ago that me and Edmund weren’t right.’
‘Edmund andI,’ Stella said.
Imogen rolled her eyes. ‘I feel guilty about that too. I told Edmund that it was over weeks ago, and I know he wasn’tpaying attention, or he didn’t believe it or …’ She shook her head. ‘But as far as I was concerned, we were finished. And then Dexter …’ She didn’t know how to explain something so unplanned, so unexpected as what had happened between her and Dexter to her mum. Then she pictured his expression up on the stage in Mistingham Manor, when she’d gone to talk to Edmund, and thought she shouldn’t say anything at all, in case she was talking about something that no longer existed.
‘You like him a lot,’ her mum said, surprising her.
‘I do.’
‘I’m glad about that.’
‘Really?’
‘I do want you to be happy, Imogen. I can’t help worrying about all the mistakes you’re making, but then I suppose I should let you, especially now – as you say – you’re thirty-one.’
It wasn’t the most ringing endorsement, but it was familiar at least, and she didn’t want to get in a huge fight. ‘I’ll write a formal letter of resignation for Dad, as long as I don’t have to come back and work out my notice.’
‘Fine. We’ve got a lovely temp called Lily. I expect she’d be thrilled to be made permanent.’
‘Great.’ Imogen tried not to be hurt at the ease with which her mum was letting her go. But this was what she wanted, and Stella Rowsell had never been great at showing her caring side. In lots of ways she was like Edmund, unable to believe that things wouldn’t go her way, but then, once she realised something was a lost cause, moving on without a backward glance, focusing on the next thing she could get her claws into. ‘And I’m going to miss the Christmas Eve party, but you already knew that.’
Her mum gave a long-suffering sigh and picked up her glass, draining her wine in a single swallow. ‘Are you sure you can’t come back for that? We were relying on you for the crackers.’
‘I haven’t been back to London so I haven’t got them.’The crackers, really?‘And I’ve got obligations here now.’
Stella’s gaze brightened. ‘You have?’
‘We’ve got the Snow Show on the twenty-third, which is replacing the Oak Fest they usually hold on the green. They couldn’t have it this year because of the snow that was forecast, and it’s a good thing too, because look at it. They even had to close the ice rink yesterday.’ She gestured to the window and laughed, but her mum was burrowing in her handbag.
‘Yes, well, I do think Edmund and I should get back on the road before too long. We’ll be driving at least half of the way in the snow.’
‘Of course.’ Imogen stood up. ‘Thanks for coming, Mum.’
Stella smiled. ‘I had hoped to be bringing you with us, and God knows what this will do to poor Edmund, but he always puts a brave face on things, and I’ve invited Lily to the Christmas Eve do, so you never know.’
‘Fingers crossed,’ Imogen said, fake-perkily, wondering if her mum even knew what tact was. But Edmund was a favourite, and it would be a consolation to him that he and her parents would continue to have a strong bond; that not being with her wasn’t going to dent his chances at her dad’s law firm. ‘I’ll FaceTime you on Christmas Day.’
‘Wonderful,’ Stella said distractedly. ‘I’ll email through our itinerary and we can work out where to squeeze you in.’
‘Great.’ Imogen hovered in the hall while her mum stood at the back door and shouted to Edmund. He and Birdie came back inside, and Stella wrapped herself in metres of cashmere, then they all exchanged brisk hugs.
Birdie handed her daughter a package of Christmas vegetables, and Imogen watched, breath held, wondering if her mum would reject them. But Stella smiled blandly, offered another thanks, and then they were back in Edmund’s shiny car, pulling away from the kerb, just as the snow started falling again, white flakes swirling in the gloom of twilight. ‘How did that go for you?’ Imogen asked, when Birdie had shut the door. ‘Are you and Mum on better terms?’
‘I think we’ve come to an understanding, and it’s mostly about how we will never really see eye to eye. But things are mildly less frosty than they were. How did it go for you?’
Imogen thought about it. ‘Better than expected. I mean, Mum is Mum, and I doubt she’ll ever approve of what I’m doing, but things went OK with Edmund. I think he’s relieved to be set free, on some level at least. Maybe he was fighting for me because of Mum and Dad, and now he knows he won’t lose them or his position, he’s happier to let me go.’
‘Nobody with any sense would be happy letting you go,’ Birdie said, ‘but he’ll bounce back, and you have more important things to focus on now. You’re really staying?’
‘I’m staying, if you’ll have me.’
‘OfcourseI will. Imogen, I am delighted. And I know I won’t be the only one.’
Imogen thought of Dexter. Should she rush around to his house, tell him the way was clear for them, like a scenein a historical romance? She didn’t know if she’d do it justice right now. ‘One of his ovens is broken.’
