I'll Be Home for Christmas by Karen Clarke

Author:Karen Clarke [Clarke, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786818010
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2019-10-13T18:30:00+00:00

Sixteen

Fifteen minutes later, I was standing on the snow-covered beach, where the moon had lit a shimmering path of light across the sea. I’d decided to take the longer route to the café, partly to digest Ryan’s bombshell – and the meal – and to take some photos as the ones I’d taken before hadn’t come out well; the beautiful vista reduced to a murky black.

As if by mutual consent, we hadn’t returned to the subject of Nicole or the children –we’d finished eating, declined coffee and requested the bill, which, it turned out, Dolly had paid upfront – but my mind kept circling back, groping for clues. From the start, Charlie had held back from spilling the details about Ryan’s break-up and Dolly must have assumed I knew, which was why she kept trying to push us together.

I laughed softly to myself, even as I wondered what it meant – what difference it would make. That I could like him now?

‘What was happening with you and the waiter?’ I said, when Ryan caught up, heart quickening at the sight of him in his winter coat, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

‘He’d apparently read my book and had a copy he wanted me to sign.’

‘Get you, Mr Famous Author.’

‘He advised me to kill off the parrot, he doesn’t like birds.’

I laughed and Ryan joined in, our breath mingling on the cold air. ‘Everyone’s a critic,’ he said. ‘You have to develop a thick skin.’

My teeth were starting to chatter as the cold burrowed through my coat, and he fell into step beside me as we began walking back to the café. ‘I bet most people are impressed when you tell them you’re a writer.’

‘I still think my dad would have preferred me to become an architect, but I’ve compromised by making Grace’s dad one in The Midnight Hour.’

‘It’s good that you’re writing again.’

He hesitated, as though working out how to define ‘writing’. ‘I’ve had a few new ideas,’ he said cautiously.

‘Like what?’

I felt his eyes on me. ‘I’m not being rude, but I don’t like to talk about the story until the book’s finished.’

‘You’re not going to kill Grace off, though?’

His tone was apologetic. ‘Like I said…’

‘You don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I know it sounds pompous, but trying to explain the story tends to kill creativity,’ he said. ‘For me, anyway.’

‘You’re right, that does sound pompous,’ I joked.

‘You can punch me if you like.’

‘Didn’t I mention, I’m stronger than I look?’

‘You did,’ he said. ‘In that case have mercy, mademoiselle.’

His impression of the waiter at the restaurant made me giggle. ‘So, Gérard and Madame Bisset, eh?’ I decided to keep the conversation light.

He gave a low laugh, and there was a rustle of material as he dipped his hands in his coat pockets. ‘I couldn’t believe it when she appeared like a ghost in that sheet.’

‘I was more interested in your love affair with Delphine.’

‘I can’t help it if I’m irresistible to felines.’

‘Thanks for keeping Jacqueline chatting outside, by the way.

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