| |
The kids were just starting to prepare the ingredients for their pizza toppings when the doorbell went.
His heart picking up speed, Hal answered the door, and then stared at the woman standing there. “Oh,” he said, his brain turning to mush.
Her smile gradually faded. “Something wrong? Sorry, did you not really expect me to come?”
“God, no, nothing like that.” He stepped back to let her pass. “It’s just... you look quite different from last night.”
She laughed as she walked into the house and unzipped her coat. “I don’t scrub up too badly.”
That was the understatement of the year. He’d thought she was gorgeous when she’d been half frozen, white as a sheet, and with her hair plastered to her head. Now, she was stunning. Her hair had dried to an almost white blonde that looked natural, she had a bit of color to her cheeks and lips, and a sparkle in her eyes that he was sure wasn’t entirely due to the glittery eyeshadow.
She stopped and turned to him, the rosy pink in her cheeks matching her jacket. “Thank you for the note. It was a lovely thing to do.”
“We went around earlier to ask you,” he said, “but you were out, so the kids decided to write a letter.”
“Completely against your wishes,” she said impishly. Her dark eyes looked up into his, filled with warmth. She looked... better.
His lips twitched. “Completely.”
Smiling, she removed her coat, and he hung it on the hook by the door as she took off her boots. She was wearing black leggings that revealed shapely legs, and an oversized blue sweater that didn’t quite manage to hide the curves beneath.
Oh Hal. If you weren’t lost already, you are now.
Pursing his lips, he followed her into the kitchen, where the kids greeted her with a cheer.
“You look pretty,” Brenna said, her eyes widening.
“Aw, thank you! And look at your amazing tiara.” Angel touched the girl’s sparkly headpiece. It had only cost two pounds at the local toyshop, but Brenna loved it. “It’s so lovely and Christmassy.”
“We’re getting the toppings ready,” Jamie told her, not wanting to be left out. “What kind of things do you like? Are you a vegetarian?”
“No, I’ll eat anything except Brussel sprouts,” Angel said.
Hal laughed. “I’ll get the dough.” He’d left it in the airing cupboard to rise, and now he brought it into the kitchen, tipped it onto the table, and cut it into four equal pieces.
For the next ten minutes, the four of them stood at the table and made their pizzas, talking all the time. They rolled out the dough into rough circles and placed them in pizza tins, added tomato sauce as a base with a scatter of herbs and grated cheese, then began to choose their toppings from the shredded chicken, cooked bacon, chopped up ham, and various sliced vegetables on the table.
Hal couldn’t help but imagine how the same scene would have played out if Rebecca had been with them instead of Angel. She would have disapproved of pizza in the first place, claiming it had too many carbs, and although she might have let the kids have one from time to time, she would never have eaten it herself. And she wouldn’t have joined in with making them like this. The activity would have been something she would have overseen, helping occasionally, while pointing out to the children that they should include more vegetables.
He knew he mustn’t compare the two women. Rebecca loved her kids deeply, and anyway, Angel wasn’t responsible for their wellbeing, so it didn’t matter to her what they ate. And yet he watched her slice some mushrooms and offer them to Brenna, and smiled as the little girl laid them on her pizza so it looked exactly the same as Angel’s.
When they were done, they topped them all with another scatter of grated cheese and put them in the oven. After setting the timer, Hal suggested the kids show Angel their new PlayStation, so they all went into the living room and turned the machine on.
They loaded up the Lego Harry Potter game, and Jamie and Brenna explained to Angel how to play it. When the timer went off, Hal and Angel cut up the pizzas and brought them into the living room, and they took turns to take the characters through the puzzles, while the two who weren’t playing ate their pizzas.
Hal felt a sense of peace settle over him. The fairy lights glowed around the windows, and the tree sparkled in the corner. It was nearly Christmas, a time for miracles, and he couldn’t deny there was a buzz of excitement deep in the pit of his belly.
Not that he was expecting anything to happen. Angel had said she was here to escape and to heal, and she’d implied there was some tragedy in her recent past that she needed to recover from. He was sure the last thing she needed was to complicate her life with... what? It wasn’t as if they could have a relationship, because she lived six hours’ drive away. A fling? He frowned, embarrassed at the thought. It was hardly fair to assume that because the woman had called in for pizza, she was interested in getting naked.
Although that would be fun. His gaze went unfocused at the thought of slowly removing Angel’s clothing and covering her soft skin with kisses...
No! That wasn’t on the table.
On the floor, then?
Angel glanced at him, and for the first time in about twenty years, he thought he might be blushing.
“Your turn,” she said, passing him the controller.
“Thanks.” He took it, trying not to laugh. He had to give himself a bit of a break. He hadn’t slept with anyone for years. There would have been something wrong with him if he hadn’t pictured Angel naked.
But that didn’t mean he’d act on it. Oddly, he was enjoying just having another adult in the house, even though at the moment most of the talk was revolving around whether they should change Harry’s wand to a carrot or not. He’d like to have a proper adult conversation with her. Would she stay for a drink after the kids had gone to bed?
At six thirty, after they finished a level of the game, he told Brenna it was time for her bath.
“I should go,” Angel said, putting down her controller.
“Aw.” Jamie looked disappointed. “Can she stay, Dad, while Brenna gets ready for bed?”
Hal looked at Angel, who met his gaze, smiling just a tiny bit. “It’s entirely up to you,” he said, “but I wondered whether you’d like to stay for a drink after the kids have gone to bed.”
She held his gaze for a moment longer than was necessary, and a tingle ran down his spine.
“Sure,” she said, picking up the controller. “Okay, Jamie. I’m happy to thrash you for one more level.”
Jamie laughed, because he’d wiped the floor with all of them, and Hal left them playing as he took a protesting Brenna up for her bath. She soon quieted though, as she splashed around and drew on the tiles with sparkly bath crayons, and then he read her a story while she had a glass of milk and a biscuit. He left her curled up with her bear, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s nearly Christmas, Daddy,” she whispered.
“I know.” He smiled. “Santa’s checking his list, seeing whether you’ve been naughty or nice.”
“I’ve been nice. I promise.”
“I know. You’re such a sweetheart. I’m sure Santa has lots of lovely presents for you.”
“I wish you could be there when I open them.”
His throat tightened. “Me too. I’m sorry I won’t be.”
“Can’t you come over and have dinner with Mummy and Charles?”
“Not this year,” he told her gently.
“Is Mummy going to marry Charles?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I don’t want her to,” she said.
He stroked her hair. “He makes her happy. That’s what’s important.”
“Didn’t you make her happy?”
“No, honey, I didn’t. It’s nobody’s fault. It just happens sometimes.”
Brenna slid her thumb into her mouth. He tugged it out, knowing she’d slide it back in once he left the room.
“Sleep tight,” he said, going out and pulling the door to.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” she called out.
Smiling, he walked along the corridor, back to the living room.
Jamie had just beaten Angel again, so they turned off the PlayStation, and Jamie went for his bath. Hal went into the kitchen to make him his supper, and Angel followed and leaned against the doorpost, watching him.
“We normally watch part of an episode of David Attenborough’s Planet Earth before he goes to bed,” Hal told her as he put some bread in the toaster. “We’ve got about thirty minutes of the last one to finish. Would that be okay?”
“Of course.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were warm, her lips curved in a smile.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, getting out a glass and pouring some milk into it.
“Much better, thank you. I’ve finally defrosted, I think.”
He chuckled. “You were doing a rather good snowman impression.”
“Seems like we make a good pair. Didn’t you say your ex compared you to Mr. Frosty?”
He gave her a wry look. “Are you mocking me?”
“No. Of course not. Okay, maybe a little.”
He turned and leaned against the counter, folding his arms. For a long moment, they just studied each other, smiling.
“Bit odd, this,” she said. “I didn’t expect to meet a gorgeous Viking lookalike when I came here on vacation.”
He recalled Brenna’s slip about Angel saying she thought he was yummy, and grinned. “And I didn’t expect to be visited by a real-life angel.”
She looked down at her feet and flexed her toes in her socks. “Hal...”
“I hope we can be friends,” he said. “I’m not expecting anything else.”
She lifted her gaze to his, and the warmth in her eyes told him she’d been worried about it. “You’ve been so good to me,” she said. “I hope Santa puts something extra special in your stocking.”
There was something about the way she said it that made his heart beat a little faster.
“Hey,” he said, “anything that turns up in stockings is okay with me.”
They both laughed, and he gestured to the living room with his head as he picked up Jamie’s supper. “Come on, let’s get the TV ready.”
He put in the DVD, and by the time Jamie came down squeaky clean and in his Iron Man pajamas, they were ready to watch.
They all sat on the sofa, Jamie in the middle, and watched the last part of the final episode of Planet Earth, talking about the whale sharks and dolphins and how sad it was that there used to be 300,000 blue whales and only three percent remained.
When the episode finished, Hal took Jamie to bed. Technically, now Jamie was seven, Hal knew the boy was old enough that he didn’t need his father tucking him in, but those last few minutes with his son were precious to him, and he also knew it wouldn’t be that long before the boy wouldn’t want him to do it.
Jamie read a little of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to him as part of his homework, and then Hal read a chapter too. Finally, he gave the boy a kiss on his forehead, leaving the light on.
“Thirty minutes,” Hal instructed him. “No more.”
“Yes, Dad.” Jamie was already settling down with his book. “Night.”
“Night, son.” Hal pulled the door to, and headed back to the living room.
He discovered Angel curled up in one of the armchairs, a tumbler in her hand filled with a deep amber liquid over ice—brandy. A glass of whisky sat on the coffee table, waiting for him.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I helped myself.”
“Not at all.” He went over to the speakers on the mantelpiece, plugged in his phone, and started a playlist he’d put together some time ago with slower Christmas songs and carols, and Nat King Cole began singing about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Hal lowered himself onto the sofa, turned to stretch his legs out, and picked up the glass. “What shall we drink to?”
Angel thought about it. “To Santa,” she said, raising her glass.
“To Santa,” he said, toasting her. And he sipped the whisky, letting it sear down inside him. It gave him a warm glow all the way through—or was it the whisky? Angel had hooked her legs over the arm of the chair, and she looked pleasantly relaxed.
He was looking forward to finding out more about her. She’d said she was here until the second of January—that was ten days they’d be on the island, both on vacation, because Hal didn’t have to go back until the sixth.
“Is the tide in now?” Angel asked.
He glanced at the clock—it was nearly eight p.m. “Not quite. Safe crossing is until around nine.”
“Are the tides, like, in your blood or something? How can you remember the times?”
“Instinct,” he said. “Today’s crossing times will be around an hour later than yesterday’s. It’s fairly easy to work out, and everyone on the island has a current tide table somewhere in the house.”
“It’s strange,” she said, “being cut off from the outside world. I know it’s not, but it’s kind of magical, isn’t it? Like Brigadoon. We don’t disappear for a hundred years, do we?”
He laughed. “No, although sometimes I can think of worse things.”
“Mmm,” she murmured. Her eyes met his, and suddenly he could think of nothing he wanted more than to be isolated with this woman, and drift away from the real world, to a place where it was always a magical winter wonderland.
