Chapter Twenty-Two

Christmas Day, Early Morning

It was still dark, but Lori’s inner alarm clock told her it was morning. She lay on her back, staring up at the beamed roof of the barn above and wiggling her toes under the duvet. She was thirty-one years old but Christmas morning still had that magical breathless quality. Gratitude to Lark, for the gift of her daughter for the holidays, washed over her. And to Paulie for the gift of the barn.

Cautiously she raised herself on one elbow, looking over to the other twin bed against the wall. Amazingly, considering what morning it was, Misty was still sleeping. A head popped up though, and a pair of pale eyes gave her a long stare. Griff was awake. Lori put her finger to her lips and flopped back onto the pillow, frowning slightly. The first hint of daylight was creeping around the edge of the curtains and there was something about the quality of the light …

With a muffled exclamation Lori slid out of bed and over to the window, pushing aside the corner of the curtain. It was getting light.

And at some time during the night, the whole world had turned white.

‘Is it Christmas? Did he come?’ The small sleepy voice from behind her made her turn. Misty was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Griff jumped off the bed, stretched, paws extended, and stalked over.

‘We’ll have to go downstairs and find out.’ Lori pulled the curtain back a bit further. ‘But there’s another surprise. Look.’

Misty rolled out of bed and scampered to the window. ‘It snowed!’ She looked up at Lori with wide round eyes.

‘It sure did, kiddo.’

Together the three of them stood and watched as light filtered over the pristine alien landscape. Lori let out a long slow breath. She might be mistaken, but she had a feeling that their unexpected guest would not, after all, be leaving today. Misty, having looked for long enough, was pulling on her aunt’s hand. ‘Can we go down now?’

‘Get your dressing gown then. And your slippers.’ Lori reached for her own robe, draped at the end of the bed. Her alarm clock said it was just on the hour. On impulse she flipped the button on the radio.

‘… overnight a freak weather front left large areas of South and Mid Wales experiencing heavy snow falls and blizzard conditions, with extensive drifting in places. Police are asking people not to travel unless absolutely necessary, as work continues to free motorists trapped in their cars overnight. At the Heads of the Valleys—’

Lori flipped the radio off again. Misty was darting around, flapping her dressing gown like wings. ‘Freaky, freaky, freaky!’

Lori shrugged into her own robe, grabbed her niece, got her arms into her sleeves and did her belt up. ‘Right, madam. Slippers?’

Grinning, Misty retrieved them from under the bed and put them on. Griff was already standing by the door, waiting to go. Lori wriggled her shoulders – normally the barn felt slightly chilly in the morning, but today it was warm. And there was a familiar scent in the air …

They processed down the stairs, Griff in the lead and Lori bringing up the rear. Drew was standing at the window nursing a mug of coffee. The snow seemed to be several feet up the glass. He turned at the sound of the footsteps, raising the mug. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

Lori was unsure whether she did or not, but Misty had spotted her stocking and the presents under the tree and was tripping excitedly down the stairs and Griff was making his morning ‘going out’ and ‘breakfast’ noises and the room was warm.

‘I sorted out the wood burner too.’ Drew was looking up at her doubtfully.

It’s Christmas. Go with it.

‘Thank you.’ She nodded. ‘Happy Christmas.’

‘And to you,’ he responded solemnly. They stood for a moment, a little awkwardly, she on the stairs, Drew beside the window.

Misty broke the spell, reaching the bottom stair and skittering across the floor, homing in on the empty plate and glass and the bulging stocking.

‘He came. He came. Father Christmas came!’ Misty bounced up and down with excitement, reaching for the stocking. She’d just got it into a firm grip when Griff let out a demanding yowl. The stocking was immediately discarded to meet the needs of her darling. ‘He wants to go out.’

Lori completed her descent of the stairs. ‘I’m not sure he’s going to be too impressed with what’s out there.’ She cast a doubtful look at the height of the snow outside the French doors.

‘I think that’s drifted,’ Drew suggested quietly.

Lori nodded. ‘Let’s go and see what the back door is like. Don’t open it, Misty,’ she warned as her niece darted ahead. ‘The alarm’s on.’ She met Drew’s dark look of acknowledgement as Griff stalked past them to mew plaintively beside the door. ‘How do you feel this morning?’

‘Much better.’ He half turned to take in the snow piled against the windows behind them. ‘Wasn’t expecting this.’

‘Neither was the weatherman. We’ll talk about it later.’

From Griff’s point of view, at least, the situation at the back of the barn, once they got the door open, was better. The vagarities of the wind and the protection of the outbuildings had left only a powdering of snow closest to the house, with patches of dark earth showing. Beyond that, the whole world seemed to be unbroken white.

And from the look of the low and lowering sky, there was more to come. Leaving a disgruntled Griff to his privacy they trooped back into the main room. Lori fell on the coffee pot and poured Misty some juice and they set to unwrapping presents.

Once Misty had extracted the contents of the overstuffed stocking, down to the tangerine, shiny pennies and sugar mouse in the toe – Lori had been rather pleased at finding the mouse on a sweet stall in the market at Abergavenny – and had been dissuaded from starting straight away on the peppermint candy canes, Lori decreed a pause for a proper breakfast before they tackled the presents under the tree.

‘You must be starving.’ Drew had followed her over to the breakfast island, leaving Misty to show off a new pair of novelty socks to Griff, who had returned from the snow and was contently full of his breakfast. Lori cracked eggs to scramble and slid a tray of rolls in the oven to warm.

‘Just a bit.’ He caught her eye and laughed. It sounded rusty, but it was a good sound. His voice had a husky edge. Is it always like that, or is it the effect of a few days shut in a hut in a Welsh wood? She flipped the eggs into the pan and stirred, taking stock of him. Clean, dressed in Paulie’s clothes and with a night’s sleep, he looked a great deal better, even if the heavy stubble, which she suspected may be hiding a few bruises, did make him look like an off-duty buccaneer. A sexy buccaneer.

The shock of the thought jolted her back to the job in hand, shaking the eggs so that they wouldn’t stick. ‘I should have said, there’s cereal in the cupboard and the milk is through there. On the windowsill.’

‘It’s cool. I can wait.’ He nodded to the eggs. ‘They smell exceptionally good.’ He was looking around the kitchen. ‘You don’t have power …’

‘Generator.’ She shrugged, bending to check the rolls weren’t scorching.

‘You want me to take a look?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not a problem.’

‘You’re not cooking a turkey, or anything?’

‘Nope. Christmas dinner is wicked witch’s pasta.’ She grinned at his confused expression. ‘I hope you’re not allergic to shellfish.’

‘I don’t think so.’ He was looking past her to the kitchen window. ‘It’s started to snow again. Looks like I’ll be staying a little while longer. And breaking a promise.’

‘That’s not a problem either.’ Surprisingly it wasn’t. ‘Can’t leave in this. The radio had weather warnings.’ She looked over her shoulder at the swirling white outside the window. ‘Apparently some freak weather system.’ She turned to reach for a plate to dish up the eggs. ‘These are ready.’

They devoured eggs and warm rolls, with Paulie’s grandmother’s hedgerow jam, and satsumas from the large bag Lori had found marked down in the local shop on Christmas Eve morning. Was that only yesterday?

Drew had a bowl of cereal for dessert.

Then it was time for the serious big box presents. Lori sat on the floor, at Misty’s level, not sure if she was surprised when Drew slid down to join them, but at a slight distance. A watcher, not a participant. Misty seemed to have accepted his presence without question. Well, she lives a life peopled with strangers …

It took nearly an hour to disgorge the content of various boxes and parcels, with pauses to allow Griff to kill his share of the wrappings. He was suitably pleased with a gift of a catnip mouse and a bag of his favourite feline treats. Lori was suitably surprised with the unexpectedly well-wrapped present Misty proffered, which proved to contain a pair of sparkly earrings that Lori had loudly admired at a pop-up jewellery stall in the market, before being conveniently engrossed with a display of local cheeses on the next stall.

‘The lady put it in pretty paper for me,’ Misty confided. ‘And counted up the right money.’

Lori stuck the silver hooks into her ears and tossed her head, making the jewelled stars flash and glitter. ‘Just the thing for Christmas morning.’

‘What all the best-dressed people wear to accessorise their dressing gowns,’ Drew offered, admiring the sparkle.

Lori pulled the belt of the robe a little tighter, hoping her face wasn’t going pink

‘Of course they do.’

She was perfectly respectable in warm brushed cotton and stout terry towelling, but she was sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite a virtual stranger. A very attractive virtual stranger. To give Drew credit, his consternation was visible on his face. He shot her an alarmed glance. Relaxing, she shook her head at him. ‘Now, what’s in that big box over there?’

The wrapping paper pile had reached mountainous proportions and all the boxes were empty, their contents strewn on the floor and furniture. Lark’s presents for her daughter had been a selection of new clothes, with conspicuous designer labels, in tastefully sludgy colours, that barely got a glance from Misty, and a complicated looking fairy castle, which Misty greeted with delight, then pushed aside when she found it had to be assembled. The presents that were the biggest hits proved to be Lori’s own and the one from Misty’s father – a very grown-up looking box of paints and a handful of colouring books featuring animals, which showed that Dan was in touch with his small daughter’s world, even if he was rarely able to see her. Lori had been a little worried that her own present was too young for a mega sophisticated four-year-old, but Misty had been delighted with the battery operated puppy; a furry bundle with a selection of coloured collars and leads and his own brush, food and water bowls. Lori had made sure that the dog was ready to go straight out of the box and Misty was delightedly towing it around the floor as it yapped realistically.

‘She loves animals.’ Drew was watching Misty’s antics as she tried to introduce the so-far unnamed puppy to a wary Griff.

‘Crazy about them. I know she’d love a real puppy.’

Drew slanted her a questioning look. ‘Wouldn’t Griff approve … or her father?’

‘Not an issue for either of them, but her mother would throw a fit.’

Now he was staring at her, clearly confused. Abruptly the penny dropped. ‘Misty isn’t mine. She’s my niece, not my daughter. I’m just … looking after her for the holidays.’

‘Ahh.’ He frowned, clearly putting information together. ‘So … Mummy and Daddy …’ He nodded towards the paint box. ‘Not together any more?’

‘Divorced. And my sister travels a lot … for work.’ Lori began to gather and fold discarded wrapping paper. She didn’t talk about Lark or Dan, if she could help it. Drew was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the sofa, knees drawn up in front of him. He seemed to be studying the paint stains on Paulie’s cargo pants. ‘And your … partner?’

‘There isn’t one. The clothes belonged to a friend,’ Lori explained, then bit her lip. Hmmm – Might have been a better move to let him think there was a brawny rugby player in the frame, seeing as you appear to be snowed in with a man you know virtually nothing about. Except that he seems to have at least one potentially homicidal enemy?

He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were glazed over, turned inwards to something inside his head. She stopped smoothing down a piece of paper covered with red-nosed reindeer. It must be weird to be violently dropped into someone else’s Christmas. And I haven’t even asked …

‘I know you said last night that you didn’t want to contact anyone, but is there someone you should be phoning? The landline is off, but my mobile was working late last night.’ She made a face. ‘Possibly down to the weather, there’s not usually a signal out here.’

He shook his head. ‘No-one. I’ve been finishing a book, so Christmas kind of crept up on me. I usually go away, somewhere remote. With no phone.’ Suddenly he grinned. Lori’s stomach did a loop de loop that she was totally unprepared for.

‘Err …’ She scrabbled to regain her cool. ‘Like the Brecon Beacons, in a snowstorm?’

He nodded slowly. ‘Somewhere like that.’ He hitched himself to his feet and she noticed a slight wince. ‘More coffee?’ He put out a hand for her mug. ‘I’ll get it, if you want.’

‘Er … no. I’m fine …but … um … do you do washing-up?’

‘I can be trusted with the plates, yes.’

She looked out at the swirling snow. ‘In that case, you can stay.’

He laughed. Low and deep and with that hint of huskiness. It trickled over her skin like warm chocolate.

What?