Chapter 26
M y stomach grumbled as I stood at the hob stirring the soup I’d opened for dinner.
But while my body wanted something more substantial, with Gideon’s digestive system still recovering from Richard’s spaghetti bolognaise and me having not long shut up the shop, I had neither the time nor the inclination to cook up two different dishes.
My chest felt light, as if warning me something was about to happen.
To calm my anxiety, I watched the spoon go round and round, all the while breathing in tandem with the circular motion.
I checked the clock. It wouldn’t be long before Gideon landed, and I wondered what he’d have to say for himself.
Gideon and I hadn’t properly talked since meeting at Copington Christmas Market.
After he’d explained Julia’s presence, we’d wandered around the stalls for a time.
However, unlike the couples around us who’d kept each other close, we remained feet apart.
Our conversation had been polite, but we were both as uncomfortable as each other.
Me, because I wasn’t sure I believed his reason for being there.
Gideon, because he wasn’t sure I believed him either.
He’d walked me back to the car park, and I hadn’t seen him since, apart from at Richard’s thank-you dinner, which wasn’t exactly heart-to-heart conducive.
Having missed the opportunity to learn from Joyce’s food vanishing masterclass, Gideon proved himself a real trooper.
When it came to clearing his huge plate of food, forkful after forkful went into his mouth and all under Richard’s watchful eye.
It was a spaghetti bolognaise that none of us would ever forget, and Erin, Joyce and I couldn’t help but admire Gideon’s stoicism.
I still hadn’t figured out Richard’s secret ingredients.
Thanks to Gideon’s subsequent tummy issues, I considered this a blessing.
I’d done a lot of thinking since then; questioning recent events until my brain hurt.
But with no proof to say Gideon was up to no good, or, indeed, that he wasn’t, I’d taken Erin’s advice about not making any decisions until I knew which course of action was right.
Much to my surprise, Gideon had clearly been reflecting too, and I was relieved when he phoned to say we needed to talk, and that he was coming round.
I recalled his tone. Serious and to the point, I wondered if he was about to call off our relationship.
Thanks to the way things were between us, I wouldn’t have blamed him.
I’d thought about doing the same thing. ‘Unless…’ Suddenly panicked, I remembered his last attempt at a heart-to-heart.
Dismissing my fears, I told myself I was being daft.
No way is Gideon about to get down on one knee. I chewed on my lip. Is he?
As I tried to picture what married life with Gideon might look like, an image of Alex appeared my head.
A man who made my heart race and mouth spout drivel every time I was near him.
Who smelled delicious and made my body tingle from the most innocent of touches.
A guy who saw me in a way no other man had before.
Being around Alex was thrilling. He tempted me to cross boundaries I’d never dreamed of crossing. He wasn’t safe or staid like Gideon.
To hell with safe and staid, Gran said.
I looked up to the heavens. ‘Easy for you to say.’ I frowned, as I pictured Alex the night of that office Christmas party.
Throwing his cocktail shaker in the air, he appeared to revel in the female attention he received.
I sighed. ‘Men like him don’t just turn women’s heads, Gran, they break hearts. ’
Alex isn’t like that. He’s different.
I rolled my eyes, aware that she couldn’t know that. ‘Gideon helped me through my grief.’
If he’s such a support, where was he the other night after the hospital? Gran asked. And what about Julia? Is he helping her too?
Done talking about it, I turned off the hob.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, I checked the time again. I’d left the back door open for him, so it had to be Gideon on his way up. I steeled myself in readiness of our much-needed conversation.
‘Something smells good,’ he said, as he entered.
I considered the empty soup tin in the bin, knowing Gideon wouldn’t be quite so complimentary if he saw it. ‘Just in time,’ I said, indicating the pan.
Gideon took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a dining chair. He loosened his tie and while I grabbed a serving ladle, he reached into the cupboard for a couple of bowls.
‘Nice to know your tummy’s almost better,’ I said.
Gideon tapped a box that protruded from his shirt chest pocket. ‘Imodium. My new best friend.’
I spooned our dinner into the bowls, and while he carried them over to the table, I got the butter from the fridge and bread from the bread bin.
‘Busy day?’ Gideon asked as we took our seats.
‘Very,’ I replied. ‘You?’
‘The same.’
Our continued politeness was both understandable and uncomfortable.
My hand tightened around my spoon. I wanted Gideon to tell me about some exchange he’d had with a client or some difficult accounting arithmetic he’d had to tackle.
I wanted to tell him about the customers who’d visited the shop and talk about my latest wool craft project.
Instead, we both ate in silence. As the air grew thick with tension, I struggled to swallow, and my appetite waned, so I put my spoon down altogether.
It was a quiet I didn’t know how to break.
Finally, Gideon finished eating and pushed his empty bowl to one side. Resting his arms on the table, he regarded me. ‘I’ve been thinking.’
My pulse quickened. The last time Gideon had spoken like that he’d been about to propose.
Hoping he wasn’t about to try again, I rose and gathering items off the table, carried them over to the sink.
‘What about?’ I closed my eyes, dreading his next words.
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Gideon, but our relationship wasn’t stable enough for marriage, something that deep down he had to know too.
‘Christmas.’
My brain hit pause, and I spun round. I’d been so busy flitting from one extreme to the other, in a case of break-up versus marriage, I hadn’t thought to consider anything in between. ‘Oh.’ Relief swept over me. ‘Okay.’
Gideon clasped his hands. ‘Well, we haven’t really talked about it. Nothing’s been planned.’
I took in his earnestness. Spending time together over the holidays would certainly give us the chance to work through our issues and if all went well, maybe we’d have some fun for a change. The fact that Gideon had thought along those lines made me almost giddy.
Glad to be focusing on something positive, I scrambled in a drawer for a pen and grabbing a notepad, retook my seat at the table.
It felt good to know the Christmas I’d been hoping for might come to fruition and taking a deep breath, I let out a satisfied sigh.
‘I suppose we should start with deciding what we want for dinner.’
Gideon wrinkled his nose and pulled on his ear.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not a complete idiot in the kitchen.
I just need to be methodical when it comes to the prep work.
’ Flipping open the notepad, I wrote the word ‘dinner’ and underscored it.
‘Plus, I’ve helped Gran enough times over the years to know what’s involved and I’m sure you did the same with Serena.
’ I smiled. ‘Between us we’ll do a great job. ’
I envisaged us both singing along to Christmas songs as we peeled, diced and sliced.
‘I’m thinking carrots, parsnips, potatoes…
feel free to jump in with your suggestions.
’ My smile tightened as I pictured a pink featherless bird sat waiting to be freed of its giblets.
I looked to Gideon. ‘Are you okay dealing with the turkey?’
‘I was thinking about maybe spending it at my parents’ house.’
I paused in my writing. That was the last thing I expected to hear. ‘Why?’ The previous year’s festive experience wasn’t one I wanted to repeat, and my heart sank at the mere prospect.
‘Because it will do us good.’
Gideon looked at me as if waiting for me to respond, but staring back at him, I didn’t know what to say.
‘Things between us haven’t been right recently and being around family might help put things into perspective.’
Despite wishing I didn’t, I appreciated Gideon’s reasoning.
Gran being dead hadn’t stopped me turning to her during difficult times and while our conversations might be a trick of the mind, talking things through helped.
I fiddled with the corner of the notepad, insisting I should be pleased.
Gideon viewing his parents as a source of support for both of us meant he hadn’t shut me out or given up on our relationship.
But theirs was a house I couldn’t fully relax in, let alone be myself.
On the very few occasions I’d met Gideon’s parents, even on neutral territory, I’d felt judged.
They regarded me with a mix of disdain and suspicion.
As if I wasn’t smart or stylish enough to join their ranks.
They treated me like I was some country bumpkin, not a second-generation business owner.
‘No problem,’ I said, pushing my worries aside.
Gideon jerked his head. ‘Really? That’s all you have to say?’
I shrugged. ‘What else is there?’
Gideon looked at me bemused. ‘I expected at least some resistance.’
‘If it’s important to you, then that’s all there is to it.’
‘Wow.’ Gideon shook off his surprise. ‘Thank you.’
I flipped the notebook shut and placed the discarded pen on top of it. ‘Are you talking about going for just the day? Or is the plan to stay longer?’
‘I think travelling up Christmas Eve would be better. As would taking the train. The last train, in fact. That way Mum and Dad can’t insist I do any of the running around if they’ve forgotten something.’
As selfish as that sounded, I sort of agreed. Should Gideon pick up the wrong brand of cranberry sauce, knowing Serena, the blame would inevitably fall on me.
‘I can make that work. I was staying open until 5pm anyway. Just make your way over here once you’re done and we can go from Settledown station.’
Gideon frowned.
‘Don’t worry. You don’t have to cut your afternoon short.
Take as long as you like. I’m just thinking while you’re organising your end, I can be getting my stuff together.
And we’ll no doubt want snacks for the journey, which I’ll sort out at the same time.
A few sandwiches and a bit of a salad should be enough, don’t you think? ’
Gideon opened his mouth to speak, but knowing from experience what was coming, I jumped in before he got the chance. ‘No, Gideon, your mum can’t simply throw something in the oven for us when we land. It’s her Christmas Eve too and the last thing she’ll want is to be stuck in the kitchen.’
‘But…’
Having conceded enough already, I gave him a stern look. ‘No buts. We’re more than capable of feeding ourselves.’