Chapter Twenty-One
Christmas Eve
Mel is quiet in the car as Finn weaves through the Cairngorms, following Mark in his impressive Land Rover.
Snow dusts the tops of the pine trees, and frost lingers in places under the pale winter sunlight, even though it’s late morning.
After the call with Lillian yesterday, everyone had come home from the Christmas market, and Mel had helped Susan and Freya to make homemade mince pies, while Kristen and Dylan had attempted to cook dinner in what remained of the kitchen.
After Freya went to bed, Hattie insisted they all watch Love Actually —which Mark and Finn had bailed on.
Finn had been asleep by the time Mel got upstairs, and the upshot was that they haven’t spoken about what happened—or almost did—at the cottage yesterday.
She glances at him. He notices, offers her half a smile, but doesn’t say anything.
It doesn’t feel awkward, exactly, but Mel’s insides jump a little as she looks back out of the window.
She should be thinking about Lillian. She thinks the call went well—but how can she be sure?
Lillian seemed to like the designs, but she could have just been saying that.
The agent clearly had wanted to wrap things up sooner rather than later—but was that because it was Christmas, and she wanted to go home, or because she didn’t think Mel was worth Lillian’s time?
Mel wants Lillian to come on board. At least, she thinks she does.
Having a celebrity partner would be an amazing coup, even if it did mean a lot more work.
She’d have to hire an extra designer, that’s for sure—and the additional business it’d drum up would mean longer hours, and even less time to worry about the actual jewelry-making side of things. But it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?
So, yes, she should be thinking about all that. But, instead, her mind keeps going back to Finn. Her body keeps remembering the feel of his hands on her sides, and every time she closes her eyes it’s like she’s right back on top of him, on that couch.
We shouldn’t do this.
She doesn’t know why that, above everything, should sting. He’s right. They shouldn’t go there. Probably. Not when she’s supposed to be breaking up with him—fake breaking up with him—in two days’ time.
But also…
Not because I stopped loving you.
Maybe, Mel, I just can’t fucking help myself when I’m around you.
“Think this is it,” Finn says, and the sound of his voice makes her jump.
She blinks, taking in their surroundings. They are parked next to Mark’s car. They’re somewhere up high, surrounded by trees and overlooking a loch. And there, on their right, is the activity Susan must be leading them to: an ice rink, out in the open air, with a beautiful view of the loch.
Mel gets out of the car in time to hear Hattie say, “Brilliant! I’m pretty sure I’m fantastic at ice-skating.”
Dylan gives her a side-eyed look. “You’re pretty sure?”
“Well, I’ve only been once. We went when we were little, didn’t we, Mum?”
“Yes, your dad took you,” Susan says, and, though Susan’s voice is bright, Mel swears the temperature drops a little as Hattie looks, very determinedly, away from her mum and toward the ice rink.
“What do you reckon?” Finn asks, coming around from the driver’s side to stand next to her.
“You going to be a natural at ice-skating, just like skiing?” He shoves his hands into his pockets as he speaks and okay, yes, it is bloody cold—but is it her, or is he also being extra careful not to touch her?
Not because I stopped loving you.
“As long as I’m better than you, that’s all I care about.” She tries for a light, jokey tone, but her voice sounds rusty. What is that about? He grins anyway, maybe remembering, like her, how she’d been annoyed that he was good at skiing while she, apparently, was not.
“We won’t just be skating,” Susan says, beaming. “We’re going to have a curling lesson!”
Mark frowns as Freya pulls on his hand, bouncing up and down to try to get him to do something. “Curling?”
Dylan scratches his head. “Isn’t that the thing where they sweep the ice?”
“Mummmm,” Freya says, moving on to swing on Kristen’s hand. “I’m cold.”
“I know, love. So am I.”
“We’ll warm up quickly,” Susan promises Freya. “Curling is hard work. It’ll get us all nice and toasty. And it’s a medieval Scottish tradition,” she adds proudly.
“Don’t tell me we have to dress up in medieval attire too.” Hattie taps her forefinger against her mouth thoughtfully. “Actually, wait, do tell me that. It sounds like fun.”
Hattie moves to link her arm through Susan’s and they all head toward the outdoor ice rink and into the reception area, which smells of a mixture of sawdust and socks.
They are greeted by a rather muscly man, his coat seeming to strain at the seams, who looks them up and down as a line, then nods, as if he is doing some kind of assessment.
He reels off their shoe sizes to the girl behind reception—who has to be no older than eighteen—and manages to get everyone’s right without asking them, with the exception of Dylan, who he sizes one size too small.
“Well, you know what they say about small feet…” Hattie says, raising her eyebrows.
He shakes his head. “You know for a fact that’s not true.” He immediately flushes, like he’s only just realized who he’s standing near. Finn catches Mel’s eye, and she can’t help the lip twitch.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Susan says, while Freya asks, “What do they say about small feet?”
“Nothing, sweetie,” Kristen says as Freya looks suspiciously between Dylan and Hattie.
Luckily, Mr. Muscle claps his hands, and they all sit down on the benches to switch their shoes for their skates, drawing Freya’s attention away.
“Right, then,” he says in a heavy Scottish accent. “I’m Mike and I’ll be your curling instructor today. Can I just ask, have any of yeh ever curled before?” Resounding silence from all of them. “An’ what about skating—would yeh say you’re beginners or experienced?”
“Well, I—” Hattie begins, but Susan silences her with a look.
“Beginners,” Susan says firmly. “Definitely beginners.”
“Aye, then.” Muscle Mike shows a flicker of disappointment at that, but carries on. What was he expecting, Mel wonders? A ready-made curling team? “Well, you’ll need t’ be in teams.”
“I’ll go with Mel,” Hattie announces immediately, and Mel glances at her.
“Ah, sure.” Though she has a feeling she’s being dragged into the middle of something here.
“No, you’ll go with me,” Dylan says firmly. Probably as firm as Mel has ever heard him. “We are a team.” He leaves no room for argument there, and Mel thinks, from the various looks he gets, that she is not the only one guessing he doesn’t just mean here and now.
“I should have said—teams of four,” Muscle Mike says, not seeming bothered by the family drama unfolding in front of him.
“Perfect,” Finn says. “Looks like we’re a team, then.”
And Mel, apparently, has no say in the matter.
“Are you ready to do some sweeping, Freya?” Susan asks, winking at her.
“Sweeping?” Freya’s voice is suspicious.
Muscle Mike clears his throat. “Aye, though before we get t’ that part, if I could just explain the rules…
” He proceeds to tell them about stones—eight of them, apparently—and various roles within the team, including a “second,” which Mel thinks sounds ominous, but in all honesty after the five-minute speech she has to admit that she’s totally lost. And, judging by the nods along the benches, Mel knows it’s not just her.
“Right,” Hattie says when no one else speaks. “Got it. Stones and sweeping and…” She gestures in the air. “Stuff.” Muscle Mike gives her a narrow-eyed look—clearly curling is nothing to joke about—but Hattie just offers him a winning smile.
As they all head out onto the ice, Mel moves over next to Kristen, feeling incredibly ungainly, and gently takes her elbow, pulling her to one side, while Mark carries Freya out to the rink.
Kristen looks at Mel in question, and Mel bites her lip. “Are you definitely sure you should be, you know…?”
Kristen rolls her eyes, then glances at the others, who are all making their way on to the rink. “I’m pregnant,” she whispers. “Not an invalid.”
Mel wrinkles her nose—she doesn’t actually know what the rules are.
No hot tubs, she’s pretty sure she’s heard that.
But ice? Not so sure. But, still, being the only person who knows about Kristen’s pregnancy is making her feel like she ought to say something—given she’s the only one who can say something, isn’t she?
“I’ll be careful, Mel,” Kristen says, as if she can see what Mel is thinking.
“But not taking part would look weirder. Plus, I can actually skate, believe it or not.” She lets out a little sigh.
“I’m not the one we should be watching out for, trust me.
” Mel frowns, not quite sure what she means by that, and Kristen catches it, smiles.
“I feel sure that Hattie is going to be an absolute disaster, despite what she says.”
Mel snorts quietly, then glances at the family, who are crowding around Muscle Mike. “You still haven’t told Mark, then?”
Kristen hesitates, then shakes her head. “I’m going to—but after Christmas.”
“Why? Is it…Do you think he’ll be disappointed?”
“No, I imagine he’ll be thrilled.” She starts to toy with a button on her coat, twisting it one way then the other.
After a second, she seems to realize what she’s doing and stops.
“I was going to start applying for jobs in the new year. You didn’t know me, before Freya, but I used to be a project manager. ”
“Oh?” Mel realizes she’s raising her eyebrows in surprise and stops herself. Why should she be surprised? Kristen is smart, capable, seems to have her shit together. Of course she’d had a successful career.
“I didn’t love it, which is why I gave it up to look after Freya—that, and me and Mark agreed that one of us should be around for the early years.
I wanted to do it. But I…” She swallows.
“I was going to look again at jobs—try to figure out if there are any that could be flexible, to allow me to work from home a bit, be there for the school run. Mark remembers Susan always being there for him, and I know it’s important to him that his child has the same.
But now…” She presses a hand to her stomach.
“I can’t apply for a job when I’m pregnant.
I can’t lie about it. And no one will hire me knowing I’m about to go on maternity leave.
It just…This changes things, and I guess I wanted time to process that first. I know I should tell him. I do. But I…”
Mel shakes her head, takes Kristen’s hand.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.” And she doesn’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, does she?
She can’t really imagine being pregnant, having children—it all feels like a distant possibility at the moment.
“Of course you should take the time. It’s not my business, anyway. ”
Kristen squeezes Mel’s hand. “It’s your business if you want it to be. I like having someone to talk to about it.”
Mel returns Kristen’s smile, though her insides squirm.
Guilt, she realizes—that’s guilt she’s feeling.
For not taking the time to talk to Kristen about stuff like this before.
And guilt that she’s probably not going to be around much longer to talk to her again.
She frowns, catching herself. Probably? She means definitely. Doesn’t she?
“Oi!” Finn shouts from the rink. “Come on, you two—we’re waiting to curl!”
“Is that how you say it?” Mel hears Hattie ask. “To curl?”
Mel moves away from Kristen, walking awkwardly on her skates toward the rest of them.
“Mel?” Mel turns back to see Kristen biting her lip, glancing out at the family. Then she shakes her head. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Mel frowns. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Kristen repeats. She comes up next to Mel, smiles again. Surely Mel is imagining the flicker in that smile? “I’m glad you and Finn are back together,” Kristen says. “That’s all.”
“Are you?” She can’t help the question coming out.
“Of course. You’re good together. Mark used to tease him, you know.
Tell him he wasn’t the settling-down type.
He didn’t mean anything by it, but I think it got to Finn more than Mark realized.
” And it’s what Finn had believed, isn’t it—that he was like his dad.
She’d thought he’d moved past that—but maybe he hadn’t, not really.
“Come on,” Mel says, glad for the excuse not to continue down this line of conversation. “Let’s go show them what we’ve got.”