Chapter 7
‘Started the celebrations without your drinking pal, I see,’ said Marcus, pointing at the empty bottle of bourbon.
Jake rubbed his tired eyes and then his chin, feeling two days’ worth of stubble. The room smelled like a brewery. He followed Marcus’s gaze to the empty bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and decided it was himself that smelled like a brewery. He eyed Marcus, who sat, fresh-faced and in pressed casual clothes, on the chaise longue.
‘What time is it?’ said Jake, struggling to sit up under the weight of his hangover. He was all too aware that he had a busy morning ahead of him. William insisted on maintaining Christmas as a simple family affair, which sounded cosy, but which in reality meant no hired help of any kind. A simple family affair, much to Grace’s chagrin, meant they all mucked in and did their bit towards the big day so that just once a year they were reminded of what was truly important – not the business, not the money, but family.
‘A little after nine,’ answered Marcus, looking alert and ready for Christmas Day. Jake knew he’d flown into Aberdeen that morning by private jet, chartered from a company that flew VIPs. The trip would have included a private chauffer to drive him to The Lake House.
In hindsight, Jake wished he had joined Marcus instead of doing the long, drawn-out journey by road the previous day. Then he probably wouldn’t have ended up drinking way too much bourbon and falling asleep, exhausted, on the couch.
‘Did you and Ellie have an argument last night?’
The mention of Eleanor prompted Jake to ask, ‘Where is she?’ as he threw off a blanket that someone had draped over him.
Marcus fell silent. He leaned forward. ‘Everything alright between you two?’ he said, lowering his voice.
‘Of course, why wouldn’t it be?’ said Jake, annoyed by the question but avoiding eye contact. He wondered why Eleanor hadn’t woken him up on her return. He was thinking that for someone who didn’t like shopping, she had been out an awful long time the previous night. ‘What time do shops stay open in Aviemore on Christmas Eve, anyway?’ he said, thinking aloud.
‘Pretty late, I guess.’
‘I’m going to take a shower.’ Jake swung his legs off the sofa, but a sharp pain ripping through his forehead stopped him in his tracks. He sat very still, massaging his temples with his fingertips.
‘Bad one, is it?’
Jake nodded slowly.
‘Well, you’d better get over it by this afternoon.’
Jake looked up. ‘Why, what’s happening this afternoon?’
‘Are we suffering from memory loss with our hangover this morning?’
‘Oh right.’ How could he forget? Easily, with Eleanor and the baby and work …
‘Don’t tell me you’re not coming either?’ Marcus fell back in his chair. ‘It’s bad enough that I’ve got to think up something to get Ellie to change her mind.’
Jake stopped massaging his temples. ‘Ellie said she’s not going?’
‘Yeah.’
Jake was relieved to hear it. ‘Look, if she’s said she’s not going, then let’s leave it, shall we?’
‘What?’ said Marcus, clearly taken aback. ‘It’s practically tradition: she says she’s not coming. We harangue her for most of Christmas lunch. And then she relents. Touché!’
Jake looked at Marcus quizzically, thinking that someone really ought to tell him nobody used the word touché anymore.
‘I’m going to think up something rather good this year,’ Marcus mused, ‘because she seems to have really made up her mind this time. So I could do with your …’
‘She’s not going skiing after Christmas dinner this year, and that’s all there is to it,’ said Jake with an edge to his voice and finality in his tone that he had little doubt would take Marcus by surprise. He certainly looked surprised when Jake glanced up at him.
‘We’ll see about that,’ said Marcus, rubbing his hands.
There was no mistaking that look on his face; Jake knew him too well. The self-satisfied smirk said he’d already thought of something that he believed would change Eleanor’s mind.
‘I’d like to see you try,’ said Jake, ‘because I know for a fact she’ll not go this year.’
‘How do you know that?’ Marcus folded his arms and stared fixedly at Jake.
‘Because she’s—’ Jake slapped a hand over his mouth. My god! I nearly said it, in passing, just sitting here with Marcus having a conversation.
‘She’s what ?’ Marcus unfolded his arms and leaned forward.
‘She’s … she’s made up her mind, that’s all,’ said Jake, trying to sound casual, trying to make it sound as though it was no big deal.
‘And since when did Ellie develop this iron will?’ Marcus stared knowingly at Jake.
His sister had always folded, given in, as a child; adulthood had done little to change this. Whenever yet another charitable organisation called on her time, she couldn’t turn them down, even though she knew there were only so many hours in the day. She never stood up for herself. It seemed to Jake that there wasn’t a single thing about her life that she could call her own – certainly not her time.
They sat in silence for a moment, Jake somewhat surprised that Marcus had let the matter drop.
‘Come on, Jake. It won’t be the same if the three of us don’t go.’
Jake sighed heavily.
‘Besides, why does this year have to be any different?’
‘Because we’re not kids anymore, Marcus. If you’re going to try and persuade her, you can count me out. You’re wasting your time.’ There was no way she’d go skiing in her condition; she wasn’t the strongest skier in the world anyway, and she knew it. That was why there was always fun and games at the dinner table as they tried to cajole her into joining them. But unbeknown to Marcus, this year things were different.
Jake leaned down and picked up his shoes. He really needed a shower and he really needed to open a window.
‘There’s something going on between you two,’ Marcus probed, ‘isn’t there?’
Jake put his shoes on and kept his face expressionless; he didn’t want to give the game away. Marcus – his best mate, his best man, his brother-in-law. There were no secrets between them, never had been. Until now.
Jake walked out of the room, smiling. He couldn’t wait to tell Marcus their secret. It would make him an uncle. He would be thrilled. At least Jake hoped he would.
‘How long have you been sleeping on the couch?’ Marcus called after him.
Jake’s smile dropped. Why hadn’t she woken him on her return? Was she mad at him for working so late on Christmas Eve and missing the train? Was she still mad at him for refusing to change their holiday plans and stay in London like she wanted?
Or was it something else?
It was the something else scenario that bothered Jake. It was so unlike Eleanor, so out of character for her to stay mad for long, and especially at this time of year. Oh, how she loved Christmas at the old house in Scotland.
And what the hell had she been shopping for?
She didn’t do much shopping at Christmas, at least not for family gifts. That was what she so loved about Christmas; it gave her a reason to use her creative side. Eleanor always made the most creative and imaginative presents. Jake knew he was biased, but he thought it was true, nonetheless. It certainly made Christmas interesting, because whatever they got, it couldn’t be found in a shop. It couldn’t be bought, which made each gift priceless.
The thought of this cheered Jake up somewhat as he trudged up the stairs towards the family bathroom.
‘Ah, Jake. Marcus did wake you up – good, good.’ William was walking down the stairs towards him.
They both stopped halfway.
‘You look a little worse for wear this morning,’ observed William, looking him over.
‘Bit too much bourbon last night, I’m afraid.’
‘That and a combination of too much work. You, my son, are taking a vacation.’ He poked Jake playfully in the ribs.
‘That’s what I’m here for.’
William shook his head. ‘Nope. I don’t mean here. Straight after Christmas you’re taking my daughter, just the two of you, on a holiday. Understood?’
‘Yessir,’ Jake wasn’t about to argue with that, although he’d much rather just spend it there in Scotland. However, although The Lake House was a large property, spacious enough to find a spare room and sit undisturbed for hours, it still wasn’t the same as taking a holiday, just him and his wife, together.
That guilty feeling crept up on him again, that he hadn’t bowed to Eleanor’s wishes and spent Christmas together with her, just the two of them.
‘Good, because I think the company is seeing more of you than she is, from what I hear.’
Jake blushed at the thought of Eleanor discussing him with her father, of all people – a man he admired, a man whose expectations he continually strived to live up to. He stared at William, trying to discern from his bright blue eyes whether she had told him the good news.
‘Besides, I think you’re not the only one who could do with a holiday,’ said William. ‘She’s been looking a little peaky. Must be the weather.’
Jake watched William walk down the stairs and decided that she hadn’t told him yet.
At the bottom of the stairs, William turned abruptly. ‘Well, don’t dawdle. Have you forgotten we’ve got a dinner to prepare?’
Jake turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time, despite his headache. The thought of actually spending some time in the kitchen cooking was just as enticing as the thought of a holiday. He showered in double-quick time, feeling a pang of excitement that he had rarely felt since childhood; it certainly seemed to be a rarity for him nowadays. That was why he always loved the Christmas holidays spent in Scotland. It was his escape, albeit briefly, back to his childhood – just the small family unit gathering together and celebrating like every other ordinary family in the country; and like it had on many other occasions too, before William got seriously rich and the company monolithic.
Jake sighed. It was times like these that he contemplated how his life might have turned out if he hadn’t grown up in this house. He towelled himself dry, thinking how insane he was to even question his good fortune. He had a loving family, a terrific wife, more money than he could spend in several lifetimes – what more could he possibly want?
Two days earlier, he had been able to answer that question in a heartbeat – he wanted a child, he wanted to be a father. But now he was even going to have that. So why was he still asking himself that same question that had plagued him for some time – what if? What if, when his parents died, and he’d been left a young orphan, William Ross hadn’t taken him under their wing?
Jake opened the medicine chest on the wall and popped a couple of paracetamol tablets to ease the headache – and hopefully improve his mood as well. He felt so ungrateful; a perception not helped by his refusal to spend the holiday in London. It was little wonder Eleanor had avoided him since his arrival. He hoped that today, Christmas Day, would see a huge improvement on both scores.
Jake stepped out of the bathroom, and saw their bedroom door ajar across the hall. He stood in the doorway, slowly pushing the door wide, and looked into the room at the king-size comfy bed with the Egyptian cotton sheets. He should have been sleeping here with his wife last night, under the cosy duvet, and enjoying breakfast in bed together, if that’s what she wanted.
He had thought he might find her still in bed, having a lie-in. Instead the bed was made up, scatter cushions depicting snowy winter scenes, neatly arranged on top of the duvet, along with a carefully folded throw in Christmas red, green and gold which Jake remembered he and Eleanor had received as a Christmas gift a year or so ago.
As he stared into the room, he still felt a sense of unease about his wife’s behaviour since finding out she was pregnant. Was it all because he had not agreed to spend Christmas together in London, just the two of them?
He stepped foot into the room, and walked over to the frosted window, gazing out at the rugged peaks of the snow-covered Cairngorm mountain range in the distance. Soft snowflakes drifted down to the garden below. He opened the window and put his hand outside to catch the flakes, mesmerised for a moment by the beauty and stillness of the garden, and the vast silent landscape beyond.
Jolted out of his reverie by his name being called, he shut the window and hurried down the stairs to join William in the kitchen.