Page 7 of A Festive Surprise

‘Spoke up in the wrong place at the wrong time, I think. He’s a charming, kind, helpful and all-round nice guy.’

‘Not helping.’ Holly tapped the wheel.

‘Well, he did think you were an elf. So, if you’re determined not to like him, keep remembering that.’

‘I’m not determined not to like him. He’s a stud muffin by the looks of things. I just don’t want to get involved.’

‘It wouldn’t be a crime if you were to get together.’

‘Nope. No entanglements, not with a neighbour. Far too awkward.’

‘Really? You were always the one who wanted to settle down when we were at uni. You told me if you weren’t married by twenty-six all sorts of dire things would happen.’

‘Yeah. That was when I was young and stupid.’

‘We all thought Gavin was the man.’

‘Oh, please. Don’t remind me of him.’

Georgia pressed her lips together with a smirk.

On a flat patch exposed to the elements was a long, low bungalow. A picket fence ran the length of the spartan front gardens separating two identical front doors. Was that all that would be between her and the Syrian hotcake?

‘It gets windy up here,’ said Georgia. ‘But the cottages are fully done up, so they’re cosy inside.’

Holly sucked the inside of her lip, silencing the thoughts assailing her brain. This was it? A tiny bungalow on the edge of a cliff. One gust might blow it into the ocean.

‘I’m sorry,’ Georgia said.

‘No, it’s fine.’ Holly’s thoughts must have shown on her face. And what did it matter anyway? She’d lived in so many places. This was just one more and out here might be the safest place in the world to avoid Christmas. There was nothing remotely festive about the place.

‘But you haven’t seen inside yet.’

‘Oh? Is something wrong inside? Does the roof leak?’

‘Er, no.’ Georgia pulled a face. ‘I kind of decorated it… I didn’t realise you hated Christmas.’

‘Right.’ It was only November. What could she have done already? If it was fur blankets and candles, she could just about cope. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

Georgia opened the low gate and led Holly up the path. ‘This is your key, but honestly, out here, no one locks their doors.’ She flung open the door and Holly entered the tiny hallway. So far, so good. She pushed open the door to the living space and her eyes bugged out. Her breath caught and she balled her fists, barely containing a scream. There was a tree. An actual bloody Christmas tree. Wonderfully tasteful and in keeping with the décor but the whole place reeked of a tourist cabin in Lapland. If Mr and Mrs Claus were sitting by the fire, it would have looked perfectly acceptable.

Holly opened her mouth. Words failed. She frowned. What was she hearing? A low, jaunty tune. ‘Deck the Halls’ tinkled from a speaker system somewhere. Too much. ‘Where’s that coming from?’ Her gaze darted around.

‘Over here.’ Georgia stepped up to a built-in shelf on one side of the fireplace and flipped a switch on the dock, lowering the volume. Foliage adorned the length of the mantelpiece, interspersed with candles and two decorative stockings hung at either end. Red tartan and deer scatter cushions were strewn over the cream sofa. A long, wrought metal candle holder of a reindeer pulling a sleigh sat atop the coffee table; each pair of deer and the sleigh had a votive set in it.

Holly’s stomach tensed. She couldn’t stay here. Not only was it stuck out on a limb, but this. Ugh. Mrs Sinclair would love this house. So would Gavin, her son. They were the perfect Christmas family after all. And Holly was the wrecker.

‘I can take it all away,’ said Georgia. ‘Honestly, I don’t mind. I was just having a bit of fun.’

Holly held her hand to her forehead and breathed deeply. Images of Christmas horrors streamed through her mind like unwanted ads on YouTube you couldn’t stop until you’d watched. Mrs Sinclair’s simpering sneer. Mr Sinclair saying grace. Gavin smiling across the table laden with sprouts and a turkey the size of a dolphin in centre place. The Christmas cake. The ring, sparkling and glinting with a cruel gleam. Gavin’s horrified face. Mr and Mrs Sinclair’s gaping mouths. A blade in the heart. Christmas carnage. ‘Leave it. I might not be staying long anyway. There’s a change of plan.’

‘Oh. Really?’ Georgia still smiled, but one side of her lip sagged. ‘Because of Farid?’

‘No, though it might be the only way to stop me jumping him. Just work.’ Holly was well-practised in this dodge. ‘I had a call earlier. I might have to shake things up. We’ll see. Thanks for the effort you’ve put into this place.’ Yes, no denying that. Just the sentiment.

‘I’m so sorry if it offends you. I should have asked first.’

‘No, it’s fine. Don’t think any more about it. It’s gorgeous. Do you want a lift back to Monarch’s Lodge?’

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