The Christmas Party (18 page)

Simon took her hand again and, realising that resistance was futile, she let him guide her away from the house. Wide steps led them down towards the beautifully manicured gardens. Ahead was a broad parterre with a stunning fountain of a rearing horse as its centrepiece, the spraying water sparkling like crystals in the moonlight. Classical sculptures graced the four corners. Beyond that, the gardens fell away before melding seamlessly with the surrounding fields and woods of the estate.

Kirsten thought she might like to come back here in the summer to see it in its full and magnificent glory. Of course, she’d come by herself: she knew Tyler wouldn’t be the slightest bit interested.

‘My heels are sinking into the grass,’ she said as they reached the vast expanse of lawn. Simon turned towards her and there was a mischievous glint in his eye. Kirsten held up a hand. ‘Don’t you even think about picking me up.’

He laughed. ‘Let’s stick to the path then. We’ll head over there.’

A little way in the distance, tucked in among the shrubs, was a small lean-to building. The bottom half was ancient brick while the top was more like a greenhouse. When they reached it, Simon tried the door. He grinned back at her when it creaked open.

‘We’ve left a hundred-roomed mansion and you’ve brought me to a potting shed?’

‘It’s not a potting shed,’ he countered. ‘It’s a … um … Yes, it’s a potting shed.’

They took in their surroundings.

‘But it’s a very nice one,’ he insisted.

She smiled, despite not wanting to give him any encouragement.

‘I feel really naughty sneaking in here.’ But the feeling was much more than that. This was so wrong. She really should avoid being alone with her old lover. The man who she still thought of as the love of her life. The one that got away. There was really nothing he could say to her that could ever change that.

‘It’s warm,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’

‘I shouldn’t. Really. Someone might see us.’

Simon’s eyes glittered in the darkness. ‘Live dangerously!’ He grasped her throw in his hands and gently tugged her inside.

Kirsten pulled back, but only half-heartedly, and they ended up giggling. They’d always laughed together so easily. Their whole relationship had been underpinned by laughter, fun and love. They’d had happy times, so many of them.

She couldn’t think of that now. It was madness. Those times had long gone and she should keep that at the forefront of her mind.

The potting shed smelled musty, of earth and growth. It was still and calm and felt like a little oasis, cut off from the world. The raucous party in the main house felt a million miles away.

Workbenches ran along either side and on them were the random tools of an absent gardener – trowels, forks, string, a myriad bits and bobs of horticultural detritus. It was a comforting place to be. She could imagine the people who’d worked here for hundreds of years.

‘Look, there’s a seat.’ Simon urged her forward again.

At the far end was a sturdy wooden form that looked inviting. Above it was a heater fixed to the brick wall and Simon reached up to switch it on even though she didn’t now feel cold at all. At one end of the bench there was a discarded newspaper and Kirsten wondered if this was where the gardeners took their tea break.

Simon swept the newspaper over the bench, sending dust motes in the air to be caught by the moonlight, and then indicated that she should sit. Which she did, suddenly careless of the white dress she was wearing.

The bottle of champagne was already open and Simon filled the glasses for them.

‘Just one for me,’ he said. ‘I’m driving.’

‘I’m supposed to be driving too,’ she said, ‘but I’ve already had my quota. Yet I don’t think I can get through this night on only two drinks. I might as well go for broke.’

She and Tyler would have to make alternative arrangements about getting home, or maybe they could stay somewhere local, as he’d suggested. It was a shame this place wasn’t a hotel. If the worst came to the worst, perhaps Tyler could pull rank and commandeer one of the sofas for them to spend the night on.

Simon sat down next to her and lifted his glass. ‘A toast?’

‘What to?’

‘To us.’

She shook her head. ‘There is no “us”, Si. Not any more. All that was a long time ago and it doesn’t do to rake up the past.’ She couldn’t even think about going there. It would be far too painful.

His face fell and she offered, ‘A toast to Christmas, maybe?’

He nodded sadly. ‘To Christmas then.’

They chinked glasses and sipped. The champagne was as chill as the night air. The bubbles danced on her tongue; it would have taken very little to persuade her to down the whole bottle.

He looked so handsome in his dinner suit. He always had. He was minus his bow tie now. Most of the men were, as there’d been a rather drunken young girl going round collecting them – something to do with a charity. Simon had clearly succumbed. The top button of his dress shirt was open and there was a strong pulse at the base of his throat. She wanted to place her fingertip on it to feel the life flowing inside him. There were so many nights when she’d wondered whether she’d ever see him again. Now he was here, right in front of her, and she felt like crying. Whether it was with relief, regret or what, she didn’t know. Her emotions were running wild inside her. Kirsten tore her eyes away from him. She didn’t think she could cope with any discussion about what had happened between them.

Keeping the conversation to more neutral matters and getting the hell out of here as quickly as she could would be very wise.

Chapter Twenty-one

‘I don’t suppose many of the staff will be having a merry Christmas now,’ Kirsten noted. ‘Not after Lance’s speech.’

‘I had no idea about that,’ Simon confessed. ‘It’s not exactly an auspicious start to my career at Fossil Oil.’

‘I despise this company now,’ she said vehemently. ‘And everything it stands for. They suck the life out of their employees, and for what? When they’re bone-dry, with nothing left to give, they spit them out. I don’t even work for them, yet I feel they own my soul. They’re vile, Simon. Truly vile.’

‘I didn’t like what I saw this evening,’ he admitted with a weary shake of his head. ‘At this moment I’m wondering why I ever agreed to take the job.’

‘So why did you?’ It was out before she could stop it.

‘I had to come back.’ Simon laid his arm across the back of the bench, his body angled towards her. There was a slight draught from the expanse of windows above them and Kirsten pulled up her knees, wrapping the throw around her. They sat facing each other for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. ‘I tried not to,’ he said, smiling wistfully at her. ‘Believe me.’

He reached up and took a strand of her hair, twining it through his fingers. She didn’t stop him. She wanted to lean against him, let him hold her in his arms, and it was taking every fibre of her being to fight it.

‘You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved,’ he continued. ‘We were the perfect couple. Everyone said so. I wanted to give you everything. I thought we’d take on the world together.’

‘We were young and naïve.’

‘We were in love, though?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Kirsten sighed. Being here, alone with Simon, she felt she should be honest with him. ‘We were in love.’ So much in love.

‘I used to watch you sleeping sometimes,’ Simon admitted. ‘I couldn’t believe you were mine. You were so beautiful. I missed you so much when I was away from you. Even when I slept I thought of you.’

It would sound ridiculous to her, if she hadn’t felt exactly the same.

‘I thought we’d have a wonderful life together. A big house, perhaps by the coast – or at least a weekend place there. Remember all our wonderful trips to Cornwall? We loved it there, didn’t we?’

‘Yes.’ There were times, when she felt down or depressed, when she recalled those carefree trips with Simon. Walking on the beaches at St Ives and Penzance. Laughing as they tried to surf together. Having fish and chips sat on the seafront in Padstow. ‘It’s still my favourite place. I haven’t been there in years though.’ Too many memories.

‘What about the weekend when we went down in Stu’s battered old camper van? Him and that hippy girlfriend he had.’

‘Melody.’

‘That’s the one. Mad but great fun. She used to do our tarot cards.’

‘Yes, she did.’ Mystic Melody had said they would grow old together. How very wrong she’d been.

‘It was wonderful.’ Simon was clearly relishing turning back the years. ‘We rented surfboards. What a hoot.’ He laughed. ‘Then we all sat around the campfire at night, Stu with his guitar and too many bottles of cheap wine.’

‘It was great.’

‘Do you ever see Stu now?’

‘No. Not for a long time.’ So many friends had fallen by the wayside as she’d moved around with Tyler. ‘We lost touch.’

‘I loved it there. I’ve never been happier. Golden times. I thought we might live somewhere down there eventually.’

‘We used to pick the houses we’d like,’ Kirsten said. ‘Ones we never thought we’d be able to afford, in the estate agents’ windows.’

‘There’d be a couple of kids – maybe more. With your looks, of course. I even knew what dogs we’d have: a black Labrador and a springer spaniel. They’d be called Dexter and Bounce.’ He smiled again, but sadly now. ‘I had it all planned out, you know.’

‘We both did.’ Kirsten’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Or so we thought.’

They were a year into their relationship when he’d been offered a job in Australia. Another step up on the corporate ladder. It was a great position, a huge salary. They’d been talking about getting married, when it came up. There’d even been a few conversations about starting a family. As Simon said, they’d been so in love. So very much in love. To this day, Kirsten didn’t really know what had gone wrong.

‘Did Australia lose its lustre?’ Her throat was tight as she asked the question.

‘Eventually. I’ve been in Texas for the last two years. Working for the Texan Oil Company,’ he said. ‘I tried to immerse myself in my job. For a few years, I think it even worked. I did a lot of charity work too, and that helped. I realised there were an awful lot of people worse-off than me. It still didn’t make me forget you, though.’ He stroked a finger tenderly over the back of her hand. ‘But I’m getting older, Kirsten, and I didn’t want to spend my life filled with regret. I just couldn’t stay away any longer.’

‘Is there a Mrs Conway?’ A green-tinged pain nipped at the edge of her consciousness. Why did she have to blurt out a stupid question like that? She hadn’t heard that he’d married, but then she’d deliberately tried not to take an interest in what Simon was doing after their relationship ended. Even now, it hurt to ask if Simon had a wife. Of course he would be married. Some gorgeous creature would have tempted him from his bachelor lifestyle by now. Probably someone the spitting image of Gwyneth Paltrow – all perfect teeth, blocked-blonde highlights and perky breasts.

‘Do you even need to ask that?’

Kirsten glanced at his hand. ‘No wedding ring,’ she observed. ‘But that doesn’t mean anything.’ Tyler wore one, but it didn’t seem to hinder any of his affairs. ‘I thought you must have had a wife and at least two children by now.’

‘No. I can’t say that I didn’t try to forget you. I did, Kirsten. God knows I did. But no one has ever come close to meaning what you did to me.’ He sighed, and the intensity of his stare increased. ‘There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret that there isn’t an “us”.’

‘You did what you did. There’s no point in lamenting it. Life has moved on.’

‘All these years have passed and I think of you every single day, without fail. You’re always on my mind. We never fought, rarely argued. I still don’t know what happened.’

She laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh at all. ‘Me neither.’

‘The job was massive,’ he said. ‘I know that much. Huge. Much bigger than I’d ever imagined. I had no idea what I was walking into. The responsibility, the sheer volume of work was relentless. I was flattered that they thought I could do it, but it consumed me. Some nights I could barely crawl home to my bed before I had to start it all again the next day. I didn’t even know which way up I was.’

The plan had been for Simon to establish himself and then she’d leave her job to follow him. For the first month they’d been on the phone regularly and had emailed at least once a day. She missed him desperately and couldn’t wait to be there with him. It would be the start of a whole new exciting life for them.

But their conversations had become more infrequent and somehow less loving. With the time difference and their jobs, it became harder to speak every day. It pained her even now to think about it. She had felt the distance opening up between them and could do nothing about it.

‘It was only meant to be for a short while,’ she ventured. ‘We should have been able to survive apart.’

‘I thought so too,’ Simon said. ‘But you chose Tyler.’

‘What else was I to do? I was young. I felt abandoned.’

‘Why did you marry him? Of all the people in the world, why Tyler?’

‘He was there,’ she said, plainly. ‘You weren’t.’

‘Are you happy with him?’ A barely discernible crack in his voice gave away the depth of emotion behind the challenge.

‘Happy?’ Kirsten stared up through the glass of the potting shed and up to the moon. ‘Ah. Isn’t that the million-dollar question?’ How could she begin to explain how she felt about her marriage when she wasn’t entirely sure herself? ‘Perhaps it depends on what your definition of happiness is.’

‘You could have been divorced and remarried by now. But instead you’ve stayed with Tyler.’

‘It doesn’t sound like you approve of that.’

‘I wish you’d come to Australia with me as planned.’

‘It’s all water under the bridge now.’ But she, too, often wondered how different her life would have been if she’d joined Simon as they’d intended.

When it was clear that she wasn’t going to follow Simon to the New World straight away, Tyler had swept in, so very eager to take his place. He was the one who provided a strong shoulder for her to cry on. There’d always been a fierce rivalry between the two men. In a rare moment of honesty, Tyler confessed that he’d envied their love. Then, like managing a delicate project, he’d proceeded to woo her. He bowled her over with a romantic onslaught – flowers, candlelit dinners, weekends in European cities in the best hotels. It was champagne all the way.