Chapter 26

26

THREE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS

9.20 a.m.

‘Hello, hello! Go away silly man!’ Theo grabbed the B&B landline before Shelley could race to it and now he won’t hand it to her.

‘Theo, please. It might be important. It could be someone calling to book a room, and if they can’t, my friend Michael will lose a lot of money?—’

‘Who’s Michael?’ Still gripping the phone, Theo fixes her with a challenging stare. Breakfast went smoothly and they cleared up with impressive efficiency. Niall offered to help but Shelley assured him that they were fine, and why didn’t he head out to enjoy the beautiful day? The sun was shining brightly and everything was lightly sprinkled with snow. Shelley had just begun to believe that they might actually be pretty competent at this B&B lark.

‘Remember I told you?’ she says sternly. ‘Michael’s the nice man who owns this house. Now please give me the phone.’

Theo laughs. ‘Bye, silly smelly man! Bye bye!’ He jabs at a button and flings the phone down onto the kitchen unit. Shelley grabs it, switching on her bright and pleasant receptionist’s voice: ‘Hello, can I help you?’ But the call has ended.

Almost immediately it rings again and Shelley answers quickly. ‘Hi there?’ comes the male voice. ‘It’s Michael…’

‘Michael, hi! It’s Shelley. How’s it going down there?’

‘Um… okay. Yeah. Okay. It’s good…’ She catches the tension in his voice. ‘But I, uh… lost my phone…’

‘Oh no! Where are you calling from?’

‘My hotel room. I’m out at Heathrow?—’

‘Any chance of getting it back?’

‘No, unfortunately. I left it on the plane. Totally stupid…’

‘What a pain for you.’

‘Not the end of the world,’ he says briskly. ‘So, how are things up there? Everything okay?’

‘Er, yeah!’ Shelley tries to radiate confidence. ‘All of your guests have arrived and they’re great, they’re lovely …’

‘Was that the Sampsons’ child answering the phone?’

‘Oh, yes. Sorry about that,’ she blusters. ‘Just as well it was you, huh?’

‘Er, yeah.’

She can sense him frowning.

‘Anyway, we’re on top of everything,’ she breezes on. ‘We’ve just finished breakfast and everything’s cleared up?—’

‘What, already?’ he asks in surprise.

‘Yep, all done. We did bacon and eggs – oh, and I found three eggs in the hen house this morning! Three freshly laid eggs! Not that we needed them but so lovely to see. Isn’t it magical, the way that happens?’

He pauses. ‘The way hens lay eggs? I guess so?—’

‘Oh, I know that’s just normal to you,’ she goes on. ‘But it’s so gorgeous here, Michael. We’re loving it. You really are so lucky. Oh, and Frida loved the vegetarian haggis and I tried some too. Delicious! I’m such a southerner , aren’t I? Never had it before?—’

‘Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves,’ he cuts in.

‘I hope you are too,’ she says. ‘So how are things with?—’

‘All fine,’ he says quickly, and now Shelley gets it. Krissy is there with him in his hotel room.

‘Great,’ she says. ‘Well, I don’t want to interrupt?—’

‘No, I called you , remember?’

‘Oh yes, of course…’ She laughs. ‘Well, okay. Just before you go, there is this one thing…’

‘What’s that?’

‘The, um… the meals,’ she starts.

‘The meals?’

‘Yes. The dinners. We mustn’t have listened properly or taken it all in. Because I’m sure you must have told us?—’

‘Told you what?’ he says, sounding baffled.

‘Er, where they are. The tagines and pies and berry crumbles?—’

‘Oh God. Didn’t I say?’

‘Maybe not. But it was fine,’ Shelley adds quickly. ‘We drove to the chippy instead. I hope you’re not mad with us?—’

‘Mad? Of course I’m not mad!’ He exhales loudly. ‘I’m so sorry. Can’t believe I didn’t tell you where the other freezer is…’

‘The other freezer?’ Shelley repeats.

‘Yeah. I don’t what I was thinking. It’s in the woodshed,’ he adds.

Shelley blinks slowly. ‘Right.’

‘That’s the main freezer where all the evening meals are,’ he clarifies. ‘I really am sorry?—’

‘Honestly,’ she cuts in, ‘no need to apologise. It all worked out in the end and everyone loved it. The fish and chips – the fish suppers – were amazing, and Frida loved the macaroni pies. She had two?—’

‘You had macaroni pies?’

‘Yes! My God, they’re delicious. What a fantastic invention – carbs encased in carbs. So it was actually quite fun, figuring it all out. Like some kind of challenge.’ Shelley chuckles. ‘Like we were being filmed for a reality show.’

She senses him smiling now.

‘Are you always as positive as this?’

‘I try to be,’ she replies.

‘Even so,’ he ventures, ‘I’m sure it was a challenge you could’ve done without.’

‘Well, never mind,’ she says quickly. ‘You were in a hurry and you had other things on your mind, didn’t you?’

‘Well, yeah.’ A small silence settles between them and Shelley wonders why he’s still on the line, chatting to her, when surely he has company.

‘So, erm… I hope things are working out for you?’ she ventures.

She hears him moving around the room. ‘I actually feel a bit stupid,’ he starts.

‘Why?’ She frowns.

He sighs heavily. ‘I wasn’t going to say because you’ve been so brilliant. You all have, in making this possible for me. And I’d already decided I was going to say it’s been great?—’

‘Michael,’ she cuts in, frowning, ‘you don’t need to lie to us…’

‘Okay.’ He clears his throat. ‘I s’pose I just feel a bit ridiculous, taking off on a whim when obviously, it was never going to work…’

‘Hasn’t it? Oh, I am sorry. So, what happened?’

‘Erm, well…’ He tails off, and she wonders whether she should have asked. ‘It was obvious right away,’ he starts, ‘that what we’d had over all those thousands of miles wasn’t… well, I don’t know what it was,’ he adds. ‘Just that it didn’t translate into real life.’

‘Oh, Michael,’ she murmurs.

‘It really is okay,’ he continues, feigning brightness now. ‘We had a few drinks and a perfectly nice time. But there was this unspoken thing that it wasn’t going to happen. What is it that they say?’

Shelley frowns. ‘That there wasn’t a spark?’

‘Yeah.’ A wry chuckle. ‘Maybe we should’ve just kept it as a long-distance thing…’

‘But you had to try, didn’t you?’ she suggests.

‘I s’pose so. But it still feels…’ He breaks off. ‘Kind of mortifying.’

She stands at the window, looking out over the white-topped hills as she takes this in. Niall and the Sampsons have all headed out to enjoy the bright, snowy morning and Lena and Pearl are out walking Stan. ‘You shouldn’t feel like that,’ she says now. ‘Not that I’m telling you how to feel…’ She pauses, wondering how best to put it. ‘I just mean there’s no shame in it. It was always going to be risky, wasn’t it?’

She senses him pacing around and wonders what the view from his hotel is like. ‘Guess so. But I should’ve approached it with a lot more care and thought…’

‘What were you supposed to do? Perform a risk assessment?’

He laughs. ‘Maybe.’

‘Well, I don’t think that’s any way to live your life,’ she adds, ‘personally speaking. Not that it’s anything to do with me, but we all make cock-ups sometimes, don’t we? We all jump in with both feet because we believe in something – or someone – and we have to take that chance—’ She stops, catching herself, and laughs. ‘Oh my God. I’m spouting memes at you. I’ll be saying “we all have the same twenty-four hours in a day” next?—’

‘Who came up with that?’ Already, he’s sounding happier.

‘Just some woman off Love Island .’

‘Oh.’

Shelley smiles. ‘I’m guessing you’ve never watched Love Island .’

‘Can’t say I have?—’

‘Okay, so what are your plans for today?’ she asks.

‘Well, I’m just going to come home,’ he replies, as if it’s obvious.

‘But aren’t you booked in at the hotel for two nights?’

‘Yes, but I don’t care about that…’

‘And what about your flight? Aren’t you meant to be flying home tomorrow?’

‘I’ll get another flight,’ he insists. ‘I’ll get one today if I can. If not I’ll take a train. Honestly, it’s the best thing. The way we left it…’ He coughs dryly. ‘It was a bit awkward. A bit, well… we both knew we wouldn’t be doing stuff together today.’

‘Yes,’ Shelley ventures, ‘but you could still do stuff, couldn’t you?’

‘By myself, you mean?’ he asks in surprise.

‘Well, yes!’ She smiles. He really does sound like a fish out of water down there.

‘I don’t really know what kind of stuff,’ he admits.

‘Oh, Michael,’ she exclaims. ‘Come on. You might live in the wilds but you do still remember how to operate in a city, don’t you?’

‘Well, yes. Of course I do.’ She senses him frowning. ‘But I’m not in actual London. I’m at a Heathrow hotel and people don’t come here for fun, you know? They come for stopovers and layovers, or because they’re catching an early flight?—’

‘Yes, but you’re not incarcerated there, are you?’ she interrupts. ‘I mean, they will let you out?—’

‘Yeah, of course!’

‘So you could sit there in your hotel, where I bet there’s a kettle and a miserly selection of teabags and skinny Nescafé sachets and tiny cartons of UHT milk?—’

‘There is actually?—’

‘—And you could make a cup of tea and sit at the window, watching the planes…’

She breaks off as he laughs. ‘You make it sound so enticing.’

‘I do, don’t I?’ She grins. ‘Or, instead of that, you could treat it like a not-exactly-ideal hotel that you only booked because it’s cheap. Like when you were young and went away with your mates and didn’t care that the apartment was crappy and there was a single bare bulb and your mattress was so thin, it was like sleeping on a slice of bread?—’

‘I remember those places.’ Michael chuckles.

‘Me too. And didn’t you still have a brilliant time?’

‘Well, yeah. Of course.’

‘’Cause you just made the best of it,’ she continues. ‘So what you could do is, you could leave your miserable little room and take yourself into London for the day and do the kind of stuff you could never do up here…’

‘Like… what?’

‘Oh, come on,’ she splutters. ‘It’s London! One of the greatest cities in the world! On the last Sunday before Christmas. It’ll be amazing. Just get on the train and get off somewhere central and walk around. Soak it all up like tourist?—’

‘But I am a tourist,’ he reminds her.

‘Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? You’re in the mindset.’ She laughs. ‘So just enjoy it. Enjoy the contrast…’

‘The contrast?’ he repeats.

‘From what it’s like up here,’ she clarifies, ‘to what it’s like there. Walk down Regent’s Street and look at the decorations, everything all lit up and wonderful. Go down to Trafalgar Square and look at the enormous Christmas tree. Get yourself a drink in a nice bar and take yourself off to the Natural History Museum and go ice skating?—’

‘Oh, I don’t think so?—’

‘And then, if you’re feeling energetic, walk all the way back along Piccadilly, and go into the Rivoli Bar at The Ritz?—’

‘The Ritz?’ he splutters. ‘I can’t go there!’

‘Why not?’

She senses him trying to scrabble together a reason. ‘Well, my clothes for one thing?—’

‘You don’t have to wear a suit,’ she teases. ‘You have a nice shirt and trousers with you, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but?—’

‘—so go in and order one champagne cocktail?—’

‘But isn’t that?—’

‘It’s a fortune, yes. And that’s the point. Have more than one if you feel like it. Get yourself sozzled on champagne cocktails, and then come back to your airport hotel and fall into drunken slumber. And then, when you wake up tomorrow with a fuzzy hangover…’ She catches herself. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just spouted a whole load of instructions at you, haven’t I?’

‘Yes, you have.’ He sounds bemused now, and a little stunned. ‘So, if I do all that – if I follow your instructions – then what do I do next?’

He’s teasing, she realises. Pretending he can’t operate without her telling him what to do. ‘Oh, that’s easy,’ she says with a smile. ‘When you’ve done all of that and had a brilliant day exploring London on your own…’ Shelley hesitates. ‘ Then you can come home.’