Wishful Thinking (2 page)

Jess put out their night clothes and supervised Ben as he washed his face and hands before following the directions to the family sitting room to await the evening meal. It was a delightful room and the blazing glow from the inglenook fireplace cast a golden radiance which sent dancing reflections skittering off the gleaming copper and brass knickknacks around it. A sofa and several comfy looking chairs huddled around the fireplace, in one of which sat a man in his late twenties or perhaps early thirties.

Her first impression of him was that his striking tan looked incongruous in the December chill of England. His dark hair glowed rustily in the glinting firelight and his body looked toned, lean and strong. He spoke quietly into a mobile phone glued to his ear and Jess hesitated in the doorway, a restraining hand on Ben’s shoulder. However the man glanced up, smiled briefly and indicated towards the sofa with his free hand. Jess guided Ben to it and they sat side by side.

Ben instantly switched on his hand-held console, while Jess glanced appreciatively around the room, desperately trying not to eavesdrop into his conversation. Fortunately he rapidly brought this to a close and once again looked up and smiled at Jess.

“Hi, I’m Chris. I heard you had a bit of a near-miss on the motorway.”

Jess nodded. “I’m Jess. This is my son, Ben. Yes, it was rather…unpleasant. The tyre blew and I thought…” She didn’t want to finish her sentence and instead bit her lip nervously.

It was his turn to nod. “It must make you wonder.” His voice was velvety rich and his accent, although indisputably English, seemed to be flavoured with a dash of transatlantic drawl. Before he could explain what it made him wonder, his phone warbled, demanding his attention. He slapped it to his ear. “Yeah. No, I’m not. I’m just visiting my folks for Christmas. Quiet time, you know. No, not at all, no truth in that whatsoever.”

Jess turned her head away feeling self-conscious. She didn’t want to eavesdrop but it was difficult not to hear his conversation no matter how quiet and well-modulated his tone.

“Tom, yes, hi! No, I got back this morning. Look, will you just tell everyone to stop panicking and get off my back? I’m just taking a bit of time out to spend a couple of days with the folks for Christmas – that’s all.”

Tactfully, Jess rose to study a fairly nondescript watercolour of some ruined castle on the wall but could still hear the intriguing one-sided conversation, punctuated with pauses as he listened to his caller.

“You know exactly why not, Tom. This is a quiet little neighbourhood – that’s why they chose it.” Jess moved further away to look at a different painting. “No. No interviews, no comments; don’t make such a big deal of it, Tom. You and Jeanie can handle them. It’s Christmas – family time – you know? Yeah, well, you should try it, sometime.” Jess noticed a TV in the corner and wondered about switching it on so he wouldn’t feel she was invading his privacy. “Tell her the truth – there’s nothing to hide. Only,
please
don’t reveal where I am. That’s not fair to the folks. I promised them it wouldn’t happen again. I’ll catch up with you next week. Bye.”

“Ahh yes! I thought I recognised the theme. That’s one of my favourites.” Chris moved towards the sofa and sat beside Ben before Jess could resume her seat. True there was room for three on the sofa, but she thought it would be prudent to take another little walk around the room before returning to the fire. When she did so, Chris and Ben’s heads were bowed intently over the hand-held games console and monosyllabic comments and exclamations flew back and forth between them. Jess stood for a while observing them, a smile on her face.

She loved to see Ben interacting well with other people, especially adults. And especially
male
adults, with whom he had so little contact. It worried her that he had no father, no positive male role model in his life and she sometimes wondered if the lack of one might affect the way he viewed men and behaved towards them. But watching him now, he seemed perfectly at ease. Indeed, judging by the conversation, he might just as well have been talking to one of his schoolfriends.

Chris suddenly turned and caught her watching them. He smiled rather sheepishly at her amused expression. “Boys and their toys, eh? I’m sorry – I’ve taken over your seat. Come and sit down.” As he moved back towards his original seat, his phone began its throaty warble again. He glanced at the screen, shook his head and silenced it with a quick tap on the screen.

“Quick, Chris – come and look – I’ve got the wing star!” Ben squealed in delight and Chris spun on his heel and peered at the game for a moment.

“Well done, Commander!” He enthused. “I could never get that myself. You’re good, you know.”

Ben beamed at the praise and Jess’s heart filled with gratitude to this kind and incredibly attractive man. It wasn’t until he stood up that she realised how tall he was. When seated in the voluptuous armchair, he appeared smaller, but he was at least half a foot taller than her, lean and athletic looking, yet very graceful in his movements. He wore tight jeans and a light-coloured shirt, unbuttoned as far as his chest - which she saw was smooth and hairless – and over which he wore a beautifully-designed leather jacket that looked as if it had been made especially for him. She caught the faint, earthy aroma of leather, mixed with a scent of spice and citrus – sensual and expensive.

“The snow’s starting to settle,” Mrs Goodchild said, bustling into the room. “I think it’s a very good thing you didn’t try to continue your journey, Mrs Danvers. I’m sure it’s much worse up north and I expect there’ll be a lot of people stuck in their cars tonight. Now dinner is almost ready. I was wondering if you’d mind eating with us, to save me setting separate tables?”

“Oh, are you sure?” Jess breathed in surprise. “I don’t want to encroach on your…”

“You won’t be encroaching on anything. It’ll be our pleasure,” Chris cut in, nodding to his mother.

Mrs Goodchild beamed at the pair of them, before turning her kindly gaze on Ben. She shook her head very slightly, but her smile broadened as she looked at the child for a moment longer. “Good. Five more minutes then and you can come through to the dining room. Christian will show you the way.”

As the older woman bustled out of the room, Jess turned back to face her attractive companion. “Christian? I thought it would be Christopher.”

He shrugged slightly.

“Christian Goodchild?” Jess mused. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

He laughed. “I’ve no idea. But I’ll tell you what – after dinner, how would you and Ben like to take me on in a snowball fight?”

2

“A damsel in distress,” his father told them jokingly after Dave explained her predicament. “Well we can’t very well turn her and her child away two days before Christmas, can we? What type of people would that make us?”

Christian could see that Dave’s account of the woman in distress had moved both his parents and saw little point in arguing. They’d closed up the hotel because of his promise to visit them for a quiet family Christmas. And this time he meant it to be exactly that.

Two years ago he’d descended with the rest of the band and the paparazzi and fans made his parents’ life hell for the three days they were there, camping outside around the clock, ringing the bell and knocking on the door at all hours of the day and night, cameras flashing everywhere so that curtains and shutters had to remain closed for the duration. Everyone was so on edge that it had ruined Christmas. He’d planned to stay longer, but seeing the effect on them and the staff, ordered everyone out early.

But things didn’t let up even after they’d all gone. The fans continued to plague them so much that within six months they’d sold up and left the area. Since then he’d kept his visits to them top secret. For their sakes.

They’d always wanted to run their own hotel. His mother had been brought up in the B & B world and enjoyed fussing around people. Her own exclusive little hotel, though – that was her dream. He’d tried to offer them a taste of
la dolce vita
but they grew bored – insisted they couldn’t live in idleness in some villa abroad. A nice little hotel in a quiet, rural setting – that would be ideal. And that was what they got, until he went and ruined it all two years ago.

Shortly afterwards, they found this place and named it ‘Good Rest Ye’ – a name which had taken one of London’s top advertising firms many expensive hours to think up. The hotel brought in a modest income, which made his parents happy and he intended to keep it that way. It made no difference at all to him that in real terms the place was running at a slight loss, as long as it kept them happy.

It also gave him a bolt-hole when he needed to escape and chill with his parents – which wasn’t nearly as often as he’d like to see them, but in his line of work, he had to grab what he could get. They understood that and were always happy to accommodate him at short notice on his often flying visits.

This wasn’t a flying visit though. He really needed to unwind after an exhausting year, in which he’d visited 23 different countries as well as spending the last three months in Hollywood. He desperately needed some down time and some of his mum’s homespun philosophy and nurturing. A few days of her special treatment and he’d be ready to conquer the rest of the world come the New Year.

He wasn’t exactly ecstatic when Dave turned up with his sob story about some woman in a near death experience on the motorway needing a room for the night, but nor was he about to argue. One look at his mother’s face told him argument would have been pointless anyway. She’d made up her mind and it was therefore a done deed. Not that he would have said no himself, but well, he’d rather it hadn’t happened. But then he supposed that was probably what the woman was thinking too.

He sensed her even before she had properly entered the room. There was something about her that was in one sense perfectly ordinary, but somehow, in another totally captivating. She stood on the threshold of the sitting room resting a protective hand on the shoulder of her young son, evidently unsure about whether or not to enter. And she was
beautiful
. When she finally did enter, her intoxicating scent wafted towards him and lingered cloud-like around him for a little while. She had dark blonde hair which curled naturally around her delicate features and cloaked her slight shoulders. It fell across her face and hid it from view as she lowered her head towards her son. Mesmerised, he wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ears to prevent it from obstructing his view of her lovely face.

When his phone rang again, she got up to explore the room and he watched her surreptitiously as she moved from picture to picture with all the grace of a dancer. There was a trim economy about her movements, as if she was used to occupying small spaces or remaining unobtrusive in larger ones. He found that curiously poignant. Some instinct told him she must have known great sadness and he suddenly wanted to protect her from any more, at least while she remained at the hotel. After all, it
was
Christmas.

After his mother called them into the dining room, the cutest thing happened. Ben jumped up from the sofa and put his hand into his for the walk to the dining room as if it was the most natural thing in the world. There was something about that little gesture and that kid’s tiny hand reaching up to his that nearly knocked him for six. He pretended not to be surprised though and just accepted the boy’s hand as if he did it every day. Jess fell into place next to him on the other side and the three of them went into the dining room together.

His mother had just laid the one table and it was strange eating in an otherwise empty dining room – she normally set a small table in the little sitting room off the kitchen when it was just family - but she’d made it very festive: decorations, Christmas napkins and crackers on the table. He presumed they were for the kid’s benefit. Certainly he seemed to appreciate it. His eyes opened wide with excitement and he couldn’t wait to start pulling the crackers.

His mother seated him to her right, opposite Jess and Ben. She’d placed Ben next to her, of course, so she could fuss over him. Jess sat next to his dad. Ben chose him to pull his cracker, which surprised and secretly pleased him. He would have expected the boy to be shy and want to share it with his mother. It must have something to do with their mutual interest in video games. Respect! All those hours on the road during their endless tours meant he got plenty of practice in. The games stopped him from going insane.

The meal was great. All his favourite dishes, of course – his mother’s specialities – she knew what he liked. Comfort foods, he used to think of them when he was on the road. He yearned for his mother’s home cooking when he was touring exotic lands and eating foreign delicacies he would once never have imagined existed. He always photographed the weird and wonderful fare set before him and sent the pictures back to his parents, enjoying the thought of their expressions when they realised of what they were comprised.