Chapter 11 Mia #2
‘Practically retirement age,’ Martin teases her.
‘I’m serious.’
‘So am I,’ he replies gently. ‘You’ve got plenty of time, Mia bella.
Just keep yourself busy, like you’ve been telling me you are, and when the time is right, it will happen.
And in the meantime, you have a job you enjoy, you’ve got good friends, a comfortable place to live.
Speaking of, do you think you’ll stay down in London for a while longer?
’ Martin pours himself another cup of coffee and sits back down at the island.
‘I do, Dad. I like living in London, for the most part.’
‘Well, if you’re happy, then so am I,’ Martin responds. ‘Of course, we miss seeing you here. Never thought that both my children would end up living so far away from Worcester. Sometimes it feels like I’m missing out.’
‘You should get Instagram, Dad,’ Mia teases as she pours stock into the pan. ‘Charlie and I are both on there.’
‘Don’t know what that is. Can I put it on the Kindle?
Here, let me do that.’ Martin places the pot in the oven where it will cook until lunchtime.
He rubs a hand over his jawline, his palm scratching on the stubble.
‘Well, I’d better go and clean myself up.
Your mother will have my head if I make us late.
Hopefully everything is still working in the bathroom.
I hear there was a bit of a mishap yesterday with a speaker or something. ’
Mia snickers under her breath but puts on her most innocent expression. ‘I hadn’t heard about that.’
Martin shakes his head at her, but doesn’t argue. ‘Well, darling, Sam is a nice boy, but I don’t blame you for feeling the need to punish him a little more for what he did to you.’ His words take Mia by surprise, and she pauses to look at her dad.
Martin shrugs. ‘You were always the prankster, Mia. Used to drive Charlie crazy. It’s not a stretch to think you’re exacting a bit of revenge on that Williams chap.
But don’t take it too far, Mia bella. You don’t want to cross a line you’ll regret someday.
’ And with that gentle admonishment, he heads out of the kitchen.
Mia starts cleaning up the colossal mess she’s created, thinking over her father’s words.
They’ve soothed some of that anxiety that always lives inside her because maybe he’s right, and she does still have time to figure out her love life.
But even though she’s gained clarity where James is concerned, she can’t ignore that her feelings about Sam are more confused than ever.
She’s hated him for such a long time and there’s still a stubborn part of her that won’t let go of the pain that’s tied up with her thoughts of Sam.
But it’s also become harder to deny the very real feelings she had for him before everything went wrong between them.
And today, there’s been a flutter of those familiar old feelings inside her, closer to the surface than they have been in years.
She’s not entirely sure she’s ready to face up to what that might mean.
With the kitchen cleaned up and a batch of gingerbread resting in the fridge, Mia checks her phone. There are a few texts from Lucy.
I should bring a gift for Tim’s family, right?
What says ‘I’m cool and interesting and worthy of your son?
’ A fruit basket? Mia chuckles and starts typing out a response.
Lucy has been dating Tim for almost two years, and although Tim had introduced her to his family a while back, this is the first Christmas they’ll be spending together.
He works in finance – an area that Mia finds quite dull, to be honest, but he treats Lucy well, and that’s really all that matters.
Not a fruit basket! You’re not seventy. Bring them a nice houseplant and a good bottle of wine and you’ll be set. Don’t stress! They already love you!
Once the text shows as sent, Mia layers on all her snow gear and heads outside.
It’s brilliantly sunny, thankfully. She can practically feel her vitamin D deficiency increasing every day further into winter.
She fishes out her new sunglasses and slides them on.
Charlie and Sam are hard at work, as they’ve been every day it’s snowed, shovelling all of the various paths that crisscross between the driveway, the big house and the gardener’s cottage.
From a distance, Mia allows herself to admire the smooth way Sam works.
He’s discarded his heavy coat and scarf, and is working in just a short-sleeved shirt that displays his muscled arms. Biceps flexing, he hefts the snow over and over, intently focused on his task.
Sam wears the same expression he does when he’s playing tennis, and warmth pools in Mia’s stomach.
She shifts from one foot to the other, letting her mind drift for a few moments while she waits for John’s arrival.
One of the things Mia had loved about Sam was the fact that he was able to wholly devote himself to whatever he was doing.
When he played tennis, he did so with abandon, everything else fading away.
At the end of his matches, she could always spot the exact moment the rest of the world would come back into focus for him.
The first thing he always did was to search the stands, seeking her out, and as soon as he spotted her he’d gift her with one of his brilliant, joyful smiles.
The memory of that feeling, knowing he would always look for her first, still tugged at her heart.
She missed being the recipient of those smiles.
Mia bounces on her toes and listens to the snow crunching under her feet. It’s perfect snowball snow. She’s wearing her warmest mittens and the fleece-lined leggings that Mum gave her last year for Christmas. She is preparation personified.
Charlie and Sam are racing to see who can shovel the last few feet of the walkway.
Charlie’s approach is haphazard, flinging snow in every direction as he works to clear the path.
Sam is more calculating, clearing the snow in neat rows so there’s no rework.
As she watches, Sam scoops up a shovelful and deposits it beneath a bush.
While his back is turned, Charlie dumps an entire load of snow into Sam’s portion, and then hurries back to his territory.
‘Cheater!’ Mia calls out, bending down to scoop enough snow for a snowball.
John’s not here yet, but she can’t let Charlie get away with his trickery.
Packing it carefully, she lets the snowball fly towards her brother.
It glides through the air, smashing harmlessly into the freshly shovelled drifts feet away from Charlie. She’s never had great aim.
Charlie glances at her, shakes his head and surreptitiously dumps another shovelful of snow into Sam’s area.
‘OK, that’s it!’ Tucking the vintage sunglasses into a pocket for safekeeping, Mia rushes down towards where the guys are working, until she’s close enough that she’s confident she won’t miss. She fires off another snowball, this time hitting Charlie on the chest.
‘Hey!’ His protest is a mixture of laughter and shock. ‘You actually hit me!’
‘Lucy has been taking me axe throwing,’ Mia retorts, as she lets another one fly. This one goes wide as well. ‘Sam! Watch out!’
Sam startles, looking up from where he is methodically scooping snow. He dodges the flying snowball and looks around, bewildered. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You started without me?’ John’s voice comes from behind, lightly outraged. ‘Well, then. Let’s get on with it.’
Mia crouches beside him. ‘Charlie and Sam were racing, and Charlie was cheating. I had to do something.’
‘Hmm.’ John doesn’t say anything else, since he’s focused on forming as many snowballs as he can. He scoops snow with his bare hands and packs it quickly.
‘Aren’t you cold?’ Mia asks, crouching beside him. John’s only wearing his argyle sweater and those thin pleated trousers.
‘Nah, it’s great out here!’ Charlie yells back, launching a hastily packed snowball in Mia’s direction.
She dodges it, giggling. Then whispers, ‘He thinks I was talking to him.’
‘Better be careful,’ John admonishes. ‘You can’t have people suspecting you talk to ghosts.
And, to answer your question, I truly wish I could feel the cold.
Or taste the biscuits your Aunt Gertie leaves out.
Or feel any kind of sensation other than this clammy, damp feeling that’s always inside of me. ’
Mia stares at him. ‘John. That’s awful. I didn’t know.’
‘Don’t worry about it. We have a snowball fight to win.’
While they’ve been exchanging furious whispers, Sam has barricaded himself beside the cottage with his snow shovel and a nearby wheelbarrow and is assembling his own arsenal.
As Mia watches, he lets two fly in Charlie’s direction.
The first sails harmlessly overhead, but the second smashes against Charlie’s leg.
‘Augh! OK, that’s it. You’re both goners.’
The fight rages fast and furious, and with John’s assistance, Mia is credited with several direct hits to Sam’s midsection and back.
‘Why do I feel like you’re only targeting me now, Mia?’ Sam calls out.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mia sing-songs.
Charlie bends over, scooping up a handful of snow and packing it into a ball.
He lobs it, smacking Mia right in the shoulder.
She screeches as snow slips beneath the collar of her jacket, and Charlie roars with laughter.
Sam covers his own laugh with a cough and darts behind the barricade he’s constructed, wisely taking cover.
‘I’d like to see you match that one, Mia Tia,’ Charlie taunts. ‘Your aim has always been abysmal!’
Anger sparking at her brother’s challenge, and that stupid nickname, Mia scrambles to put together her own snowball, leaving John behind. She chucks it, hitting the back of Charlie’s head with startling accuracy as he rushes away from her.