Chapter Seventeen
Cash’s family lived in a fantasy world.
Or at least, that’s how it felt.
They’d driven to the outskirts of the city in a car she hadn’t known he owned. It was small and dark blue and old-fashioned—vintage, clearly, but she had no idea about that sort of thing.
He kept on driving as they left the concrete jungle behind. Cityscapes became snow-cloud skies and barren fields. They passed winter-bare trees, their branches spearing up at the heavens like needy hands raised to the gods.
And then the roads grew thin, winding through the landscape like ribbon. The trees ripened again as evergreens took the place of deciduous plants. They passed a sign that read: Welcome to Cartham, and houses came into view, settled comfortably into vast plots of land along one side of the road. On the other side there stood what could only be called a forest, the trees as dense and erect as an army’s front line.
Bailey raised her brows. “This is where your mother lives?”
“Yep.” He slowed the car down as they pulled up to a set of huge, open gates. They swung into the brick driveway and crawled up towards a grand house of grey stone, its garden festooned with gaudy, flashing Christmas lights that contrasted boldly with the austere vibe of the area. It was like seeing a blow-up snowman and Santa Stop Here! sign in front of Northanger Abbey.
“You’re not the only one who likes Christmas,” she observed with a smile.
“No,” he said as he pulled up. “I’m not. Listen, Bailey… Just to warn you, my mother thinks that you’re my girlfriend.”
“What?!” She squeaked, her smile disappearing. “Why?!”
He winced, clearly uncomfortable. This explained why, as they’d drawn closer to their destination, he’d gone from laughing with her over their disparate music tastes to falling into a brooding silence. He was nervous.
“Well,” he said. “I told her you were coming. And she asked me about you, because she wanted to get you a present—”
“A present? Oh my God, she didn’t need to do that!”
“She loves getting presents. The more the merrier. So I told her about you, and she just kind of… Decided you must be my girlfriend.”
Bailey squinted at him. “Why? What did you say?”
“Um… Nothing, really. I told her your name. How we met. The stuff you like. I don’t know, normal shit.”
“Well, maybe it’s just wishful thinking on her part. Don’t mothers always want their sons coupled up?”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “I just wanted to warn you. I don’t—I mean, she’s kind of enthusiastic. And I don’t want you to feel pressured or—”
“It’s okay,” she said gently. “I know what this is, Cash.” Even though he hadn’t touched her since that day at work. Even though he’d asked for her number and done nothing with it but text her cute dog pictures. Even though they were sitting outside his mother’s house right now.
She wouldn’t allow herself to forget. Ninety days.
His hands were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, even though the car was parked, and she reached forward to cover them with one of her own. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”
But then he looked at her with those piercing eyes, so well-suited to this green little village, and she saw vulnerability in their depths.
“What are you so worried about?” She asked softly.
“I…” He heaved out a sigh. “It’s hard to explain. But my mother, and my sister… We’ve all been through a lot together. They really mean the fucking world to me. And they think of me in a certain way—the wrong way. They’re determined to see the best in me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want anything to change that. I need them to believe that I’m… That I’m like them.”
“Like them?”
“Yeah. Like them, and not like my…”
He looked ready to choke on his words. His knuckles were bright white, the tendons of his hands raised beneath her fingers as he gripped the wheel tight.
“Like your father?” She guessed.
He looked at her sharply. “How did you—?”
“Generally it’s our parents who fuck us up. And clearly you have no problem with your mother. So…”
“Right.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah. My dad was kind of… Fuck. I don’t know how to say this.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Bailey said softly, silently willing him to look at her again. But she wasn’t ready for the agony in his eyes when he did.
“I can’t tell you. Not all of it. But you make me want to… I don’t know. To try. Everyone said, when I was a kid, you have to talk about it. I never wanted to. But I—my mum made me, uh, see a therapist. Fuck. That sounds weird, doesn't it?”
She smiled gently. “I study cognitive psychology, remember? Taking care of your mental health isn’t weird to me.”
He tried to laugh. It almost sounded like the real thing, too. “I suppose. Well… Long story short, my dad was a monster. And I’ve spent a long time trying not to be like him. But sometimes I worry that…”
Only, before she could find out what he worried about, the front door of the house opened. Light spilled out into the growing darkness of the afternoon, and Bailey knew that the swirling mess of concern and confusion in her gut would have to wait.
A woman stood in the doorway, tall and broad, a child perched on her hip—despite the fact that he must have been six or seven. Another child barrelled out from behind them, older than the first.
“Uncle Cash!” He roared, so loud they could hear him from inside the car. Cash gave her one last, long look before he opened the door and got out, sweeping the kid up into his arms.
“Hey, kiddo,” he grinned, and there was pure love in his voice.
Bailey gave herself a second to fiddle with her hair. Just one. Then she put on her big girl knickers and got out of the car.
The air was icy cold, a slap in the face that made her giddy because it meant Christmas was coming. Of course, it would still be this cold after Christmas—in January, and February, and probably even March—but there wouldn’t be magic in the air anymore. Not like there was now.
She let her excitement fill her, lift her up. Never mind her nerves, or the things Cash was trying to say, or the fear that shot through her every time his smile made her happier than it should. It was Christmastime. Nothing truly bad could happen.
Could it?
She was jolted from her reverie when Cash laid a hand on her shoulder. He smiled down at her, his big body protecting her from the wind. The boy in his arms had rich, brown hair and blue eyes, but his sharp features and petulant mouth were like distant echoes of Cash’s own.
“Will, this is my friend Bailey. Bailey, this is Will, my eldest nephew.”
“Hello,” the boy said, his tone curious. He was wearing pyjamas and a thick, blue dressing gown. Batman slippers adorned his feet.
“Hi,” Bailey said, her voice soft and uncertain. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked to a kid. But this one didn’t seem so terrifying.
Cash gave a theatrical groan, sagging with fake weariness. “God, Will, you’ve grown so much I can barely carry you! I’m gonna have to put you down…”
“No, Uncle Cash!” The boy bounced and giggled, kicking his legs. “Not yet!”
“Oh, alright then.” Cash looked over at Bailey, and his smile was so wide and unguarded and real, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll grab our stuff later.”
“Okay,” she nodded. They walked towards the front door, little Will talking a mile a minute about school, the pancakes he’d made earlier that day with his grandmother, the presents he thought he might get.
As they neared the house, Bailey felt herself falling behind Cash, her gaze lowered. Accepting his invitation was one thing, but now that she was actually here, it hit her how much an outsider she was. An intruder. Fuck. She almost certainly should’ve stayed home.
Cash stepped into the house and put his protesting nephew down so that he could greet the woman who’d opened the door. He pulled her into a huge bear hug, lifting her off her feet—along with the little boy in her arms, who squealed excitedly. Bailey stood awkwardly aside, taking in the hallway.
It was light and airy, decorated in warm neutral tones and covered in Christmas decorations, just like the front of the house. Mistletoe hung over every doorway she could see, and tinsel was wrapped around every inch of the bannisters, trailing up the long staircase.
“Bailey,” Cash said, capturing her attention again. “This is my sister, Monroe, and my other nephew, Charlie. Guys, this is my friend Bailey.”
“Hi,” Bailey said, trying her best to smile. She stepped forward, meaning to shake Monroe’s hand, but at the last minute she realised that the woman’s right arm was wrapped around her kid.
“Nice to meet you,” Monroe said, her voice warm. She gave Bailey a half-hug with her free arm, kissing her cheek. “This is momentous day! I had no idea my brother had friends.”
Bailey laughed, her unease melting away at the warmth in Monroe’s ocean eyes. The tall woman was solidly built, with plump, pink, freckled cheeks and ginger hair shoved up into a messy bun. “Friends might be overstating it. We’re more acquaintances, really.”
“I knew it,” Monroe chuckled. “Say hello, Charlie.”
“Hello,” the little boy said shyly. He was the spitting image of his brother, on a slightly smaller scale.
“Hi,” Bailey smiled. “I like your slippers.”
He looked down at the Thomas the Tank Engine footwear, a scowl on his face. “They’re old. Grandma didn’t get me new ones.”
“Oh dear,” Bailey murmured.
“Charlie! Don’t be so rude.” Monroe put the boy down with a huff, rolling her eyes. “He’s worn out. My mum’s had them doing all sorts. Anyway, come in, won’t you? Let’s get out of the hall.”
The boys ran off into one room together while Monroe led Bailey and Cash into another. They stepped into a large, warm kitchen, at the centre of which stood an island piled high with food. A plump little woman with a cloud of ginger hair was bent over a huge, turquoise Aga, muttering curse words to herself and stirring a large pot.
“Mum,” Monroe called. “Look who’s here.”
The woman turned, revealing a soft, weathered face creased with laugh lines and crow’s feet. She wore an apron printed with holly and her sleeves were rolled up past her pink elbows. A wide grin split her face, revealing a gold tooth just behind one canine, and her eyes glinted a familiar green as she rushed forward.
“Cash!” She cried, her arms outstretched.
“Alright, Mum.” He pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her up, and her little legs waved in the air. Then he set her down and she began smothering him with kisses, dragging his head down to her level with both hands.
“Look at your hair!” She cried. “You swore to me you’d get it cut for Christmas!”
“Forgot,” he mumbled. “New Year’s, yeah?”
“When will you shave this awful beard?”
“It’s not a beard, Mum.”
“I’ve no idea why you keep this scruff. You’ve a lovely chin, you have. You could be a model, you could! I don’t know why you hate your dimples so much.” Cash’s mother appeared to be slightly deaf. Her every utterance was at least ten decibels louder than necessary. But Bailey couldn’t bring herself to mind.
Then the older woman turned to Bailey, her gaze inquisitive. “And this is your friend!” She trilled. “How lovely! What a very pretty friend she is.” She pulled Bailey into a hug that smelled strongly of ginger and syrup and face powder. “I’m Karen. Now, please make yourself at home, sweetheart. I want you to be perfectly comfortable, I do. Oh, bugger.” She hurried back towards the Aga, where the pot she’d been stirring was threatening to bubble over.
“I’m making spaghetti!” She cried. “Your favourite, Cashew Nut!”
“Mum,” Cash sighed. “Could you please not—“
“Oh, yes! I’m sorry. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friend now do I?” She gave him a theatrical wink. “Is spag bol alright with you, Bailey darling? You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“Oh, no,” Bailey reassured her, still trying to hide her smirk at the nickname Cashew Nut. “Spaghetti sounds great.”
“Not gluten intolerant, are you?”
“Um, no.”
“Not on the Atkins?”
“No?”
“The 5:2?”
“Mum,” Cash interjected. “She’s not on any kind of special diet.”
“Oh, good! Good! I mean, I made spare food just in case. I wasn’t sure! Anyway, dinner won’t be long, but there’s snippets if you’re hungry, loves.” She waved vaguely at the island.
It was piled high with a buffet of food, from pigs in blankets on a hotplate to foil hedgehogs stabbed with pineapple and cheese cocktail sticks. Monroe leant at one end, munching on a cracker.
“We won’t be able to eat all this, Mum,” Cash laughed. “You must know that.”
“Rubbish,” Karen cried. “Nonsense! You’re a big strong boy! It’s Christmas! I got you some Terry’s Chocolate Oranges, Cash my love, they were on offer at Sainsbury’s. Do you like Chocolate Oranges, Bailey?”
“I do, Karen.” Bailey grinned, thoroughly enjoying herself. This was like something out of a film; like the kind of mother she’d dreamt of as a kid, someone soft and warm and silly and sensible all at the same time. Like Molly Weasley, or something. Only she felt disloyal for thinking such thoughts, as though her own mother hadn’t been good enough. She shook her head, pushed the pang of disquiet away.
“Excellent!” Karen was saying. “Wonderful! I was hoping you might, so I got plenty. I got After Eights as well, just in case you were a mint girl.”
“I’ll have any kind of chocolate,” Bailey admitted.
“Oh, don’t tell her that,” Monroe warned. “We’ll be rolling you out of this house by the time Christmas is over.”
“Cash,” Karen said suddenly. “What on earth are you still doing here, boy! Bugger off, will you? Go and see to your nephews. Or find George. He’s here somewhere on one of his bloody computers…”
“My brother-in-law,” Cash explained with a wry smile. “Will you be okay, if I…?”
“Be off with you!” Karen insisted. “We’re not going to eat her. We want some girly time, don’t we Bailey?”
“Um…”
“Don’t worry,” Monroe grinned. “I’ll rescue you if she gets carried away.”
Bailey gave Cash a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine,” she said softly. But he reached out and caught her hand in his, pulling her to him. Her heart leapt at the contact, and at the concern in his eyes.
“Are you sure?” He murmured, leaning over her. “I’ll stay if you want me to.”
“Honestly, it’s okay,” she told him. And it really was. She felt as though she’d fallen down the rabbit hole and ended up in the very best of wonderlands. And the way his big, warm hand felt in hers… That was something she could get used to.
Just like all of this.
“Alright,” he relented. He moved to leave, but then at the last moment he turned back and pressed a swift, light kiss to her forehead. She stood and watched him walk away, her heart threatening to float right out of her chest.
She had no idea what was going on with that man. But she was starting to like it.
She turned back to Karen and found the older woman giving her a knowing look, her cheeks plumped up into a smug smile. “You’ve softened up my boy,” she said, speaking at a normal volume for the first time.
Bailey felt herself blush. “Oh, no, I just—I work with him. I mean, he was kind enough to help me out when I… Well—”
“Never mind all that,” Karen said. “I know my little Cashew Nut. He’s a funny boy, and he doesn’t know where his own head’s at half the time. But I know.” She nodded wisely, waving the wooden spoon in her hand from side to side. “Oh, yes! A mother always knows!”
“Mum,” Monroe said, coming to join them at the Aga. “Leave Bailey alone. I’m sure she and Cash are just friends.”
Bailey sent the other woman a look of gratitude.
“I’m also sure that my brother would jump in front of a speeding train to protect your cat—do you have a cat, Bailey?”
“Um… No.”
“Your dog? Guinea pig? Goldfish? The house spider under your bed that you’ve grown strangely fond of?”
“Ah…”
“What I’m trying to say is, he’s smitten.” Monroe smirked. “I’d be concerned if it weren’t obvious that you are too.”
“Oh, Roe!” Karen cried, whacking her daughter’s backside with a tea towel. “You’re awful! You’re terrible! And you think I’m a problem! Leave the poor girl alone. Get her some wine!”
“You want some wine, you mean.”
“Behave yourself, child! You’re not too big to go over my knee, you know.”
Bailey might be utterly mortified, but that couldn’t stop her from laughing hysterically at the woman’s antics.
In fact, over the course of the night, she learned that laughter came easy in this house.